Tier Two Dungeon: A Whole New World

  Objective: Visit the Exhibits(0/3)

  Objective: Defeat the Curator (0/1)

  Objective: Survive (0/1)

  Completion: 0%

  Fragile Walls: This dungeon is close to breaking. Its inhabitants will be freed if a threshold of Delver deaths inside is reached.

  Break Counter: 0/5

  Open Floor: Once triggered, the dungeon’s boss will roam freely.

  Singular: This higher-Tier dungeon has only one floor, with an alternative layout.

  Invaded: The residents of a grafted world are attempting to take over this dungeon. Some sections will be more difficult than predicted.

  Magical Flux: Spells’ effectiveness will be unpredictable based on location.

  Tori couldn’t help but glare as they walked through the door.

  There hadn’t been a Waypoint announcement. Hal had said they wouldn’t waste their time over here. It was bullshit that they’d even set foot inside of Discovery World. Straight-up bullshit. And yet, here they were, in a lobby that should have been familiar but wasn’t. In a Tier Two dungeon. In freaking Milwaukee.

  “You’re sure you felt whatever it is you’re looking for in here?” Calvin asked.

  Hal nodded. “Resonance. It’s pretty thick in this dungeon. It’s worth the time.”

  Tori just snorted. “Whatever. I’m parking it right here. You two can check out the dungeon without me. I’ll keep watch.”

  “We’ve never needed anyone to keep watch before,” Hal said.

  But Tori wasn’t listening. She’d made up her mind, and sat down behind the weird, stone desk that had probably been the ticketing kiosk before Integration. There was a swivel chair back there—a whole-ass swivel chair—and she flopped down into it. It gave with her weight. Not much, just enough to cushion the violent sitting motion. One experimental spin later, she stared back at Hal with her arms crossed. “No, I think I’m pretty happy keeping watch.”

  The last thing Tori Vanderbilt wanted was to explore Discovery World—the place where her parents had told her the truth. She didn’t want to see what lies the Consortium had covered up her memories with.

  “You sure about this?” Calvin asked as we moved down the carpeted hall and further into the white-walled building. It was obviously still a kids’ museum, but I didn’t recognize the words on the blue screens that lined every wall for a few seconds. Then, they swam and changed into English. That was enough to give me a headache—and to send a surge of resonance through the dungeon.

  There were four doors that lined a lobby filled with what looked like massive children’s blocks arranged in towers, and blue screens over each of them revealed the exhibits behind them. All three of the proper exhibits looked interesting, and we’d have to clear them all no matter what we did, but I only had eyes for the third one.

  The Universal Order

  Grafting: A New Planetary Revitalizer

  Universal Tech, Unlimited Power: Integration Engineering for Babies

  The Archives

  “Yes. Absolutely,” I said. “We need this information.”

  That last door was locked. I walked up to it and swung the Siege Hammer at it experimentally. It made contact, and where there should have been a splintering, tearing sound as the massive mallet crashed through it, instead, there was a strange pop in my ears, and the dungeon’s resonance surged yet again. The hammer bounced off, but only an inch or two back.

  “Guess they don’t want us rushing the final boss,” Calvin said.

  I shrugged. “Guess not. I’m going to get to work. You coming with?”

  “Sure. Tori’s got more of a chance of beating anything that comes here than you do. She’ll be fine. Besides…” Calvin looked over his shoulder, then winced as Tori glared at me and caught him in the crossfire, “I think she needs some time to cool down.”

  “Sounds good to me.” The door to Universal Tech, Unlimited Power: Integration Engineering for Babies was wide open, and I made a beeline for it, weaving around oversized blocks and stepping through it. Calvin followed.

  He was almost Level Forty. I wasn’t too worried about the monsters in a dungeon like this; even if Tier Two monsters were out, he’d be able to handle them.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  And I was desperately curious to know something about how the system worked.

  Just past the door, the room devolved into what looked like a massive contraption built from gigantic rubber bands, flywheels, and, oddly enough, wooden mock-ups that were clearly supposed to be Charge batteries. I lowered the Siege Hammer onto my shoulder as I read the first info sign.

  The rules of Integration are simple, and planets have to follow them. Any world that’s above a Category Three: Primitive World is able to be Integrated into the Universal Order. Once there, it gets all sorts of goodies as the Order’s system begins helping run the planet. For more information, visit our The Universal Order exhibit.

  I rolled my eyes. “This is all propaganda for kids.”

  “Sure it is,” Calvin said, rolling his eyes right back at me. “You know what else was? Half of what the big-wigs wanted us to do in every village we rolled into. Win the kids and parents, win the war. Thing is, people ain’t stupid. You gotta give ‘em the truth—or at least enough of it. Keep reading.”

  Most planets aren’t Tier Two: Advanced Worlds, though. That’s okay. Immediate Integration isn’t for everyone, and the Universal Order has uses for worlds all the way down to Tier Six. Plus, there’s another option. Friendly companies like the Consortium offer a slower, more drawn-out Integration that can help even a Tier Six world grow into a strong member of the Universal Order.

