Shadowcroft's Academy for Dungeons Chapter 26

It took six weeks for Logan to talk with Tet Akhat alone. The cat woman was always either out of sight, in her room, or with the First Cohort. And if he went to her room, or asked to talk with her in private, that might raise all sorts of red flags and put her in an awkward position. Something shady had definitely gone down at the Slaughter Pits, and Logan suspected Chadrigoth was behind the incident. Logan had seen the Abyss Lord use a variant of the invisible wall spell more than once during their Core Calisthenics class, but outside of that he had no real proof, and the last thing he wanted to do was make Tet’s life more difficult.

Logan finally timed it so that he and Tet were alone in the Codex Athenaeum together. He found her in periodicals. She had swung across a bottomless chasm using one of the ropes—a real rope, not a snake mimic. Logan had learned about the snake mimics the hard way during his third trip through the library. There were about a thousand different traps and nasty surprises, though, and the snake mimics were only one of them. The origami librarian loved to keep them on their toes. Tet was pursuing the magazines—Dungeon Core Quarterly, Monsters Weekly, The Inside Tree—which were bound into books on the other side of the pit.

“Hey, Tet, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked from the edge of the chasm, since swinging across was always a serious health risk. He was willing to do it, sure, but not if she was going to turn him away without an answer.

She turned, her eyes flashing. “That might not be a good idea.”

“You knew this was coming,” Logan said.

“I did.” That admission was followed by a heavy sigh.

Logan checked a dangling rope for teeth before swinging across. Yes, he was strong enough to swing across without losing a limb or falling. He did wobble a little on the dismount—certainly enough for him to get a low score from the Russian judge—but he’d come a long way since he first started at Shadowcroft’s. As a lowly Toadstool, he wouldn’t have been able to pull off that little display unassisted—not in a million years. He straightened and brushed his palms against his rough linen trousers.

“Look, I know how awkward this has to be for you. We’re not friends. You run with the top-ranked cohort and I run with the last. I know what you and the rest of the First think about me and my friends. So, I’m just going to get to the point and forego the small talk. I’m here about Chadrigoth. What did you see that day at the Slaughter Pits? You threw me a look. Maybe it was pity, or maybe I just imagined it. But me and friends nearly died back there, so if you know something I’d appreciate you talking to me.”

“Bold,” Tet said, offering Logan a ghost of a smile. “Direct. Does that tend to work on most women in your experience?” she asked, quirking a manicured eyebrow.

Logan shrugged. “I’ve been told it can be a little off-putting, but I thought you might appreciate it since neither of us have time for games. Not with the Winnowing coming up. So, do you know anything?”

She paused, canting her body and staring side-eyed at him. “You’re a curious creature, Logan. Small. Weak. Yet indomitable in ways that I can appreciate. And I can appreciate direct talk when it’s necessary. As for the information I have, I imagine it’s less robust than what you’d like. But I’ll share it all the same.” Tet turned. Her ear twitched and her tail flicked. She crossed her arms. “The truth is, I don’t know anything for sure. But, Chadrigoth didleave us for a few minutes. He said he needed to run an important errand. You guys were gone when he returned.” She offered a lopsided shrug. “I figured he was messing with you. He’s the type to bully the less fortunate.”

Logan squinted. “Yes, we’re the Terrible Twelfth, but we’re getting less terrible all the time.”

“We’ve noticed,” the cat woman replied evenly. “As I said, you are indomitable in ways that I can appreciate. Ever since you destroyed Magmarty, we’ve been taking the four of you more seriously. And yesterday, what did you do to that poor doomhound?”

“Gem-Studded Puffballs,” Logan explained. “It’s warm enough that I started growing them near the bleachers before class. I lured the hound in, and my mushroom grenades did the rest.”

Tet offered a wicked half smile. Her sapphire green eyes lit up with an amused light. “This ability to rapidly grow your mushrooms has drastically helped you. And I’ve noticed you’re a lot tougher than you were at the Slaughter Pits. You got some sort of tincture there, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Logan said coolly, not wanting to tip his hand. In fact, those ghoul’s teeth had knocked him up two ranks. He was sitting pretty as an Iron Trunk cultivator, Rank 8. He’d benefited the most from the blade ghoul’s gift since it was Morta Apothos, and that was one of his two primary Affinity types. He also processed it far better than his friends thanks in part to his increased Digestion ability.

Unlike the others, he could instantly convert sixty percent of the incoming Apothos into pure Apothos, which gave him an enormous leg up. Inga, on the other hand, was so nauseated from the ghoul’s teeth that she hadn’t been able to eat for three days. Even Marko had to take a night away from the bottle to recover. Treacle had wandered around, belching, chewing cud, and looking miserable.

Or, at least, more miserable than usual.

