[Week One]
— Ancalagon —
“Hmph.”
Calamitas was pouting. At me, at herself, at the fact that her Hell-Matrix was not yet ready for the Dungeon’s Opening Day.
“You cannot delay, Dragon?” She asked.
“How long would you need?” I asked in return.
“… At least a week,” Calamitas begrudgingly admitted.
I chuckled, “Then, no, I don’t think I can. Our adventurers are here already, and they are eagerly waiting. Delaying would disappoint too many, all looking forward to today. It would disappoint me, too. I believe I am even more eager than many of them to get the Door-Opening ceremonies underway.
“Unfortunately, we’ll have to proceed without your Hell-Matrix addition to the Dungeon. But as a consolation, I can promise you a similar event when you finish your work.”
“It will be done,” Calamitas insisted.
“I don’t doubt that,” I nodded in agreement. “Your work has never failed the Hoard. Don’t let yourself be discouraged by a mere week’s tardiness.”
“Discouraged? Never,” Calamitas scoffed. “My Hell-Matrix is no small project, but I will conquer it. All that remains to be done is its integration into your Dungeon, Dragon.”
“Do you need any assistance there?” I asked.
As expected, Calamitas turned me down in the name of her pride, glaring determinedly, “No. This will be my work alone.”
“Isn’t Pyrite helping you?”
“The whelp shares my vision, but the enchantments and the grand, Hellish workings of magic bear only my hand.”
I nodded, “And I don’t mean to discount your effort. It is well appreciated already, Calamitas. The Hell-Matrix should greatly increase the scope of the Dungeon. ‘Remotely working’ adventurers is a novel concept, and I like how many will get the chance to join the Corps due to it. Take all the time you need to make your project perfect.”
Listening to Calamitas extol the virtues and benefits of her Hell-Matrix project, it was clear to hear how it would change everything for Earth Bet, perhaps as much as my Dungeon would.
Perfectly vivid, accessible, and self-sustaining virtual reality enchantments, capable of piggybacking off Earth Bet’s existing internet infrastructure and bound to open new fields of development through magic and enchantment as it was spread and studied. That was saying nothing about how Calamitas planned for it to seamlessly integrate with the Dungeon, acting as a conduit for far-flung adventurers to experience it as if they were there.
The latter was a feat that would be noteworthy in any Age. Calamitas was determined to prove her enchanting prowess by adding to a Dragon’s work. She wasn’t having an easy time of it, giving rise to the delay, but she was persistent. I couldn’t wait to see her succeed.
What had started as a ‘simple’ recreation of the Sixth World’s Matrix so Calamitas could game as she was used to had evolved into infrastructure that would be instrumental in the continued Turning of the Age.
“Until then,” I continued. “We still have many who were willing to make the journey to join our proffered adventure in person.”
“Many, indeed,” Calamitas laughed. “All come to bow their heads before the Dragon and throw themselves into his Dungeon!”
“It’s a good thing we signed a contract with the DWA and that they were able to put their people to work for us so promptly,” I said. “Otherwise, I would have to worry about Jenevelle working herself to death keeping up with this past week’s recruiting influx to the Corps.”
“She is your most dedicated treasure,” Calamitas agreed. “Dedicated to the point of forgetting herself for the sake of your works. If you declare something needs to be done, she will stop at nothing to make it so.”
“Yes, and I do worry about her due to that,” I sighed. “I don’t think I’ve seen her close her eyes for more than a few minutes in days now.”
“She takes much onto her plate,” Calamitas waved. “Even if we offer to help. It’s not that she doesn’t trust our work, even the whelp’s and the Freak’s, just that her focus on fulfilling your ambitions is single-minded, Dragon.”
“She encourages me to delegate to her, but she doesn’t know how to delegate for herself,” I added, amused and exasperated in equal measure.
Calamitas shrugged, “At least she is no longer manning the tower’s desk herself as she did the first few days. The help you contracted is more than good enough for that, and her focus can be raised to higher-level organizational efforts.”
