Chapter 22: Chapter 18: Dungeons and Hoes

Day 12(41) - Afternoon

Ditcher Dungeon - 1st Floor

Sixteen days.

*grind* *pick* *chop* *brgrg*

"Your majesty!" Shouting to be heard over the drills and picks. "This mine employs a hundred men working in shifts around the clock!" Dozens of miners in overalls and safety gear manhandle implements of mineral destruction. Digging rock out of the walls. "You can see your investment is being well spent!"

A large cavern inside Ditcher Dungeon. Floodlights turn the normally pitch black space into midday. Revealing its black, gray and brown rock and rubble. The cool temp and musty smell is a sharp contrast to the sweltering heat outside.

"Of course we are limited by a lack of heavy machinery!" The mining itself is loud. The carts being filled and hauled out, while blaring rock music, ain't exactly quiet either. "We find the uglies really don't like AC/DC!" Which is complete nonsense. "So we keep it loud!"

Need orgon or just about any other mineral? Then just go shopping in your local dungeon. Find a seam and start digging. Maybe offer some scrip to have others do it for you. Yeah, this is just one of the mines in Ditcher. And a smaller one at that. But it's hardly like there's a manpower shortage.

The third break got people moving again. D grade monsters upped the pressure. Causing more small enclaves to give up and move to the bigger ones. Rumors of safety and jobs have lots of them headed here.

May have to upgrade the public kitchen again. Or buy a second one.

"We're excavating four hundred cubic yards a day!" Clearly proud of himself. "That's five hundred tons going to your refinery every 24 hours, your majesty!"

Now it's not like those five hundred tons is all usable. Much like coal it has to be processed to get most of the impurities out. Leaving only a fraction behind.

"Have you determined the regeneration rate yet?!" Yes I have to shout to be heard too.

Shakes his head and points to a couple spots with holes and various markings. "Not yet, my king! We are still experimenting!"

On medieval world, dungeons are natural formations. Alive, sort of. So they heal from damage done to them. Whether fighting or mining. But it takes a good deal of time and they may look very different afterwards.

Portal dungeons, however, are completely artificial. Oh they look natural, but they aren't. Mine some copper? Come back in a few days and the copper would be back.

Wipe out all the goblins? A few days later the goblins would also be back.

Nearly identical.

The only difference is how fast. Which varies by dungeon. The big nations in steam land took advantage of this by going all industrial revolution on that ass.

Those wonderful smoke belching factories might be outside? But many refineries, foundries and even slaughterhouses would be inside the dungeon.

I'm no tree hugger but some of the shit I saw was downright disturbing. Like child labor in a dungeon? Just wrong, man.

Hey, I may have been an industrialist but I treated my employees a hell of a lot better. Fortunately my magearms were profitable enough that I could afford too.

Oh, I also own this dungeon. Basically it just means that Louis was the first to finish it and hold the dungeon core in my, his, hands. All it really does is add my name on the info screen and some buffs while inside the dungeon. Plus gives me a "cut" of what anyone running this dungeon earns.

It's automatically deducted by the system so unless they know about it? Won't even realize it's happening.

Really, conquering it wasn't that hard. There was only one floor and a few rooms at the time. Luckily Ditcher, actually "Tunnels of the Cursed Goblin" but nobody cares, is an easy one. Even after three breaks it's only four floors deep. The first level is around a square mile of tunnels and caverns now.

According to Zecawk, the harder dungeons will already have a dozen or more floors and go on for miles and miles. 

"And over here a crew is laying tracks so we can start using rail carts!" Points at some guys, working on the railroad. ♫All the livelong day!♫

"How long until they're ready?!" Zoe shouts.

*CRACK*

Cheers as a boulder sized slab of rock splits off the wall. Men with picks break it down into smaller chunks for the wheelbarrows.

"Will be a few more days, your ladyship!" Shrugs. "Depends on security!"

Zoe? Yeah, Zoe Houghton. Her, Ely, four Blackhearts, Torsten Bier(Director of Labor Dept), two of his assistants. Elliot Brooks(Commander of Defense Dept) and Captain Carl Scheffel(1st Infantry Company) are my entourage today.

Elliot bristles. "Both the first and second companies are already deployed!" Bows to me before returning his attention to the manager. "But this is only a live fire exercise for the army. Your PMC is responsible for security!"

Yes, you heard that right. Fort Matthew now has a Private Military Company. Many of the rookie adventurers didn't want to form new parties. But call it a company instead? And they line up to apply.

Now it's not unusual for adventurers to form their own guilds. But of course Earthlings just have to go the corporate route. "Rook Security" is only two days old but has already landed the mine contracts.

Oh, and they call themselves a PMSC. Private Military and Security Company.

I don't like it but, in a twisted way, it's another sign that mankind is starting to climb out of the system apocalypse hole.

"Thank you!" I'm done. "For the tour!"

