Chương 488: B7—Chapter 64: Please Stop Bothering the Spider

We intended to leave the dungeon and let it rest before another run, but there was a problem. The portal opened the moment the boss fell apart, and instead of grass and hills on the other side, there was nothing but a wall of white. Mahya stepped closer and poked the white stuff with two fingers, then pulled her hand back and made a face.

"Snow." The portal stood over three meters tall, but only a thin sliver of light was visible near the top. Everything below it was packed in solid snow. I copied Mahya's disgusted expression and folded my arms. Three meters of snow definitely deserved that reaction.

"We ought to return to the lake," Al said, glancing from the portal to the dungeon room.

"If we can open the boss's door," I said. Mahya jumped to the door, and it opened without her having to do anything. She stopped beside it and watched. It still moved at the same slow pace of less than a centimeter a minute, but at least there were no trumpets. We waited it out, leaning on walls and shifting our weight, and once the opening was wide enough, we headed back to the lake with the shark dudes.

For a couple of days, we did little except swim and laze about, but after two days, Mahya asked me to extend the deck of the house. Once it was open, she dumped huge piles of various metal parts she had bought from the gnomes onto it and went to work. She was building a contraption full of cogwheels and pipes that piqued my curiosity, so I wandered over to investigate.

"What are you making?" She didn't look up, just sighed and adjusted a fitting.

"The spider was right. I need to work on engines if I want to get the Arcane Mechanist class."

"Need help?"

"Yes, but it is better if I do it myself." She straightened for a moment, wiped her hands on her pants, then went back to tightening something.

"The Guidance might not give me the class if you help me."

"Okay. Tell me if you change your mind." Al claimed a different section of the deck, dumped several large piles of minerals he had collected from the lake, and started sorting them into groupings. I offered him my help as well and was refused just as firmly.

"Teaching you to differentiate would require too much time," he said, already focused on the stones in his hands. Rue was on patrol, eliminating any spawning sharks and fish, and spent the rest of his time zooming around on his jet ski or E-foil. Basically, he didn't need me either, which left me bored. After a few hours of doing almost nothing and pestering the rest of the group with increasingly inane questions, I got an idea.

I crossed back to the metal-versus-stone section and activated it by tossing a piece of meat into the lava. There were fewer golems this time, only five of each type. Instead of collecting the metal from the thrown lava balls, I connected to the ground using my earth affinity, then extended that connection through the floor and into the golems themselves. It took a while, but once the link stabilized, I tried pulling the heat out of them with my fire affinity. It worked, but there was a snag.

Despite being invisible, the moment I started cooling them down, they locked onto my position and pelted me with lava balls. I took off, shifted to a different spot, and tried again. Same result. Lava everywhere. This repeated over and over until I eventually cooled them down enough that they couldn't walk anymore. They could still hurl lava balls at ridiculous speeds, but at least they were stuck in place. I kept at it until the five golems in the tunnel I was working on cooled enough to stop being lava entirely.

They kept their shape, but were now simply mana-rich metal. I stored them and moved on to the next tunnel, then the next, leaving the stone ones alone. The experiment was a success, mostly. The only downside was that the last golems didn't break into motes of mana to become loot. In the evening, when I consulted the group about it, Mahya didn't have an answer.

Al looked thoughtful for a while and finally said, "The metal appears to be the reward of that particular section, regardless of the method employed for its clearing." That was disappointing, but at least Mahya got another twenty metal golems to play with. We gave the dungeon another two weeks to regenerate and ran it again without Rue. There was no point in disappointing him again, and he was having too much fun on his jet ski anyway. This time, Mahya took the ice stone, and Al took the fire stone.

I still didn't care about either. In the birds versus eggs section, Mahya, of course, took the egg, but neither of them wanted the harness. They agreed the swords were better. I took the harness again, thinking Rue might like it. If not, I could always sell it. In the jumpers versus fliers section, Al took the metal-enhancing spell, and the gnomish Jump skill went straight into the sell pile again. My sell pile, since I wasn't getting anything else. The metal-versus-stone section was strange.

When we activated it, only three of each type of golem materialized. I could understand there being fewer metal ones, since I'd cleared them before, but I'd expected more stone ones. Either way, we cleared the section using Al's freeze spell and me pulling the fire out of them through affinities. Mahya insisted she didn't need any more mana-rich metal and didn't have enough Storage space, so I took the metal golems to sell. The stone ones didn't drop the malleable stone Al had been planning on getting.