After the Second and Third Dives, while our testing adventurers consolidated their gains, the Hoard and Corps had also had much to do. We’d opened the tower’s doors just a crack, enough to let through a steady stream of prospective adventurers who wanted to sign on with the Corps. That stream remained steady all throughout the week.
I was almost worried that my advertising of the Dungeon had been too successful, too fruitful, but Jenevelle had quickly designed a system to see to every sign-up, even if it left her constantly busy at first.
She recorded a prospective adventurer’s recruitment and assigned them their adventurer card, then sent them into my magically simulated tutorial initiation (where they would learn to ‘DODGE’). The awakening promised to all of the Corps’ adventurers would wait until I could do it personally. I planned to do all of them at once right before the doors officially opened.
The rest of the Hoard tried to pitch in where they could the first few days. I’d done a few shifts myself to force Jenevelle to take breaks that I knew she didn’t actually take, instead switching to coordinate other necessary systems in the establishing Corps. But it wasn’t until after Dragon’s apotheosis and the contract signed with the DWA that Jenevelle was fully freed from the busy work.
Dragon had ensured Danny and the DWA got good terms, even if I never planned to scam or unfairly exploit them. They received all the same benefits as any adventurer in the Corps, and the same offer was automatically extended to their families, along with full insurance coverage, guarantees of protection, plenty of guaranteed work, and more-than-fair pay for their time. They worked for me directly, members of my Hoard by proxy, and I took care of what was mine.
Now that Jenevelle had a bit more help, though, she’d just taken it as a chance to throw herself into other matters she felt needed her attention — yet more work — instead of taking the break she was well due.
My treasured elf secretary was a workaholic, and I was worried for her.
Not that her new work wasn’t important. Jenevelle didn’t like to waste time. She felt she was needed to put the rest of the Corps’ services in order, establishing the beginning of the Dungeon’s surface marketplace, the training spaces and university-esque programs, and the basic outlines of advice that the Corps would give our adventurers.
At the same time, she took it upon herself to organize the Opening Day’s events within the Dungeon. I protested there the most.
The Opening Day’s events had been my idea, and I wished to take responsibility for them. Unlike the testing Dives, the day’s events would focus on everything else the Dungeon had to offer, everything from profit to good times to exploration.
I wasn’t looking to throw the many thousands of people attending the Opening straight into the Dungeon’s most hardcore action. My plans, instead, consisted of a sort of ‘Starter Zone’, a weeklong event to get the newcomers adjusted to the Dungeon. It would be a long moment of celebration before the Dungeon’s routine truly got rolling.
I was more than capable of seeing to all its details myself, but Jenevelle, as always, insisted that she was supposed to be doing work in my name. Somehow, she felt she still hadn’t done enough.
“I’ll need to force her to take a break at this rate,” I told Calamitas.
“Aye, that you will,” Calamitas nodded. “If you don’t, Dragon, you know she will never stop.”
“Do you know where she is at the moment?” I asked.
“I last saw her training the help,” Calamitas answered.
“That woman,” I sighed. “My woman… Very well. I’ll let you get back to your work, Calamitas. I want you to have every opportunity to make your Hell-Matrix perfect. If you need aid or advice or simple information, simply ask.”
“I will not,” Calamitas proudly, almost arrogantly, declared. “Conquering your workings and integrating my own with them shall be my achievement alone. I will not have any senseless fool saying otherwise.”
I left her with that boasting claim. She immediately turned back to her project, the screams of the damned rising from her workshop as I turned away. I could feel the framework she was building for her Hell-Matrix, harnessing Hellish, malevolent magic and bending it to a more benevolent final product.
I descended the tower in search of Jenevelle. Along the way, I passed Pyrite in the Hoard space she’d claimed for herself, putting her new vassals through their paces. The Undersiders were certainly having a time of it, living up to her Draconic standards.
“You call that a spell?!” Pyrite roared. “I barely felt it on my scales, Smirky-Fox!”
