The Infinity Dungeon [LitRPG]

Travis was having a good day. After a bit of a rough start with the now-young David, things were settling. It had been strange seeing the man go around Site 00 with his new look and much harsher personality, and he had even thought that this new update to the other man's character would have been the catalyst for many problems between them. Instead, he had been pleasantly surprised to see that it had been the opposite. Each kept to their own side of the pond, metaphorically speaking, and even when things overlapped they found themselves agreeing with each other more often than before.

Travis would have attributed this entirely to David's new personality, claiming that the man now saw things much more clearly and that this shift aligned more with his own way to look at the world. Icarus, however, was not so easily fooled and liked to remind him several times a day that he too had changed a little, and that the two had met in the middle. He wasn't so sure it was the case, but whatever.

The operators they rescued from the strange pocket dimension they had been sucked into also proved to be a treasure trove. They were powerful now, after claiming to have spent years trapped in there, experiencing a time dilation and forced training similar to what Michael subjected himself to with the dungeon. Not all of them still wanted to work with Unity or have anything to do with magic, and as per policy, the few who wanted out had been granted a safe haven and a comfortable life somewhere remote. The others who remained were proving to be a very powerful asset, making Travis secretly glad the portal appeared in the first place.

After it had collapsed, Johanne told him, there was no trace of either it or the pocket dimension. A shame. Redbud ridge had been fully converted to their cause, a great test of a strategy Travis wanted to deploy on a global scale eventually.

The following day was a bit less good. David was always absent from Site 00, and even though he wasn't skipping his duties, Travis wondered what the man was up to.

Another day passed, and another worry was added to the pile.

Then another.

And another.

He saw Michael come and go, always busy. He had been more slippery than usual, always going to the dungeon and emerging hours later despite the time dilation, only to go to sleep and then go back the following day. He didn't speak much, walking around with a frown on his face and a look of utter concentration that terrified even Travis, let alone the other operators, who were still a long way from getting used to this side of him.

In one occasion, Travis tried to have a talk with the man, deciding that it was time to do something before this whole organization devolved into some sort of directionless Sect where everybody did whatever they wanted. As intercepted the man, clasped Michael's arm and pulled, knowing that the man would not budge unless he allowed himself to be pulled, hoping he would get his attention. He did.

"What do you want?" Michael's tone of voice did not bode well.

"What's with all these dungeon delves lately?"

"I'm on the cusp of something," the man said dismissively, breaking free of the hand and preparing to resume his power-walk towards the dungeon. A power-walk for Michael equaled a full sprint for most other Silver-ranked operators, Travis included.

"Wait! You gotta hear this. There was a girl the other day. She was found by the road, alone, asking about me, Michael. It's nearly impossible to get here by accident. When I asked her how she knew about this place and about me, she claimed she'd been sent by Icarus. Does this make any sense to you?"

This got Michael's full, undivided attention. "So Icarus is beginning to make the first independent moves, interesting. He's gathering allies for you, you should be happy."

Travis moved in closer, looking around to see who was around before speaking in whispers. "I'm no David. I won't play daddy to a little girl. What about her parents?" he looked around, "we spun a story to them that she found a new friend group. Icarus sent them messages from the cell phones of a few of the girl's schoolmates' parents, and her parents bought it. Of course they would." There was a pause, "This doesn't change anything. She can't be here."

Michael's face hid the faintest hint of a smile, "Why did Icarus even send her here? What's her name?"

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Louise. She claims to have magical powers. That she can hear voices from some sort of astral plane or some shit. Listen, I have dumped her with Johanne, but it's temporary. I'm not going to chaperone her around. Can you ask, I don't know, your sister or perhaps David? She's older than Liff but…"

"Busy. But it's a good idea, go ask them."

Travis inhaled, then exhaled. He reminded himself that the man in front of him could end his life with a thought, and even though he didn't believe Michael was capable of such things, lately this belief had been challenged more than once by the man's behavior.