He looked seriously disappointed until we promised to let the dungeon regenerate long enough to spawn a lot of golems, so he could get the stone he wanted. I took the stone golems to feed the house with mana rich stone. In the metal room between sections, I asked him, "Why do you even need that stone?"

"I would like to acquire the enchanter profession in the future. The stone would simplify the task."

"How?" He stopped near the wall, rested a hand against the metal surface, and answered patiently.

"To earn the first offer from the Guidance, it is not enough to enchant items and sell them. The enchanter must also craft the items. Later on, after the class or profession has been offered, it is enough to enchant ready-made items to progress." That explained a lot. I'd enchanted and sold plenty of dishes and furniture in Lumis and hadn't gotten even a hint of an offer. I frowned and scratched at my chin, thinking it through.

After a moment, I decided I wanted a malleable stone as well, and a fire stone while I was at it. There would be more runs of this dungeon in our future. The swimmers versus walkers section didn't drop any loot, since Rue had been clearing the spawns daily. After some deliberation, we agreed that none of us needed more water bullet spells or spear skills. We stayed parked by the lake and didn't let the section regenerate enough to bother rerunning it.

In the hammers versus nails section, Mahya and Al both insisted I take the hammer and the nail-producing cube, since I hadn't really gotten much loot from this dungeon. I was fine with the idea and could always sell them later if I didn't end up using them. When we reached the boss's reception area, Mahya strode straight toward the writing spider and pricked her finger. The ledger opened with a sharp thwack, and the spider hopped onto the page and began to write. Mahya (Mimi) Num You again?

Do you not have anything better to do? Go away and stop bothering me. I am not paid enough to introduce the same overachieving disaster twice. This is not how this works. You get one introduction. One. You do not get to keep poking me like a broken button and expect fresh results. We exchanged confused glances, then shrugged and headed for the boss's room door. Nothing happened. No trumpets. The door didn't move. With a sigh, we went back to the ledger, and Al pricked his finger.

Alfonsen (Al) Holerand Mirbit VII I hate entitled royalty. The fact that you consider yourself a prince does not permit you to bother me repeatedly. I introduced you already. Thoroughly. At length. With commentary. Go away. I hate my job. Still no movement from the door. I sighed and pricked my finger next. John (The Psycho) (Babe) Rue I demand that you and your lazy ass leave me alone. Stop bothering me. If you want to fight that perversion behind the door, that is your prerogative, not mine.

I am an evaluator, not your motivational speaker. Leave me alone. Shoo! The door remained stubbornly closed. Still no trumpets.

"That's it," I told the spider. It wrote again. What happened to the dog? Did you kill it to make a fur coat? Humans do that. I have paperwork.

"No!" I exclaimed.

"He is my familiar. Of course not." The spider paused. Then it wrote again. You should The ledger slammed shut with another loud thwack, and the spider folded in on itself, collapsing into a half-ball.

"Stupid dungeon," I said, rubbing my forehead. Mahya and Al both went quiet, their expressions shifting from mild annoyance to something more concerned. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"What's the matter?" I asked, glancing between them.

"That communication was concerning," Al said, his brow furrowing as he folded his arms.

"Why?"

"Because it shows a level of sentience that is scary," Mahya said, her eyes drifting back toward the closed ledger. I opened my mouth to respond, but the trumpets blared.

"Oh, shut up!" Mahya half-shouted. The trumpets did.

"What's the big deal?" I asked, spreading my hands.

"So it shows a level of sentience. So what?" I shrugged.

"Once, my core showed me why it ran out of wood, and I didn't think it was such a big deal." I paused, then felt a grin creep in.

"Actually, it's exciting. I mean, it might function like a computer or something in the future." They didn't look encouraged. If anything, they looked alarmed. I couldn't understand why. It was magic, after all. Magic! Of course it could do cool things. The boss fight went the same way as the previous one. Mahya took the plant side, and Al took the mechanical one. I hid behind my Protective Shield and cast Neutralize Poison. Again, I was thrilled about the Ranged ability.

Without it, we didn't have a chance in this dungeon. The reward was nice. Not as great as the first clear reward, but still nice. ALMOST RIGHT (Probably Works) This is not a regular spell. This is a suggestion with opinions. When applied to a crafted object, workbench, or partially finished project, ALMOST RIGHT (Probably Works) temporarily highlights parts that are clearly wrong, questionable, or quietly sabotaging the rest of the build through incompetence. The effect does not fix anything.

