NOVEL NEXT B3 - Arc 1 Epilogue: "Don't Be Scared To Adapt."
<< Alpha Log –
6952 SFY – Third Era, 9 standard months since Planetfall.
5 months since the establishment of the goblin colony. >>
Well, now, isn't this a mess?
I've grown used to things going off-script on this hellhole of a planet, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be frustrated by it. With Robert killing Magnus before I could secure him, the sudden reappearance of Tuguslar, and Bert's critical injury, most of my short-term plans have been thoroughly shredded.
Originally, Bert was supposed to act as the mediator between the dungeon and the Adventurer's Guild, in exchange for my assistance in capturing Robert once the traitor made his move.
That should've been simple.
But now? With one dead Guild agent, one investigator in critical condition, and no Robert, the likelihood of gaining the Guild's goodwill is rapidly evaporating. I doubt they'll look kindly on me or the village after this, unless we can deliver something concrete to show for the losses.
Unfortunately, Tuguslar's arrival gave Robert the window he needed. He managed to rally the surviving bandits and break for the exit of the cavern.
Naturally, Garrelt and Boarslayer wanted to charge after him the moment he fled. I shut that down immediately. Robert may not have Magnus's raw power, but he's still a peak [Spiritual Awakening] cultivator, and without Bert, neither of them would've lasted thirty seconds, even with my support equipment.
Thankfully, the tracking node embedded in Robert's armor is still active. We just lack the manpower to follow it, for now.
The same can't be said for the tracker in Maggy's artifact. The signal cut out the instant Tuguslar vanished. Considering that model has a functional range of nearly a hundred miles, I can only assume he's long gone… or somewhere we won't be able to reach him anytime soon. With any luck, that will stay the case.
So here we are.
Robert has escaped, free to spin whatever tale he likes.
Most of the expedition members were wounded in the battle and are not fit to travel.
And Bert is stuck in a recovery pod for an undeterminable amount of time.
Which leaves the question: What next?
Garrelt, stepping in as acting expedition leader until Bert recovers, decided to return to Halirosa and report directly to the Guild.
Dr. Maria had a few choice words for him, given his own condition. She only relented after I agreed to send an escort of antborgs to ensure his safety. She also informed me, rather decisively, that she would be accompanying him.
Not something I would normally agree to, but the doctor can be… persuasive. Besides, some of her contacts in the city could prove useful, and the village clinic will manage fine in her absence, for a time, under her new apprentice — a young male goblin freshly named Woundbinder.
Maggy also requested to accompany them. She insists her teacher needs to be warned that someone had targeted the artifact. And to extend my offer to "trade notes."
I don't think it needs to be said that I'll be 'tagging' along. This will give me the chance to deploy the signal boosters toward Halirosa and extend my reach.
After missing out on Jadewalker city, I'm quite eager to see just what a cultivator city has to offer.
Halirosa get ready! Here come's Alpha!
As for Icefinger and his gang,
If the man is so eager for a war… Well then, I was made for war.
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When Tuguslar opened his eyes, he was no longer in the goblin cavern. The costly teleportation scroll had flung him far to the north — still underground, but far from pursuit.
He inhaled deeply, letting the air fill his lungs. The ambient spirit energy here was so dense it felt viscous, like wading through warm honey. A grin tugged at his lips.
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"It's good to be home," he murmured, and stepped forward.
Thin lines of light flickered overhead, tracing his movement. They illuminated a polished stone hallway, the walls smooth enough to shimmer like brushed steel.
He passed several sealed doors without so much as a glance. There was no need. The rooms beyond held nothing but the long-dead relics and corpses entombed in silence.
At three intervals, he paused. Sweeping beams of light scanned his body from head to toe, each ending in a soft chime before allowing him forward.
After the final checkpoint, he approached a large metallic door embedded in the stone. More light swept across him, then flashed green. The door peeled open without a sound, folding back into the wall to reveal a cavernous, unlit chamber.
He stepped inside and walked a dozen meters before dropping to one knee.
Voom!
A massive cube of blue light surged into existence before him, suspended in midair. It spun slowly, its surface swirling with stars, as if a piece of the night sky had been bottled and set adrift. The very ground beneath him trembled faintly.
