The Aby Survival Guide, Chapter Two (Patreon)

Hello again! finally continuing the Mapper's guide, I always enjoy writing him and I hope you enjoy reading him. I'll try to have more actual installments of the novel out before June, though, at least one for Rok, and one for Aby's creatures, so I'd like to hear what you think I should do first. I'll also try to do something special on June 1st, since that is my birthday and I have a few ideas for something, but I am not entirely sure. Anyway, thanks for reading!

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Chapter Two, A Journey Downwards

If you were following along last chapter, you might recall me referring to the first four floors as a ‘set,’ and alluding to the fifth onwards having one or more different ‘sets.’ This isn’t entirely true; the following floors can be so varied and in such rapid succession that finding a common theme between one floor and the next is a much more abstract art. For example, the next three floors this chapter will discuss are, at a glance, wholly dissimilar. 

Of course, it would only take a second glance for one to realize that these three floors are intrinsically linked, and not only because this delightful little Dungeon decided to begin merging floors a good deal earlier than most other specimens. These three floors -the fifth, sixth, and seventh- return to the maze-like corridors common to young dungeons and present on the first three floors. However, there is much that has changed too. Something you will soon find here is that the tunnels floors are no labyrinth like they were on the introductory floors, they are a sprawling web of connected pathways and channels, and there is no single path that could bring you from the fifth to the seventh and back.

As such, you would do well to remember that the strategies that brought you, safely I would hope, to these floors should be discarded as soon as you find yourself in the dark waters offered by the fifth floor. And they are quite dark indeed. In a show of diversity that I’ve found quite common in this Dungeon, the outputs of the mana-coral on the fifth-floor changes from a fairly even mix of all mana on the spectrum, to only darkness and its related composites. As a result, calling the visibility anything but abysmal is doing the Dungeon and your own humour a disservice. I strongly urge you to have some method of darkvision, whether it is innate to your race or begotten through spells or artifacts, it is crucial if you plan to spend any length of time in these shrouded halls.

Now, while oppressive darkness in any dungeon should always scream of traps, ambushes, and hidden rewards, I tell you this: it is not so for the Reef Dungeon. My exploration throughout this marvel revealed not a single deliberate trap of any sort. Pitfalls, rockfalls, dangers mechanical or magical, the Dungeon was utterly bereft of anything intentionally designed to maim, kill, or otherwise inconvenience invaders. That is not to say that you won’t be taken by surprise; several chokepoints or floor layouts are made with ambushes in mind and to think otherwise is foolish, but you can save your energy looking out for false floors, hidden tripwires, or sneaky runes and instead be on the lookout for places in the walls, floor, or environment that hide life eager to end your own.

Similarly, there have been no intentional acts to actually reward anyone who ventures forth into these dangerous depths. This also is not limited to just these three floors discussed in this chapter; you won’t find a single trap or a single item of designed intent anywhere within these watery walls. Even the elemental crystals so espoused by the Guilds and by the many, many Divers here seem, to me, to be a natural byproduct rather than a lure like many other dungeons would use. Elemental crystals of all sorts are measurably more common within mana reefs, albeit still rare, and the Reef Dungeon exaggerates that feature just as all Dungeons find some natural feature or another of the environment they were birthed in and take it to its logical extreme.

But, while artificial traps and manufactured wealth is not something to find within the Reef Dungeon, aggressive creatures are, as we have touched on, and despite the digression this chapter is dedicated to telling you what to expect on floors five, six, and seven. Or, in the case of the fifth floor’s all-encompassing murk, what little there is to expect. The Dungeon does keep with tradition here, the fifth, tenth, and twentieth floors are all Boss floors, and I’d expect the fiftieth and one hundredth to be the same, when the little gem gets there, but the fifth floor differs in that it is almost entirely barren beyond the Boss.

It is almost disconcerting, there is such a wealth of diversity throughout every other floor, but even coral seems reluctant to grow here, and there are only four permanent ambulatory residents. It seems that most creatures actively avoid the dark here, even ones that otherwise thrive in such conditions, and I can only imagine that this is due to some peculiarity of the four creatures. It is no secret that the first Boss here is a peculiar one, a large starfish hardly seems like the most imposing or dangerous foe, after all, and even four doesn’t seem all that menacing.