“Hey!” Tattletale snapped back. “I’m trying here! This magic stuff is much harder when you stop me from using Loki!”
She tried to muster her magic, summoning a new spirit of ash and stone. It built an infernal engine according to whatever contract Tattletale had quickly managed to reach with it. The engine crumbled with a single breath from Pyrite.
“I’m not a fighter! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be for me!” Tattletale bemoaned.
“You think I’ll let any of my Hoard’s vassals remain helpless?! Learn or be abandoned by the Dragon, Smirky-Fox!” Pyrite snapped right back. “Big-Bitch is already running circles around you! Skull-Man is fighting like he has something to fight for! Even Noble-Boy is having fun! You’re the only one falling behind!”
“Woo~! Go, Brian, give her a right hook!” A newcomer to Pyrite’s Hoard, brought in by proxy, cheered.
She was a young girl full of enthusiasm and mischief, one who would’ve fit right in with the Goblins. Grue’s sister, I knew. Pyrite was taking after me and taking care of her Hoard in every aspect she could manage, treasuring them. A whole pack of dogs had also been brought into her Hoard via Bitch, earning the animalistic cape’s everlasting loyalty.
Further down the tower, I ran into Belladonna. I knew she should’ve been preparing one of the planned magical university spaces, a perk of the Corps for its adventurers. That floor had been separated into various classrooms, with amenities to encourage magic and its use.
Runes and ritual circles had been carved into the walls, meant to make the floor an especially potent, especially dense magical area, and a conceptual sense of Freakish enthusiasm to learn had been imprinted upon the space by Belladonna’s Dao.
When I found her there, she wasn’t alone. Fortuna, by her Freakish Sensei’s side, was looking rather bemused and bewildered by something. Belladonna just seemed excited, even more so than usual.
They had their heads bowed over a crystal ball, communicating with someone. Another of Belladonna’s students, perhaps? They didn’t even notice me pass by, but I caught a few words from each of them.
“Ohohohoh~…” Belladonna chortled regally and Freakishly. “This should be a treat! Who would’ve thought I’d struck gold so quickly?”
“How…? Who…? What…? Hooooowww…?! Fucking whooooooo…?! WHAT?!” Fortuna repeated, stuck in a nonsensical and stunned loop.
She looked like her whole world, all she knew of it, had been turned upside down. I hadn’t seen her this stunned even when she came face to face with me, or even after her awakening.
I left whatever Freakish thing they were plotting to them, continuing down the tower. Dharla was out at the moment, advertising and preaching for her cult in the city. With so many visitors and all the attention on the Hoard at the moment, she was finding fertile ground for her Moonlit teachings.
The Goblins were similarly out in the world, though they’d returned to their journeys farther afield. After delivering Fortuna and helping Dragon, they wished to get right back to their roguish mischief.
Many outsiders had come to Brockton Bay in anticipation for the Dungeon’s Opening Day, but the world was a big place. There would always be more souls for them to practice their Goblin Diplomacy upon.
By their last check-in, I knew they were working on infiltrating the Birdcage. I only hoped they didn’t piss off my new peer too much in their attempts.
At the ground floor of the tower, I found a selection of the Corps’ help sitting around and killing time. It looked like something of a BBQ had sprung up.
The Opening ceremonies would happen at noon, and we’d stopped accepting new adventurers for now. Those dockworkers who’d been manning the desks and recruitment had gotten themselves a well-earned break. Much like my Jenevelle should have gotten herself, but clearly hadn’t.
“Ah, Danny, Taylor,” I greeted two of the Corps’ most important associates who were present on the ground floor, shooting the shit with the other desk-workers. “Are you well?”
“As well as we can be with good employment and a good break from it!” Danny joked, raising a beer in my direction and manning one of the grills.
Taylor rolled her eyes fondly, “You get the DWA a steady job, and you’re already looking to slack off from it. Really, Dad?”
“That’s the joy of knowing you have steady work!” Danny insisted. “The slacking off from it!”
