Shadowcroft Year 3 - Chapter Fourteen

Logan’s first instinct was to have all of his minions hide, and then they could try and engineer an ambush. However, he was going to take a page from Marko, and go for a little showmanship. He thought about crafting more spore wargs, but if he had any hope of getting a slot in the Semi-Finals, he needed to end the competition with an abundance of Apothos. His digestion pits were snacking on three heroes already, which would help some, but he really wanted to add at least one more.

If he wanted to walk away with a competitive score, he’d just have to trust his own skills and his boss-level minions. He did use a little Apothos to create two Kurrybooboos, cute little mushroom people who held up toadstools as offerings on either side of him. He liked the ascetic, and he just might need them for a little of their healing magic.

Even though he was a ball of nerves, Logan waited patiently on his fungal-covered throne in the middle of his final moat-like digestion pit. Around the pit were the blue bioluminescent glow of his God’s Eye Caps along with vials of the Blue Philter Divine. His core gem spun lazily above his throne, powering the dungeon.

Brandybutter came striding in, holding aloft his flaming sword for light, his face hardened in resolve. Around him was Logan’s forest of mushrooms, and hidden within were Mariah and the three Blistering Death Wargs.

Mimsy and Feathers followed at a cautious distance.

“Who dares invade my fungal realm?” Logan thundered, amplifying his voice, making sure he was the center of attention.

“Villain!” Brandybutter boomed, brandishing his sword. “You have slain four of our comrades, and you made my feet itch! Come now, chap, and give us the potions and the mushrooms we want for our sauces. We are hungry for justice and stroganoff!”

That sounded like a Russian restaurant near a courthouse in Rockford, Illinois.

Mimsy’s hands burned brighter.

Behind him, to the side, Mariah emerged from a patch of sharp Crimson Coral. She was using her own version of his Pneumacity ability to float silently across the ground. Logan watched in his peripheral vision as she unleash her narcotic spores, which swirled around all three raiders like a dust devil.

Logan leapt from his throne, but he didn’t attack. He drifted over the raiders and spun around, unleashing a bouquet of his own spores—a trifecta of Pollinic Affliction, Athlete’s Ailment, and Narcotic. While the raiders watched on in wonderment, Logan enhanced the attack with Rapid Growth.

Mimsy was the first to go on the offense—clearly less impressed with Logan’s display than the other two. The sorcerer scowled and hurled a fireball right into Logan. Logan kicked off a nearby stalactite, hoping to avoid the attack, but he was half a beat too slow. The spell slammed into his chest like a wrecking ball of pure force and hurled him up and back—straight into the ceiling. Tongues of fire crawled across his exposed, rubbery flesh, dealing additional damage with every passing second. The pain was excruciating. Logan drifted down, the fire still eating through his spongey body.

Good thing his shield and armor were magical, or they would’ve been burned to ash.

He touched down among the forest of mushrooms, which immediately began to smoke and smolder around him. He was being cooked like portobello slices in butter. His guardian form body was now too weak to move. He could only watch the ensuring action.

“Don’t sauté my master!” Mariah yelled in a squeaky voice.

She wasn’t called a Crimson Ash Shrieker for nothing. Her high-pitched voice filled the room and stunned the raiders for a second, pained winces flashing from face to face.

Mariah spun her crook like a propeller. The weapon was coated with more crimson coral. She slashed through Mimsy’s hamstring, whirled it around, and drove the sharp point into his shoulder. Blood poured out from the wounds, but the spell caster wasn’t out of the fight just yet. With a warbling war cry, Mimsy exploded into flames, hurling Mariah against the wall like a rag doll.

But it also knocked Feathers flat.

Noodle Doodle used the ensuing chaos to attack. The enormous fungal hound lunged out of more mushrooms and latched onto the cleric, shaking her like cherished chew toy. She even squeaked when he bit down.

Booker and Princess Peach joined the impromptu mauling, but poor Peach got skewered by Brandybutter flaming sword.

Booker, though, growled and slammed his spikes into the paladin. Unfortunately, Brandybutter was so heavily armored, there was little chance of being hurt by the Blister Wart covering the fungal dog.

Or so Logan thought.