He bows. I wave. And we leave.

Ce, Lez and Carly are with their party, the Minutemen. Running the third floor for training. With four new members they have to iron out everyone's roles.

As we walk down a dark curving tunnel with only scattered lighting. Carts go running by and an army platoon falls in for additional security. I look over my shoulder.

"How is the exercise going?"

Elliot, wearing camouflage BDUs, nods. "Very well. That orc is a nightmare, your majesty. But he sure as hell knows how to train soldiers."

"Herr König." Carl, the ex-Bundeswehr captain, adds. "There have been casualties. But only a few and most Tin promotions have been offered der Soldat class."

Yep, 99% of the recruits have been Leads. Level 0's. Nulls. As Gene Wilder might say. 'You’ve got to remember that these are just simple folk. These are people of the land. The common clay of the new world. You know… morons.'

Hey, I was in the army. Moron would be high praise for many of my comrades in arms. At every rank.

Look over my other shoulder at Zoe. "Where did Rook Security come from?"

"Mr Rook approached a senior and requested financing." Ely speaks instead "It was decided to treat them like the other startups."

Believable, since they've been spreading their money around. Hell, three of the five mines in this dungeon are run by Club companies.

Also unbelievable, because it's an armed group in my town that I have no influence over. But they do. Filled with rankers so Rook Security has significantly more strength than most factions. Plus more growth potential. 

The Club absolutely knew I wouldn't like it but did it anyway. I stop, bringing the entourage to a halt too. Turn and face Ms Weizmann.

"Alright. But I even get the idea that he's sniffing around me or my women? I'll find him guilty of sedition and ventilate his skull with a 50 cal bullet." She nervously nods. "And tell those seniors that I might not stop with just him."

"Ye-yes, your majesty." Stutters Ely while Ms Houghton deadpans "Promise?" as I turn and walk away.

Sigh.

Shouldn't shoot the messengers. The two aren't bad lays and Z's in a tough spot.

See, the Houghton clan is under new management. Specifically, her father's. Cynthia’s dad used to be in charge but has been in a coma for a month. Yep, turns out douchebag really did send the video to her parents too.

After daddy saw it, he attacked Johnny's dad using his new class and skills. But lost… badly. Falling into a coma. Grant Senior was hurt too and bailed before the rest of the Club could arrive to finish him off.

Ended up somewhere northeast and created a drug fueled army of "juicers." Calls himself "General Grant" now and has conquered a couple of enclaves. He's half the reason why the Club wants my guns and robots so badly.

Well, after mommy had another meltdown recently. The family got fed up and Zoe's dad took over.

Z becoming my pocket pussy is part of his plan to rebuild the Houghton's reputation. Every time she goes home to "visit," as in report and be debriefed, seduction and sex techniques are reviewed. Keeps shooting her up with fertility meds too.

Really creepy.

The girl's accepted her fate and cums with the best of them. She's a squealer by the by. But Zoe's also asexual. What do I mean? Hmm… How do I put this? You know, it's not hard for women to become addicted to, well, my dick.

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Mana manipulation, dual-cultivation, cyberotica and now carnalist can really fuck with their bodies and minds. But my little 5'1" skinny debutante doesn't even drool when I whip it out. Never loses herself to it like Lez does.

Z reminds me of a legal Wednesday Addams. The Christina Ricci version. Mostly emotionless. Even morbid. Can't imagine how she ended up with the Muse class.

Her pale skin, black hair, hazel eyes, and C-cups couldn't be more different from Cynthia. Which the Louis in me appreciates.

"How is your cousin?" Walk and talk. Not caring who hears. "Is she miserable?"

Calm, cool and carrying a tablet as another cart zips by. "Sire, Cousin Cynthia felt she was being treated too well and has begun harming herself. She asks to be called Cyn now and her class has changed to Flagellant."

"Cyn, as in sin?" Raise an eyebrow. 

"Yes, my king." Squints a little. "She believes you are the messiah. The second coming. And she is the reincarnation of Mary Magdalene." Um… But Mary wasn't really a prostitute. "Cynthia is no longer sane."

Stalactites and stalagmites big and small pass by as the winding tunnel continues.

Meh… as long as my sentence is being carried out. "How is her mother taking it?" Eden Houghton was a very affectionate woman. 

"Your majesty." A pause. "After her last breakdown, Aunt Eden only wears black and refuses to leave her husband's bedside."

Well at least they're keeping busy. Idle hands are the devil's plaything don't you know.

We reach the portal chamber and the background noise jumps again. Handfuls of adventurers and porters are entering and leaving. Carts full of ore are being hauled out and empty ones returning.

Dungeon Department staff collect taxes and run customs checks before anyone can leave. Searching for flora and fauna. The last thing we want is more invasive species being introduced. Some dungeon critters are not hostile. Leading the more naive to think they can be tamed and kept as pets.