I laughed, “Indeed. Being stuck out in the rain without an umbrella is a very different thing from choosing to step into the downpour for yourself, isn’t it?”
“You get it,” Danny nodded. “Nothing quite like a day off when you know you’ll be able to get back to work in the morning.”
“And you, Taylor? How have you been since the First Dive?” I asked.
Taylor, shyly, gave me a smile, “… Better. Madison helps. And uh, the growth helps, too. Easier to ignore everything and everyone when I know I have the prospect for real adventure away from it all.”
A chittering creature the size of a car snuck up behind her as she said it. Taylor’s spider mount nudged her and looked at her with eight wide, begging eyes.
“You help, too, Charlotte!” Taylor laughed. “No one at school wants to mess with me when you’re there! I think Sophia wanted to try, but even she backed off after she saw me riding you to class.”
Taylor reached over to the side of the grill her father was working. Without flinching, she scooped up a pound of ground meat and threw it to her mount. Charlotte the Spider caught it between two raised legs, quickly spun it up in silk, and sank her fangs in to liquify and drink the treat.
Danny flinched, an uncomfortable but still indulgent smile coming over his face, “… As long as you’re happy, Taylor.”
Taylor teased her father for him flinching away from her mount’s feeding, “We’ll have to get you one, too, Dad. Something just as gnarly. Or you can borrow Charlotte. I’m sure she won’t mind. Next time the mayor tries to stonewall you, just throw her a steak right in front of him.”
Recovering, Danny shook his head, “As pretty a mental picture as that might be at times, I don’t think it’ll be especially productive for my relationship with him to threaten the mayor with my daughter’s giant spider.”
“It’ll get stuff done, though. With enough application of arachnophobia, you can get anything done, I think.”
Chuckling at their father-daughter interactions, I asked, “Have either of you seen Jenevelle? She’s overdue a break, but she evades it like a drake evades a nesting mother Dragon.”
“Agreed,” Danny nodded. “We offered to make her a plate, but she begged off.”
“She’s out front,” Taylor told me. “I don’t really know why. It already looks great out there. She doesn’t need to keep tweaking things at this point.”
“Yet, she does,” I sighed. “Even with only a few hours to go, she buries herself in her self-assumed duties. If I didn’t know better, I would think she’s avoiding me.”
Danny sighed right back at me, “I know the feeling. Don’t go too hard on her? Sometimes, it feels like work is all we’re capable of doing.”
“Especially when we feel we have people relying on us,” I agreed. “I appreciate her efforts. I truly, truly do; I treasure them, as I treasure her. That is exactly why I seek to force a break upon her.”
Taylor laid a hand on Danny’s arm, “I know that feeling, too.”
I left them and the DWA to their BBQ, shifting my form as I passed through the tower’s doors.
I was well aware that the entire city and all its visitors were watching the tower in anticipation of the ceremonies in a few short hours. They were all doing so from a distance, but openly, with the rooftops around the tower lined with watchers and a crowd already forming at the edge of my tower’s claimed space.
While it wasn’t as if my human form was unrecognizable, it was much less blatant and attention-catching than any of my Draconic forms, less likely to get me caught up in social calls when I wanted to focus on my Hoard’s living treasures.
Outside, I found Jenevelle similarly ignoring the watchers and growing crowd. She was biting her lip and looking over the trimmings that would accompany the Opening ceremony, judging her own work, perhaps harshly.
She had bags under her eyes, beautiful but visibly tired.
The space around the tower, and right in front of it, was magnificent, a testament to Jenevelle’s work that she was too invested to fully see.
The thoroughfare leading up to the doors was clear and prepared to accommodate a crowd of many thousands. Banners, decorated with scales and in the shape of Dragons, fell from high on the tower. Some fell straight down. Others extended in grand, drooping arcs overhead, connecting the tower to the limits of its claimed territory.
Tiled murals had been formed on the ground, polished until they shone like my scales. Repeating images of the tower were mirrored on either side of the main thoroughfare. Past them, adventure spiraled out over the rest of the grounds, varied scenic glimpses Jenevelle had coaxed the Dungeon into projecting above itself.
