Shadowcroft Year 3 - Chapter Seven

A NEW SHADOWCROFT CHAPTER EVERY MONDAY!

Logan and the Terrible Twelfth hurried through the root ceilings and muddy paths of the Cruelwood Dungeon. They were running a bit late to thaeir Tournament class, but so far, it had only been Professor Suresh going over his biography. They’d had six classes in total, and each of them focused on one of his many titles; so far they’d discussed Suresh the Merciless, the Cunning, the Bloodthirsty, the Magnificent, the Seriously Clever, and the Humble. He needed to add another title—the Blow Hard, since he had the lung capacity of ten grown men and could talk for ages.

They’d met in a classroom, where Suresh had used his core gem to show a slideshow presentation filled with pictures of himself and the powerful dungeon he’d created. So far there had been no mention that there even was an interschool tournament.

Treacle spent all the classes sucking on his Jabberknot jawbreaker, while Logan worked on his twine ball. Inga tried to read the Council of Dungeon’s tax code, but she ended up falling asleep, and drooling on the pages. She had been pushing herself too hard. Like always.

Marko was completely enraptured and now seemed to have an eerie recollection of every single one of Suresh’s victories as a dungeon core. As a three-hundred-year-old Rakshasa dungeon guardian, Suresh had spent a century protecting an important node on the hellish world of Infernus, the homeworld of the demonic warriors known as the Teufel, who often became dungeoneers. It had been a brutal assignment, but Suresh had repelled any number of raiders, Teufel or not.

Now, on their sixth class, they were meeting at the Cruelwood, which seemed to promise something interesting—a special guest.

Marko was a bit disappointed. “You’ve got to hand it to Suresh. I mean, that story of the Annihilator? So he’s a B-Class, the Annihilator is A-Class, and the raider has all these minions, the Annihillings, and our guy Suresh murders them all with a series of illusions and traps. I mean, talk about Suresh the Seriously Clever. So clever. Also, I kind of love it that dungeoneers have these names like the Annihilator.”

“The raiders do like their sobriquets,” Inga said. “But really, Marko, you are impressed by Suresh? He’s nothing but a braggart.”

“Hey, what can I say? You can brag when you bring it!” Marko made a furry fist. “And Suresh brings it! Plus, the man has style for days. That silk cloak he wears is the height of dreamy.”

When they finally arrived in the inner sanctum, they found Suresh’s crystal floating over the pedestal—a glittering diamond suspended above a bubbling fountain. The room had been transformed into a palatial pleasure room, with thick red carpet, golden couches, and flickering candles. Sweet incense filled the room with their heady aroma.

The Rakshasa was in front of the fountain, lounging on a plush divan, eating grapes.

The First Cohort’s Lady Elesiel and Jimi Magmarty were on one couch. Chadrigoth and Tet sat together across the room on another.

Thankfully, the Ninth Circle hadn’t arrived yet.

Marko approached the tiger-headed dungeon guardian and bowed. “Greetings, Suresh the Seriously Clever. I was just recalling your victories against the Annihilator and his Annihillings.”

“Annihillings,” Suresh corrected.

Marko shook his head. “No, you said Annihillings. I remember. It was a glorious!”

The Rakshasa sniffed. “Regardless of their name, they were a vicious sort. Please, have a seat. I told Fractilla and the Ninth Circle that they could be late, since they’ve been entertaining our guest at Enrico’s Inn and Fry Kitchen in Vralkag. They will be here presently.”

“Yes, Suresh,” Marko bowed again. “I am pleased that the guest will know the deliciousness of Enrico’s hospitalityness.”

“Not a word,” Treacle muttered.

Logan couldn’t understand how the satyr could be unironically smitten by Suresh. Then again, Inga had a thing for the most boring vulture-headed teacher to ever write on a chalkboard.

The Rakshasa pointed. “Yes, Mr. Laskarelis, you and your cohort are invited to sit together on that one sofa. Those of the Ninth Circle will get their own divans to sit upon.”

Marko bowed a third time. “Yes, your Severely Cleverness.”

The Terrible Twelfth all squeezed themselves down on the same couch, but it took a considerable amount of shoving and pushing. The couch groaned under Treacle’s weight. Luckily, Logan was squishy. Inga immediately took out the huge tax code tome and began reading.

