Dungeon Creation (10)
Professor Jesl of Dungeonology submitted the dungeon Lucy had created to her colleagues the very same day she finished her discussion with the girl.
The thought of it being rejected never even crossed her mind.
It was true that the other professors were damned old hags who dumped every tedious chore onto the youngest among them. But they, too, had been so captivated by dungeons that they'd become professors of Dungeonology in the first place.
There was no conceivable world in which any of them would look at the miraculous dungeon Lucy had built and decide to turn it away. If anyone saw that masterpiece and still demanded something else, seniority in academia be damned—she'd shove it right back in their faces.
Because what kind of person could fail to recognize the brilliance of this dungeon and still presume to teach the discipline of Dungeonology?
Then, several evenings after the dungeon's submission, the department head summoned Jesl to his office.
The stated reason was a personal conversation, but Jesl didn't believe a word of it. The man was already buried under managing his family's affairs, conducting his own research, and shouldering the duties of department head on top of it all—where would he find the leisure to sit around sipping tea?
It had to be about the dungeon submitted yesterday.
Certain of this, Jesl gathered up every scrap of supporting documentation she could find, bracing for the worst case—so that no matter what came out of anyone's mouth, she could press her argument home.
Right up until she stood before the department head's door, she was steeling herself to fight for her academic pride with everything she had. That resolve scattered like ash the moment the office door swung open.
"Professor Jesl. You came."
"It's been a while. The last time was that faculty dinner, wasn't it?"
"Goodness. Look how stiff your face is."
"You've been run ragged over the first-years, haven't you? Of course you're in no mood when we call you in for tea."
"Apologies for dragging a busy woman out here."
The department head was not alone in his office.
Every single Dungeonology professor—people who so rarely gathered that they might as well have lived on separate planets—was assembled in one place.
"...Good evening, Professors."
The nightmare of her dissertation review flashed before her eyes, and Jesl bowed her head quickly, cold sweat prickling down her neck.
"What brings everyone here?"
"Ho ho. Do researchers of the same discipline need a reason to gather?"
"We gather when there's something worth talking about. Isn't that right?"
"Quite. Quite so."
They passed the conversation along as smoothly as if they'd rehearsed it, and Jesl's mouth went dry.
No reason to gather, my foot. These were people who'd turned their own offices into a kind of dungeon just to avoid setting foot outside.
What was going on? Why were all the humans the dean had to beg to show up—people who couldn't even manage three of them in one room—sitting here together?
"Now, now, all of you. Slinking around like eels is only making poor Professor Jesl uncomfortable."
"You're the one who told us to do this."
"Difficult man, as always."
"Enough! We can't monopolize Professor Jesl's precious time, so let's get straight to business. The reason we've called you here is the final examination dungeon you submitted."
The instant the words final exam dungeon left the department head's mouth, Jesl lost her grip on the situation entirely.
If they simply meant to reject the dungeon, a wave of the department head's hand would have been more than enough.
"Professor Jesl. As you know, our academy has seen no shortage of incidents lately."
"The entrance examination affair. The kidnapping of the Third Prince. That Apostle of the Evil God attacking the streets."
"And don't forget that one—Lady Aln clearing the entire Academy Dungeon in a single day. Because of it, every lowlife and his dog has been running his mouth about how easy must dungeons be, if a girl can do that."
"Professor Magote. Mind your decorum."
"Did I say something wrong? The only reason the department head gathered us all here, black-hearted schemer that he is, is because he can't stomach those rabble slandering us."
"Magote! That's quite enough—I am speaking with Professor Jesl!"
"Oopsie. My sincere apologies."
Magote bowed with a mischievous grin, and the department head, clearing his throat, turned back to Jesl.
"Because of these many incidents, the reputation of Soul Academy's Dungeonology department has suffered as of late. Do you follow me so far?"
"Yes, I understand. But what does any of that have to do with the final exam dungeon?"
