James A. Hunter
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Shadowcroft Year 3 - Chapter Twenty-One
🕑 Added 2022-08-01 17:01:02 +0000 UTCThe next three weeks blazed by in a blur of long days, sleepless nights, and early mornings spent training under the unwavering gaze of Rockheart and Suresh the Magnificent. Logan and the Terrible Twelfth drilled and studied, cultivated for hours at a time, while also learning everything they could about each of the six different worlds. The entire process was like drinking from a firehose. A firehose that blasted out an unrelating string of fire ants right into your face.
As he stood in the Arena Suprema press room, Logan was honestly relieved that the training was over and that the tournament was finally here. Whatever happened on whatever world he was randomly assigned couldn’t possibly be as bad as what Rockheart and Suresh had been able to concoct between themselves. Now, there was only one final obstacle to overcome before the Semi-finals were officially underway, but boy oh boy was it a doozy.
An official press interview, which wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the fact that Inga had a terrible case of stage freight.
Logan’s and Inga’s interview for the Daily Evil was being done by Benji Slaphero, who was the magazine’s star reporter. Benji was a Greater Ooze Grub, and his dungeon core gem was a fist-sized emerald that sat right in the middle of his expansive drippy belly. Benji reminded Logan of Jabba the Hut, if Jabba the Hut were made of an army of toxic slugs that left horrible trails of sludge all across the floor. Rumor had it Benji had done some actual dungeon work a few centuries earlier, though Marko was pretty sure that it was all ruse to get some legitimacy.
The Warning Bell had a done a whole episode on how Benji was working for the Zeta Ridiculans. Logan didn’t think so. He did think that Benji knew how to write a good story that sold. The Daily Evil was far more tabloid than other respectable periodicals, like the Dungeon Core Quarterly or Monster’s Weekly. Even Council Public Radio was better. They had some cheesy line about CPR really getting your heart started in the morning. CPR also had a tuning fork and audio crystal combo listeners could purchase.
Logan and Inga had talked with them all.
Every interview was the same. Inga would freeze up and not say a word. And Logan would talk way too long and say way too much. It was too late for Marko to take over their PR. For one, he was currently hanging out with Suresh the Magnificent and some professors and faculty from Nightfall University in the party hall. The last time Logan had seen them, Professor Rick was there as well, with bean dip smeared across the front of his yellow suit. Poor Rick.
One good thing, his entire fungaloid class had come to cheer Logan on. Currently, they were on Viewing Deck #6, overlooking the Arena Suprema fields, which were full of vendors, selling a whole slew of things, from tinctures to silverware to balls of twine. There was chatter in the media that Logan Murray’s secret cultivation technique involved balls of twine and so those had become the next big thing. Everyone was selling balls of twine and using balls of twine. There was even a book that had come out called The Tao of Twine. People were praising it as the most revolutionary cultivation technique of the century.
It seemed Twine could help everyone but Logan.
At the center of the marketplace was the huge branch of the Tree of Souls, the Bye Portal that would whisk the competitors away to their randomly assigned dungeons.
On the sides of the arena were enormous, IMAX-sized video crystals that would broadcast every aspect of the Semi-Finals once they started. For a full week—Sunday to Sunday—the entire arena would be packed and captivated by the interschool tournament.
Logan just wished it would just start already. It was Saturday night—another seventeen hours until i showtime. In less than a day, he and Inga would walk through the BYE portal and arrive at their Celestial Node.
There was no telling when the dungeoneers might hit. It might be that very day, or it might be later in the week. The longer it took, the more likely a powerful group of raiders should show up because the Council of Dungeons would be feeding the guilds information. Or the spies would.
Marko insisted that spies had already told the guilds everything. It was a part of the Zeta Ridiculans’s master plan to wipe out all dungeons, thus destroying the Tree of Souls, so they could take over as the new cosmic power. All would bow before their gray rage.