Even though they’d struggled with the ghoul’s teeth, the Terrible Twelfth had been riding high since their victory on the field trip. They’d taken down two Azure Branch cultivators, and though they didn’t get much of the Apothos, taking out real live dungeoneers just felt good. No one else in their year had managed to accomplish that. Not even the venerable First Cohort. So, Logan and the Terrible Twelfth might’ve been the worst, but they also had bragging rights of sorts.

Even Marko had been taking his schoolwork more seriously, and not just Professor Arketa’s dungeon design class. He was crafting better, eliciting fewer sighs from Crucible, and even paying more attention in Rockheart’s Traps, Pits, and Pendulums class. He still slept through Nekhbet’s history lectures, though. Logan couldn’t really blame him.

Tet looked too skeptical to even roll her eyes. “You don’t need to tell me a thing. It’s none of my business, and it will remain none of my business. What else are you wondering about?” she asked. “Since we have this special time together, do you have any more questions?”

Logan wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not. She seemed simultaneously flirty and dry witted. But it was worth rolling the dice in case she was being genuine. It had taken him six weeks to get the cat woman alone. It might not happen again. And there was a good chance he’d either die or be a casualty of the Winnowing. He might as well get to know her. “Okay, Tet, what do you think about being a part of the First Cohort? You’re what, an A-Class like Chadrigoth?”

“Please, he wishes he were A-Class. Everyone thinks he’s an ascended Jade Leaf, but he’s B-Class Rank 1. Though”—she shrugged—“he probably will hit A-Class by the time finals are through. As for me, I’m a B-Class Rank 3. When I evolve, I’ll be a greater scorpion hemet-netjer.” She caught her tail in her hand. “My tail will transform into a stinger. It will be much bigger and much deadlier.”

“Half cat, half scorpion?” Logan nodded. “Pretty cool. I think I just become more fungal. So I got that going for me.”

Tet actually smiled and relaxed some. “Yes, but to answer your question… I like being among the elite. I’ve trained my entire life to attend this school, you know. That wasn’t the case with you, was it? Uroth barely has any Apothos if my studies into your world are correct.”

Logan shot her a finger gun. “You’re not wrong. I didn’t even know about the Tree of Souls.” The fact that she’d researched Earth, or Uroth as they called it, at all was interesting. Maybe she was more interested in him and the Terrible Twelfth than she’d let on.

Tet’s ear twitched. “And yet, here you are, progressing, evolving, becoming a champion in your own right.” She paused to take him in. “I grew up in the Spectral Deserts of Eritreus, a wasteland on a continent far from Haven’s Home.”

“I’ve heard the butter knives there are amazing,” Logan joked.

“Nekhbet can be such a bore.” This time the cat woman did roll her eyes.

Logan took a second to clarify something he’d been pondering. “So Haven’s Home is what exactly? The largest city on Eritreus for dungeon cores? What is the big dungeoneer city? No one seems to talk much about that.”

Tet answered with a shake of her head. “Aurora is the grand city of the dungeoneers. Home to the thousand guilds and the Castinus Dynasty. It lies on the Golden Harbor, across the Dawn Sea from my home continent, Kemet Kemal. I visited Aurora once. I went as a disciple of the Coptic Champions, to see the greed, the selfishness, and the chaos. The emperor tries to keep order, but the Dynasty is weak as an aging trawhella. The real power lies with the guilds—everything is carved up into warring fiefdoms vying for power. The result is chaos enough for the mercenaries, cutpurses, and cutthroats to have their way.

“It’s all bright and shiny on the surface of things. A paradise. A utopia. But when you scratch the surface just a little, you can see the rot beneath. When I saw their lawless evil, it was clear what I needed to do with my life and with my eternity. And so I spent every waking moment working, always working, so that I’d be a good enough cultivator to get into Shadowcroft. Actually, the only reaping dungeon on Eritreus is in the Spectral Deserts of Kemet Kemal.”

The very idea blew Logan away. “Wait.” He pressed his thick fingers against his temples. “So let me get this straight. You went willingly into that reaping dungeon knowing that… best-case scenario… you’d be murdered horribly so you’d get a guardian form and come here?”

“All victories require sacrifice,” Tet said.

Logan blinked and tried not to be rude. “Wow. That’s super metal.”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “My primary affinities are Morta and Terra. There isn’t any metal involved. That’s more up Magmarty’s alley.”

“Not what I meant. It’s just like, you’re the ultimate goth girlfriend. You were part of a death cult, for crying out loud.”

Tet shrugged it off. “You must understand something. The Coptic Champions have nurtured the best and most powerful disciples from across the multiverse to become dungeons of note. There are two great lines of guardians on Eritreus, my people, and the Diabolus Diaboli, based in Haven’s Home. That’s Prince Chadrigoth’s line. He thinks the Diabolus has the most powerful cores, but he’s mistaken. More Coptic Champions have become Heartwood and Crown cultivators.”