But it would be a gross under exaggeration to call these creatures merely large starfish; I am sure many of you have heard whisperings or rumors that the leader of the Guilds on the nearby island suffered an injury from just a single strike, and it would not surprise me if you were to dismiss these claims outright. It seems preposterous, a single, newly minted Boss, able to cause any damage at all to an experienced Diver, one with a record of dispatching far worse from Dungeons far older? 

It is true, however, that these beasts are deceptively powerful. The four are near-entirely muscle, and even then, they are capable of strength that seems to defy any sort of reason. And as with many challenges, the difficulty doesn’t stop there. They look to be able to work together so seamlessly that they come across almost preternaturally linked to one-another, and I’ve no doubt that their coordination only gets better, if given the time to act.

The above two traits are certainly a very tangible, very good reason enough to avoid a confrontation with the quartet, especially in the darkness, wherein they almost completely disappear, but it is not the last of their oddities. It is very much worth noting, for example, that their flesh is unusually resistant to spells and other forms of mana intrusion. It is not to the level of nullification, but their bodies appear incredibly capable of gobbling up the mana around them, and this includes directed magic, which is equally sponged up by them. Again, your attacks will still have an effect on the four, but the effect will be noticeably diminished compared to what you might expect.

Perhaps it is this innate ability that makes them seem so unusual to me, or perhaps it is something else, but whatever the reason, these four creatures are definitely among the most memorable that I have encountered during my time within the Reef Dungeon. There is something distinctly uncanny about them, about the way they move, the way they act and interact with one another, and even just their very presence, and it feels subtly alien even to me. But, I am not writing this to speculate on why that is; I am writing this so that you may read it and understand the dangers you will face and the boons you will find if you are successful in facing them.

On that note, let us discuss the next danger that you will face, one who is no doubt equally infamous, or perhaps even more so, than the Bosses residing one floor above. I speak of course about the siren, and how she is arguably one of the most insidious residents within this wonderful creature. I’m sure you are all well aware of the sirens’ reputation the world over, how many consider them duplicitous and dangerous, to be avoided and disdained because of their innate gift at manipulating the mind, despite their very nature making it impossible to disable their Charm. While I am sure that this stigma is applicable to some select examples, the same could be said for any of the sapient races, and many more simply try their best to live their lives and cause as little harm as possible.

Considering that the siren in question is an evolved Dungeon creature, however, calling her dangerous is perfectly accurate, if a bit rude. However, what makes her dangerous is different than the norm, just like everything else seems to be within this precious anomaly. Many of the predatory sirens are said to rely on trickery and guile, using their natural Charm and their natural charms to play the role of the seducer or seductress and slowly lure you in, until little is left of you but a thrall who unquestionably obeys and does so eagerly.

None of that happens with this one, and in fact she will avoid you at all costs, never once letting you get a glimpse of her as she Sings her Song. I would be unsurprised if I were to learn that hardly a handful have even seen the harmonic horror, but do not let that fool you into thinking she is any less dangerous for hiding her visage. I do not know how any siren learns their Song, that is a well-kept secret, but it seems that even without a teacher this Dungeon’s has found hers, and it is a particularly treacherous tune. To put it bluntly, hers is a song of madness and hunger, something many have heard rumours of, but few can report firsthand. 

Listening to her is a dangerous task, what may normally protect you from an attack on your mind will be of little use here, and, so far as anybody has been able to tell, the damage she inflicts to your soul is permanent. You may recover in time, but it will not be healing, it will be new growth. Memory loss, magic loss, even loss of your sanity and sapience, all of this should be expected from prolonged and uninterrupted listening, and it may never be reversed, certainly not by anyone nearby the Dungeon. This is not to say that the healers are inept, but they are simply incapable of dealing with the amount of damage that can be inflicted to you, most anyone without a Title would be incapable of it.