At this point, it was best if Marko didn’t talk to the media, even though his piece in the Monsters Weekly had been a hit. The picture of him, standing in front of his logo for Trix/Terrible had been tasteful. People were still talking about how weird his dungeon had been.
At this point, Logan prayed Benji Slaphero wouldn’t ask about Marko. Every other new outlet had and it was hard not to sound absolutely insane when talking about the goat man.
“Mr. Murray,” Benji said, readjusting his grip on his pencil and notepad, “some say you don’t deserve to be here. What do you say to your detractors?”
Inga didn’t know where to put her four hands, so one rubbed her chin meditatively. Two were behind her back. The last one waved awkwardly. “Hi, Professor Bart!”
Logan reached over and lowered her hands for her. “Uh, that’s Professor Bartholomew Nekhbet,” Logan said, nodding toward the odd vulture man. “He’s her favorite professor at Shadowcroft.”
Inga turned the color of a vine-ripened tomato, a very embarrassed tomato.
Logan realized his mistake. “He’s a beloved professor. I mean, Inga likes a lot of professors. She’s very good at school. We work well together. I mean, I’ve only created a Symbiotic Bond with only a few other dungeon cores, and she’s one. Tet-Akhat is another one. But me and Tet are just friends. There was Melvin, who thought there was this romantic triangle, but there wasn’t—”
Benji licked his pencil and wrote in his notebook. “Romantic triangle. You, the Astral Moth, and the Feline Sandmaster from the Coptic Champions? Got it. But your love life is one thing, Logan, and your ability to win the interschool tournament is another. You didn’t even score a 97% in the Crucible. Yet here you are. Some people say you’re cheating by including Inga.”
“I’m Inga Thosa Therian,” she burst out. Then she stood there looking pale and terrified.
Logan wanted to go back and drop that whole love triangle thing. But then Benji might ask about Melvin, which wouldn’t be good. At all. Best to try and keep the questions on the topic of the tournament.
“Uh, Benji,” Logan started. “Mr. Slaphero. I had my doubts, but Chadrigoth Nobleblade didn’t. He stepped down because he believed that Inga and I have the best possible chance of winning this competition, and I agree with him. We’re both Azure Branch Cultivators and working together, there is nothing we can’t accomplish. I mean, we fought one of our professors our freshman year and won. And our sophomore year, we stopped an ancient evil.”
“Oh really.” Benji wrote so furiously, he was shedding green sludgy grubs like entomological rain. “What ancient evil would that be?”
“Nothing!” Logan nearly shouted. He couldn’t sweat as a mushroom man, but heavens, he was trying. “Nothing strange with mannequins ever happened, Benji. Let’s just stick to the competition. We’re going to be awesome, as long as we don’t get Sucroisa, Twilittia, or Pallooshun. I mean, we could make Pallooshun work, and Eurofaux wouldn’t be bad, I guess, but really we’re hoping for either Necroscant or Angleria. We love rot. I love rot. Inga loves bugs.”
“So she eats her own bugs? Are they a delicacy?
Inga blinked her big glowing eyes. “What? No. Logan. He has delicious mushrooms, and narcotics.”
Benji kept writing. “Mushroom guy sells drugs.”
“That’s not…” Logan started to say. “I mean, I can make all sorts of fungi, but I don’t sell anything. Definitely not drugs. I use my various mushrooms as lures. My alchemy teacher might be a giant raccoon who sells narcotics, but I don’t know.”
Benji chuckled. “Oh, we know all about Professor Ahrah-Koonem Gilligan. Ahrah is all right. We heard the fumes from his experiments remove most of your memories. Can you confirm that for our many readers?”
Logan didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to say another word. This whole interview had been terrible.
But Benji wasn’t done. “Do you have any words for Wintersylver?” he asked, quickly changing tack to keep them on their toes. “She’s the favored, and it’s a straight one-to-one bet. You’ve slipped down to five-to-one odds. Don’t feel too bad. Lorena Quartz is ten-to one. Have you made any bets yourself? It’s not illegal, you know.”
