Chương 66: Chapter 63: [Obsidian Mansion]

"Is this a joke?" By the tone of Jessica's voice, she didn't think it was. Melia turned to face her party: her teammates and her friends. [Sunrise] looked nervous, almost scared; her [Retainers] looked solemn and cautious. Brandy was the only one who didn't seem to be on guard, sporting an amused smile tinted with excitement.

"No," Alastair said seriously.

"Chaos would never joke with her creations. What she does with them, perhaps…but the dungeons themselves? Never."

"Has there always been a dungeon up here?" Y'cennia asked.

"If it has been, then it's the best-kept secret of the kingdom," Ellesea replied.

"Even if they seldom travel into them themselves, nobles love dungeons. And one this close to low-level lands that could easily be developed?" Ellesea turned to face Melia.

"Was this why you were attacked? Because you were hoarding a dungeon?"

"If my Mistress wished to hoard a dungeon, then that dungeon would be hers," Lethia said coolly.

"But no. I've never seen this before."

"So this is new, then?" Brandy asked, bouncing excitedly in place.

"A brand new dungeon and we're the first to get the chance to explore? What do you think, Mel? Want to take a look?" Melia could understand Brandy's excitement. Dungeons weren't released every day in the game, something to be thrown out on a whim. The developers spent months working on them, tuning them, and making them just right. They usually came with major milestones, like the beginning or end of expansions, or else tied together plot points that were building to a head.

On top of that, depending on how many games Brandy had been playing back home, she might be feeling withdrawal. To find herself inside the world of the game she loved so much and spent years dedicating her free time to? Of course, she'd be excited.

"I'd advise caution, my lady," Lethia warned.

"Did you see the suggested level? Do not disregard the system's guidance. This dungeon is beyond all of you right now."

"Well, but who's going to explore it then?" Jessica asked in a huff. Despite being skeptical about the dungeon moments ago, she seemed to have flipped her stance after essentially being told "no."

"We will," Layalee said in her bubbly voice, brandishing her axe.

"If we must." Jessica eyed the giant weapon warily, perhaps more afraid of it than the unknown dangers lurking beyond the portal.

"If our lady wishes it." As if on cue, everybody turned to face Melia. She could understand both sides of the argument… if this whole thing was even an argument in the first place. On one hand, people absolutely should be cautious when exploring the unknown. They really shouldn't jump headfirst into a dungeon that outstripped them by more than double their level. Most dungeon entrances had a safe zone directly on the other side, but who knew what could be waiting for them?

It could be a whole pack of monsters ready to devour them instantly. On the other hand, Melia understood the burning curiosity that came with a brand new dungeon. What mysteries did it hide? What lore was revealed? What challenges did it present? What hurdles were there to overcome? What loot would they get when they conquered it? But all of that was secondary, as the voices of her companions faded into the background.

Melia stared at the swirling vortex with the foreboding skull, slowly filling up with indignant rage. The audacity of this dungeon… to appear in the middle of her ballroom without anybody asking for it!

"My…house!" Melia eventually barked out. She turned to face Lethia, flabbergasted. Melia waved a hand with a pointing finger behind her impatiently, as if the maid could do something about it, like sweeping away some cobwebs or showing an unruly guest to the door.

"This dungeon just stole my house!" That…was not what the others were thinking at all.

"Eh?" Jessica asked, pausing in the middle of a squabble with Y'cennia.

"Think about it!" Melia raged, working herself into a good and mighty fit.

"You guys told me dungeons are hot stuff. Towns build up around them, economies thrive because of them, yada yada…adventurers swarm them and everybody else flocks to them to see what they can get out of them. But that means they'll be in my house! With people wandering around my halls, snooping into my closets, rummaging through my things! How am I supposed to keep everyone out?!"

"That's what you're worried about?" Alastair muttered.

"That…could pose a challenge," Lethia admitted with a furrowed brow.

"To top it off," Melia continued, having worked herself into a full-blown tantrum, "It's going to be impossible to repair!" Despite the fact that she really didn't have any plans for the mansion (or any real legal claim to it), she was attached. In the short span of a few weeks, this mansion had wormed its way into her heart and now it was being taken away.

