Blood Curse Academia - Orientation

Chapter XLIII (43)- The Delver's Journal- "The Archives of Hon Expedition MLXXXIX, Recovered"

By the time Kizu had translated enough of his atlas to feel comfortable delving into the World Dungeon, midterms had arrived. He still had only the shakiest grasp on Primordial, but he at least knew the fundamental grammatical structures and key words like ‘danger’ and ‘dead-end.’ Still, even with the basics under his belt, he’d decided to hold off on the expedition until after the testing period. Once the professors were all distracted by grading, he’d have his chance to slip away unnoticed. Anna had waited several years already. Another week or two wouldn’t change anything.

Hopefully.

Basil had sewn the three of them matching dungeon delver outfits. Even though he still planned to leave the others behind, Kizu knew it would be idiotic not to take the clothes. Like everything Basil made, they fit perfectly, and he’d even woven in enchantments similar to the ones on the university uniforms to maintain a comfortable temperature for the wearer. Plus, it had so many pockets.

History F’s midterm required the students to get in groups of three and pick a subject from a long list to present on. Harvey was still avoiding Kizu for some reason, so Kizu’s group ended up being himself, Ione, and some anxious first-year boy who always seemed to be sniffling.

They had decided to each take on a third of the massive list and find two or three of the most interesting topics, then compare their choices and decide on one. Kizu looked over his hundreds of options. He knew there had to be interesting stories behind every event, but it was hard to guess what they might be with titles like, “The Twenty-Third Royal Decree of Emperor Sasaki IX.”

In the end, Kizu decided on “The Sixth Tainted Invasion Attempt of Tross”. He gave up entirely on finding a second and third.

It seemed his groupmates struggled to find solid choices as they also both brought forward only a single title. The sniffling boy brought up some famous trade negotiated by the nomadic tribes of northern Tross. He looked about as sheepish as Kizu had felt when he’d presented his own find. Ione alone looked smug as she brought forward her find, presenting it with a flourish that reminded Kizu far too much of Basil.

“The Archives of Hon Expedition MLXXXIX, Recovered.”

“This,” Ione said, with emphasis on the word, “Is what we’ll be studying.”

“Why?” the first year asked.

“Read the last word there,” Ione instructed.

“Recovered?”

“Exactly.”

“You mean…” Kizu said, rereading the title, “This expedition never returned? Just their notes?”

“That was my thought. Notice the word ‘expedition.’ It’s either the exploration of a distant country, or it’s the World Dungeon.”

That piqued Kizu’s interest.

“I don’t know,” their third group member said. “Dungeon delving isn’t really that interesting. I guess it sounds flashy, but studying a group of dead treasure hunters won’t help us in the real world. My parents told me about this trade negotiation - it helped end raids on Tross’ protected trade routes through the wilderness.”

“You’re outnumbered,” Ione said lazily. “We’re studying the failed expedition.”

“But he hasn’t even said anything,” the boy whined.

“I know he’ll agree.”

And she was right. But that fact didn’t do much for the first year’s grumbling. He’d obviously been attached to the topic, so much so that he spent the remainder of the period sulking about it.

At the end of class, every group sent up a representative. Ione was too lazy to bother with it and their sniveling third was still pouting about their selection, so that left Kizu.

Krimpit looked down from his pulpit as Kizu approached. When Kizu told him his group’s study topic, he rolled his eyes and dismissed him. All things considered, Kizu believed that was the best interaction he’d ever had with the surly professor. It went so well, he briefly considered asking him for advice on a Primordial grammar point. But one look back at the professor’s sour face dismissed that thought.

As he was walking away, Kizu noticed Harvey approaching. Kizu’s friend stared right past him as he lifted a hand to greet him, heading straight to Krimpit.

“Your group members?” Krimpit asked the Tainted first year.

“There was only me left. The other students must be absent.”

Krimpit sighed. “Fine. What is your project’s subject?”

“The Legality of the Edgeland Tournament-E of 521.”

Krimpit jotted that down and dismissed him, just as he had Kizu.

The bell rang and Kizu positioned himself so Harvey would have to pass him by to leave the classroom. He saw the moment that Harvey realized it, freezing for several seconds before slumping in defeat and walking up to him.