“No, uh, I don’t have money, I don’t think.” Logan tried to remember. “Gold pieces, maybe. Inga, do we have gold?”
Inga waved. “Hi, Professor Bart.”
Benji rolled his beady little grubby eyes. “We’ve covered that already.”
Treacle trundled over after seeing Inga’s frantic waving, but instead of his normal big steampunk coat, he was wearing a cloak he’d crocheted himself. It was brown, black, and gold, and it didn’t quite work. The minotaur was carrying his grubby jawbreaker, which oozed almost as much as Benji. He’d just lick it every once in a while and grimace. He was a trooper to even try at this point.
Benji glanced over at the big minotaur nervously, but then gestured with his pencil. “Who is this Melvin you mentioned?”
The minotaur saved them. “Logan, Inga, I hate to interrupt, but you have some waivers to sign, and some fans to talk to. Everyone loves you. Of course they should. Because you two are clearly going to win.”
“Oh, and who are you?” Benji Slaphero asked.
“Treacle Glimmerhappy.” Treacle shoved the jawbreaker into the Ooze Grub’s face. “Would you like a lick.”
“No. Not at all.” The Ooze Grub was a little taken aback. Understandable since there was a great deal of hair on the candy.
“Are you sure?” Treacle grew a few inches, thanks to some hydraulics in his legs. He loomed. There was a great deal of looming.
“Very sure.” Benji gulped. “I think I got everything I need.” The Ooze Grub gave them one last weighing look, then shook his head and went sliding away to call after Britta Scary, the Laughing Lich from Plaguebringer College. It was well known that she was confident that she could handle any of the dungeons, and if she didn’t get Necroscant, she wouldn’t even care.
Marko had some great ideas about how a ghostly rock candy cave might be really frightening. Then again, the Laughing Lich would do well in any of the Celestial Nodes, except maybe for the fish mouth dungeon, though that would be a stretch for any of them, especially Woody Bone Splinters and Lorena Quartz. Everyone knew Lorena Quartz wanted Twilittia. Crystals and sand were natural companions.
Inga fell against Treacle. “Thank you so much for saving us.”
Treacle stuck the hairy jawbreaker in his mouth so he could pat the Astral Moth’s back.
Inga finally found the strength to stand on her own two feet. “Well, Benji was the last of them. If I never get interviewed again, it will be too soon.”
“Amen to that,” Logan agreed with a nod. “Do you want to come and meet my fungaloid friends from my class? We were going to check out the arena market before bed.”
Inga wrung her hands. All four of them. “I’d like to meet them, but we’re not going to the party tonight, right? I don’t want to dance. I just want to sleep, maybe do some tax prep, but mostly, I just want this night to be over. I wish we knew which dungeon we’d get.”
Logan patted her arms, at least two of them anyway. “Inga, we’re going to be fine. We’ve trained for this. And if they through us a curveball, we’ll do what we always do.”
“Pretend we know what we’re doing and hope for the best?” she replied sheepishly.
“We’ll improvise, adapt, and overcome,” he said, radiating confidence that he didn’t necessarily feel. “We’ve been triumphant before even in the face of impossible odds, and we’ll be triumphant again, believe you me.”
Inga nodded hesitantly. “Do you really think so?” she asked in a soft voice.
Logan turned to Treacle. “She’s not going to believe it coming from me, so how about it, Treac, do you think we have what it takes to win?”
The minotaur belched, and there was some clacking as the jawbreaker rattled against his cheek, but then he was smiling. “If past is future. If spring rain follows cold snow. Summer’s victory. That means you’ll do what you’ve always done. You will win.”
Logan shot Treacle a finger gun. “Exactly. And the best part? I won’t be alone. I’ll have that esprit de corps that I love so much. Speaking of which, let’s go meet the gang of fungi.”
