Wimpy Villager 14: Trash the Dungeon (Part I) Read online

  With the protective instincts of a warrior, I flew back and tumbled into Breeze to protect her from the trap.

  Another deafening sound. The ceiling flew up, then crashed down again. It continued like this, over and over, flying up and down every second or so.

  Breeze said something, but I couldn't hear her over the noise. She dashed in just as the ceiling went up, grabbed the seeds and dashed back. I don't know how she moved so fast. It reminded me of the time we first met. (Was that another ability? Is she really holding out on me?!)

  The ceiling crashed down a fraction of a second after she returned, then went up again where it stopped.

  We didn't say anything for a moment, just stared ahead in silence, our ears ringing. At least mine were.

  I'd read about trapped rooms, of course, but never in my wildest dreams had I imagined one like this. I pictured it now: the ceiling of sticky pistons covered in a grid of redstone, the complex trails leading to the floor. Or subfloor. What is that called? You know. A floor under a floor.

  Anyway—

  "So this is what the Builders are capable of, huh . . ." I shuddered, thinking about how much damage a ceiling would inflict—a lot, I guessed. "Just what kind of mad scientists are we dealing with here . . ."

  In short, we had to figure out the correct path. One wrong step and we'd become villager pizza. Or at least take a ton of damage.

  Since the entire ceiling came down, throwing items in front of us like a reverse trail of breadcrumbs wasn't an option. Because doing that would mean, um, actually stepping into the room.

  The answer was already here, though, right in Breeze's hands. A fishing pole. (Well! She certainly came prepared!) The lure—although tiny, and capable of inflicting only half a point of damage at best—was heavy enough to trigger the plates. It could be used to safely test which areas were safe and which areas . . . um . . . weren't safe. This was a time consuming process, though (and loud). If any nearby monsters weren't aware of our presence, well, they surely were now. And if they'd been sleeping, they not only woke up but did so angrily, receiving a small Strength buff increasing their melee damage by 1.

  Thirty minutes later, we mapped the safe route. I should say I mapped the safe route. Breeze might be able to hit a bat from five hundred blocks away with a bow, but sadly, her skill with a fishing pole . . . let's just say her hitting the water would be quite the accomplishment.

  I'm going to include a drawing of the safe path here, in case anyone ever visits this dungeon in the future. I know it's cheating, but whatever. It'll save you some time.

  By the way, even though we figured out which pressure plates were safe to step on, that didn't make walking through that room any less terrifying. After today, setting foot into any building with a low ceiling is going to give me a serious panic attack.

  The humans said there's this thing called a wiki that's like a huge book of information on various subjects. If we ever make a wiki about dungeons, this drawing needs to be added in.

  DAY 8—SATURDAY—UPDATE VII

  Another trap.

  This one was pretty obvious, yet there was no way to tell what kind of trap it could have been. Please consult my drawing to understand why.

  Yes, soul sand underneath a pressure plate still slows you down. Ask me how I know. Go on.

  Cobwebs obscured whatever sat beyond. Like literally every block of air contained one.

  I turned to Breeze, who was still holding her fishing pole. "Probably dispensers on the other end," I said. "Filled with arrows. Wait. Can arrows fly through cobwebs?"

  "They can."

  "Great. Whatever. Pole it."

  Breeze sent out her lure. It almost hit a stone plate. Almost!

  With a sigh, I grabbed the fishing pole and sent out the lure. It, too, almost hit the intended target. A second attempt was met with success. That's me, Fishmaster 9000 . . . 0.001 seconds after that lure bobs, I reel that line in so fast, the lure actually creates a time-space wormhole thingy serving as a portal to another dimension. In this case, though, the lure wasn't bobbing, because it was on a stone pressure plate.

  Also.

  The pressure plate didn't sink in.

  "Right." I sighed again and handed her the pole. "These plates aren't weighted."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm not really sure, but . . . I think that kind of pressure plate only works when a living creature steps on it." I held my shield in front of me. "Guess we'll have to test this the hard way, huh?"