Noodle let go of Feathers and pounced right onto Brandybutter’s unprotected face. Noodle landed on the ground even as Brandybutter’s face started to swell and turn an alarming shade of firetruck red. Noodle wasn’t done—he was just getting started. With a slathering howl, he wheeled about and rammed his spikes into Feathers, who giggled. “Bad doggy!” She must not have been feeling her wounds because of the double-duty Narcotic attacks, courtesy of both Logan and Mariah.

Mimsy, who was bleeding profusely, saw the danger that the Blistering Spore Warg presented. The wizard thrust both hands out and unleashed jets of flame from his fingertips, which engulfed both the struggling cleric and the bloodthirsty warg. Both became torches of living, screaming fire.

Mimsy’s nose was running, and his eyes were red. Logan wasn’t sure of the condition of his feet. The wizard called out to the paladin. “I need bloody healing! And I need it now!”

It was ironic that Mimsy was begging to be healed when he’d just torched the party’s healer. Oh, these soulless raiders were so silly.

Logan tore his eyes from the battle to roll around in the damp mushrooms, which finally smothered the worst of the fires crawling across his body. A nearby Kurrybooboo bounded over to his side and touched Logan with a giggle. Cooling power and a renewed wave of vigor rushed into Logan, healing his most severe burns. He wasn’t at one hundred percent, but he was feeling strong enough to gain his feet. The other mushroom healer was by Mariah, undoing the damage Mimsy had dealt her one giggle at a time.

By god, those things were adorable. It was painful how cute they were.

The paladin tried to talk, but his face was too swollen, and he was sneezing, coughing, and just one step above unconsciousness at this point. He raised a wobbling sword into the air and tried to cast a healing spell, but there was no way he could utter the verbal component. He was far too swollen and phlegmy.

Mariah darted forward and drove the point of her crook through Brandybutter’s neck, ensuring he never got the words out.

The two remaining Blistering Death Wargs latched onto Mimsy, who went down with a yelp, limbs flailing wildly as the fungal dogs gorged themselveson the sweet meats of a fallen dungeoneer.

Logan stumbled forward, his legs still fried and unsteady beneath him.

Mariah rushed to him and handed him her shepherd’s crook. “All hail the fungal king!”

Noodle Doodle and Booker raised their snouts and borked in agreement.

Logan spun, looking up at the transparent ceiling. “It’s not over yet! I still have two hours left on my time! I want to use that to digest the dungeoneers!”

The Threshing Turtle’s chuckled. “Of course, Dungeon Lord. We clearly see that things are not over just yet.”

Logan was still in a fair amount of pain, but he didn’t want to spend the extra Apothos to heal himself. He just had to grin and bear it for a couple of hours. This was certainly nothing worse than the tortures Rockheart had put him through a hundred times before. On his throne, he watched as his Mariah directed the spore wargs to drag the three bodies into the digestion pit. There, the acids immediately began to turn the bodies and equipment into Apothos.

The added energy helped Logan, but what really helped him out was cultivating.

Logan cycled the influx of Apothos, using his favorite and most trusted technique, the Boundless Wheel Form. He envisioned that energy as a hunk of clay on a potter’s wheel, spinning round and round, faster and faster. His core responded, whirling, even as he pressed down and in, shaping that power through sheer willpower. He carefully fed the strands of turbulent life force into the mass of energy within him, reeling them in like stray fishing line. Then he forced that raw power through the invisible knots circling his core, stripping away the Apothos Affinity, and harvesting raw Apothos in the process.

Mariah offered him a concerned look as she clutched her crook to her chest.

Logan squinted through the pain. “I’ll be fine,” he said.

The minutes crawled by, but Logan didn’t break. Instead, he lost himself in the ever-familiar loop of cycling, letting his mind drift as his body did what it was designed to do. Still… It was such a relief when Zhen Ikgix called out, “The final ends in ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven…”

Logan grinned. He’d made it.

The Threshing Turtle continued. “Thank you to all the dungeon cores who have competed. It was very excited. And now, Logan Murray, here are your scores. You are a clever young dungeon. Yes, yes, you are.”

Logan looked up.

· Apothos Usage = 110/100

· Structural Economy = 90/100

· Minion Management = 78/100

· Crafting Manifestations = 80/100

· Wow Factor = 95/100

· Total Weighted Score = 96.95(A+)

He’d taken a lot of risks, but it seemed worth it. He spent a few minutes re-absorbing his dungeon, and before she was gone, Mariah hugged him and squeaked, “To the victor go the spoiled spoils!”

