Shadowcroft Year 3 - Chapter Thirty-Four

That Saturday at dinner, Logan sat with Inga at the gummy minotaur table.

Unlike with Chadrigoth, they were worried about moving Treacle and disrupting the ascension process inside his gooey candy shell. Something was going on in there. It was hard to see through the gummy material, but Treacle seemed to be… pinkening.

What did it mean? No one knew.

Logan pulled his eyes away from his candying friend as Shadowcroft approached the podium, situated at the front of the Golden Serpent Hall. “My fellow guardian cores,” he said, voice tired, “it pains me to make this announcement, but please, do not use Chadrigoth as a canvas for your graffiti art.”

One of the fourth years, a huge cyclops wearing paint-splattered coveralls furrowed her single great eyebrow. “What? Don’t look at me!” Pollyphina sat with her arms crossed, clutching paint brushes. An enormous easel sat on the table beside her plate. She’d just returned from her work study program for some special tutoring. Before graduation, dungeon cores had to go out and protect actual celestial nodes for months on end. Logan was looking forward to it, assuming he survived his third year.

Shadowcroft waved a big tree finger. “I’m not blaming anyone in particular, and some of you have showed remarkable restraint, all things considered. However, someone has been painting the words “demon butt” on where our friend’s posterior is. All I’m asking is that you refrain from defacing your fellow classmates, even though the temptation may be great.”

Magmarty snickered loudly as Lady Elesiel smirked. Both were giving the thumbs up to Nemoy, the geriatric zombie merman, who was a bad influence on the Gelatinous Knight.

Rockheart saw what happened, and he pointed at his eyes and then pointed at the bad threesome. Rockheart was watching. Always watching.

Shadowcroft cleared his throat. “Yes, and now we have our friend Treacle Glimmerhappy, who is in the process of becoming an azure branch cultivator. I know his candy cocoon is delectable, but please—and I really feel like this shouldn’t need to be said—don’t lick the minotaur.”

Inga shook her head, both her antennae and wings pulled in tight. “It’s a shame we’re at school with such animals. It’s unfortunate that Marko is thinking of having T-shirts made. Please Don’t Lick the Minotaur.”

Logan glanced around the room. “Where is Marko, anyway? I know Pollyphina wanted to talk with him about his Living Artistry skill.”

Inga frowned. “I think he’s cleaning the bathroom down in the Undercroft?” she said, equal parts question and answer. “I do wonder what is taking him so long?”

Logan couldn’t give her an answer, but he had a bad feeling. “Let me go and see. Stay with Treacle, so, uh, he doesn’t get licked.”

Logan stood up just as Shadowcroft was flashing the clan scores and making an announcement regarding the leader board.

Logan took a minute to take stock.

The Crystal Tiger = 2021

The Onyx Tortoise = 1997

The Vermilion Phoenix = 1629

The Azure Dragon = 1611

He sighed. Professor Suresh was taking advantage of the fact that the powerhouses of the Azure Dragon had stalled out in their progression. Or were cocooned. Either way, Logan wasn’t sure they’d even come in second at this point. Those dang Backstories were propping up the Onyx Tortoise. They were tragically good.

Logan turned and hurried down the Stairwell of True Seeing, not even giving his human form a second glance. He reached the bottom of the steps just as Marko came out of the bathroom. He was dressed in his janitorial gray jumpsuit, but for once he didn’t have his cart. Instead, he had a haunted look on his face, and he was shuffling awkwardly from hoof to hoof. He blinked. It was like he didn’t quite know where he was.

“Hey, buddy, are you okay?” Logan asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Marko didn’t answer. He let the tuning fork, which allowed him access to his conspiracy theory talk radio programs, fall to the ground. The fork hit with a ting, and the audio crystal in Marko’s pocket sparked to life.