Jenevelle didn’t immediately notice me, too caught up in judging her decorations.
I knew approaching her with words would fail; she would find a way to convince me her continued work was necessary. So I didn’t let her. I approached her directly, sweeping her into my arms before she could even squeak.
She blinked up at me, confused at the sudden shift in her vision, “S-Sire…?”
“It’s time,” I solemnly told her.
“W-Wha-? No, it’s not ready! Did I lose track of time? I thought we had a few hours yet!”
“It’s time… for you to take a Dragon-declared break, Jenevelle.”
She paused, her frantic worries discarded in favor of a huff, “I did not find that humorous, Sire. I must ask that you cease. I have work to do.”
“You don’t,” I told her, stressing it as an order. “You have done more than enough already. It will be as it will be at this point. And that will be more than enough. Will I have to order you to rest so explicitly, my Jenevelle?”
For a moment, it looked like Jenevelle would continue to insist. Then, she sagged in my arms, leaning heavily against me.
“You will not, Sire. I can-… I can see that I’ve gotten carried away. I just wish for everything to be perfect for such a momentous occasion.”
“It is momentous,” I agreed. “The expansion of the Age’s Turning, the emergence onto the main stage, the opening of doors to one and all. But you’ve already ensured it will be as great as it can be.
“You have labored tirelessly in my name, Jenevelle. You have taken much weight off my shoulders. Now, it’s time for me to take the weight off yours, by force if need be.
“You will rest. You will be in the best possible shape to stand by my side at noon and see the fruits of your labor. If you need it to be, consider that an order. When did you last sleep?”
Jenevelle glanced away from me, nervously pushing her favored working glasses up her nose, “… When did you last hold me like this, Sire?”
I let out an exasperated huff. “I see. Two weeks, then?”
“There has been… much to do,” Jenevelle half-heartedly defended herself. “And I can go longer without sleep before it affects the quality of my work.”
“You can,” I agreed. “You shouldn’t, though. How is it that my cleric dares to abstain from sleep under my Moon?”
“That-! No, Sire, never! It isn’t like that-!”
“All I hear are excuses. In fact, I believe I feel rather slighted now. You will need to reaffirm your faith, Jenevelle.”
“… I suppose a nap doesn’t sound too bad. Will you… Will you hold me as I sleep, Sire?” Jenevelle murmured, still so hesitant to request anything from me, even after so long together.
“Always,” I promised. “Rest now; I will wake you in time to stand by my side during the Opening.”
Sighing with relief, Jenevelle closed her eyes. I could already sense her drifting off in my arms.
“I always… have the sweetest dreams… next to you…”
“And I will guard them well, treasure them, through all our Ages together.”
IIIII
Come noon, the scene had changed. Jenevelle was up and rested, ready to return to her duties as my right-hand. The whole Hoard — minus our diplomatic Goblins — stood with me before the tower’s ceremonially closed doors.
There was a stage in front of the tower that the Hoard placed themselves upon. In my largest Draconic form, I sat on my haunches behind it. I dwarfed everything in the space but the tower behind me, looming over the stage, my Hoard, and the gathered crowd. The locals of the Age bore witness to my full Draconic power and importance in the flesh.
A great many had come to the Opening ceremony, thousands upon thousands. The crowd was a patchwork of cape costumes, plain clothes, and the starter gear the Corps provided.
I recognized the faces I saw, not by name or meeting but by my Authority invested in them. Those were the adventurers who’d already signed on with the Corps, but there were some in the crowd who just wished to watch.
Many were locals, from the various factions of Brockton Bay and from the larger unaffiliated population. And just as many were outsiders, coming from far and wide all across Earth Bet. The Corps had accepted them all. The Dungeon would accept them all.
“Welcome!” My voice boomed over the crowd and ceremony. “One and all, I welcome you! Behind me stands my tower. Below it lies my Dungeon, the reason so many of you have gathered here today.