That made Logan laugh. The longer she was around, and the more he used her, the smarter the Crimson Ash Shrieker became. She was a part of him, yet she was also becoming aware and unique in her own right.

Logan couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He’d done really, really well. Sure, he could’ve managed his minions better, and the final two Kurrybooboos weren’t necessary, and he could’ve crafted more items to act as lures to help liven up the place. However, since half the grade was Apothos Usage, his having more Apothos than when he started made all the difference.

Before he re-absorbed them, the Threshing Turtle allowed Logan’s Kurrybooboos to give him a ton of healing hugs to fix all his remaining burns.

Logan stuck his core gem back into his belly and walked out of the empty cobblestone dungeon and into the arena itself. His friends were waiting for him, with wide smiles on their faces. Marko danced around him while Inga and Treacle hugged him.

Chadrigoth was large envelope them all with his massive arms.

Around them were a variety of different food stalls, staircases, and elevators. It was like any football stadium that Logan had ever been in. The food stalls had some interesting choices, though—Morta Nachos, Fulgur Tacos, and Glacies Burgers. They were food based on the thirteen Apothine energies. How somebody could eat a lightning taco was beyond Logan, though the Morta nachos looked really good, all drippy, moldy, and smelly.

Tet stood back, arms crossed and smiling. She nodded at him. “You did very well on your own.”

“He did amazing!” Marko did a little jig. “Admittedly, the wow factor was mostly that whole throne thing you did at the end. The whispering, though, ‘Kill Mimsy. Kill Mimsy. Kill Mimsy’ was super well done. But then, you’ve learned it all from me.”

“You’re not wrong,” Logan replied.

Chadrigoth had tears streaming down his dark blue cheeks. “You are amazing. And you did that all by yourself.”

Treacle recited poetry around the jawbreaker bulging in his cheek. “My friend the fungus. Shining in the musty dark. Like fine shower mold.”

Inga gave him a smile. “I must admit that I was sad not to have my insect armies down in your mushrooms. Those dungeoneers never would’ve reached the inner sanctum had the two of us been allowed to participate together. Still, it was a truly admirable showing, Logan. Now, let’s go up to the reception area. The top six dungeons from the top six schools will be chosen. You did well, Logan, but…”

Marko lost both his smile and his dancing hooves. “But what?”

Inga glanced at Logan with a pained look on her face. “Chadrigoth got a 98.5. Most likely, he’ll be representing our school.”

Marko’s mouth dropped open. “He did that well? Wow. And I was so close to winning.”

Tet’s ears visibly twitched. But she didn’t say a word. Sometimes, it was best to let the goat languish in his delusions. His D+ was a long way from an A++.

Chadrigoth shrugged. “We’re all alive. So that’s something. The irony here is that my dungeon would’ve sucked if it hadn’t been for Logan. He really taught me how to use my Shame Maze to destroy people. Even I was unnerved to see Brandybutter sucking his thumb and rocking in the corner.”

Now that was a difficult image to imagine.

Logan tried not to show his disappointment. “Let’s just go up to the reception. I was really happy with the way things turned out. Yeah, the raiders got into my inner sanctum, but there was no last ditch, dramatic effort to save my gem. We won pretty easily, all things considered.”

Back in the reception room, the stage was full of the heads of the schools, the judges, and other important people, including Weavelord, who stood there with some of the other dungeon accountants.

Lolozi Webbs acted as emcee because her school had taken the top slot. The gigantic demon spider queen easily silenced the room. Shadowcroft milled about nearby, as big as the spider queen, but far less imposing.

“Hello to you all!” Webbs boomed. “I am pleased to announce that only ten dungeon cores failed to protect their sanctums and had their gems shattered. That’s less than a ten percent loss, which is the fewest casualties we’ve had in more than twenty-years! Truly well done!”

People applauded politely.

Logan winced. “Anyone from Shadowcroft?”

Inga shook her head. “Fractilla made some mistakes and nearly died. And you saw Marko’s dungeon, which, uh, was nerve-wracking.”

Marko laughed. “If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s wrack nerves. It’s sort of my signature move, I guess you could say.”

Webbs shot out some webbing down and it wrapped around Marko’s head, silencing him.

Ji-Soo saw and waved energetically at the goat man.

Marko waved back, completely unconcerned about the layer of sticky webbing covering his mouth.