Yeah, you want a pet? Go to the Pettery. At least those are actually tameable. Dungeon critters just breed and spread. Are designed to in fact. Already have enough running loose, messing up the ecosystem.

"Atten…tion!" Someone in the platoon guarding the chamber spots us and sounds off.

Everything stops.

"At ease!" Captain Scheffel shouts back but it's too late. Seeing thirty more soldiers enter surrounding a guy wearing a gold crown on his head. I've added diamond looking mana stones. Causes everyone to freeze.

Many of those present bow or kneel. Not sure what to do and have heard I'm not shy about convicting and killing people. Only half the people here are even from Fort Matthew. The rest are rankers from other enclaves.

"Thank you but return to your tasks! The kingdom needs you!"

Again there is confusion. Some cheer. Some just go back to what they were doing. Told you I sucked at public speaking.

The entrance is around 8 x 8 feet. It's rippling multicolored glowing curved border defying time and space. Some portals are larger but few are smaller. The freaky ones fluctuate in size. Those are the ones the really big beasties come out of.

Feel the tingle pass through me when I leave. Then the heat and humidity hits. No, the customs guys didn't try to stop me. I prefer the open air and was starting to feel… impatient. There's less vertigo too.

Outside I see the walls I've added around the portal. And the system store's vending machine. More customs officers are here. Performing random spot checks. Another army platoon is present. Manning the machine guns and gate. I consider this outside my turf so entering and exiting is treated like crossing the outer wall.

The captain salutes, peels off and goes back into the dungeon. That's where most of his men are. But a squad stays with me. Joined by eight "Special Services" officers from the Police Department once we pass the gate. They're the FMPD version of SWAT.

Not saying they actually are yet. Everything is new and there is a long road ahead before I consider them competent. But they're trying.

Iva and others lobbied hard for more security and I finally caved. Bet there are a few folks who witnessed my coups that would like to do the same thing to me. Not saying they would succeed. But any collateral damage would be bad.

So more guns around me may keep their ambition in check.

We're heading towards the Adventurer’s Guild, to discuss recruiting, and now giving me time to think about yesterday again.

Yeah, yesterday.

And how I may have really fucked up.

…

"You really don't want me to heal you?"

The one eyed one handed catwoman, Cono Als Mai, is staring me down. 

"No."

In the Royal Residence’s staff cafeteria. Everyone with permanent damage is present. Lots of significant burns. Missing fingers. Missing toes. Eyes. Ears. Even limbs. And I've got a mass regeneration scroll ready to go. But there's a problem.

They don't want me to use it.

"Want that." She's pointing at my cyberarm. "And that." Points at my cybereyes.

Massage the bridge of my nose. "I told you this won't make you a Technomancer."

"Respectfully, your majesty, sir." Says the Airborne survivor I met the other day. "We don't care. All of us were too… weak." Nods from others. "How can we trust this system that made us slaves? That brought this apocalypse. Your, uh, cyberware isn't from the system, right?"

I nod.

A small older woman speaks up. "My lord, please, make us strong. I want to fight back with my own strength. Not the alien's."

Some misunderstandings, my nanos are from another world too, but I get the gist.

"Make us space marines!" Shouts someone in the back. Causing me to facepalm. Now that's just nuts.

A palm rests on my shoulder. It's Z. I brought her too, well, show off. Ely has seen a mass regeneration but Zoe hasn't. And since they've both become my sort of permanent Club hoes? Kind of wanted to show off.

An odd sensation comes over my brain. Possibilities that didn't occur to me before. Do now. Feels like I'm watching James Burke's Connections show. Tons of little "Aha!" moments are happening.

Huh… so that's what a Muse does.

My mind is kind of buzzing. Hey, I saw Universal Soldier with Van Damme. And Soldier with Kurt Russell. And know the 40K games somewhat. Even tinkered with making supersoldiers back in steam land.

But there was just no need for it. The system had been around forever by then. There were well established nations and large armies. I gave them the power to beat the hobgoblins and Frost King. They had plenty of veterans. Just needed better gear.

Earth though? The nation's are gone. The armies are gone. They need gear and soldiers.

My nanos are going nuts. Old plans are being brought up and tweaked at a blinding speed. And… holy shit it's actually doable. Need to make some stuff. Buy some things. And it's going to be an all nighter but… Well, I did say I was going to make the system pay.

This would definitely fuck with things.

Nina?

<Nina: Yes master?>

Got a new project for you. But you've only got a week to get twenty-five sets ready.

<Nina: Oh my, then I will do my very best.>

Get to it.

I place my hand on Z's. "Go get Ely. I need to examine her brain."

"I'll get a saw." She replies and walks away.

Zoe's probably not joking.

…

How might I have fucked up? Didn't you see those movies? Things often went very wrong. Hopefully this won't bite me in the ass.

Hopefully.

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