Once they got away from the reporters, the rest of the night was a blast, despite Inga’s initial reservations. Logan, Inga, and Treacle walked through the market with the mushroom cores. Trio Trio Trio didn’t get in too many arguments with himself. Amanda was amazed at everything for sale at all the stalls. Gary Bernardii didn’t try and shake anyone’s hands, and Pewig Bulge managed to speak a few very cordial sentences. Even Yeez Tee was on his best behavior, and only stalked away once. Eventually he even returned like nothing had happened.
Logan and Inga did swing by the party before going back to their suites. Marko was dancing with Ji-Soo, who worked as a Rogue Dungeon Hunter for the Arcandor Initiative. Kyvandry Spencer was also dancing, blood splattered apron, shark teeth, and barbed wire sunglasses and all. It became crystal clear to Logan that Blade Ghoul dungeon cores shouldn’t dance. It was too terrifying of a sight.
At one point, Shadowcroft himself came over to wish Logan good luck. The big Treowen dungeon core smiled at him. “You’ve certainly come a long way, Logan Murray. To think, you’ll be representing us tomorrow. I hope you do well, and I hope you survive, for I still believe that you will do many, many, many wonderful things in your time.”
Logan looked up at the kindly old tree man. “I’ll be happy to just get through the next week.”
Then Shadowcroft was drawn back into a conversation with Lolozi Webbs, who was so thrilled that two of her students were competing.
At one point, they ran into Wintersylver, not that the White Wyrm bothered to even acknowledge their presence. She made direct eye contact, sniffed dismissively, then turned and headed deeper into the crowd.
Inga was a bit upset by the interaction but had mostly forgotten about it by the time they got back to her hotel room.
After saying goodnight, Logan went to sleep in his black mold bed, wrapped in total darkness, with the scent of rot hanging heavy in the air. It was damp. It was cool. It was perfect.
Until a slightly drunk goat man shook him awake.
It was after four a.m., and Marko sat on his bed, not even caring he was getting some slime on him. “Buddy, wake up. I just wanted to tell you that I believe in you. I had a great time tonight, and I’m about to go get some sleep, but you better believe that I’ll be there cheering you on. I love you, man.”
Logan laughed. “If you loved me, you’d let me sleep.”
“Don’t be that way, Logan. I just wanted to tell you before you take off for the tournament.
“Thanks, Marko,” Logan said. “Love you too, bud. Now get out of here and let me get a little more sleep.”
The satyr stumbled out the door, and Logan’s heart felt full.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t scared.
And he kept that courage, all through the hurrahs of the next morning, the parades, the bands, the congratulations, and all the pomp.
The seven competitors walked down the main thoroughfare cutting through the market, with cheering crowds on both sides of them.
Wintersylver went first while Logan and Inga went last, waving at people.
Pewig had expanded out to his full size, and on his back were the fungaloids, all holding up “Go Logan and Inga!” signs.
Treacle and Marko stood with a bunch of dungeon cores from Shadowcroft, right at the front. Treacle waved rather energetically at them as Marko strummed his lute, conjuring a host of tentacled horrors that all held signs of their own. Some were what you’d expect.
Go Logan! Go Inga! Mushrooms and bugs forever!
You can’t stop the fun guy fungi! He has tons of morels!
Don’t bug Inga or she’ll centipede all over you!
Others came direction from DMMR and the Warning Bell—
Stop the Zeta Ridiculans!
The Spore Lords are watching!
Don’t trust anyone over a thousand!
Inga turned to him. Her antennae were drawn in tight. She gave him a nervous smile. “Do we have this?”
“Yeah, we got this,” he said, feeling utterly confident for the first time in a long time. They had trained, they had a good plan, and now all that was left to do was execute.
Lolozi Webbs stood on a stage made of webs hanging between branches of the grand, gnarled tree. Her voice rang out over the crowds. “We shall not keep the dungeon cores waiting. They will enter the BYE portal in order of their scores. Above, you will see which dungeons they have been assigned, and I assure you, they will be random. The Semi-Finals will began at noon sharp, and will last one standard week. During that time—
“We’re going to party until we die!” Marko roared.