"What do you mean?" Ellesea asked, amused. As if repairing this place could be easily done.

"Look," Melia scowled, picking up a small hunk of rock. She pointed to a section of the roof that seemed moments away from collapsing, took aim, and chucked it as hard as she could. A resounding crack rang out, first as the rock became a lethal, speeding projectile, but secondly as it shattered against the ceiling, pulverized into dust. Meanwhile, the "crumbling" roof, for all that it looked about to topple, was beyond firm; it was immovable, possibly indestructible.

"Remember Sickledrop?" Melia groused as she stomped on a few loose stones to quell her rage.

"I had a hunch this was the case, but I suspect dungeons purposefully keep their surroundings preserved however they like it. Why else would Old Town have remained a dump for nearly a hundred years with a thriving town attached to it?"

"Yeah, but could you at least warn a girl?" Jessica asked. She had thrown herself to the floor and was just rising up from a crouched position, arms still reflexively positioned over her head.

"You could have brought the whole thing down." Melia turned her head and scoffed, but now that her anger was spent, she did feel a tiny bit sheepish for not thinking of her party's safety. Not that it would have really mattered, she would have thought of something. Alastair, however, gave Jessica a flat stare as he helped her up.

"Do you really think this place would fall apart so easily after that giant earthquake?" he asked. Melia nodded enthusiastically. That was totally her intention, yup.

"Little munch," Brandy said calmly, picking the gnome up.

"Next time, let's not stress test a condemned building while we're still in it, hm?"

"Ah," Melia blushed.

"Right," she nodded.

"Good," Brandy sighed.

"Now, how about we check out your ballroom's new accessory?" Alastair extended party invitations to everyone present, and all nine people walked inside.

Alastair readied his shield as he tried to prepare himself as best he could for whatever awaited them. Delving into dungeons unprepared was a sure-fire way to die, and there was no way to prepare for a brand new dungeon. Heavens above, Alastair didn't know there could be a new dungeon. Most dungeons were ancient, created long, long ago, while the most recent additions came after the Age of Upheaval. He supposed whatever urged this instance to spawn must have been monumental indeed.

He was actually surprised [Sunrise] was allowed to enter. Everybody in the room had seen the system prompt, notifying them that the [Obsidian Mansion] dungeon had been unlocked, and they'd seen the recommended level. One thousand. This was a dungeon for legends. A level recommendation wasn't a requirement. It wasn't the bare minimum necessary for somebody to enter. It was what the system thought would give people a fighting chance. As rank 3s, they had no business being here.

The [Retainers], he knew, were insanely powerful. Each of them had evolved combat classes within their main class. If his memory served him right (and his hearing wasn't damaged), they were even higher level than the [White Witch]. Rank 14s fit the bill to enter. Lady Brandywine was another story. She was only rank 1, but she was already a [Saint]. As one of the most renowned and revered heroes of old, it was possible the system recognized her worth and let her in. And then there was Melia.

Or would it be more appropriate to call her by her real name? Meliastraza Obsidianheart. Unless Alastair was greatly mistaken, this dungeon was named after her. Dungeons taking shape after famous, legendary, or notorious individuals was well documented, but Alastair could think of precisely zero cases of it happening while the person was still alive. And yet, this dungeon had not appeared or been unlocked until after Meliastraza put her giant key into that lock. It was as if the world was waiting for her return.

Why? Why would this dungeon only reveal itself to the world once she was active in it once again? What story did it need to tell? Part of Alastair was dying to know. He just hoped they didn't die in the process of finding out. As the world reformed around him, Alastair quickly took stock of their surroundings. All three [Retainers] stood before them, Layalee with her axe in front and the other two brandishing a bow and daggers slightly behind.

A lesser man than Alastair would have perhaps been annoyed that they stood in front of him, since he was a vanguard, but his ego was not so fragile as to think they were being patronizing. And even if they were, he would take the slight to his honor if it meant staying alive. He glanced at his party screen. He'd never been in such a large party, and calling a party of 9 large was somewhat laughable when there was no known upper limit.