“I’ll not waste too much time on speeches; I believe my Dungeon and my proffered adventure should speak for themselves. It will be something best experienced, not merely heard about. But before I open these soon-to-be storied doors, there is one last matter of preparation to see to.
“Those who have signed on with the Corps in the past week — and I thank you all for joining us — did not get all that I promised immediately. You received your adventurer cards, your class system, and your initial training, but your pledged awakening still awaits. I have not forgotten about it. Today, here and now, I shall awaken all present to Magicks of Spirit; I shall cast you all adrift to start journeys all your own.”
My gaze passed over the crowd, noting those within from near and from far. There were the locals of Brockton Bay, of course, both the various powered factions and the unpowered, curious, and adventurous masses. There were also those who’d come into the city from the outside, foreign factions and unaffiliated souls making the journey for the sake of the Dungeon’s adventure.
Of the latter, I saw representatives from the PRT and Protectorate, villainous organizations, independent rogues, foreign national interests, and regular people who dared to be so bold.
My words were well-received, an anticipatory tension overtaking the crowd. As I said, they’d gained the partial investment of the Corps, the investment of my Authority that would help them grow, but the spiritual awakenings would be special.
They would be the magical narratives to enhance and animate their chosen partners. An infinite selection of stories in the astral, finding kin in awakening souls. It would grow the magic of the Age as much as it would grow the awakened.
I’d opened the doors to the astral so far, but only enough for a trickle with those I’d already awakened. Now, I would be bursting the dam, letting it all in. The Age was already Turning; after today, there would be no going back, never again.
I continued, and as I did, I began to muster power, sheer power, from my Draconic Core.
“I must warn you all: the awakening of Spirit is a complex and nuanced thing, unique to one and all. Do not think you can predict exactly what will happen, where your new paths will lead. I cannot. You cannot. The totems you will partner with cannot.”
I wove my mustering power through the astral plane, where it overlaid the space around my tower. The veil between magical planes was prepared for a grand fall, a surge, a detonation of overwhelming potential. The dam would break here, the doors would be opened, and the Age would never be the same.
“The totem you find for yourself will be a steadfast partner, but it will not be human. It is a spirit, a living story, that takes a liking to you. Once partnered, the places you take that story are infinite, mysterious, and undefinable. A proud man might find himself prouder, bolstered by an equally proud partner. A craven man might find themselves more canny, more cowardly, if it helps them survive and continue their story.
“You, whoever you are, will have a partner in all things, one that shares some quality, aspect, theme, potential, motivation, or arc with you. You will have chosen them, and they will have chosen you. Together, there will be little you cannot do; with your totem, it is your story that will shine.”
The air was charged. Tension, eager and wary and so much more, rose from the crowd. From the astral, tension from the waiting spirits on the other side of the veil descended to match. My words were as much for the latter as they were for the former.
“Today, Adventurers and Spirits, I open the doors to you and to infinite potential. I eagerly await the stories you will write.”
The final push, on my part, was oddly easy. A simple poke, the piercing of the veil with a claw. The astral and the spirits waiting on the other side of it did the rest, thankful for the chance to find partners on the physical plane below.
The anticipation in the crowd fell silent in an inaudible rush of magic. There was nothing to hear, nothing to see, not for those who had yet to awaken to it.
For those who had, the heavens opened up. Spirits of all shapes, sizes, and stories fell from them upon the crowd of soon-to-be adventurers.
Thousands of unique spirits, unique stories, chose their resonating partners, becoming totems for them to lean upon. Thousands of unique souls rang out their most quintessential qualities to attract those totems.
I made note of the noteworthy ones.
I knew every adventurer who’d signed on with my Corps. My Authority was the connection, small and filtered through the system of growth as it was, that I peered through to know them.
The hero Legend, one of the Triumvirate — the shining beacons of Earth Bet’s cape scene — found Lucifer. Not Lucifer as an aspect of the Adversary; Lucifer as the Lightbringer, most trusted Angel of God.