The Warning Bell’s voice came on abruptly, “Of course Skip Shadowcroft doesn’t want to cancel the intraschool tournament. Do you know now much money the Zeta Ridiculans are making on this little arrangement? Not to mention the Spore Lords. Surprise, surprise, there’s a fungaloid competing. Coincidence? Take it from Emerick Warning Bellsman, there is no such thing as coincidences. It’s all just noise, trying to conceal the pattern.”

The satyr fished into his pocket, pulled out the audio crystal, and let it drop to the ground. He then squashed it with his hooves. “No, Emerick,” he said, sounding rather sleepy. “There are a lot of coincidences.”

Logan walked up to Marko and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, me and Inga were upstairs. You hungry?”

Marko didn’t say anything. He just looked ahead. He’d stopped blinking. Now he wasn’t blinking at all, and jaw had drooped open, taking on the appearance of a slack “O”. What in the world was going on with him?

Logan gave him a little shake. “Marko? Buddy? You doing alright?” he pressed.

The goat man turned slowly. “I get it now,” he mumbled to no one in particular. “I get it. I don’t have to stop.”

“Stop what?” Logan asked, thoroughly confused and getting more worried by the moment.

Marko turned and gripped Logan’s arms. “Cleaning bathrooms. I can’t stop. Because do you know how many toilets there are across the multiverse? And they all have to be cleaned. I mean, they don’t have to be cleaned, but they should be cleaned. Someone has to do it, but no one wants to. It’s never ending, man. It’s. Never. Ending. The bathrooms are the multiverse.”

Marko realized his fingernails had dug into Logan’s squishy skin. The satyr released him and took a step back. “But really, man. I’m okay with that. I’m more than okay. I kinda like it. I thought I would hate it, but doing the things no one else wants to do… it’s not so bad. Especially when so many people appreciate what the result, even if they don’t ever think to thank the janitor.”

Logan grimaced. “You can’t mean that. You’re fine with cleaning bathrooms for the rest of your life?”

Marko nodded. “I’m just a small little goat man in a big, big multiverse. All possible worlds. All possible sinks. Mirrors everywhere. So many toilets. Don’t you get it? That’s us. It’s all a giant analogy. Dungeon Cores are the multiverse janitors, doing the dirty work that no one else wants to do, for the good of the cosmic toilet that is life. I finally get it and it’s cool. This job, it might not be glamorous, but it is necessary and I’m okay with that. I matter. I belong.” The satyr’s eyes filled with tears. “I matter.”

Logan wasn’t expecting this. Was it a spell? Had the conspiracies finally destroyed his friend’s sanity? Well, Rockheart had warned him that it might come to that. As weird as the tasks were, it seemed their third-year cultivation class really had pushed them beyond their limits. Was this what was happening to Marko?

“You do matter, buddy,” Logan said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “Even without the bathrooms. You’re my best friend.”

Marko then seemed to see Logan for the first time. “Aw, I won’t tell Treacle or Inga. But you’re my best friend too. We can all be best friends.” Something bulged in the breast pocket of Marko’s jumpsuit. He smacked it flat. Then the pockets of his pants bulged. “I think I have something in my—”

Tentacles burst forth from every pocket of his jumpsuit, and in seconds, he was awash in gray rubbery skin and bright pink suction cups. Logan leapt forward using Pneumacity while pulling a silver sword out of his Ring of Blades.

He didn’t know what was attacking his friend, but he was going to cut those tentacles off him.

A stony hand caught him, before he could strike and Logan was thrown back. Rockheart loomed over him with both hands held out.

Mouths opened in the tentacles; they were filled with yellowing teeth and long black tongues. Inhuman eyes blinked open. So many eyes. The tentacles expanded, filling the Undercroft, until Rockheart’s Invisible Barrier ability kicked in. The tentacles pressed against the conjured force field, threatening to break it, but Rockheart was powerful. The thing stayed locked in place, protecting both Logan and the Rector Prime from the encroaching mass of writhing limbs.

Logan staggered back into Inga, who was standing there, mouth agape.

