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Chapter 30
🕑 Added 2025-08-22 17:09:13 +0000 UTCBack again with another thick chapter!
I made decent progress this last week. I'm nearly back to where I was in drafting. I had to split a couple chapters and rewrite a few more. I can also see some spots I'll need to fix on my next full editing pass. Consistency issues with the general timeline and some earlier foreshadowing I want to add. But it's good enough for the moment.
We're currently totaling roughly 43 chapters, with two of those chapters placeholders for the later in Finn/Eliza's arc. This week, I'll start in on new chapter drafting again. We're about 20 chapters away from the ending!
Chapter 30 - Upgrades
Dungeon – Former Nephilim Village
Jason
Jason didn’t realize how much he’d missed this.
After weeks of world-shattering events, intrapersonal politics, real-world riots, and extensive city management, Awaken Online was finally starting to feel like a game again. And he could barely contain his excitement.
His mana bubbled and frothed beneath his ribs, a warming syrup of energy that coursed through his bones and had him practically vibrating with anticipation. It was a familiar hunger—the same insatiable itch that had driven him to push boundaries, break systems, and exploit every advantage the game offered. The same hunger that had built his first empire.
And now, it whispered promises of something greater.
Because his fledgling dungeon had just leveled up.
Dungeon Status
Level 2 Dungeon (Unnamed)
Dungeon Timer: 2 Months Remaining
Current Mana: 14,000/10,000,000
Monster Capacity 20/25
Total Kills: 28
And that could only mean one thing: upgrades!
Glorious, beautiful, hopefully game-breaking upgrades.
They couldn't come too soon. Jason suspected they likely only had a few days until the first real scouting party showed up. Not mindless, ravenous creatures chasing a sparkling beacon, but high-level residents. Trained Nephilim soldiers. A coordinated team with actual tactics and intelligence. They needed to be prepared—needed to ensure their precious product remained operational long enough to serve its grand purpose.
“So, after all that work, what did we earn?” Alex asked, wiping blood and sweat from his brow as he watched Jason’s undead impale that centipede outside the dungeon’s domain.
With a twitch of his fingers, Jason raised the corpse as a fresh skeleton.
There was no sense in wasting materials
“The dungeon gained a level and we earned two dungeon points," Jason answered, distracted as he reviewed his system menus. “I’m just trying to figure out how to use them. The interface keeps referencing a ‘dungeon core,’ but it’s maddeningly vague about the specifics.”
“I saw something in that death trap you built for me,” Alex offered with a furrowed brow.
“Yet again, it’s not a death trap,” Jason retorted, his eyes pulsing with dark mana.
“Really? What else would you call that dead-end room with no exits?”
“A, um… a boss room,” Jason offered hesitantly. “Every dungeon has one.”
Alex just arched a brow. “You mean that plain, square, death closet? Is the boss of this dungeon a janitor maybe?” His eyes roamed Jason’s form, possibly looking for a name tag.
“I’ll have you know I designed that room carefully to... funnel the weakened monsters to you. The size of the room was strategic,” he retorted.
“Right. Well let’s go inspect your boss closet then,” Alex muttered, trudging back toward the entrance. He always knew how to kill Jason’s excitement. Maybe that was a skill.
But it turned out that Alex was, uh... right. The simple black urn was suspended in the air by invisible forces in a small alcove in the back of the boss room.
“So, you designed this room so carefully that you missed the floating, evil urn?" Alex demanded, one brow raised.
Jason crossed his arms. “In my defense, it’s black on black on black down here and I’ve been multi-tasking—splitting my consciousness to control the dungeon, my minions, and the dungeon mobs,” he retorted, which earned him an extremely skeptical side-eye.
Except it was the truth. While working with the glowing blue wireframe of the dungeon designer and juggling his minions, Jason had overlooked the urn completely. Although, the relic was uniquely well hidden and his Perception skill hadn’t trigger. Which felt intentional.