  Sure enough, after I stepped onto the first row of pressure plates—with Breeze directly behind me—arrows went flying everywhere, accompanied by blue-gray swirls. "They're enchanted? Please tell me those aren't wither arrows."

  "Slowness," Breeze said. Further solidifying her status as the Overworld's preeminent arrow expert, she added: "A negative fifteen percent reduction, if I recall correctly."

  "As if soul sand and cobwebs isn't enough." While we slowly advanced, and I do mean slowly, another volley was unleashed. An arrow struck my shield with a clang and bounced off. By the way, here's why my shield was awesome in this situation: I wasn't afflicted with the arrow's slowness debuff. If I'd been blocking with my sword, I believe I would have been. Well, not like I'd know. I'd never had to block an enchanted arrow with a sword before, but dude, knowing my luck, I'm sure that day is coming soon enough.

  Approximately nine million arrows later, we reached the end. All I could taste at this point was cobwebs. That's not even the worst part. We couldn't loot the dispensers: they were, like everything else, protected. And the arrows themselves couldn't be taken. They crumbled into nothingness seconds after striking something. (And yes, I tried grabbing one super fast. You bet I thought of that! The arrow crumbled as soon as I touched it, though. No free arrows for us. Supersadcreeperface. Imagine a creeper who'd just been told he had to be room mates with an ocelot, that was my face. Those Builders, man . . . they really thought of everything, didn't they?)

  The dispensers looked so happy as they hurled arrow after arrow at us.

  As soon as we were in the clear, Breeze headed for the door, then stopped.

  "That's odd," she said.

  "What?"

  "The door's open."

  "Hurmm. Maybe it's the same people who left those horses? C'mon, they might be close."

  DAY 8—SATURDAY—UPDATE VIII

  We stood before a vast chamber with, thankfully, an extremely high ceiling.

  The style of construction was noticeably different here. Although still gloomy, all obsidian and bedrock, it was beautiful in a way. Stately. Yes. Stately.

  In fact, my first impression was that a different person made this section. If the area before was built by some brilliant mad scientist, this section was built by an elegant gentleman with a top hat.

  Can you believe that Entity303 was the nicest wizard who ever lived? I can't either. By looking at him, you'd never expect this wizard to offer you some cookies and tea. Only the experience of being polymorphed into a baby rabbit and/or teleported to the Void.

  "What's the point of this area?" I said. "Where's the challenge in walking around giant, empty halls?"

  "Looks like someone else has already taken care of it." She pointed down a hall. Countless items were scattered across the floor. Sword. Axes. Pieces of armor. More common were the remains of monsters. Bones. Spider eyes.

  So someone else had cleared this area. They must have been in a hurry, because they didn't bother taking anything. One of the nicer finds was a gold ring. It had a fancy name: Ancient Band. That ring was totally mine, because dude, just look at that armor bonus.

  There was also a bracelet made of redstone. Critical Strike is exactly what it sounds like—it increases damage dealt through critical hits by one per power level. That is to say, one heart. Needless to say, Breeze took that one.

  The rest of the stuff was inferior to what we had on. Gold axes, iron swords. Some with low-level enchantments. We took everything anyway. We could t
rade this stuff for a few hundred emeralds back in Owl's Reach.

  "Y'know, if someone already cleared this area," I said, "how come the zombies from earlier were untouched?"

  "I think they'd only recently spawned," Breeze said. "That's one of the things Kolb mentioned, before I came looking for you. Monsters spawn continually in dungeons."

  "Through monster spawners?"

  "Yes. Well, similar to that. Except they're invisible."

  "Then the other people must be close, if the monsters here haven't respawned yet."

  "Probably." She said this absently, as she was now staring at something: on a nearby wall, there was a section of iron blocks instead of bedrock. Above this was a massive stone sign. I'd never seen a sign like that before.