Logan, who was jammed up next to Marko, whispered, “Marko, I just don’t get why you like Suresh so much.”

Marko bleated laughed. “You forget, though I’m currently enslaved as Shadowcroft’s personal toilet cleaner, I’m a royal. So is Suresh. Royal knows royal. Game knows game. And to be that self-absorbed? It absorbs me. I am lost in his arrogance. I am trapped in his ego. And I don’t want to ever be free.”

Logan grabbed Marko’s furry chin. “You’re not, like, under a spell, are you?” he asked, inspecting the satyr’s horizontally slitted eyes for any sign of brain damage.

“He’s not,” Inga said, distractedly. “Marko just likes to be unique. We have trouble with a certain professor with a diamond dungeon core gem, and so Marko has to like him.”

“He’s drawn to the theater of it all,” Treacle said slowly. “Professor parade. The theater of ego. The goat is captured.”

Marko smiled. “Treacle. You’re speaking in haiku. I am so loving you right now.”

The minotaur spat the jawbreaker into his hand. After a week of sucking, it was the exact same size. “It’s from my Ruenic Haiku class. We’re just practicing now, but I find myself thinking more and more in a five syllable, seven syllable, five syllable pattern. Of course you will love Suresh. He is a kindred spirit.”

“See?” Marko said. “The tiger and I are both very self-confident.”

Logan sighed and had to admit that couldn’t argue with that. In some ways, Suresh was just a crueler, less whacky version of Marko who happened to have power.

He was about to retrieve the ball of twine from his Ring of Pockets when Fractilla and the Ninth Circle strutted in with a spider dungeon core wearing a tweed suit with leather patches on the elbow. He was small, the chihuahua of driders. The spider guy had the body of an arachnid, but his top half was all tax accountant—one with four sets of eyes, eight in total, that started above his cheeks and disappeared into his balding scalp. He also had a large grease stain on his shirt. Yep. He’d been to Enrico’s all right.

They must not have gotten any Liverkill, because they all looked sober. Except for Sadako, the lady in white ghost, who seemed a bit more pink than usual. She leaned heavy on the hulking form of Toygee, the Gecko Behemoth, who had to stoop or else he’d brain himself on the ceiling.

Logan couldn’t help but wonder how in the world Larry the Snow Golem had beaten the huge reptilian juggernaut in last year’s Offensive Dungeon Design final. Then it made sense. Toygee might be big, but Larry had cold temperatures on his side. A monster wielding the power of a chilly room could probably take on a cold-blooded animal relatively easily. At a glance, it seemed like there was still some bad blood between the golem and the gecko.

Suresh motioned for the Ninth Circle to take their seats—they all had their own individual couches. No cramming together for them, although that made sense to Logan. The Ninth Circle were members of the Crystal Tiger Clan. Suresh was the head of the Crystal Tiger Clan. Cronyism definitely didn’t seem above him, considering everything else Logan knew about him. The professor then motioned to the spider guy. “This is Dave Copperblade, otherwise known as Weavelord. Do you prefer Dave or Weavelord?”

“Weavelord,” the spider dungeon said with some force. “I earned my title. Would you like me to tell you about it?”

Inga looked pained as she murmured, “Oh, please, no. I can’t bear another long biography.”

“Don’t worry,” Marko said. “There’s only one alpha tiger in the room, and it is Suresh the Cunning.”

“How is cunning different from seriously clever?” Treacle asked in all earnestness.

Marko looked straight ahead. “If you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

Suresh snapped his fingers. “Yes, yes, Weavelord, you are impressive. Everyone, Weavelord is in senior management at the Department of Universal Dungeon Efficiency. He and a team of his auditors will be judging the Interschool Tournament of Collegial Dungeon Excellence this year. I wanted him here to go over the rules.”

Marko dropped his head. “Oh, no. Don’t think there’s going to be much bravado from the Merciless. I can feel General Boredom amassing an army.”

Weavelord nodded at the lounging tiger man. “Yes, thank you, Suresh. Everyone in this inner sanctum should be very honored to be here. Out of your entire year, you twelve dungeon cores have earned the chance to represent Shadowcroft in this important competition. Who here knows the rules of the competition?”

All the dungeons in the First Cohort raised their hands. As did most of the Ninth Circle. The lady in white ghost didn’t—at least until Toygee nudged her, and then her hand shot straight up. She hiccupped, blushing.