Kyvandry Spencer just stood up there in his blood-stained apron, smiling with flabby lips stretching over his yellow shark-teeth fangs. His eyes were pinched closed by his crown of rusted barbed wire. Even with all the blood, gashes, and knives, the blade ghouls just looked tickled to be there.

Webbs cleared her throat and continued. “I am very pleased to announce that the overall winner of the Crucible is Nightfall University’s very own Wintersylver, a White Wyrm, who has broken all Tournament records with a near-perfect score of 99.25!”

Wintersylver positively beamed as a thunderous round of clapping filled the room.

“And Nightfall University had another overall winner, who scored too well not to be included in the Semi-Finals. We have Woody Bone Splinters, a Sylvan Revenant, who scored a 98.99, the second-best score in the entire Crucible.”

Woody rose into the air and floated above the crowd, a spectral leafy figure that looked like the love child of a gnarled tree and a withered corpse. Inky darkness radiated off him like a cloak. Logan could appreciate the moss covering the Sylvan Revenant’s head, and the rot of his gray skin.

From the podium, Webbs offered Shadowcroft the side-eye and a smug grin. “From the Shadowcroft Academy for Dungeons, we have Chadrigoth Nobleblade, everyone’s favorite abyss lord, a native of Eritreus and part of the royal family of illustrious Nobleblades who never fail to impress.”

Chadrigoth gave Logan a pained look.

Logan tried to be a good sport. “Go on, big blue” he said, patting the abyss lord on the arm. “You deserve it.”

Chadrigoth swelled in size and unfurled his leathery wings. The dark flame burning around his head threw out enough heat to melt some of Wintersylver’s ice crystals. She was not impressed.

Professor Suresh, surrounded by t students of the Ninth Circle, roared at the display, but it wasn’t a sound of appreciation. It was a growling yell of complete frustration. None of dungeon cores in the Ninth Circle had scored high enough to be considered for the Semi-finals.

Webbs announced the other victors in short order.

Tommy Bugnutt, a Chitinous Bugbear would be representing Gadsore’s Institute of Defense. Tommy was about the biggest rolly polly imaginable, except under that pill bug armor was a huge Kodiak bear with gleaming silver talons. He’d scored a 98.25.

Britta Scary, a Laughing Lich, let out a chilling giggle when she learned that her score of 97.8 had secured her a spot in the next round. She was a tall, pale creature with blonde hair and unnerving smile. Her hands were bigger than her head while her feet were impossibly tiny. Hailing from the Plaguebringer College of the Undead, she’d been a favorite.

Last and the very least was Lorena Quartz, the Crystal Duchess dungeon core, from Saudrian’s School of Guardians. Her final score was a flat 97, just a few percentage points higher than Logan’s.

Yeah, if only he’d have scored a bit better. However, his heart warmed when he saw how excited Lorena Quartz was, and how all of the misfits and outcasts from Saudrian’s surrounded her, all cheering her on. Saudrian’s hadn’t fielded a dungeon core in the Semi-Finals in more than hundred years.

Marko had made his way over to Lorena, and was trying to hug the giant crystal woman, but in the end, he was just a small goat man gripping her jagged, crystalline leg.

Inga grabbed Logan’s hand and gave it another a reassuring squeeze. Another patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, Logan, we’ll still have fun this year. And I know Marko is happy our tournament class isn’t important now, so he can slack off.”

Logan sighed. “Yeah. I’m trying not to be disappointed, but none of us made it. I figured at least one of us would get in.”

“Thank you to all the schools for competing!” Webbs called out. “And we’ll see you in the Semi-finals—”

“Wait!” Chadrigoth thundered. As the giant demon in the room, he couldn’t be ignored. He’d even summoned his flaming dark sword and his fire whip. He cracked that whip to make sure everyone was looking at him. “I have an announcement to make.” He paused and pressed his eyes shut tight as though he was preparing to do something extremely painful. “I… I will not be competing in the Semi-finals!” he thundered after a moment. “I am stepping aside to give my spot to my best friend, Logan Murray!”

Logan blinked in genuine surprise. He wasn’t the only one that was shocked by the announcement. Mouths dropped open all around the room. What is he thinking? Why would he possibly give up such an honor?

There was a moment of absolute quiet, followed in short order by a wave of pandemonium.

But up on stage, Skip Shadowcroft smiled at Logan.

What in the heck was happening? And what exactly did the headmaster know that Logan didn’t?