  I could draw another picture of this sign, closer up so the words can easily be read, but I'm currently pressed for time. I'll just write the words down here:

  The Vault of Emerillion

  An ancient treasure sealed forever.

  Until to our world the light returns.

  Emerillion Grayson CharBot Aeonia

  Martin Declan335 Robert303 XiangFang

  Rainbow_Creeper Creepyguy101

  "Ancient treasure," I said. "What's that about? And who are all those people?"

  "Builders," Breeze said, approaching the vault. "This dungeon isn't really a tomb, but one of the many mazes created, thousands of years ago, to store things which pose a threat to our world." She paused. "I think."

  She had that dark expression again, troubled. She definitely knew something, and this wall made her think about that again.

  She had to know something, because she never really talked about this kind of stuff before. Breeze? History?! That's almost like me with bows. Like Emerald with mud. Like Stump with anything that isn't a cookie or a cake.

  "And how do you know all that?" I asked coolly.

  "My . . . father forced me to read many history books." A smile. Forced. "Let's continue, shall we?"

  Oh, nice excuse there, I thought. She's definitely hiding something. Now is the time to confront her. Another thought hit me. (Yep. I totally forgot about confronting her.)

  "Wait. Here's a question for you, Ms. I-not-only-know-how-to-destroy-monsters-in-the-most-efficient-way-possible-but-am-secretly-a-farmer-and-a-librarian. If this dungeon contains dangerous stuff, things sealed away from the rest of the world in order to protect it . . . well, what things are we talking about, exactly? Like giant boss monsters, or maybe redstone war machines, or cursed legendary tier weapons, possibly a giant boss monster wielding a legendary weapon, or possibly duel wielding two such weapons or riding an aforementioned war machine . . . I really don't think I need to say this but, when it comes to such things, I consider myself a historian as well."

  My silly question failed to elicit any emotional response, only an answer. "I believe this dungeon holds one of the Eyeless One's creations," she said, "which fought in the final battle of the Second Great War. It can never be completely destroyed, only subdued for a time. And yes, I suppose that's what the humans might call a boss monster."

  "And what about this vault? How do we open it? And what does it contain?"

  "I . . . well, um, I'm not really sure. I have a guess as to what might be in there, but it would take a long time to explain, and . . . anyway, I don't how how it can be opened."

  "Hurmm . . ."

  Why is she being like that? I thought. She really is hiding something from me! Why?! What does she know?! Can I trust her? Dude . . . what am I thinking? Of course I can trust her. Anyway, it's not a good time. The village is counting on us. Every second matters. 2,500 emeralds. That's what I should be thinking about.

  I studied the vault again, looking around for some kind of activator. Sadly, the only thing being activated around here was my curiosity.

  Interestingly, there was a horizontal shaft in the wall, six blocks above the stone sign. If you look at the previous drawing, you'll see it. It was obviously the key to this puzzle: bright flickering blue light emanated from within. (What was that?!)

  Of course, if this dungeon worked like the rest of the Overworld, it would have been easy to get up there. Just place a dirt pillar and you're done. But again, in a place like this, you have to play by its rules. So maybe that tunnel contained a button and we needed a Flying potion. Who knows . . .

  "Whatever," I said. "It doesn't matter, anyway. We're here to save Villagetown, right? So let's find more zombies, take down as many as we can, collect all the emeralds, find that moss, receive the blacksmith's quest reward and trade for an advanced crafting table. Sound good?"

  At this, Breeze gave me the biggest hug.

  Why? I'll never know. I asked her, but she just shrugged. Then she mentioned how hugging me was like hugging an iron golem because of my armor. And with that, we continued onward down the silent, empty halls.

  DAY 8—SATURDAY—UPDATE IX

  The next hall had nothing but wooden doors. Each door led to a small room five blocks wide, five blocks deep and three blocks high.

  Most of these rooms held little of interest: bookshelves, mostly, and every last book was in some weird language neither of us had ever seen. However, in one room we found not only bookshelves but one of those wolf people browsing them.