“What happened at the Edgeland Tournament-E of 521?” Kizu asked him as he approached.

“The contestants used body enhancing magic to win every competition,” Harvey said, obviously glad to skip over the pleasantries. “Edgeland had to set a no tolerance ban on the spellcraft for all future versions of that tournament.”

“What about my bond with Mort? That’s sort of a body enhancement. Would that be allowed?”

“I think familiars disqualify participants,” Harvey said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not keen on entering any tournaments. What got you interested in the topic?” Kizu asked. “Wait, let me guess - one of your cousins was a competitor?”

Harvey tried to force a laugh, but it sounded more like a drowning monkey. “No. A friend mentioned it to me a few days ago. Nonmagical tournaments are less popular, but even more deadly. I saw it listed and decided to look into it since I already knew a bit about it.”

“A friend?” Kizu blinked. He had assumed Harvey was sticking to his dorm these last few weeks.

“Yeah. You don’t know him,” Harvey quickly added. “I don’t think you’d get along. Anyway, I’ve got to go, see you at astronomy class tomorrow.”

As he left, Kizu felt something twist inside his heart. It took him a moment to realize what it was. He was jealous. He’d tried to stick by Harvey as a friend, and Harvey had replaced him. But no, it wasn’t like that. People could have more than one friend. He told himself to relax and focus on his own problems.

The library was packed with students when Kizu arrived, more crowded than he had ever seen it before. It took only a couple glances at the other students’ books to realize why. Krimpit must have given the same assignment to all his classes. Kizu weaved his way through the throng, dodging rogue books as they flew down from the shelves. The librarian’s assistants looked haggard from the sudden rush and none looked available to question. Thankfully, having spent hours upon hours researching translation books and historical records of Primordial, Kizu had a good idea where to begin his search.

It only took him an hour to find a small cluster of books about Hon Expedition MLXXXIX. Luckily, it looked like no one else had picked the subject for their midterm presentation. He browsed through the lot of them until he settled on what looked like a copy of a journal.

Ione had been right on the money about the expedition’s nature as a World Dungeon venture. It wasn’t even that long ago that it had taken place. Only three decades.

The foreword was written by the delver who had happened upon the journal on an expedition of their own a few years after the disastrous Hon expedition. The original delvers had disappeared entirely. There was no other trace of them, dead or alive. Just the journal.

The start of the journal’s text was dull. It was mostly lists of equipment and a record of their ration usage. Occasionally, the delver would write about changes in the subterranean scenery. But it wasn’t until a week in that Kizu found a reason to stop skimming.

The delving crew had come across an artifact that created permanent copies of inorganic material. They’d found it in a tunnel that spiraled down endlessly. The crew had apparently had a disagreement about whether or not to continue on. The monsters in the area were particularly savage, able to move through stone like fish through water. The chronicler took a rubbing of the instructions they found in the wall and included them, though Kizu didn’t recognize the language. A brief translation dotted down under the rubbing revealed that the artifact required a unique fuel source beyond the normal blood tax. It required those specific monsters’ eggs, and the party was split on whether or not the handful of ancient, preserved eggs they had already found would be enough. More eggs equated to more wealth. Kizu had the impression the journal’s writer was not quite as unbiased about the subject as the entry tried to portray him. It advocated heavily for the benefits of such a powerful enchanted object and made mention of the near impossibility of returning to a specific destination in the Word Dungeon. In the end, the party split. A few delvers decided to wash their hands of the whole thing and travel back to the surface, despite the risk of venturing as a smaller group.

The journal’s entries continued on with the expedition, plumbing the depths of the World Dungeon. It explained in detail the deaths of two party members in the days that followed, as well as the crippling of a third. The harshest blow was when the monsters killed their party’s primary elementalist, essentially blinding them to further attacks from the stone. After that death, the journal writer stopped documenting the specifics of their casualties, only acknowledging that another death had occurred before quickly moving on to other topics.

