NOVEL WEB B3—Chapter 30: It’s Raining Dungeons, Hallelujah
Mahya and Al wanted to check the third vent the next day, but I needed a break. They had rested at home while I explored the fog and flew around searching for the vents, so now it was my turn to take it easy.
I spent the first day on the balcony, on the roof of the first floor, just reading. I let my mind and body relax, allowing my imagination to soar on the wings of fantasy. By the end of the day, I finally finished The Demon Cycle series and gave all the books to Mahya, remembering she had asked for them when we were in the glowing mushroom area.
As I read, a few of the giant insects with glowing wings tried to approach the house. However, as soon as they touched the mana-absorbing force field, they immediately retreated, landing on the hill in front of the house. Slowly, more and more of them gathered, and soon, some frogs joined the party. At least there were no new snakes or that creature with the glowing orbs. But as the number of creatures increased, so did my worries. What if the force field couldn’t hold them all back if they attacked together?
Just to be safe, I began humming a soothing, melodic tune and activated Arcane Lullaby. While continuing to read, I softly hummed to keep the spell going. I was confident that now there was no way they would attack. I had already discovered how the music mesmerized them.
By the afternoon, I noticed a change in the ability—not exactly that it got stronger, but it seemed more penetrating, more impactful. Curious, I checked my profile and saw that the ability had reached level 10. From past experience, I knew that level 10 was a sort of threshold, after which abilities and spells took a significant leap in effectiveness.
When I closed the profile, I noticed that my red light was flashing, signaling a message from the system.
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Level Up |
My Strength and Constitution were the lowest, with 65 each, so I added the points to Strength, deciding to add to Constitution the next time.
I remembered that when my Healer and Merchant Classes reached level 5, I got another spell or ability, but there was no notification—it just appeared on my profile as if it had always been there.
I looked up at the sky and said, “This system’s user interface is just bad, and I don’t care if you get mad at me. It doesn’t take away from the fact that the interface just sucks.”
I waited for a response but got none. The system had probably gotten used to my complaints by now.
I opened my profile again, and under the Bard class, I noticed a new ability: Musical Memory. Curious, I tapped on it to read the description.
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Musical Memory You must consciously trigger the ability to store the information for later recall. |
I looked up at the sky and, in a resigned tone, said, “Okay, maybe you’re not that bad. But I still think a UI improvement wouldn’t go amiss.”
This time, I felt a wave of amusement directed towards me.
“Laugh all you want. You know I’m right.”
“Who are you talking to?” Al asked.
“The universe.”
He looked at me for a long moment, his expression completely bewildered. Then he shook his head and muttered quietly to himself, “Mahya is right. Wizards really are all crazy.”
I didn’t think I was supposed to hear that, but thanks to the points that had just been added to Perception—which he didn’t know about—I caught every word.
Busted.
The next day, I took care of some life admin. Despite having finished shooting seven rolls of film, I still hadn’t found time to develop them. As I retrieved the portable darkroom in the spell room, a sudden thought crossed my mind. I told the core, “Make me a darkroom.” Despite feeling something happening, when I looked around, everything appeared the same. Following the feeling in the back of my mind, I went out into the living room and saw a new door under the stairs that led to the mezzanine. On the other side was a darkroom with no windows. Based on its location in the house, it was either a dimensional pocket or a room that extended inward into the hill. To be honest, it didn’t really matter to me which one. The important thing was that I had a darkroom.
I tossed the Adaptable Light Ball into the air, and it floated above, casting its soft, even glow across the room. I began arranging the space for my convenience, placing tables and taking out a cabinet to store the chemicals. But the cabinet wasn’t big enough.
If I was already experimenting, I might as well go all the way.
“Make me separate storage spaces for chemicals, equipment, and film. I also need lines along the room to hang the negatives and photos after development to dry.”
The familiar sensation washed over me, as if the room itself was responding to my thoughts. The walls shifted, expanding and reshaping with a smooth, almost organic motion. Shelves emerged from the walls, perfectly spaced and wide enough to hold all my chemicals. Cabinets rose from the floor, their doors swinging open to reveal neat, compartmentalized storage areas. Each compartment seemed tailor-made for specific bottles, beakers, and flasks, all arranged with an efficiency that was almost too good to be true.
More shelves appeared, these equipped with built-in temperature control, perfect for storing my film and photo paper. I watched, amazed, as lines extended across the ceiling, crisscrossing the room with just the right amount of tension to hang my negatives and photos for drying. The core considered every detail, ensuring that nothing would damage the delicate film during the drying process, from the smoothness of the surfaces to the placement of the lines.