Anything more than 4 was generally considered a full party, and anything more than 8 was considered a raid. The interface was mostly similar to what he was familiar with, but there were a few new features that he could easily get distracted with if he didn't keep his focus. Everybody was still safe at full health, so he turned to their surroundings. Behind them, the portal shimmered. While it was technically opaque, on occasion, he swore he could see an image forming in the swirling vortex.

An image of the room they'd just been in, as if they really had stepped through a simple door. But they were in no room found in any mansion, and he doubted it existed in the real world at all. For one, it had the feel of a dank, dark cave, with glistening black walls of uneven, rough stone. But a warm light blazed from around an upcoming bend, filling the corridor with enough orange glow to help them see their feet and prevent any mishaps from walking. At least there were no monsters.

Meliastraza urged Lady Brandywine forward, and the party followed the path until it opened into a larger space. No longer were they in a cave, but some sort of… antechamber? A foyer? The floor and walls of the cave melted seamlessly and unnaturally from rock and stone into rich, burgundy carpets and mahogany wood paneling. While the cave was barely taller than Lethia's head, the room beyond it stretched up high, 30 to 40 feet.

Multiple chandeliers with countless candles were the source of that warm, welcoming light, and for a moment, Alastair forgot they were in a dungeon. He'd seen a room like this before, though not as grand and only a fraction of the size. A bar counter ran along the length of one side of the room, with countless odd-looking devices and machines, as well as enough cups and plates to serve an army.

In front of it, waist-high metal posts sat upright in a grid, connected by velvet ropes, creating a maze of sorts to corral a crowd. A concession stand. To purchase snacks. It bore a striking resemblance to the Horizon Opera House, but this room could service several thousand, not two hundred.

"Tickets…." A cold, hollow voice disrupted Alastair's thoughts and sent shivers up his spine. Instinctively, he crouched and raised his shield, but he quickly abandoned any thought of lashing out.

[Spectral Usher] This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Elite Level:????

To their right, next to a large podium, floated a ghostly pair of bone-white gloves, like the disembodied hands of some forgotten butler. There was no body, no mouth to make the words, and yet the sound came from where a mouth would have been, as if spoken from the very air. Everybody froze; nobody dared to move. Alastair took a deep breath, firmed his resolve, and sent a prayer to Celestara. If now was his time, so be it. He approached the neutral mob, praying it wouldn't turn aggressive.

"I don't have a ticket," Alastair said. He felt like a total ass, but he had been raised to be earnest in everything, and that included talking to a floating pair of gloves in a dungeon.

"Ahhhhh," the ghostly voice rasped. The hands rubbed themselves together before a white glow produced a long, slender piece of paper.

"Ticket…," the voice said, handing it to Alastair. The [Paladin] stared at it in disbelief. Perhaps it would have been better if it had been a hostile mob, and it had ended them all quickly.

[Theater Ticket] Level: 1 Rarity: Epic On use: grants admittance to the Audience Chamber inside the Obsidian Mansion's Theater.

Willcox Wobblefist is proud to present: Humanity's greatest heroes and greatest folly! For one night only: The House That Death Built!

"I want a hot dog."

"Melia, you can't go to a show and not get popcorn."

"Yeah, but I still want a hot dog." Jessica listened to the two of them banter back and forth. Despite one being a monstrously tall high elf and the other a very tiny gnome, they seemed incredibly close. Tighter than sisters. More so than Jessica and her siblings. Her next sister was 5 years younger than her, and they did little more than bicker at each other and fight over petty squabbles. Regardless, she wanted to roll her eyes.

"Look," she eventually said from where she was standing, completely forgotten, right next to them.

"Just get both. Hell, get Melia four sausage rolls. She'll eat them all." The pair turned to stare at her in unison, and both of them lit up like she'd just revealed the mystery of life. Then they turned back to each other and started arguing over what drink to get. Jessica threw up her hands and pushed past them. Having a legendary [Saint] in the party was bizarre. It wasn't anything like Jessica imagined it should be, but it felt natural. It felt right.