The leader of an Elite cell with a subtle, scheming hand in her work, Agnes Court, found Titania, Queen of the Summer Fae.
Coil, a villain local to the Bay who’d slipped under the notice of most, found a twin-headed god of the crossroads, Janus.
Accord beside Coil, a visiting villain from Boston with the wisdom to plan and the will to carry out those plans for the good of humanity at any cost, found Prometheus, a Fire-Bringer titan-spirit; Dragon was now in odd company.
Of the other two Triumvirate members, Alexandria found Odysseus, driving obsession and the near-desperate need for control in the face of hopeless odds, and Eidolon found Cú Chulainn, just as his poisonous grief was directed to fight to exhaustion against the sea itself.
A cape from New York, leader of a pseudo-magical cabal called the Adepts, Epoch, found the ghost of Faust; a deal with the devil for all the knowledge and magic in the world.
A simple, steadfast detective from Interpol named Charles, with a life dedicated to fighting overpowering, parahuman odds with only what wits he had, found Van Helsing, Hunter of the Darkness that stalked humanity.
An indoctrinated and brainwashed agent of the Yangban, known only as 23 now, found the great warrior, the great betrayer, Lu Bu; it was an omen that his superiors likely wouldn’t appreciate.
Sundancer — a kind, shining, and nervous member of the dimensionally displaced Travellers — found the spirit of Stonehenge, all of its prehistoric ritual dances to praise the sun and stars, and all its significance through the Ages; it was magic as the first civilizations of humanity knew it.
All the way from a small Texan town, a regular old woman, a grandmother, named Natalia — her body worn down by time, but her fire for adventure untouched — found an aspect of the Wiccan Triple Goddess; not the Crone or even Mother, she found the Maiden, still so young at heart; her totem made her young to reflect that truth.
A hard-lining veteran PRT trooper turned Director, James Tagg, found a conceptual Crusader, a totem that would stand with him for the common man, no matter the cost to them, but just as stubborn in everything else it did.
Hidden deep in the crowd, a member of the Fallen cult named Valefor shouted exultation as he found a Watcher, an angel that could rise or fall — the most human servants of God; some parahuman-powered thread within his mind was cut as he did.
A pair of college-aged best friends, twins in all but blood, named Geoff and George, having signed on for shits and giggles and shared memories of childish adventures together, found similarly twinned totems from Navajo myth, Monsterslayer and Born of Water; brothers amongst brothers, they resonated with twinned trials and tribulations, coming-of-age journeys beside one another.
The Butcher — rampaging parahuman berserker who played at immortality — fell utterly silent when she found the Berserker totem; its driving madness quieted the madness already within her mind.
A young, mischievous woman named Isabella, with an amusing background she snuck away from — ‘princess’ to a significant family of the Chicago mob scene — found a princess of two worlds, mortal and magical: Morgan le Fay.
And on and on, the awakenings never failed to find purchase. There were thousands upon thousands present, thousands upon thousands awakening all at once, but there were even more spirits to resonate with them. Every soul, unique as they all were, would find some story to fit right beside their awakening spirit, some partnered totem.
The veil fell, and souls of the physical plane rose to meet that fall in the astral. From the outside, it was eerily silent, a process so distant from view yet so intimate in experience.
One by one, my new, fully minted adventurers came down from their initial communion with their new totems. The eerie silence persisted when they did, transitioning to awe.
From the hole I’d pierced in the veil here today, magic poured into the Age. It was no mere trickle anymore. A flood of undefinable potential and infinite stories from all across Creation elevated the physical plane.
The Turning of the Age had already begun. It came about with my arrival here. Now, however, it snowballed, gathering so much momentum all at once, with magic able to get such a strong foothold on Earth Bet.
I couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but revel in the Turning.
I could feel the spirits and their magic cheering. They shouted gratitude and showed it further with tributes of power sent my way, growing my Authority as I acted as the astral doorkeeper of the Age.
If my system of growth could quantify and categorize me, I would’ve gained a whole level from the experience, from awakening and piercing the veil.