But the core still had more work. As I watched, the room continued to grow. Along one wall, a series of cubbies appeared, each one perfectly sized for my cameras. I counted them—forty-eight, one for each of my mechanical cameras. A soft, protective material lined the cubbies, and the shelves above them had small hooks and holders for any accessories. It was as if the core knew exactly what I needed, even before I did. Or maybe my subconscious did and communicated it to the core. The whole thing was confusing.
Finally, a large workbench rose from the center of the room, sturdy and spacious enough to handle any project I could think of. Drawers slid out from beneath it, each perfect for tools and supplies. Everything had its place, from the smallest brush to the largest tray, and there was more than enough room to work without feeling cramped.
I stood in the middle of the room, turning in a slow circle, taking it all in. The core had created a photographer’s paradise, taking care to plan and execute every detail meticulously. I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction—and maybe a little awe—at how perfectly everything had come together.
Mahya and Lis kept telling me that dungeon cores were incredibly valuable—so much so that people were willing to kill for them. With each experiment I conducted, whether on my own or with Mahya, I understood more and more why these cores were so highly prized. The way the core responded to my thoughts, creating entire rooms and perfectly organizing complex spaces with just a simple command, was nothing short of extraordinary. It was like having a personal architect, engineer, and craftsman all rolled into one, capable of manifesting whatever I needed with precision and efficiency.
Every time I asked the core for something, it delivered beyond my expectations. And the more I used it, the more I realized just how powerful it truly was. It wasn’t just about creating a darkroom or storing my cameras—it was about the limitless potential this core held. The ability to reshape the very environment around me, to tailor it to my exact needs, was a resource worth more than gold. It was no wonder people would go to extreme lengths to get one. Not to mention the basically endless energy to power stuff.
With every new creation, the core showed its value, and I found myself increasingly protective of it, understanding just how much of a treasure I had in my possession.
Before I even began, I spent hours carefully taking all the photography equipment out of my Storage and arranging it in the darkroom. With just a thought, each item materialized before me, one by one. Cameras, trays, chemicals, photo paper, and tools—everything I had amassed for my craft found its perfect place. The room slowly filled with the tools of my hobby, each item settling into the shelves, cabinets, and drawers that the core had so thoughtfully provided. It was a meticulous process, but the satisfaction of seeing everything in order was worth the time.
Once everything was in place, I closed the door to the darkroom, and as soon as it clicked shut, the light in the room adjusted perfectly, dimming to the exact level needed for developing film. The Adaptable Light Ball that I had tossed earlier slowly dimmed and then winked out, no longer necessary in this expertly crafted space.
I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of contentment settle over me. The room was perfectly quiet; the only sound was the faint rustle of my clothing as I moved. Everything was in its place, ready for me to begin the process. There was something deeply satisfying about the ritual of developing film—the careful measuring of chemicals, the steady rhythm of agitating the developer, and the anticipation as images slowly appeared on the negatives.
With everything set up, I began working on the first roll of film. The process was almost meditative, each step carefully executed. The core had provided everything I needed, and I found myself lost in the work’s pleasure. There was no rush, no urgency, just the quiet joy of creating something tangible from moments captured.
As I moved on to the next step—enlarging the negatives to print color photographs—I placed the enlarger on the workbench. Just as I was positioning it, a light extended from the wall, perfectly angled to provide the exact illumination needed for the task. It was as if the core expected my every need, shaping the environment to fit whatever I required.
I couldn’t help but smile as I set to work, marveling at how effortlessly everything came together. The core had given me more than just a room—it had given me the perfect space to create, a place where I could lose myself in the art of photography, knowing that everything I needed was right at my fingertips.
I spent the entire day in the darkroom, developing all the films I had, and the pictures turned out amazing. I took my time, savoring each one as it came to life. The photos from the island—the glowing mushrooms, the quaint towns, the house on the sea, Ram-Son, and Pemisor—were all beautifully captured. But what pleased me the most was that I had captured the eerie atmosphere of the swamp perfectly.
The next morning, Mahya appeared at my door, her usual energy clear. “Enough rest,” she declared with a grin. “Let’s go check the vent.”
I sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. “Alright,” I nodded, understanding that patience was not one of her strong suits. With a resigned smile, I closed the house.
“This time,” I said, turning to her, “we’ll inflate the balloon. The third vent is pretty far, and I’m not sure I can fly for hours with you two.”
Mahya nodded in agreement, and I added, “I’m not sure Rue has enough mana for that either.”
Rue barked softly in response. He said nothing, but sometimes words are unneeded.