  He claimed to be not only a wizard but a scholar of ancient history and connoisseur of fine potions.

  More importantly—far more importantly—he offered to teach us a new ability, magical in nature: Analyze Monster. With this, we could not only see the names of creatures, but:

  ① A green bar representing their lifeforce.

  ② Any and all status effects, buffs and debuffs currently affecting them.

  ③ A visual indication of exactly how much damage they receive equal to the number of hearts lost.

  Interesting, yeah? I consulted with Breeze, who thought it would be a good idea for both of us to learn this. So we did. It took all of five minutes.

  Faolan then mumbled the words of some magic spell, and summoned a transparent blue cube with eyes. An ice slime. I knew it was an ice slime because that was the name floating over it.

  "A golden icon is a buff," the wizard said. "A light blue icon, a debuff. As you can see, this slime possesses one of each. That is because of the ice slime's cold affinity. It will take increased damage from any fire-based attack, and less damage from cold. Indeed, with this knowledge at your disposal, you can easily exploit the weaknesses of monsters."

  "Why are there infinity symbols underneath the icons?" Breeze asked.

  "That's the duration," Faolan said. "Normally you would see numbers there, counting down by the second. But status effects provided by an affinity are permanent."

  As I listened, I noticed the overlay floating over the ice slime disappeared. "Huh? What happened? Why did it vanish?"

  "This ability only works when you're actively looking at a monster. For your convenience. Otherwise, larger battles would become quite . . . busy."

  "Oh." I stared at the slime again. Sure enough, the overlay reappeared. "Cool." I turned to Breeze. "It's almost like magic, huh?! Just wait until we're back home! I'll start teaching everyone how to do this stuff! And we can ask the Legionnaires what abilities they have, and start trading!"

  "Yeah." She was staring at the slime, seemingly lost in thought. She suddenly turned to the wizard. "What happens if we train this ability up more? What benefits will it provide?"

  "Additional information," the wizard said, "such as a monster's armor, stats, abilities, worn items, until finally, at the highest level of skill, their inventory."

  "Wow. That could really come in handy," Breeze said. "Thanks a lot."

  "Glad I could be of help." He paused. It seemed like he wanted to ask something but was too shy to do so. "Err, what village do you two hail from, anyway?"

  "Villagetown," I said. "You know it?"

  "I've heard of it. It has a wall, right? Smart move." He looked a little sad. "Wish mine had done the same .
. ."

  He told us about how he came not from a village, but a city. Diamondhome. The largest port city in the world. It was attacked two months ago—completely destroyed. Many people made it to the ships, though, and set sail. Where they headed, he didn't know. He stayed behind, freezing zombies with blasts of ice until his magic was depleted. Forced to flee from his hometown, he returned a day later . . . to ruins.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Breeze said. "The same happened to my home village. Shadowbrook."

  The wizard nodded gravely. "So I've heard. And not everyone managed to escape, yes? Some were even captured. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must be feeling . . ."

  The two lowered their heads.

  "Maybe you could come stay at Villagetown," Breeze finally said.

  (I was going to suggest that, actually, but didn't want to interrupt their moment of silence. Gentleswordsman, remember.)

  At her suggestion, the wizard's cheeks turned a little red. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "Are you sure they wouldn't mind taking in someone like me? My magic isn't even all that strong yet. I'm still just a neophyte, really . . ."

  "Hey, I'm sure the people of Villagetown would be more than happy to have an actual wizard around," I said. "Isn't that right, Breeze?"

  "Definitely."

  Faolan nodded. "Hmm. Very well. I shall head there soon."

  "Well, you're more than welcome to come along with us," Breeze said.

  "That's right," I said. "We're heading back as soon as we finish up with this quest we're on."

  He shook his head. "I'm afraid I must decline. I still have much research to do. The libraries here hold a vast wealth of knowledge lost through the ages. But I shall make my way there as soon as I am finished."

  "Great. Hope to see you around. Oh, sorry. I'm Breeze, and this is——"