Rockheart sighed. “Leave it to the goat to be a royal pain in my stony butt.”

“What’s going on?” Logan asked, thoroughly confused. “I know Marko has the Luden lute, which helps him summon unspeakable creatures, but he wasn’t playing it when… when those pocket monsters went crazy.” Logan scratched his head. “Pocket Monsters is a great band name.”

“That’s what Marko would’ve said,” Inga murmured. Then she took off Melvin’s fedora. “Don’t you see? Treacle is in the process of ascending to B-Class, and now so is Marko.”

Rockheart chuckled. “So, the Blue Divine Philter paid off. You talked with Professor Gilligan, didn’t you? To work out a cure for the unfortunate side effects.”

“We did,” Logan said. “Why are you down here?”

The well-dressed gargoyle griffin shrugged. “I saw you leave, Mr. Murry, and then I felt a burst of Apothos down here. I’ve been doing this for a good long while so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

One of the Eldritch tongues licked the invisible barrier. Another eye blinked rather stupidly. The whole corner and the entire bathroom was chock-full of cosmic horror.

Inga went and touched the force field. “Marko didn’t just level up once. He jumped two ranks at least. I cannot even begin to fathom what his appearance will be when this is over. I would imagine it will involve extra appendages. Perhaps a great many extra appendages.”

Rockheart grinned. “Or perhaps the horror has devoured him completely. The Luden lute has a bad reputation of consuming cores. Something about the power of music. It’s not my area of expertise, and I find it difficult to care. If he is strong. He will survive. Now, I’m going to go talk to the elderly merman. Again.” Rockheart sighed. “I suspect he is the one behind the Chadrigoth graffiti.”

Dealing with the bad kids was never fun for the administration.

Rockheart clomped away.

Logan realized that he’d not seen what Yullis Rockheart had looked like before he became a dungeon core. Had he been human? Elf? Dwarf? Some kind of dragon creature?

Rockheart had walked too far up for Logan to see.

The fungaloid stood with Inga in front of the barrier. Rockheart seemed to have enough Apothos to keep it running.

Logan didn’t know what to say. He was a bit jealous of both Treacle and Marko—they were going to shoot up in ranks and finally break into the B-Ranks. Good for them. And it would help the Azure Dragons as far as the clan competition went.

Logan then realized he’d put too much stock in the twine. What? Did he think he would suddenly advance from B-Class Rank 4 to A-Class Rank 10? That was highly unlikely. He’d be lucky to get to Rank 1 by the end of his schooling at Shadowcroft. Most Dungeon Cores never even made it into the A-Class at all. Or, if they did, it was after years of grinding down dungeoneers in the real world. The fact that he’d made it this far in such a short time was a cosmic wonder of enormous proportions.

He was lost in thought when Inga finally spoke. “I’m happy for them. I mean, the very difficult cultivation class has paid off for them. It is only fitting that we shall all be B-Class together.”

He could hear how wistful she sounded.

“Yeah, this is going to be huge in the Finals,” he agreed. “Four B-Class dungeons? And with Marko’s mime and pie skills? I think we’ll be able to handle whatever this Lou Shador can throw at us. And let’s not feel too sorry for ourselves. I mean, I can. I undid the twine and literally got nothing for it. But you’ll finish this audit, and you’ll hit A-Class easily.”

“I did advance to Rank 6,” she said. “Not enough to get any new skills, but I have felt the increase in Apothos.”

Logan was taken aback. “Wait. What? What did I miss?”

Inga shrugged. “It was rather shocking to go up four ranks, and to be able to find the sunglasses loophole. Professor Arketa’s sunglasses are tax deductible because she couldn’t teach without them. She’d wipe out half the student population. It was a big week.”

Logan frowned. “You have to tell me when you advance. We have to celebrate.”

“With what?” the moth woman asked. “Tell me how you would celebrate. I can answer that. Your reward would more work, would it not?”