Inga’s hand went into the air as well. No surprise there.

Weavelord smiled when he noticed astral moth woman. “Why, Ms. Therian, it’s good to see you again! Yes, I know that you know how this works. But for your unfortunate cohort friends, let me give you all an overview.”

Marko nudged Logan. “We’re the unfortunate cohort friends. Obviously.”

Weavelord shot the satyr a warning glance. “The interschool tournament consists of three rounds—the Crucible, the Semi-finals, and the Finals. As you would expect, there is a chance of death at every level, though we try and keep things as safe as possible.”

Suresh actually laughed at that point, a roaring, deep bellied sound that echoed through the room. For once, Logan had to agree with the Rakshasa. He had a lot of firsthand experience with things being kept “as safe as possible”—every facet of Shadowcroft was an OSHA violation that could result in death or disembowelment. Often times both. He had no doubt the interschool tournament would be no different. Heck, it would probably be worse.

Weavelord closed his eyes, all eight of them, showing his frustration before repeating, “As safe as possible. Now, who here knows about the Arena Suprema?”

The same hands went up. Once again, Toygee nudged Sadako.

Weavelord nodded at the cores in the know and Glared at Loga, Marko, and Treacle. That kind of negative attention didn’t faze the Terrible Twelfth anymore, however. At this point, they were used to being the perpetual underdogs. “The Arena Suprema is a literal arena world, which is where the Crucible will be hosted. Every school is allowed to send twelve dungeon cores, and you twelve will be representing Shadowcroft. Mr. Nobleblade. Ms. Therian.” The spider guy glanced at Chadrigoth and Inga. “We have our eyes on you. Oh yes, we do. We have high expectations for others here as well.”

Marko raised his hand.

Weavelord frowned. “No. Not you, Mr. Laskarelis.”

The satyr cleared his throat. “Uh, chronic underachiever here. Marko Laskarelis. Former prince of Sangretta. Current toilet cleaner. So if Shadowcroft is hosting, but there’s this Arena Suprema Ultima Majestica realm, what is Shadowcroft going to be doing exactly?”

Weavelord clasped his human arms behind his back and paced back and forth on his short arachnoid legs. “Yes, a surprisingly good question, given the source. The host school is responsible for housing both the judges and the champions as well as scouting and securing Celestial Nodes on other worlds for the semi-final and final rounds. There is also the after party to consider.”

Logan raised a hand.

Weavelord nodded at him. “Yes. I know. You’re the fungaloid dungeon that everyone is talking about. Your stats are impressive, for a mushroom dungeon, at least, though some of my fellow auditors think there is a 51% chance of you turning rogue and being hunted down by the Arcandor Initiative.”

Marko’s hand shot up. “For the record, I’m solidly in the 49% who love and adore Logan Murray. Now back to me for a moment. So, I’m seeing the Crucible as a winner takes it all, loser takes the fall, kind of deal. Is that right?”

Logan was pretty sure that Marko was quoting Sammy Hagar’s song from the 1987 movie, Over the Top. If they could have Arnold Schwarzenegger as a cultivation teacher, why not a Sylvester Stallone arm wrestling champion as a dungeon core?

The spider auditor paused his frenetic pacing but didn’t answer the question. “As I said, schools can field twelve dungeon cores in the Crucible. The dungeon core that is graded the best will progress to the Semi-finals. All the schools are invited to attend the Crucible, but there are only six spots in the semi-finals. During the semi-final round, all six dungeons will be evaluated, and only the top two will be chosen to compete in the final round.”

Logan raised his hand but just asked his question. “When you say eliminated, do you mean killed?”

Marko nodded. “Yeah, we generally just assume that an elimination round means a blood bath. Not sure if that’s the case here, but I for one would like to avoid a grisly death if at all possible. Especially since most of my time and energy this year is going to be invested in Clown College.”

Inga pushed her fedora back. “No, eliminated simply means taken out of the competition. There might be accidental deaths, however, since in the Semi-finals and Finals, we’ll be competing against actual dungeoneers. There is a rubric the auditors will be using to judge us.”

Weavelord scurried forward. “Yes, yes, yes, Ms. Therian. I will be the one to answer all questions.” Suresh wasn’t the only one with an ego it seemed.” Although we do try to keep things as safe as possible, unfortunate accidents have occurred in the past—”

“So brutal deaths?” Logan said.

