Chapter 90: You Missed the War

  CROWN

  Sometimes, I felt bad about taking the name of Kenta. Unlike Tastka, Kenta had never learned he was anything other than a normal vaskan boy. I hadn’t dared set up the dream bridge again, so while the twenty years were a time I remembered, they were somehow even more distant to me than Tastka’s memories. I’d been too involved with her, not detached like with Kenta.

  So the boy had grown into a man, participated in hunts, proudly looked forward to becoming a grand explorer… and promptly died. Nothing he could do to prevent it, he just… stopped.

  He was me, in a way. He’d been my soul, raised in the harsh yet somehow carefree tribe. Yet he’d never had a chance to achieve his dreams. He’d been a tool, a convenient way for me to learn the culture and language of a people I’d created. Discarded once his purpose was complete.

  That bothered me, even if he was me.

  When I’d returned to the Sanctuary, it seemed like little had changed. Twenty years is an eyeblink to someone who can casually watch millennia go by. I had felt guilty about using a life like that, but at the same time it had subtly reinforced my sense of time as being different from that of mortals.

  I had panicked because I had ‘only’ four hundred years to prepare. Duck had waved off my absence as being a ‘mere’ six years. Two orders of magnitude difference. A scale that made those six years nothing.

  But for some, six years was everything.

  It had been so long since I had appeared here, I didn’t try to pop right back into my old rented room. I’d just used the same template, since I’d only been in Chall for a day before vanishing. There was no chance anyone would remember me, but now that I had an idea of what to do I could just drop right into the city. Replicating the pass was trivial, and would only be a problem if they had changed the passes.

  I really just didn’t want to waste days entering the Domain again. Especially when it was at war. I was just here to check on how they were actually handling the dungeon, and maybe drop a few more rumors if needed.

  Since I didn't have to stay at the dock and get a room – at least not yet – I have been looking forward to doing a little sightseeing of Downside’s largest city. I'd known that they were in a cease-fire of some kind with the recent war, and my god's-eye view had made it seem like the city was relatively untouched by the war.

  Eyes on the ground saw something very different.

  It wasn't war-torn in the sense that someone from 21st century earth would imagine. What I saw was not damaged from attacks, although the walls of the city were now marred by the scars of several attempts to gain entry. What I did see was signs of disrepair in some places. Many places were still kept up to the high standard that I had seen when I briefly visited before, but I could see cracks in the fa?ade. The less affluent parts of the city needed more attention, but were in no danger of collapse. The market bustled, but had fewer merchants and less variety.

  I saw no signs that those in the city were starving, but it was clear that life was not as easy as it had been during my first visit. Here in the capital city, the war had not hit as hard as the frontier, but it was not untouched.

  After several hours of wandering around, I found myself before the most curious part of the city. The building appeared new, but that was not what caught my interest. My own memories said this was normal, that it was expected. Yet looking on it, there was still surprise, simply because of how swiftly it had happened. Something about this did not sit right with me.

  My memories said that in a world with magic and dungeons, some sort of Adventurer’s Guild should exist. Those same memories also knew that such a concept was working from fiction, and that the practicalities of an Adventurer’s Guild made little sense in a real world situation. It wasn't that it couldn't exist, it was that the circumstances to form it were so unlikely to occur.

  Yet here it was. It wasn't called the Adventurer’s Guild, but rather the Dungeoneering Academy, but the purpose was clearly the same. All the more strange since right now, only one dungeon existed as far as anyone knew. Others were forming as I stared at this, but if they had been discovered, it had been well after the weathered sign I was reading had been made.

  “Quite the sight, isn’t it?”

  I turned to see the speaker, a youngish vaskan woman that looked considerably more like a Challenger than a local. I knew she wasn’t, though. She had a sword at her hip, worn comfortably, but that was a sign of a professional soldier of some kind. The rest of her clothing was lightweight and casual, and she wore a cloak to protect against the off and on drizzle of cold rain, but it was her bestial attributes that really stood out.

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  Most vaskan had some animal-like attributes after consuming a core, that wasn’t strange. It was when they opted to choose monster or animal abilities on level up instead of their normal class perks that they started looking more like their Totem. This woman had eyes with slit pupils and a gold color to the iris, sharp pointed ears, obvious fangs, and even signs of a muzzle. A tail swayed behind her, and her feet were heavily-clawed, the woman walking on her toes.

  I’d spent enough time among elves that I found her more cute than threatening, which probably wasn’t what she was going for. I didn’t say that, of course. I’m not an idiot.

  Usually.

  “It is,” I agreed. “Though a surprise to see. As far as I know, there is only one dungeon to explore.”