Logan groaned. “You’re right. I do celebrate work with more work. Maybe that’s my problem. Rockheart said work was only going to take me so far. So, let’s celebrate your Rank 6 now. You’ve almost caught up with me!”

Inga grinned. “That’s been my plan all along.”

Tet-Akhat came racing down the steps. “So it’s true! Marko is also in an ascension cocoon.” The cat woman made a face. “It is very fearsome, is it not? What do you think he will look like when he finally finishes ascending?”

“That’s what I wondered!” Inga said loudly.

Logan took one of Inga’s many hands. “Tet! You’re just in time. Inga and I were going to go up and eat a bunch of ice cream to celebrate. Inga just hit mid-tier Azure Branch Cultivator. When they wake up, our friends will be B-Class as well. This is awesome!”

The cat woman’s eyes were bright. “Ice cream! I love ice cream!”

Unfortunately, Logan was no longer a fan, but he appreciated what ice cream represented. These days, ice cream tasted best after sitting in the sun for a few days and developing a thin layer of fungal slime. He wasn’t going to get bogged down in the details, though. Today was a day for celebrating. For partying. For enjoying how far they’d already come, even while acknowledging how far there was still left to go.

Logan ended the day with his friends, in the hall, as they laughed and talked. It was a good night. He chose not to be jealous. He’d celebrate how well his friends were doing. He’d get to A-Class eventually.

And even if he didn’t, so what? He could still be a service to others, and he could still protect the tree. It was like Marko had said right before evolving: Dungeon Cores were the janitors of the multiverse, doing the dirty work that no one else wanted to do. Maybe it wasn’t always glamorous, but it was always necessary. It mattered. And there was nothing less glamorous, but absolutely necessary, than fungus. Mushrooms were essentially the janitors of nature, after all.

The next week was a little more difficult because it was the third-year field trip to the Crossworld Bazaar, which Professor Darnol was leading. Inga said she couldn’t go because it was a critical time in the audit, and Shadowcroft needed her for the next few weeks. If she was killed in the Finals, she needed to have most of the receipts sorted and the ledgers taken care of.

Logan thought about going, but it just wouldn’t be the same without the other members of the Terrible Twelfth. Besides, he’d have to miss a session teaching the misfit mushrooms of Nightfall University. He wasn’t about to do that. Helping them wasn’t glamorous either, but it was good, and it gave him a deep sense of satisfaction.

And so, he had to watch when all the dungeon guardians came back with all their cool magic items, cultivation powders, and weird artifacts they’d found. It was literally a market that was the size of planet, filled with millions upon millions of stalls. Nemoy had broken the rules to go with the Gelatinous Knight, and he was parading around in a pair of diamond earrings that seemed to make him decades younger. GK said he got new armor, but it was hard to tell, because he was as gooey as ever.

Jimi Magmarty ended up with a powerful new great helm that advanced him a few ranks. Lady Elesiel returned with a jeweled scimitar, through which she could focus her Morta Apothos. The magic scimitar had a sarcastic soul inside that only she could hear. Her sarcasm improved exponentially, and it was already pretty cutting even before the addition of the sword.

Logan and Inga had taken to studying in the cafeteria, to keep people from licking Treacle. There was a lot of poking still because it was fun to watch the gummy cocoon wiggle.

A week later, the golden serpent hall was nearly empty. Inga was sorting through receipts and writing in a ledger the side of the oxford dictionary. Logan was reading a book he’d found on fungaloid core theory. It was called Mushroom Omelet Exegesis by Scotty A. Morelis. Inexplicably, there were some mushroom omelet recipes thrown in alongside some extremely complicated strategies for core improvement. He thought he could give Pewig Bulge some tips.

He sniffed. “Do you smell that?”

“Sugar burning?” Inga asked. “Yes. Look!”

The minotaur’s cocoon had started to melt.

Logan recoiled as he got his first glimpse at Treacle’s upgraded form.

It was… strange. To say the least.