The crowd roared back.
Lolozi Webbs unceremoniously blasted Marko in the face with webs, so he wouldn’t be able to interrupt her again.
The spider queen turned headmistress cleared her throat. “As I was saying, during that time, we will have a constant view of the competitors as they fight to save their Celestial Nodes from a team of dungeoneers. Once they have either succumbed to the raiders, or killed off the evil heroes, we shall reinstate the original dungeon core, and the competitors will be scored by our judges. Wintersylver Gracefreeze? You are first, with a score of 99.25.”
Logan was surprised at her last name. Wintersylver Gracefreeze? It sounded like she knew she’d eventually become a big, huge frozen wyvern. Interesting.
Wintersylver bowed, gave her fans a wave, and then touched the tree trunk. She was gone in seconds.
Above, the video crystals revealed her appearing in Angleria, which would work out well for her. With her ice powers, she had plenty of moisture to work with. The giant fish might not be happy about the process—and it might wind up with a nasty brain-freeze—but most likely, Wintersylver would be fine.
The crowd of onlookers erupted in enthusiastic cheering and people started new betting. Reporters either scribbled notes or talked into audio crystals.
Inga sighed.
Logan bumped her with his hip. “Sure, it would’ve been nice to have fungi in a fish’s mouth, but it’s not the end of the world. We could still get Necroscant.”
Lolozi Webbs continued. “Next up, with a score of 98.99 is the Sylvan Revenant, Woody Bone Splinters. Woody, please touch the tree.”
The spectral, undead tree floated forward and was ushered away across the multiverse. In an eyeblink he was standing at the entrance of the Kintookie Mines, on the distant world of Pallooshun.
There was a gasp from the crowds. Tough break. That wasn’t ideal at all for Woody, since there was far more rock than dirt, and growing a forest underground wouldn’t be easy. However, there would be corpses he could raise for his army, and he had any number of root-based magic at his disposal. Nevertheless, Logan was sure that Woody had to be freaking out a bit.
Next up was Tommy Bugnutt, the roly-poly Kodiak, who had come in third. He was transported to Eurofaux, which was probably the most generic choice for a dungeon, but neither good or bad in the grand scheme of things. He’d be okay. It was your basic setup. Nothing too strange or fancy about that.
The real blow was Britta Scary who wound up with the ancient necropolis that spanned the entire globe. She’d be protecting the Grand Tomb of Anonymity. Thematically, it was perfect for her. A lucky break like that could meaning the Laughing Lich would be laughing her way all the way to the winner’s circle. For Logan and Inga, however, it was tragic. There were only two worlds were left.
Both of them were bad for Logan and Inga. In other news, there was no way of knowing which of the raiding parties would show up. Logan and Inga could very well face the Berserker Gnomes in the candy world, or the Holy Bowlers in Twilittia. The guy with the bowling-ball flail probably wouldn’t have to worry about sand. Logan thought of the rest of the raiders with a bad feeling in his belly—Breaking Bard, the Cat’s Meow, the Fighting Gyarus, the Ultimate Norms, and Lupine Fury.
Lorena Quartz turned around and smiled weakly. “I’m so sorry, guys. Forgive me, but I do hope I get Twilittia because I like sand so much.”
Inga tried to be polite. “Who doesn’t like sand?”
“Anakin Skywalker,” Logan muttered.
When Inga gave him a confused look, he shrugged. “It’s a very specific cultural reference. I think I’ve made it before.”
In the end, Lorena Quartz got her wish. She was thrown into the Forks-Wa desert on Twilittia.
The crowed went silent. They all knew what it meant.
Logan and Inga would be going to Sucrosia. The candy world might’ve been sweet for some of the other Semi-Finalist, but for the fungaloid and the Astral Moth, it was incredibly sour.