It took us two hours to take off and another five hours to reach the next vent area, even with a boost from the wind. If I had tried to carry them while flying, we probably would’ve arrived with my arms numb from the effort. Of course, dense trees packed the area around the vent, leaving us with no chance to find a place to land. After another hour of searching in wide circles, we finally spotted a small patch of land sticking out of the water, just big enough to land the balloon.
After we folded up the balloon, I looked up at the sun, my concern growing. “It’s already after noon. It’ll be getting dark by the time we reach the vent. I don’t think it’s a good idea to do it today.”
Mahya and Al both glanced at the sky, then nodded in agreement.
I looked around uncertainly. The patch of land we had landed on was definitely not big enough for the house, even in its smallest configuration. The entire area was about three meters at its widest point. Although we had opened the house on the sea before, the swamp here wasn’t deep enough to support its weight. I stood there, rubbing my chin, lost in thought, until it suddenly hit me—I facepalmed. If the core could create the perfect darkroom for me, I was pretty sure it could solve this terrain problem, too.
I placed the core on the edge of the small land area and instructed it to open the house in a way that suited the conditions.
The house grew as it always did, but this time it was different. What emerged was a small house on stilts, perfectly adapted to the swampy environment. It even had a slightly spooky look that matched the surrounding swamp, blending in almost seamlessly.
We spent a nice evening at home. I grilled snake steaks on the barbecue out on the porch, and we ended the night with a very energetic game of Super Taki.
Over breakfast the next morning, I said, “I think it would be a good idea if I check the vent myself first.”
“Why?” Mahya asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Remember the leeches? If I fly alone to check, I can approach the water, throw something in, and wait for a response,” I explained.
Al chimed in with a suggestion. “We could come with you, and then you fly ahead.”
I shook my head. “No. Without me, how will you calm the swamp creatures?”
They both looked thoughtful, considering my point, and then finally nodded in agreement.
I flew toward the vent, of course humming to pacify the creatures, and when I arrived, I immediately spotted the portal of doom. It was surprising. According to what I had read in the Archive and the World’s Information, it was supposed to be rare. Yet here we were, having already found three.
The valley with the mushrooms was completely surrounded and impenetrable, and the three crocodiles simply had told no one about the dungeon in the gorge. Still, the prevalence of these dungeons was unexpected.
To be on the safe side, I lifted a long branch with telekinesis and stirred the water. Nothing jumped out at me. That was a good sign. When I inspected the portal of doom, I realized it was halfway submerged in the water. I was pretty sure we’d have to sail into it on the jet skis.
Upon returning to the group, I shared my findings. Everyone looked pleased, including Rue.
I asked Mahya, “Don’t you think we’re finding too many dungeons?”
“Not really,” she replied. “Their density is quite suitable for the mana level of this world. And with your Luck at a high level, it’s no surprise that we’re finding them.”
“But in Tuonela, Lis didn’t use his luck to find the dungeon. We had to search for it. I thought luck couldn’t be used to find a dungeon,” I pointed out.
Mahya paused, then nodded. “Yeah, I forgot about that. You’re right—he did say Luck doesn’t work on dangerous things. Maybe it’s because we’re going to places that are already known to be dangerous? And in this case, the fact that you can find vents probably helped you locate the dungeon. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have had a chance.”
“Yeah... you’re probably right,” I said, mulling it over.
When we reached the vent, we sailed into it on the jet skis, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. The dungeon inside was a massive lake with no land in sight. In the distance, I could see the haze edges of the dungeon touching the water, creating an eerie, almost surreal atmosphere. We advanced a few meters, and suddenly, fish began leaping out of the water, launching themselves at us. They looked like small green sharks, but half their length was just a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth.
Instinctively, I started batting them away with telekinesis, while Mahya and Al tried to fend them off with their swords. The cutting didn’t work too well, but at least the swords were effective as makeshift bats.
Mahya quickly switched to a rifle and began shooting at the fish, which proved to be much more efficient. I tried using my crossbow, but the fish jumped too fast for me to get a clear shot. After a few frustrating minutes of mostly missing and just smacking them away to avoid getting bitten, I turned to Mahya and asked, “If I hit the water with lightning, will it affect the jet skis?”
“The jet skis no, but us yes,” she replied, her voice tense. “They’re made of metal—the electricity will pass through them and hurt us.”
What to do, what to do...
An idea struck me. “Mahya, get on Rue’s back. Al, you get on mine.”
Rue immediately flew over to Mahya, and she climbed onto his back with ease. He was already so big that she could sit on him like a small horse. Meanwhile, I flew toward Al, still swatting fish away, and he quickly jumped onto my back.
With everyone safely in the air and out of harm’s way, I split my mind and, with both hands, unleashed lightning into the water. I kept my profile open, watching as my mana levels dropped. I poured more and more lightning into the lake until I was down to the last 1,000 mana units.