Please, do not think yourself special and go chasing after that voice, not because you find it hauntingly beautiful or desire the fame that comes with subduing the siren infamous for reducing dozens to little more than slavering, cannibalistic ferals. These passageways are designed to hide her, and even if they weren’t so exceptionally good at masking her location, she is no doubt constantly being guided by the omniscient intelligence that is the Dungeon. It is not a game of cat and mouse, not when the one running is the danger and the ones chasing would be better served by plugging their ears and continuing downwards. It is a fool’s errand, and one that may well end with someone you trusted more than anything else on Vol taking a bite out of you in your final moments.

Of course, covering your ears or otherwise deafening yourself is always risky, rendering one of your senses useless even temporarily to deal with a specific threat only invites others to exploit it, but in this instance I find myself recommending that you do exactly this; the risk presented is simply too high otherwise. You will therefor need to know what dangers you should be looking for, in the absence of noise to better prepare yourself. Thankfully, many of the lesser threats on the dimly lit sixth floor and glaring seventh aren’t very noisy to begin with, but there is one more exception, aside from the odd shrimp that wanders down, which are blessedly uncommon.

Be wary of the parrotfish, as silly as that advice sounds. Oftentimes, they are little more than a nuisance, their bite may be capable of crushing the hard limestone skeletons of the mana coral around them but they would have trouble applying the same force to your own body, and that is if they can even reach you. They are noisy, always spouting uncanny recreations of sounds they have heard before, which makes them glaringly obvious on the few other floors they have carved out a niche in, but even deafened their movements are so ungraceful and obvious, their color so garish and bold, that you would be hard-pressed to miss them if you have even a modicum of awareness. 

Their danger does not lie in their bite, however. If you remember, they can recreate sounds that they have heard before, and the noises can be deceptively similar. More than once I made note of a fish echoing the idle chat or last words of a Diving party, and I’m sure that people have mistaken them for their peers in the past and will do so again in the future. But this ability extends to any noise which they have heard, and they can recreate it as though they were the source itself. This leads to wandering fish which sing the siren’s Song, not to the same effect but still unmistakable and liable to cause panic and chaos, if you hear what you thought was two floors above or beneath you and suddenly expect the worst.

But above all else, be wary of them approaching you. The greater parrotfish can mimic any noise it has heard in the past as if it were the source, and I’m sure anyone who has taken the Dive knows perfectly well how easy it is to hear the shrimp, even from a great distance away. I am not sure exactly how they do it, but these peculiar fish manage to make the distinct snapping sound exactly as loud as the shrimp themselves can and doing so releases immense amounts of force. They are incapable of controlling or even surviving their self-inflicted concussive explosions, but they are more than capable of wounding or worse, in certain circumstances. 

Now, where the parrotfish are almost comically easy to spot, in basically any situation, there is one resident of these floors that is dangerously stealthy while still being difficult to take seriously. An unusual breed of seahorse, mundane save for their nearly transparent bodies and leech-like behavior. On their own, these seahorses are almost entirely safe, they remain small and brittle, and they aren’t terribly mobile in the best circumstances. But, should you find themselves in a swarm of the creatures, you would face the same threats you would for any blood-letting creature. You would have difficulty being exsanguinated unless you are already injured or otherwise impeded, but the possibility remains and being aware of the nigh-invisible creatures before they attempt to bleed you dry might save your life.

Do be aware that this list is still not exhaustive, and just as I did with the first four floors, I only detailed the most dangerous or unusual creatures, ones that fall outside the norm in their abilities or represent a serious danger all their own. I will of course give a more thorough list elsewhere, but this is merely a guide written in hopes of saving lives, not an encyclopedia. Be on your guard and be prepared, everything here is hostile, and even a single fish could be dangerous if you let it, to say nothing of the snakes or sharks, the wandering kobold raids, or odd assault. In the end I can only give advice, and while I try to be as detailed as I possibly can I cannot account for everything. Surviving is your job and yours alone, and it is a difficult one indeed. However, there is no more rewarding job on Vol, not that I could think of, and the rewards are certainly worth the hardships.

But I am digressing, again. I’m sure concrete knowledge of what to expect is far more valuable to you than an old stranger’s promises of future value, and the next set of floors represents a huge spike in difficulty and danger. In fact, after the seventh floor, the Dungeon seems to have become an entirely different entity, and it would be wise to understand what changed, even if I have no idea why it changed.