It does not move parts. It does not add missing components. It merely makes the problems impossible to ignore.

While active, the caster may experience the following effects: Bolts that should be tighter glow faintly red Parts installed backward emit a low, judgmental hum Overengineered nonsense rattles aggressively Missing components are outlined in an infuriating dotted line Components that "seemed fine at the time" look deeply ashamed of themselves The effect lasts until the caster stops channeling mana, looks away in denial, or becomes emotionally defensive.

Mana cost is low and polite, increasing slightly if the project contains: Improvised solutions"Temporary" fixes older than one week Parts held together by hope Decisions justified with "it should be fine." ALMOST RIGHT (Probably Works) cannot be used to complete a project, skip steps, or replace actual thinking. It will, however, make it extremely clear why the project does not work.

Those who repeatedly ignore its warnings may experience: Sudden structural failure Loud clanking Laughter (source unknown) In summary: This spell will not finish your work. It will stop you from lying to yourself about it. Probably. We returned to the lake and spent another two weeks waiting for the dungeon to regenerate. Mahya and Al were still bothered by the level of sentience the dungeon had demonstrated, and they kept scanning the lake and the surrounding area with worried expressions.

I still thought it was super cool and found myself impatient for my core to reach that level. I kept thinking about what Al had said, and the more I thought about it, the more appealing the Enchanter profession sounded. I had engraved so much stuff already that it felt like a natural progression for me. It would also let me gain levels by doing the regular things I already did, like helping Mahya or selling "confiscated" items.

To move things along, I started experimenting with the various crafts I'd learned in workshops but never really used. Glassblowing went poorly. I borrowed the appropriate equipment from Mahya, but all I got out of it were a lot of burns and an ugly lump of glass. The skill didn't even progress. Woodworking went a bit better. I managed to make a crooked chair. Unfortunately, it fell apart the moment I sat on it. Still no progress there either. Leather crafting went well, at least in my opinion.

I had plenty of skins left over from the occurrence in Zindor that we hadn't sold, along with a few Mahya had brought back from the red zone. I copied my armor pants and made something similar. The main issue was that the leather wasn't cured, so the pants were a bit… fragrant. I also had to keep healing my fingers after repeatedly stabbing them with the needle. I didn't even try Metalworking.

That was Mahya's thing, and no matter how much I wanted the profession, I couldn't see myself happily banging on metal for hours. After some deliberation, I settled on Woodworking, mostly because I enjoyed it the most. I spent the rest of the downtime between runs working with wood. Mahya had some good lumber in her Storage that she wasn't thrilled about giving up. She did hand over a bit, but only a couple of trees. That meant I ended up cutting down the trees near the lake. They weren't great.

The wood was relatively brittle, and more than one plank cracked when I drove a nail into it. Mahya insisted it was good enough for learning. By the time we were ready for the next run, my Woodworking had reached level three, and the table I'd made was mostly stable. I insisted the wobble was the wood's fault. They just laughed and patted my shoulder in encouragement.

The run was pretty much the same as the previous one, with the only real difference being that Al got the malleable stone he wanted, and I ended up taking the rest of the loot. I felt uncomfortable about it for a minute, but they insisted on it since I wasn't getting anything from the dungeon. The spider still complained that we were bothering it, with increasing rudeness, and the final reward was noticeably lower in quality. EH… CLOSE ENOUGH Passive crafting annoyance. Low-grade insight. Mild judgment. EH…

CLOSE ENOUGH is a minor crafting aid that activates automatically whenever the owner works on a crafted item that is almost, nearly, or painfully close to being acceptable.

When activated, the item being worked on will occasionally do one of the following: Emit a faint clicking noise when something is slightly off Feel subtly heavier on the side that needs adjustment Refuse to sit flat, line up, or stop wobbling for reasons that are impossible Develop an irritating tendency to roll, tilt, or slide toward its own mistakes The effect does not identify the problem. It does not explain the problem. It does not fix the problem. It merely refuses to let the problem be ignored.

Mana cost is negligible and mostly accidental. The effect triggers if: The crafter says "that's fine" Measurements were eyeballed The phrase "I'll fix it later" is used The project technically works but feels wrong The crafter declares the project finished while the project strongly disagrees If the crafter corrects the issue, the effect stops immediately and approvingly. If the crafter ignores it, the item will remain almost right forever. In summary: This spell will not improve your work.