The party only had a third of their initial members left when they finally found the nest. It was tucked inside a subterranean stone tower, larger than any man made structure the delver had ever seen. Kizu wondered who would build a tower like that so deep underground. Then he recalled seeing those ruins while exploring with Ione. Were structures like that common down in the World Dungeon’s lower levels? Unfortunately, the journal didn’t go into any details about the structure, simply noting its location and its scale.

When the expedition entered the nest, they found hundreds of eggs the size of human heads throughout the nursery. But as one of the delvers lifted an egg, an infant creature’s beak pecked through the shell and latched onto his finger, taking it off. The delver screamed. Hundreds of the monsters converged on the tower, drawn by the sound, and swarmed the delving crew. The journal writer claimed to be the sole survivor of the massacre. The author noted that it was possible others had escaped, but that they considered the possibility unlikely. The surviving delver had fled even deeper into the dungeon, while the rest of the party had tried to push their way back up towards the surface. The monsters pursued his companions while he descended beyond their territory into the unknown.

Entry 33-

Today I made a den for myself between two slabs of stone. I found an ancient table and dragged it up against the opening to make a door, to keep me out of sight of any roaming creatures. So long as they don’t have a radar sense like those above. There’s a stream of fresh water not far from here. I can’t use spells anymore - the risk of discovery is too great - so I’ve been drinking the water unfiltered. I discarded all my enchanted possessions (including the mythical object multiplicator) in a large hollow pipe just north of my den. I can only hope the metal casing will keep it safe until I make my escape. Thankfully, the stream attracts smaller dungeon monsters that I can hunt with mundane means.

Entry 34-

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why I even write. I think it has been more than a month now since I last saw the sun. It’s hard to say what is a day down here. I often talk to myself and pretend my crew is still there to hear me. I know even that much noise is a risk, but I no longer care.

Entry 35-

I think something in the water has made me ill. I barely have enough energy to push my door open. I’ve been forced to start eating the eggs we scavenged from the monster nest.

Entry 37-

I thought I would die last night. It seemed a certainty. But my ancestors listened to my prayers and sent a savior to me. A fox, of all things, came to me in my weakness and dropped a pear on my floor. A completely normal pear, as far as I can tell. I thought maybe it didn’t see me, but it kept coming back with more fruit, despite me eating every piece of fruit it stashed. I don’t think a fox has ever even been sighted this deep underground. But I will accept any aid my ancestors set before me.

Entry 77-

I’m well again. Strong enough to move around freely. I’ve decided I need to leave. I can’t spend the rest of my life trapped underground. I will find my way back to the surface, and I plan to bring the fox with me. It saved me, so it’s only fair that I now save it from this horrid place. If all goes well, I will be reunited with my fellow delvers in a few days' time.

The journal entries ended there. There was a small insert about how none of the delvers ever made it back to the surface, and all of them were presumed dead upon the journal’s discovery. The rest of the book was a detailed account of how the journal’s contents had led to changes in expedition policy. Apparently, dungeon delving became far more regulated as a result. It became illegal to dungeon delve without a certified divination expert in the party, along with a multitude of other minor restrictions. The journal’s discovery was considered a small thing by itself. The legal avalanche it started was the more important takeaway from the tragic expedition. Kizu assumed that portion of the record was what Krimpit cared about.

The final entry irritated Kizu. It was an unsatisfying end to the story, in so much as a historical event could be called a story. He couldn’t help trying to fill in the blanks about what had come next for the journal’s author. Judging by his last entry, the delver had been fully committed to going home. But if it hadn’t been the author themselves, then Kizu had to wonder who or what had placed the journal in the path of the delver that had discovered it years later. Could it just be coincidence that the dungeon shifted so perfectly to leave it in his path? It likely had been written on parchment, which wild creatures would eat in a heartbeat. He doubted that dungeon monsters would shy away from it any more than a dog would. So, how had it been preserved? Perhaps delvers used a special means of recording information.

For the sake of the assignment, Kizu got out his own piece of parchment and wrote down a few notes about the journal. At the very least, he now knew a bit about what sort of supplies professional delvers took with them when they embarked on expeditions. He could base his own acquisitions off that information.

Eventually, the library became cramped to the point of suffocating, so Kizu left, his thoughts still stuck on that final journal entry.