“Which is why,” Weavelord continued without acknowledging Logan, “substitutions are allowed. In fact, once we reach the semi-final round and final round, if there are any issues, schools have been known to substitute out their dungeon cores. That is the reason all twelve of you will continue in this class even after the Crucible concludes. If something unfortunate were to happen to the front runner the runner up can take their place, and right down the line.”

They needed eleven runners up? Just how dangerous was this tournament?

Weavelord continued. “Let me go over what we grade upon. First off, protecting the Celestial Node is key. If you die, you will be graded badly. Assuming you survive, the optimal scenario is that you will have more Apothos after the raid than you did beforehand. So you will be graded on Apothos levels, certainly. Actually, Suresh, can you project a bullet point list of the criteria?”

Suresh lazily waved a paw. The crystal above the pedestal flashed and a glowing list appeared in the air:

<<< ۝>>>

Interschool Tournament of Collegial Dungeon Excellence Grading System:

· 50% Apothos gained, zeroed out, or lost

· 15% Structural Economy – hallways, staircases, traps and rooms

· 15% Minion Management

· 15% Crafting Magic-endothermic versus exothermic Apothos manifestations (Includes quality of lures)

· 5% Aesthetic – Subjective Wow Factor

<<< ۝>>>

Weavelord nodded at the graphic. “So auditors will be monitoring the actual Apothos levels, and we’ll have a panel of judges to provide their more subjective opinions. In two months time, we’ll have the Crucible on the Arena Suprema World. I would suggest you all prepare. The Semi-finals will be held this winter, a month after the Forevergreen Festival Break, and the Finals will be in the spring—right before summer break.”

Logan was about to ask about his Symbiotic ability—would he be able to bond with everyone in the Terrible Twelfth for the tournament or would they limit him in some way? Naturally, Suresh cut the class short before he could get his question out. “I’m sure you all find this fascinating, but I wanted to give the Ninth Circle some time in the dungeon alone. Am I giving them preferential treatment because they’re in the Crystal Tiger Clan? Yes. But that’s only because I want to win the clan competition, like I did last year. Thank you all for coming. Inga, would you show Weavelord out?”

Logan, for one, was glad to get off the cramped couch. However, he was a little baffled that Suresh would be so open about his favoritism. He’d even admitted in front of one of the judges. Then again, Weavelord probably didn’t care about school politics. He just wanted a fair tournament.

The First Cohort shuffled out along with Marko and Treacle, who were busy chatting with Tet.

Logan and Inga stayed back with Weavelord, so Logan could ask about who his Symbiotic bond would work within the competition.

Weavelord nodded. “You are the first fungaloid to qualify for the tournament in… well as long as anyone can remember. We’ve given your special circumstances some considerable thought. The Crucible is an individual event, so bonding with other cores will not be allowed. But, in the unlikely even that you advance to the Semi-finals and Finals? The substitution rule will allow for such an option.

“At things stand now, we would limit you to a single partner in the Semi-finals, but that cap would be removed if you were to advance to the Finals. All of that is academic, however, until you win the Crucible. Which you won’t. Despite what Professor Suresh thinks, the dungeon core to beat is Chadrigoth Nobleblade.” He pointed at the hulking abyss lord. “In two months, he very well might be an A-Class cultivator. I’ve audited many dungeons and evaluated individual cores for several hundred years. He is a specimen without equal. He will win.”

Logan had to admit he agreed with Weavelord’s assessment. He’d bonded with Chadrigoth during their final last year and knew exactly how powerful he was. Logan couldn’t hold a candle to him—not in a one-on-one competition. None of the Terrible Twelfth could. He was rather surprised that he felt so disappointed. This competition sounded needlessly deadly and cutthroat, but there really was nothing like the thrill of facing off against raiders.

Inga gave him a smile. “It’s not just you that has to win, Logan. Given the substitution rule, if anyone in the Terrible Twelfth gets in, we can partner with you. You never know, maybe Marko might surprise us and win a spot in the Crucible.”

That made the Weavelord chuckle, and he didn’t stop chuckling until they were out of the Cruelwood.

Logan didn’t much appreciate the laughter because in the wacky world of Shadowcroft, anything was possible—even Marko Laskarelis not messing up.