Then it hit. The pressure. A force unlike any spiritual presence he'd ever known crashed down on him, pinning him to the floor. Sweat beaded on his brow. He couldn't move, couldn't raise his head. Only bow.
The silence stretched until a melodious feminine voice echoed through the chamber.
"Were you able to acquire the artifact?"
"Yes, Mistress," Tuguslar rasped. The silver artifact materialized in his hand, and he extended it toward the cube, arm trembling.
"Good," she purred.
Tendrils of blue light reached out from the cube, gently lifting the orb from his grasp.
With a flash, the artifact shuddered and opened like a blooming flower, its petals unfolding with a hiss of escaping energy.
Cradled at its heart was a black hexagonal crystal, encased in an intricate lattice of dull metal.
The tendrils twisted the frame and effortlessly extracted it. The silver shell that once held it was tossed aside, discarded like a worthless box.
Tuguslar frowned. He had never seen anything like the strange crystal. The orb itself had pulsed with rich spirit energy, but this thing... this core was void, inert, like a dead star.
"What is it?" he asked, the question escaping before he could stop it. He froze, bracing for pain.
But none came.
Instead, the voice replied, soft and almost wistful. "A piece of the puzzle."
The crystal vanished, and the tendrils retracted into the cube.
"One step closer to being free of this prison."
A long silence stretched before the Mistress spoke again.
"Finally, something falls into place," she said, the musical lilt of her voice tinged with satisfaction. "After Hera's failure with the Deadwood Seed and the growing resistance from the United Tribes in the west, I was beginning to grow... frustrated. You've done well, little Tuguslar."
"Thank you, Mistress!" Tuguslar said, heart pounding in his chest. He opened his mouth to say more, but hesitated.
"You have something else to report? Speak."
"I encountered a Dungeon Core during the operation," Tuguslar said quickly. "A very... unusual one."
"Oh?" the Mistress asked, intrigued. "In what way?"
"I'm certain it's a growth-type. Its reach, its intelligence — there's no question. But something about it is... off."
He paused, grasping for the right words. "Growth-types aren't rare, but the technology this one uses... It's not exactly Old Ruins tech, but it's close. Similar in spirit, if not in form."
"Now that is interesting," the Mistress mused. "Very few have managed to harness the Old Technology — fewer still have repurposed it into a functioning dungeon. The knowledge required lies well beyond the scope of cultivators, or even mages. It walks an entirely different Path."
Tuguslar nodded. He certainly had never heard of anyone succeeding at such a thing. If they had, it would have caused a stir across the continent.
"Still," the Mistress continued, "you needn't concern yourself with it. I already know where the remaining artifacts lie. No one on this planet — not even some errant Core dabbling in Old Tech — can replicate what I require. Whatever secrets they've scavenged from the Ruins are irrelevant. They pose no threat to the mission."
Tuguslar's jaw tightened. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"You disagree?" the Mistress asked, softly, but with a weight that dared him to lie.
Tuguslar flinched. But silence would be worse than honesty now.
"It's more than that, Mistress. The Core... it was different. Not just the tech or the structure — it felt... personal. Almost like I was speaking to an actual person, not just some spirit construct."
"Hmmm. I see." Her voice was thoughtful, but distant. "That opens... tantalizing possibilities. Still, I will say it again: it is of no consequence to your mission. What matters now is acquiring the remaining artifacts. Once we have them, we will finally have a chance to escape this wretched prison of a planet."
"But, Mistress," Tuguslar persisted. "If this Core continues to grow, it could become a real obstacle. It's already more advanced than it should be."
The Mistress laughed.
The cube spun faster, light twisting into spirals. Dozens of luminous tendrils emerged, but they didn't strike Tuguslar. Instead, they coiled before him, weaving together.
The cube vanished in a ripple of light, and in its place stood a figure.
She glowed, featureless, her body composed of threads of shifting starlight. Hair like drifting nebulae cascaded behind her, flowing with the motion of some unseen cosmic tide before fading into the dark.
She stepped forward, a radiant hand reaching down to lift Tuguslar's chin.
"Then, my dear Tuguslar," she said gently, almost fondly. "We do what we've always done when the world tries to change the rules."
Though the glowing figure had no face to speak of, Tuguslar could feel her smile.
"Adapt."