  I did a cursory look at the woman’s classes to see how high level she was, and barely caught myself from stepping back in surprise.

  | CROWN: Duck, I have a high level woman just casually asking me questions. ?

  | DUCK: Showing off your rizz, boss? ?

  | CROWN: I’m serious, Duck. Her main class is a level 47 [Silent Killer] that she’s using class perks to display as a [Soldier]. What is someone like that doing walking around the street? ?

  | DUCK: I dunno. I’ve found her but she looks pretty normal other than the high level. Assassins sightsee too, you know. ?

  | CROWN: I can’t help but worry a little! ?

  | DUCK: Just don’t antagonize her, you’ll be fine.

  Maybe I was being too jumpy. Just in case, I scanned her for any weird Quests or statuses, but found nothing. Then I remembered that vaskan don’t get Quests anyway.

  The woman flicked her tail and turned to look at the building again. “Maybe not. I’ve heard stories of another one, deep in Tribal lands. A pretty common story around here, but nobody has ever found it.”

  I laughed at that. “I’ve heard stories like that, too. I travel a lot, I’m a [Wanderer] after all. Funny how the exact location seems to change around but the story is basically the same. Probably made up after someone heard of the dungeon at the border.”

  She looked at me again. “Yes, that’s possible. So do you think having an Academy here is a bad idea?”

  That… was a good question. I rubbed my chin as I looked on at the building, realizing that we were about to make life much more complicated for these people. “Hmm. Right now, probably. But even if that story is just made up… who’s to say that another dungeon couldn’t appear? It happened once, why not again? I’m just surprised it’s this early.”

  “It’s a good thing they did,” the vaskan murmured. “This is likely to end the war. I hear that the Balten may stop contesting the dungeon if the Dungeoneering Academy is made a neutral and open party. Not sure if the Council would ever agree on that.”

  I chuckled and gave her a smile. “Politicians, eh?”

  That got her to smile back, a wry and genuine smirk. “Indeed.” She stared at me for a few moments longer, then placed a hand over her chest. “Sena. A Chall soldier on leave. You’re just passing through? Have you been to Chall before?”

  “Kenta,” I replied, imitating the gesture. It was very similar to what Kenta’s tribe did in greeting, so likely universal to the larger region. “Only once, many years ago, and only for a day. I didn’t get to see much of the city, but did pass through several towns. It has changed more than I expected.”

  Sena nodded to me, then jerked her head toward the main street. “I am on leave with nothing to do. Would you like company for a tour? I could tell you about the city. I know you [Wanderer] sorts like that.”

  Now I was in a pickle. I had no desire to spend the day with an assassin, especially a high level one. I was pretty sure I wasn’t her target, but that meant she was probably using me… maybe for cover.

  The only problem was, I couldn't refuse without blowing my own cover… and I was curious about how a native would describe the city.

  I mentally sighed before I answered. “I would love that.”

  SENA

  Six. Years.

  Sena slumped into her chair and clasped her head between her hands. Here in her private, secret room she could express some of her frustration. Her annoyance. Her disbelief.

  She’d moved on from the strange mystery after a few years. Then, purely by chance, she’d spotted an all too familiar staff thumping past her. A stick for walking, nothing more, but with scuffs and marks in all the same places as the one she’d examined over and over.

  The staff that was leaning against the wall behind her right now, in fact.

  The exact same staff.

  The worst part is she’d enjoyed the tour that was meant to interrogate. This ‘Kenta’ wasn’t particularly special to be with, but the earnest curiosity of the questions he asked… it was genuine. It had thrown her at first, until she realized the contradiction of her mystery wanderer.

  He knew things. He knew the language, the customs, and asked sharp questions about architecture and food and culture that showed he was intelligent and well-learned. More well-learned than a random wanderer. Many of the questions, she couldn’t answer, and he hadn’t minded.

  Yet the questions he had asked also showed that he genuinely knew little about the details of Chall. He had no clue how the city really lived, and was truly inquisitive about so many things. She’d expected a mastermind and got some strange tourist instead. A concept that barely existed yet.

  Still…

  Sena took a deep breath. “It doesn’t make sense.” Her whisper was strained, deeply frustrated. She’d asked him questions, and he’d answered with some truths, some half-truths, and some lies. She’d gotten very good at reading people, and could often spot a lie without even using her class abilities and skills.

  She knew some of the questions had caught him off guard. She knew that this ‘Kenta’ was hiding something. His reactions were too obvious, too amateur to hide it. She could tell that he wasn’t just casually suggesting more dungeons might appear… he knew.

  None of her abilities agreed with her.

  Every time she checked, they’d happily declared he was honest and forthright. It shouldn’t be possible to mask against her abilities without being a very, very experienced spy… but her simple observations said that wasn’t the case.

  Sena turned and plucked the familiar staff from the wall, turning it over in her hands.

  “Who are you… and what do you want?”

  The Distant Tower