It will prevent you from pretending it is good. We returned to the lake, and I kept working with wood. By the time the next run came around, my Woodworking had reached level 5, and the table I built was actually solid. Really solid. I ignored the wobble entirely and blamed the rest on the shitty wood. Mahya didn't argue, which I took as a quiet agreement. Mahya spent most of that time building an engine to work with a core. Technically, it worked, but the new spell had opinions about it.

The thing kept clicking and wobbling in every direction, and she couldn't figure out why. She stared at the engine for a long time, poked at it, ran it again, sighed, then took out the egg and studied it in silence. After a while, she let out a low growl, stored the egg, cast Make It So, winced as the spell left her with a mana-depletion headache, and proceeded to take the entire thing apart. No class offer followed.

She stacked the parts into neat piles, rolled her shoulders, and started over from scratch without a word. Al focused on one of the potions Mahya had ordered, the one that made metal stronger even without mana. He managed to crack it, and both Mahya and I suspected he had used one of the new spells or the egg to do so, but he wouldn't admit it. His poker face gave nothing away when questioned. After that, he started experimenting with the minerals he'd collected from the lake.

When he discovered that the lake slowly replenished them on the bottom, his mood improved dramatically. He spent an unnaturally long time with the corners of his mouth occasionally twitching upward whenever he thought no one was looking. Rue eventually got tired of playing on his jet ski. After that, he spent most of his days watching movies at top volume, sprawled out and completely unbothered by anyone else's need for quiet. We did another run.

This time Rue joined us out of sheer boredom, and it went much like the previous ones. By their insistence, I took all the loot again except for the metal. Al wanted it so he could finally start working with the forge properly, and I was more than happy to let him have it. The spider had also changed. It stopped complaining and moved on to full-on insult hurling for bothering it again. It told Mahya: You are a grease-stained menace to sensible engineering. You are a gear-hoarding lunatic.

You are a walking violation of several theoretical safety regulations. You do not build machinery. You bully machinery into functioning through sheer stubbornness. Every wrench you have ever touched has filed a formal complaint. Several are seeking compensation. Al got: You are an overeducated aristocratic disaster. You are a serial organizer of things that did not require organizing. You are a menace to natural entropy. Left unattended, you would alphabetize gravel. You sort minerals for recreational purposes.

You have labeled containers that contained only one item. I do not know whether this is a personality flaw or a medical condition. The universe creates chaos naturally. You keep trying to fix it. I find that disturbing. I got: You are an occupational hazard with legs. You are a suspiciously lucky idiot. You are a repeat offender against common sense. Entire safety regulations exist because of people like you. You routinely survive situations that should have become cautionary tales. I have reviewed the evidence.

Several of those incidents should have killed you. A few should have killed you twice. Yet here you are. Explain yourself. More importantly, explain why reality keeps giving you second chances. At this point, I can only assume the universe has misplaced your paperwork. When Rue pricked his paw, he growled menacingly at the spider. The thing froze. Then it wrote: Fine. Fine. I will keep my opinions to myself. But you should know that this establishment strongly disapproves of your continued existence.

You are all terrible examples. The engineer is one bad idea away from discovering a new branch of disaster. The prince treats dangerous experimentation like a respectable hobby. The healer keeps finding problems and then adopting them. And the dog is clearly the smartest member of the group, which reflects poorly on everyone involved. I have nothing further to say. Please leave. The spider paused. Then it added one final line. Also, if the dog ever learns to write, I quit.

We snickered, Rue huffed, and we went to deal with the boss. The final reward was clearly lesser, but still useful: a small set of crafting tools. Mahya got a set of chisels whose edges never dulled. I ended up with a squat alignment hammer that corrected crooked strikes. Al received a stirring rod that changed temperature whenever a mixture drifted away from its ideal brewing conditions. Rue got a pair of cloudy-glass inspection lenses that became opaque whenever something was structurally unsound.

All in all, not a bad haul. The best news was that when we looked out through the portal of doom, we saw nothing but new grass and rain. The rain was a bother, but after so much time in this dungeon, it felt like a blessing. Mahya looked back one last time, sighed about not taking the core, gave herself a quick pep talk about not being greedy, and we left the dungeon.