It felt like being watched over by a big sister, a completely alien feeling for Jessica, since she was the oldest in her family, and recently, she found herself looking back and wondering if she'd screwed up. Well, the past was the past, and she could only change what she'd do in the future. One thing was for certain: if she ever found herself spending more time with her little siblings, she'd impress upon them that people are people, no matter their status. For good or ill. Like the [Saint] and the dragon.

After following Al's lead and getting their tickets, the whole party moved slowly into the huge room. There, they could have gone up to one of four different sets of doors leading into what Jessica assumed was the main auditorium. There was a hallway leading to a set of stairs that probably led to even more entrances, such as balcony seating or private booths. Instead, Eluna and Melia wanted to get snacks. Jessica approved.

Hanging out with the dragon in disguise was skewing her appetite, but so far it had yet to ruin her figure, so she was going to let it slide, even if she knew she was playing with fire. But, instead of doing the sane thing, like walking around the empty queue barrier and going straight to the counter, both of them glanced at each other, giggled, and entered at the very back of the line.

They then proceeded to navigate through the entire twisting, turning maze as it wove back on itself like the world's biggest serpent. It took them a whole 5 minutes just to walk it. All the while, Jessica slowly followed next to them, right on the other side, in maybe half a minute.

"So do we get Carbo-cola or do we go with Pop-C?" Melia asked.

"Is it New Carbo-cola or Carbo Classic?" Brandy questioned back. Jessica could hear the building excitement in her curiosity. Were all elves this big fans of cola?

"Oooh, do you think they still have blind taste tests to see which one's better?"

"Pretty sure it isn't New Carbo," Melia laughed. Jessica snorted. She was a Pop-C girl, through and through. Carbo was trash and anybody who drank it was trash. …okay, maybe her opinions were a little pointed. Since the duo behind her wasn't in any rush, Jessica approached the counter. A pair of floating white gloves greeted her.

"Snaaaaacks…?" the ethereal voice asked, making Jessica's hair bristle. Just like the ticket master, Jessica didn't think she'd ever get used to disembodied hands talking to her. Especially not when they were trying to carry on mundane conversations. She supposed it wouldn't actually be any better if the gloves were screaming bloody murder, trying to kill her, but Jessica found her experience in this dungeon so far was hard to digest. It felt too real, in a way their first dungeon had not.

[Astoria Boondocks] had felt like she had stepped into a story that would have dire consequences if she went off-script, while so far, the [Obsidian Mansion] really did feel like she was about to attend a show. A very expensive, very posh show. Jessica had seen some amateur troupes and local performers put on shows at venues that featured donkeys braying and cows farting in the background. Here, the entire place got the white glove treatment. Quite literally in the case of the "staff".

Jessica peered into a crystal clear glass display case, sparkling with a polished sheen. [Chocolate Covered Raisins]. Jessica's mouth began to water. What was with this stupid dungeon? Her tension was in shambles. First, she saw the level requirement and thought they would instantly die. Then, she thought it was being silly when the first "monster" turned out to be floating hands.

Then she swapped right back to gonna die when she [Inspected] it, and she flipped once again to the surreal when it turned out they were at an opera house. Now she wasn't sure what to think, especially since she had to pay for these snacks. She was in a dungeon. She was supposed to [Loot] it, not the other way around. Jessica swore that if she left this place poorer than she entered, she and the gnome were going to have words.

Ellesea tapped her foot impatiently as Jessica finally returned from the concession stand, carrying something closely resembling a bucket with a straw sticking out of it. Ellesea squinted her eyes and resisted the urge to lambast the girl. This was an opera house, not a carnival show. And then she remembered, technically, it was neither, as a very subtle movement from the corner of her eye grabbed her attention.

Another pair of floating white gloves hovered next to the nearest door, the one she was anxious to go through. Not because she feared an attack from a lethal, hostile dungeon. This house was every bit the equal of the finest theaters in Horizon, and Ellesea had been completely disarmed. So much so that she nearly put her staff away, since it was considered rude and bad manners to carry a weapon openly into fine society.