The water reacted violently to the onslaught of lightning. It roiled and churned, illuminated by a brilliant display of electric arcs that danced across the surface, creating a stunning web of light. The electricity crackled and sparked, sending bright tendrils of energy across the water’s surface, turning it into a boiling, writhing mass of glowing, electrified chaos. An ethereal light seemed to emanate from the water, flickering and flashing, as if the lake had transformed into a cauldron of raw power.
Within seconds, the dead fish started floating to the surface. Like corks in a bowl, they popped up. More and more fish kept appearing, eventually forming a dense layer that covered the entire surface of the water. There were so many that you couldn’t even see the water beneath them.
A hundred or so meters away, I spotted a shark that was three times bigger than the others. Mahya pointed at it, her eyes narrowing. “I think that’s the floor guardian.”
We quickly descended back onto the jet skis, and the three of us began casting my loot spell at the monsters. The problem became apparent almost immediately—once the monsters shrank into crystals; the crystals sank into the water.
Thinking fast, I pulled out laundry hampers with mesh sides from my Storage and tossed two to Al and Mahya. “Use these,” I instructed.
We continued to collect the fish, turning them into crystals as quickly as we could. At one point, Mahya ran out of mana, so she grabbed an oar and began shoving fish into our makeshift nets. Despite our best efforts, and even with the monsters dissipating much slower in the dungeon, we only managed to collect less than half before the rest dissipated. There were just too many of them—we didn’t stand a chance of getting them all. At least Mahya turned the floor guardian into a crystal and grabbed it before it could sink out of reach.
After collecting all the crystals we could, we paused to catch our breath, looking out at the vast expanse of magic-infused water. Al broke the silence, his voice filled with concern. “What is our precise plan for gathering all of this?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted, shaking my head as I tried to think of a solution.
“Let’s get the cores to drink the water,” Mahya suggested, a spark of excitement in her eyes.
“How?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “Your core in the boat needs a magic circle to absorb anything, and the new core—we haven’t even connected it to anybody yet.”
Mahya’s eyes lit up with an idea. “I’ve got it!” she exclaimed, suddenly gunning the jet ski’s engine and speeding off with purpose.
I was about to sail after her, worried she might need help, but she waved me off, calling back, “Stay there!”
When she got a few hundred meters away from us, Mahya took out her boat. We all sailed toward it and climbed aboard. As I hoisted myself over the side, I saw Mahya already at work, drawing a magic circle on a plywood board. I recognized the design immediately—it was the same circle we used to make the core absorb things.
“Good idea,” I said, impressed.
“Of course, I’m a genius,” she replied with a wink.
Al and I laughed, shaking our heads with amused smiles.
It took Mahya almost three hours to complete the intricate magic circle. Once she finished, we all climbed back into the water and returned to the jet skis. Mahya carefully placed the plywood board on the water and positioned the core in the center of the circle.
“Help me sink the board,” she instructed.
We each pressed down on a corner of the board, even Rue, who contributed with his paw. Slowly, the board sank beneath the water.
We sat there, waiting, but I couldn’t see any visible change. “Is the core actually absorbing the water?” I asked, skeptical.
“Yes, don’t you feel it?” Mahya responded, surprised.
“Not really,” I admitted.
“Maybe it’s because you’re not connected to it anymore. My core’s drinking it up like a big baby.”
We all laughed, and continued pressing down on the board, keeping it submerged in the water.
We sat there for what felt like three hours, occasionally shifting the leg we used to press the board down into the water. After about an hour and a half, I noticed something interesting—the water level had dropped. There wasn’t any soil or anything visible in the water, but the borders of the haze no longer looked like a dome. Instead, they resembled a sphere, now filled almost to the middle with water.
We continued holding the board down until Mahya finally spoke up, “That’s it, my core is full. It absorbed a lot more than I thought—probably because this water is almost pure mana.”
“Shall we exchange cores?” I suggested, thinking it might be a good idea.
“That won’t work,” Mahya replied, shaking her head. “One of us has to connect to the core before we can do that.”
Al looked curious. “How do you know it won’t work?”
“Because with both my core and John’s core, which doesn’t even need a magic circle, the core only absorbed things after we gave it the order,” Mahya explained.
“Let’s deal with it tomorrow,” I suggested. “We can sleep on the boat tonight—no need to take out the house.”
They agreed, and we ended up spending a pleasant evening on the boat. We even had an e-foil race on the dungeon lake. I won! And although they tried to claim that I cheated, we all knew it was just an excuse to soothe their wounded pride.