"The dungeon you submitted—the one Lady Aln is said to have designed in its entirety—is a work of extraordinary polish. Anyone with knowledge of dungeons would gasp at the sight of it."
"Of course they would."
This was the dungeon that had won over even Jesl, who had set out with nothing but the intent to cut Lucy down. What point was there in stating the obvious?
"Our plan is to restore our tarnished honor by spreading the fame of that dungeon far and wide."
"...I beg your pardon?"
"I have pored over the dungeon's structure many times, but constrained by the allotted resources, you were forced into compromise in many places. Tell the Lady that she is to pay the limits no mind and unfold her talent to her heart's content."
She can add every gimmick she wants, with no cap on resources?!
As Jesl recalled all the gimmicks she and Lucy had discarded for practical reasons during their discussions, her eyes lit up—and the department head's mouth curled at one corner.
"It would also please us if you passed along that every student in the academy will sit their final exam in that dungeon. We will handle grade allocation for each year ourselves, so don't concern yourself with it."
The department head continued after that, relaying to Jesl a whole list of messages intended for Lucy.
If you have this much to say, why not just tell her yourself? The thought flickered through Jesl's mind—but she kept it firmly behind her teeth.
The reason was obvious enough. He was clearly imagining what would come out of Lucy's mouth if he stood before her in person.
"That should conclude the urgent business."
"Ah, and one more thing—tell her that if she runs into any trouble during construction, she's to go see Professor Magote."
"Oh, come off it! Where'd you learn to spew such garbage? Isn't your lab already stuffed to bursting with researchers?!"
"One of them will be finishing her doctorate and leaving soon!"
"I'd also be grateful if you'd pass along Professor Bahnorg's invitation for tea."
"Oh, spare me your empty hopes. She's the sole heir of House Aln—there's no way she'll become a professor."
"Shut up!"
"Don't shove reality in our faces here!"
"With a capricious creature like Lady Aln, you never know!"
Watching professors of considerable academic authority squabble with one another over who would claim a single student, Jesl gave a resigned nod to the department head—who was pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing—and fled the office as fast as her legs would carry her.
"And that's the long and short of it."
Having heard the full story from Professor Jesl, I couldn't hold back a sigh.
I'd wondered what on earth that quest from the damn pervert Chief God was supposed to mean—turns out all this had been discussed behind my back.
I staked my rotten-water pride on building a magnificent dungeon, and this is what came of it. Genuinely never saw that coming.
"...You don't look very pleased, my lady. I was certain you'd be overjoyed."
Had she not anticipated this reaction? Professor Jesl studied my face with careful hesitation.
I understood her confusion. The me of a few days ago would have been whooping with joy at the news that I could now build any dungeon I wanted without worrying about resource limits.
Political motivations? Complaints from the students?
Like I could care less about any of that!
All that mattered to me was creating a perfect dungeon!
The old me would surely have celebrated at the chance to approach my ideal and thrown everything into the design.
But the me of now couldn't do that.
Even knowing I could cram in every element I pleased, I couldn't simply be happy about it.
All because of the quest handed down by that oblivious, perverted, garbage Chief God.
Your Pride
⚔ Create a dungeon that no one in the Academy can clear!
To me, a dungeon is only complete when someone conquers it.
How could you call a place a dungeon when anyone who sets foot inside is doomed to fail the moment they enter? A dungeon that cannot be cleared isn't a dungeon—it's a tomb. That's what I believe. That's why, even when designing the final exam dungeon, I built it on the assumption that someone, someday, would beat it.
Why else do you think I begged my friends, of all people, to please come clear my dungeon?
I genuinely believed that if nobody cleared it, my dungeon would remain forever unfinished—so I coaxed them into it with promises that I'd do anything they asked!
And then this damn, pathetic, pervert, dungeon-illiterate bastard hands me a quest that says make a dungeon no one can clear!
How does a Chief God—THE Chief God—hand out a quest without even knowing what his own apostle wants?!
Why issue it and then act in a way that earns you nothing but curses?!