But she wasn't in fine society, and she wasn't even in a theater: she was in a dungeon, and according to the training from the Adventurer's Guild, she had already failed. The dungeon had succeeded in getting her to lower her guard, breaking through her defenses. So far, she had been fortunate that her impropriety carried no consequences. Outside of feeling like she was underdressed. The [Tickets] everyone had received claimed that this was a play put on by Wobblefist.

Willcox Wobblefist, sometimes known by his given name of Bartholomew Cromwell, or simply as "The [Bard]." For being widely considered the greatest playwright of all time, little was known about the man. Even his race, which most claimed to be a gnome, was questioned when his reputation grew larger than life. Author of countless classics, from tragedies to comedies and everything in between, The [Bard]'s works were possibly the most famous tales in all the kingdom.

A chance to see one, even in a dungeon, was something Ellesea could not pass up. She wondered what sort of spin a dungeon could possibly put on a play. How would it handle it? Would it use monsters as actors? Would there be sets? Strictly speaking, a dungeon had more resources behind it to call from than any acting troupe or entertainment house. Ellesea was already getting excited just thinking about it.

They didn't need to play by the same rules as reality, where things could just materialize in place or melt away just as fast. Think of how quickly a scene could change! But she was getting ahead of herself. They hadn't even entered the auditorium. Once everyone was gathered together, they approached the doors. Alastair was the only one who retained his proper vigilance, holding up his shield as he approached the giant floating gloves.

He should be applauded; everyone else had been too lax and they were all sitting ducks. Especially Jessica, whose bow was stashed into her inventory, and both hands were cradling her food. Lady Brandywine was talking animatedly with Meliastraza, so perhaps they could both be forgiven, considering who they were, and the [Retainers] had all reverted into "serving mode", fussing over everybody and making sure they looked presentable.

Truthfully, Ellesea was missing Layalee's giant axe right now, even if the sight of it did give her second thoughts.

"Tickets…?" the gloves asked, turning one hand over in an open palm. Alastair, as the leader, only paused momentarily to gauge their "foe" before handing over his ticket. The gloves said nothing else, simply punching a hole in the top right corner and waving toward the door. The two huge doors slowly slid open, revealing an auditorium Ellesea could never even dream of.

If she thought the foyer had been large, capable of handling a mass of thousands, Ellesea was utterly unprepared for the spectacle that was the main room. It was huge, gargantuan, behemoth… Ellesea didn't have the words. She had seen big buildings before, but this made even the grandest parlor look like an abandoned shack. There were thousands of seats. Hundreds of thousands. As Alastair slowly made his way forward, Ellesea was frozen at the entryway.

Her eyes slid left and right, raking over the rows and columns of plush, padded chairs, creating a massive, bowing arch all pointed to a massive stage. It had to be, despite looking so small from so far away. The main curtain was raised, but all others were dropped, and several magical lights created one bright spot in the middle of the polished floor, drawing her eyes. Nobody was there yet, but her excitement was building.

"Section J, Row 137, seat 8," Alastair muttered. Ellesea lifted her ticket and flipped it over. Sure enough, her seat was marked, two to the left of Alastair, if this house followed conventional rules. Alastair led them to the closest aisle, noted the section marker, and led them downward toward their destination. Ellesea spared a glance at a nearby set of gloves, folded patiently over each other like a bouncer who was simply waiting for the expected trouble. They would find none from her; of this, she was sure.

Which made her wonder: what would happen if they tried sitting somewhere else? Would that anger the dungeon? Would that spawn rabid, hostile gloves waiting to "usher" them out… of this life? Alastair led them to their designated seats, somewhere roughly in the middle of the entire auditorium. These would have been fairly pricey seats if purchased from an established theater house in Horizon, especially of equal quality that this one appeared to be.

Not the balcony seating, which Ellesea got lightheaded just thinking about, gazing up at the countless private booths lining the ever-rising walls, nor the front row, orchestra section, with a premium view of all the action. As Alastair turned and began filing down the row, Ellesea noticed a subtle murmur. Voices, muffled and indistinguishable, rose as a comforting background, washing away the eerie silence. Ellesea nearly panicked, thinking they were no longer alone, but technically, they had never been.