  That’s where you come in, magical engineers!

  [Earth] needs your help! As a Tier Six world, it can’t be Integrated into the Universal Order—but if you make a system for it, you can help it grow into a Tier Four, Tier Three, or maybe, if you’re really lucky, Tier Two: Advanced World. Use the flow of magic to help create that system, then fix it if things go wrong. If you do a good enough job, maybe [Earth] can become a healthy, stable world!

  Good luck!

  I sighed. “Tori, you want to play with this for a while?”

  “Not even a little bit!” she shouted back from the lobby. “You’re on your own, but get it done fast!”

  “Yeah, Hal, hurry it up,” Calvin said. “I need to see that Grafting room. Wonder if it’ll tell us anything ‘bout the terraforming?”

  I stretched out, pulled the Siege Hammer into my inventory, and got to work.

  Ten minutes in, I was stumped.

  The basic idea was pretty simple. All I had to do was connect the ‘batteries’ to different flywheels to provide ‘magic’ to whatever task the flywheels were supposed to run. The gigantic bands were the solution, and I had plenty of those. The problem was the flywheels themselves. There were dozens of them—way more than there needed to be—and it was almost impossible to cross the room without hooking onto at least one I didn’t want powered yet.

  So far, I’d opened a single ‘task’ door. Calvin had been thrilled; it had given information on how Safe Zones worked. He was still reading through it, while I’d taken one look at the first paragraph and called it good.

  Safe Zones are important parts of any Integration system, especially on more dangerous worlds. As pre-Integration people learn and advance, they sometimes stop being helpful to each other. Not everyone is a fighter—especially in the Universal Order. In fact, most people never pick up a single level. Even in slower Integrations, where people must complete a tutorial, reaching Rank One during Integration is uncommon. But people still have to learn how to exist with their systems.

  “How many skills do you have, Calvin?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Up to seven.” Then he went right back to reading.

  “Seven? That’s a lot.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I went back to the puzzle. This was supposed to be designed for kids. If I couldn’t solve it, what kind of mechanic was I?

  Gradually, I started using smaller bands and accepting that I’d have to choose what I did and didn’t power. That was the trick; I could only do so much with the system the way it was laid out. The ‘mana’ flow only went to so many places; if I wanted to power some of the further ‘task’ doors, I’d have to sacrifice others. Once I understood that, the puzzle started to click.

  Everyone has a class. Most members of the Universal Order are born with them or, in some worlds, get them when they grow up. Pre-Integration people don’t have them. In fact, they usually don’t even know they’re real. But by powering the Class function, a slow Integration system can help get them caught up. Way to go!

  People, especially the ones on Tier Six worlds, are weak. It’s not their fault. Their worlds just don’t help them grow strong. The Leveling and Ranking processes you just added to your Integration system will help [Earth’s] people advance and become more powerful.

  Dungeons—or in some Integration systems, portals, wildernesses, or testing grounds—are important for helping the people of [Earth] catch up in record time so they can join the Universal Order. Some people will get hurt, but—

  “Nope. Not doing this anymore,” I said, standing up from the ‘task’ door and heading back toward the main hall. Then I stopped.

  Something had moved out there. It had been subtle and quick, but I’d seen it, right at the corner of the door. I readied my Siege Hammer and crept forward as Calvin shook his head and strolled to an open ‘task’ door and started to read it.

  Most of these doors were a waste of Calvin’s time.

  They didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know, and they were written for elementary school kids. That wasn’t surprising—this museum was clearly built for younger audiences even before it turned into a dungeon. What was surprising was that it existed at all—and that Hal had found it.

  Milwaukee was gone. It wasn’t a real city anymore. Neither was Chicago, but there were people back home. Here, the most recent sign of life was at least a week old. The city hadn’t survived Phase One.

  So, why put a museum here? That was what Calvin was trying to figure out. It wasn’t a case of luck. And it wasn’t because all museums turned into information storehouses like this one. The Field Museum, planetarium, and Shedd Aquarium had all turned into lethal dungeons. Even the Swedish Museum in Andersonville had gone haywire. So, why fill a box in a dead city full of stuff Earth’s survivors might be able to use?

  Calvin pulled on another giant band as Hal stalked toward the door. A new ‘task’ door opened, and Calvin started reading.

  The people of slow Integration worlds are important. They matter. But even more important is making sure the system runs worldwide. That doesn’t just mean where there are people. It also means in the mountains and oceans, the deserts where nothing is alive, and even down inside the world. After all, even if a Tier Six world’s people advance and uplift themselves, the world still needs to become a Tier Two world to join the Universal Order.

  A good Integration Engineer knows that. A great one can figure out how to do both jobs at the same time. And the best ones understand that the best way to help a world and its people is with tough love, a guiding touch, and the ability to loosen the reins and let the world’s people take charge in helping their world.

  Calvin stared at the text. His lips moved under his beard as he slowly read it. When he’d finished, he stared at the last line for a long time, even ignoring the scuffle that broke out in the hall behind him.

  Waypoint Beacons are now functional for your system.