If it's not something as urgent as the Menesteil or Burrow Territory affairs, then for the love of all that is holy, think before you throw quests at people!
🎁 On Success: Rise in reputation. Unlock 3 hidden conditions of the Tutorial. A clue regarding the Seed of the Hero.
☠ On Failure: Something humiliating destined to become your darkest history.
What makes it even more infuriating is that this quest doesn't strictly have to succeed.
The rewards for success are certainly intriguing, but none of them are things I desperately need right now, and the penalty for failure isn't game-over extreme either.
If the success rewards had been essential to me as I am now? If failure had come with the condition that I lose my life?
I'd have gladly built a dungeon no one could clear.
While making excuses that I had no choice because the pathetic Chief God forced my hand.
It wouldn't even be hard. Strip a few gimmicks out of the nightmarish dungeons I cleared back in the day, and I could whip up a graveyard for students in no time.
But our pathetic garbage-pervert Chief God, uncharacteristically, hadn't gone to such extremes.
He'd dangled a middling reward and a middling penalty and tossed out a take-it-or-leave-it quest, leaving the choice entirely up to me.
Would I build the dungeon according to my convictions and defend my rotten-water pride?
Or would I cast my principles aside to dodge the penalty and claim the reward?
The bastard had handed me the most vile, hateful either-or in existence!
So I actually sat down and thought about why the pedo-pervert-lolicon bastard had issued this quest. And you know what he's after?
One thing.
He's betting I won't be able to abandon my rotten-water pride—so he's maneuvering me into taking the penalty.
Bestowing upon me something humiliating destined to become my darkest history.
That punishment is guaranteed to be soaked through and through with the warped desires of the pervert-garbage-Chief-God.
Something that, if the Apostle of the Art Order ever laid eyes on it, would send him ascending straight to the goddess he serves.
Something that would leave the Crow Goddess up there hemorrhaging from the nose and passed out cold.
So if I want to preserve my dignity.
If I want to keep the pathetic Chief God's wishes from coming true.
If I want to shove a middle finger into the mouth of that melting bastard.
I know perfectly well that I'd have to abandon my pride and build something truly monstrous.
...But I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
Haaah. I can't butcher the very first dungeon I ever created into some grotesque monstrosity.
Who knows what that sex-offender-Chief-God—worthy of the gallows for the sake of a beautiful world—has got prepared as a penalty.
Well, even so, it'd be at most on par with that bunny girl outfit he made me wear recently, or a notch above it.
It's true that Armadi is more of a wall-fetishist degenerate than a benevolent god, but he's still the Chief God.
He wouldn't possibly make his own capable apostle start contemplating conversion to another faith, would he?
Without me, he's screwed too—I doubt he'd pull something that self-destructive. Right?
So screw the quest, success or failure. I'm building the dungeon I want.
Once I'd made up my mind, my heart grew lighter.
Look on the bright side.
If someone reaches the end of my dungeon and is moved by it, I'd be happy even paying the penalty.
And if nobody manages to clear it—sad, sure, but the rewards would be some consolation, wouldn't they?
Having settled the matter, I collected the dungeon-design sheets from Professor Jesl and rose from my seat.
"Lady Aln. One question, before you go."
'What is it?'
"Make it quick. Unlike you, my time is valuable."
"Is there, perhaps, any professor of Dungeonology you would like to meet?"
The moment the question reached my ears, a chill ran down my spine.
This is it, isn't it?
A slave recruitment pitch!
Was my dungeon so captivating that it transcended the infamy of Lucy Aln herself?!
'...No?'
"That's your question? You think I want to meet some musty, washed-up old hags?"
Thanks for the glowing review, but you can keep your offer of indentured servitude!
Sure, I'd briefly entertained the thought of becoming a professor—but not if it meant enduring a life of slavery to get there!
"Hmm. Then, if not the old hags..."
The moment I saw the light kindle in Professor Jesl's eyes, I bolted out of the office.