And this was just the beginning. More and more growth awaited within the Dungeon. Its burgeoning spirit could no longer wait. It prodded at me insistently through our connection, urging me to open its doors and let the adventurers in.
I saw no reason to stall. The mass awakening was only the first act of the Opening ceremonies, after all. Much and more would take place in the Dungeon over the next week, an extended ‘introductory’ period. Not a tutorial. Similar to the testing dives, but not the same. This would be something more akin to… a shared Level 1.
After this Opening week, I would leave the Dungeon to its own devices, letting it decide the adventure it offered, but during, I wished to keep my thousands of new adventurers in the not-so-proverbial shallows.
Better yet, I planned to make an event of it! Past the still-closed doors behind me, everything was already tailored and arranged to my satisfaction — representing more than half of the work Jenevelle had almost killed herself over this past week.
I waved, getting the crowd’s attention and opening the tower’s doors, “Come. Adventure awaits.”
To many eyes in the crowd, I disappeared after that, shrinking to a more manageable size and form.
I led the way into the tower and the Dungeon below, my Hoard following closely. The locals of Brockton Bay, especially those with experience in the Dungeon, were next inside. Then came the rest, a surprisingly orderly progress.
We descended into the Dungeon. There, I found a seemingly idyllic scene. Fantastical nature stretched as far as the eye could see, hills and forests and river valleys, with a border of mountains in the distance, not too near or too far.
Other than the fantastical nature all around, a small city sat between the Dungeon’s entrance and the distant mountains. Even from a distance, it was one of bustling medieval fantasy.
This land could be considered a ‘Starter Zone’ from my Second Age. Civilization was nearby. The lands around it, however, were untamed, unforgiving, and unexplored by the adventurers behind me, for all that they looked idyllic.
It wasn’t as peaceful as it looked at first glance, of course — quite dangerous, actually — but it also wasn’t so overwhelmingly hostile as to cull my new adventurers before they could get the chance to explore.
That was the purpose of this Opening week: exploration. The First Dive was a set adventure for only a few. The Second Dive was a competition, a battle royale, in hostile territory. The Third Dive was mine.
This Opening week for the Dungeon would be a chance to live the Dungeon, a chance for thousands of new adventurers to experience and explore it to the fullest.
There was action to be had in the surrounding wilds, but that wasn’t all that the Dungeon had to offer. Adventure didn’t come in only one stripe. For this Opening week, I wanted to show that off as holistically as I could.
To that end, there was another feature upon the land that caught the eye. A short way away from the city, closest to our entrance, there was a city of tents, pavilions, and other temporary accommodations. It was colorful and festive, closer to a carnival than a camp. I’d ensured there would be plenty of things to do within it and without.
This was an event! A ceremony for the snowballed Turning of the Age! A party, even! It was Level 1 of the Dungeon, my Dungeon, finally open to adventure! And I would make it a week to remember.
I turned back to the progress of new adventurers behind me, projecting my voice for all to hear, “This level of the Dungeon is extensive; I’ve prepared it to persist for the next week. I hope that you will all enjoy exploring it to your hearts’ content.
“I name this Opening week as the Corps’ first Draconic Monster Hunt, but ‘hunting’ is honestly a small portion of the adventure here. Do not feel the need to force yourself into one avenue of adventure.
“That city you can see is fully populated, as real as real can be. Visit it, speak to its people, explore. The wilderness around you is the same, as real as real can be. There are true monsters in these woods, hidden treasure troves in the mountains, resources to be discovered, questing opportunities, and fantastical things to experience that Earth Bet has only dreamed of. Explore.
“And this Fair? I have the honor of putting it on for the Opening week, the honor of hosting all of my new adventurers. There will be fun and feasts and festivities, drinking and dancing, games and competitions, the potential for entrepreneurship and profit, chances for you all to rise and fall on your own merits, politics between all of you, I’m sure, and more! Explore!
“Welcome to Level 1, adventurers. Explore.”