To Logan, it seemed like a lot of posturing. Then again, back on Earth, in politics, sports, and art, dynasties always rose. Even in the military there was competition. Army versus Marines. Coasties versus Navy. Chairforce versus everyone else. And it got even worse when you got down to the battalion, company, and platoon levels. This was no different, he supposed.

And the existence of the old guard didn’t stop upstarts from making a splash.

Tet turned, perused the shelf, and pulled out a collection of The Tree Insidefrom several years back. She ducked as a poison dart came shooting out.

Logan wasn’t so lucky. He did get a hand up just in time to catch it in his palm.

Tet blanched. “You need to get to Ned and Zed. Madam Gammy tips her darts with Coptician viper venom from my home temple.”

“It’s okay,” Logan said. “I have poison immunity.” He plucked out the dart and tossed it over his shoulder. Madam Gammy wouldn’t mind. She would just craft more since they were Endogenous Apothos Manifestations.

Tet swung back over the chasm. “I must go, Logan. This has been a nice diversion. In the end, however, I am a solitary creature. The Coptic Champions trained their disciples to be that way. I will stay focused. I will stay at the top of the leaderboard. I will get my own dungeon, and I’ll protect the Tree.” She went to walk away, hips swaying, tail twitching.

He grabbed a rope and swung back over with her.

“Mind if I walk you out?” he asked.

Tet smiled wryly. “I suppose we can let the diversion continue for a little while longer. We can’t be friends, though. I don’t mind a diversion every now and again, but I do mind distractions.”

“I’m too mushroomy to be a distraction. And I’m friends with Marko, and he is like the Greek god of distractions.”

Tet’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what Greeks are, so I will agree and smile politely.” That wry smile never left her face.

After Tet checked the book out, she and Logan walked to the Stairwell of True Seeing.

At one point, they stopped to look at one another in the mirrors around them.

Tet Akhat’s true form was human, a twentyish-year-old woman with dark skin and a Cleopatra haircut. Her eyes were still like emeralds. She smiled. “I must admit, you were rather handsome before you became fungal.”

Logan brushed a hand over his floppy yellow cap. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I rock the fungal look. And before, I wasn’t immune to poison, so I consider this an upgrade.”

“You are not wrong there.” Tet nodded. “That is precisely why we needed to shed our former bodies. So that we could become more than human. Immortal in a way, though different from the immortality the dungeoneers seek.”

She trailed off, falling into comfortable silence as they ascended the rest of the stairs. Eventually, she bid him goodbye with a raised hand before departing—bound for the Azure Dragons dormitory wing.

Logan, still reeling a little from the conversation, walked through the Golden Serpent Hall, letting his feet guide him while his mind worked. A few bushy Treegees were cleaning, and the tree-like kitchen staff were putting away the day’s coffee. It wasn’t as old as he liked, but Logan went over to grab a cup all the same. He was hard pressed to pass up coffee of any variety.

Cup of joe in hand, he wandered outside to the DIE Pavilion. It was a warm spring night, a little humid, which he liked now. He sipped the old coffee and then inhaled, taking more life energy from the chicken in his room. It was getting fuzzy—that would be mucor muceda, a type of mold, delicate and delicious. Like nightmare cotton candy.

His thoughts restlessly circled Tet like a ship caught in a massive whirlpool. She had trained her entire life to get into Shadowcroft. Logan had stumbled into their situation after a few beers and finishing a bloodthirsty video game. Life was weird. The afterlife was weirder. And yet, he felt grateful for meeting such good friends and having such an interesting experience. He felt connected to the school, the professors, even the other students. Like Tet for example. They weren’t friends—she’d made that abundantly clear—but maybe they could be under different circumstances.

Idly, he wondered if there was any chance of romance. Then he had to pause. How would he be able to kiss the cat woman? Neither had the lips for kissing.

No. No romance. Not only was it wildly impractical, but it would actively get in the way.

He needed to focus on the here and now. Tomorrow night, there was an all-academy meeting in the Golden Serpent Hall. Rockheart would be explaining the leaderboard and the Winnowing in more detail.

Logan both dreaded it and was excited about it. That basically summed up his experiences at the academy, though it was far more excitement than dread.

As he killed his coffee, his mind wandered from Tet to Chadrigoth. Even with the very limited info he had, it was clear as good Kentucky moonshine that the Abyss Lord had tried to kill them. No doubt in his mind. But Logan didn’t think the Abyss Lord was working alone. No, if Logan had to bet, old flame-face was working with Professor Rockheart. Both wanted to see the Terrible Twelfth fail, die, or both.

Well, those two chuckleheads were going to have to live with disappointment because Logan and his friends weren’t going anywhere.

Keep Reading Here: Chapter Twenty-Seven