After that, Michael went back to the dungeon. Travis followed soon after, heading to the Misty Valley where he found Maggie having tea with the stone golems. Some of the golems looked like giant dolls made of stone now, and he had to blink several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things that weren't there. In his phone, Icarus sent him the stone-face emoji of a Moai statue.

"I'm losing it… I'm fucking losing it. I'm surrounded by crazy people."

After the outburst, it had actually been easy to talk Maggie into making friends with Louise. Michael's sister was feeling lonely, and could use a friend from a normal background, rather than golems and Fae.

***

Travis slept in a treehouse in the Fae Forest. It wasn't Michael's treehouse, but one specifically built for him. The Fae, he had discovered a while ago, would do things if he paid them in mana coins, and they were scary efficient at many tasks, as long as you took the time to explain what you wanted from them in detail. The Dwarves were too, excelling in learning technology and industrial manufacturing. The day of the discovery had been a good day, before several key revelations soured the mood for him in a way that seemed irreparable.

He watched the sunrise for a moment, thinking that a man like him would never thrive without a challenge. The reframing helped a little, and soon he was ready to tackle the new day. The world didn't wait for anybody, and even though the time dilation was on his side, he felt like he had to act. Hell, to even be able to sleep without feeling like he was wasting good hours, he had taken to sleeping in the damn dungeon. He still felt the Gaze, it was just that these days the Gaze's effect paled in comparison to the dread that wasting time in the outside world brought.

The first order of business, still in the dungeon, was to review his files. Those files had been a great day-ruiner a couple of days earlier, and now had become his main fixations.

They were foot-high, piles of dossiers detailing the players moving behind the scenes, in the government and in the rest of the world. Printed on actual paper, because that's the way these things should be handled. With the respect they deserve.

Icarus had gathered them. He had erroneously thought that an artificial superintelligence like Icarus could sort mundane problems–like world domination–easily. The AI gave him those dossies to disabuse him of the notion.

The world was full of problems that weren't mundane at all. Had it not been for Icarus, he would have learned the fact the hard way, dragging Unity down with him. With the AI, he had been able to painstakingly piece things together and he thought that Unity had a fighting chance, provided they acted smart.

He massaged his head, feeling a headache coming. The first of the day.

The plan was still the same, roughly speaking. Manipulate the flow of information, build false realities for people, control strategic assets. He would have to redact a document detailing the specifics, integrating the new information. Icarus could bring a country to its knees in a matter of hours, cutting communications, electricity, freezing bank accounts–this ability did not go away even if one took the non-mundane problems into consideration.

The reason was simple: the AI was so utterly embedded in the fabric of the world that ripping it out would literally kill civilization.

Slowly, Travis' plots began to take shape. Act swiftly, but in a way that does not awaken the sleeping giants. The old monsters. The remnants of magic of old. The OA was only the tip of the iceberg. They could deal with all this shit, he was sure of it, but they needed a master plan. His master plan.

Unity's Grand Psyop: "The Dawning Accord"

He smiled, allowing himself a moment to bask in the idealization of the future before it was back to planning shit.

How to make the pieces of Unity move as a unit, rather than each to their own? Johanne was autistic, damn her, Michael was off on one of his tangents and was unapproachable. Trevor and Jennifer were busy with the Operators and their own personal missions that Travis himself had given them. Then there was David. What the fuck was the man even doing? Lately, he had hardly been seen at Site 00. Why was he always on the move? Icarus wasn't telling, which was another thing that drove Travis mad.

All Travis wanted was a tool. Instead, he was given a fickle god that he had to appease in order to be granted favors. Icarus' agenda was as inscrutable as the only master the AI followed. A master who didn't seem to even realize the scope of the little voice in his pocket, even though he really should—considering that he used the AI to analyze his own fucking magic system.

"And again," Travis muttered, "Icarus told me this little piece of information for a reason. Sure, the AI claimed it was relevant information, but I think it was trying to make a point."