Not with the [Spectral Ushers] and [Ethereal Custodians]. But now Ellesea became aware of a new segment of the populace she hadn't noticed before. [Umbral Patrons], dark silhouettes of people, shades of theater-goers shrouded in complete darkness. Ellesea bumped into one on accident, her panic spiking as she feared a sudden fight, but the murmuring only grew momentarily before the pitch-black figure floated away, going about their business.

[Umbral Patron] Level: 15 These weren't combat mobs. They weren't even elites. They did, however, fill out the arena, and as the group finally took their seats, Ellesea realized the entire house was packed. If this were a lesser house, or perhaps not a dungeon, it would have been sold out, standing room only. Ellesea's eyes lingered on a few of the [Patrons], noticing their silhouettes were subtly different. Each "person" was unique; some ladies in fine dresses, some gentlemen with tall hats. She shook her head.

This dungeon was dangerous in more ways than one. She had totally and completely let her guard down. And, as she learned from Meliastraza's story the other night, even an army of naked level 15 rookies could take down a boss in sufficient numbers. Hopefully, the same could be said for them with whatever monstrosity they eventually faced in this bizarre house of wonders. But, Ellesea was shaken from her musings as the house lights dimmed, the radiant circle on the stage growing ever brighter.

A deep, raspy voice called out.

"Welcome, one and all, to the [Obsidian Mansion]!" The figure of the gnome made its way into the spotlight; other figures began taking their places behind. The secondary curtain rose, revealing beautifully painted backgrounds and sets. And yet, the [Shade of Cromwell] was not truly a dungeon monster, and neither were any of the shadowy actors, nor were their weapons more than props. Whatever dangers this dungeon had in store for them had not yet been revealed.

"Hey, is that-?!" Y'cennia gasped, pointing to the stage.

"Quiet!" Ellesea shushed. Yes, the figure walking onto the stage was the legendary [Bard] himself.

"The show is starting!"

"His voice is rather deep for a gnome, isn't it?" Jessica asked, leaning over Alastair.

"Shhh!" she hissed. Did these people have no decorum?

"Lords and Ladies, princes and paupers, most esteemed, honored guests…. Before the curtain rises, I ask you to set aside the comfort of simple truths. Tonight's tale is one of triumph already won. The 'heroes' you shall meet have done all that was ever asked of them—by kings, by kingdoms… by the gods themselves. They have bled for righteousness, shattered darkness, and brought low every beast and tyrant that dared oppose the light. Their names are sung. Their deeds unquestioned. And yet—this is not their victory.

For when the last evil falls, when the world is finally quiet… what remains? What stirs in the silence left behind? There is, in this story, a dragon. Something old, something arrogant. A being that blackens the skies and devours the innocent without thought. A keeper of ancient wealth. Always present, always watching, always waiting. At times, it even appeared to be a friend. But the heroes knew, as the gods themselves declared, it was the Destroyer.

If, indeed, it were an ally, where was this dragon when calamities rose? When others laid down their lives for the sake of Humanity? Selflessly sacrificing everything so that others might live? Watching. Waiting. Growing fat on squandered riches and treasures amassed in its hoard. But peace has a way of unsettling those who have only known war. And gold… well, gold has a voice louder than any god. You will hear this tale as the heroes tell it.

You will see through their eyes, feel their certainty, their justification… their hunger. But I ask you—watch closely. Listen carefully. For in this final act, when steel meets scale and fire answers greed… you may find yourself wondering: Who, in this world, was ever truly the hero at all? This is the unsung ballad, the tale untold, the truth behind the legend. A tale of loss, a tale of woe; a story beset by betrayal, subtlety, and the darkest side of the brightest hearts.

Without further ado, I present to you the tragedy of the dragon: friend, monster, but above all, she is best known by her standing with the gods. In these very halls, the [Destroyer of Worlds] welcomes you… to the House that Death built!"