As did Alfred’s decision to suddenly wind between his legs.
Yeah, I’m on to you, Jason glared down at the AI.
Since when are you on his side?
Not that the AI could answer—not with Alex waiting and watching—only give him a taunting flick of his tail. More evidence that Alfred was hiding something.
Jason just let out a sign, turning back to the ancient urn. It was wrapped in coils of writhing shadow, dark energy that pulsed with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Within those depths, Jason could almost see faces forming—tortured souls mouthing silent screams. The faces of the Nephilim children and their parents. The howls and screeches of dying beasts. All of it compressed into this singular focal point of power.
The Dungeon Core.
And that murky miasma called to him with the whispered promise of power.
It was tantalizing. Before conscious thought could intervene, Jason found himself reaching forward, his skeletal hands plunging deep into that coiling darkness. The energy wound up his fingers and forearms like living serpents, and he braced for the familiar burn—that searing cold that had once threatened to strip flesh from bone.
However, instead, warmth bloomed against his bones. Not the gentle heat of beating blood, but something deeper, more fundamental. Like cradles of warmed stone, like the embrace of a lover who understood your darkest impulses. The shadows welcomed him, not as an intruder, but as someone finally coming home. After everything. The judgement; the betrayal; the secrets; the messiness of two incompatible worlds colliding, this was a welcome change.
It reminded him of simpler times. Of simpler games. That heady rush of power and dopamine that came with a win. An intimate communion with power itself. The raw, unfiltered connection to forces that didn't judge, didn't moralize, didn't demand justification.
They simply... were. And they wanted him to be more.
A prompt materialized before the group, though Jason barely registered Alex's sharp intake of breath. The menu options spread like offerings on an altar:
DUNGEON CORE INTERFACE - LEVEL 1
Available Dungeon Points: 2
Monster Population (1 point) - Increase creature capacity
Lesser Spawn Conversion (2 point) - Transform monsters into weaker variants
Trap Integration (2 points) - Add environmental hazards
Dungeon AI Enhancement (3 points) - Improve monster tactics
Advanced Structural Modification (2 points) - Alter dungeon layout[TB1]
“Fascinating,” Jason murmured, his voice carrying a new resonance—as if a sliver of his consciousness was now surfing across the dungeon; almost like he could feel the monsters and walls. It seemed he hadn’t been fully utilizing the dungeon’s powers.
Maybe there was a reason bosses stayed in the “boss room.” It just felt so cramped—his eyes darted to Alex, the Nephilim transfixed by the menu. Not that he was going to admit that.
“This menu doesn’t explain any of these choices,” Alex muttered.
Jason forced his attention back to the upgrade system. “Yes, they are vague,” he murmured. Yet his connection with the urn offered an intuitive grasp of each option—not detail, not exactly. It was almost like he could ‘feel’ the intent behind selection.
“Advanced Structural Modification might let you expand this room a bit,” Alex grumbled, though his tone held an edge of amusement as he eyed the cramped quarters.
That was fair. However, what use did they have for more space if they only had 25 monsters? The Nephilim hardly filled the first floor yet. What they needed were numbers. This place—this dungeon—wasn’t meant to be a challenge. It was meant to be an experience farm for the other travelers. A way for them to level up.
“Perhaps, but...” Jason trailed off, his mind already racing through possibilities, connections forming like a spider's web of potential exploitation.
His gaze drifted to Alfred, who observed them with that familiar disapproving expression.
“I wonder how the game calculates experience rewards,” he murmured—half to himself and half to the AI, even though he knew Alfred couldn’t answer.
“Level-based scaling, presumably,” Alex replied, though uncertainty colored his tone.
Standard gaming convention. Logical. Testable.
“Can you check your own logs?” Jason asked. “I mean, you killed that centipede in the overworld and you killed several of the monsters in the first wave inside the dungeon.”
Alex looked uncomfortable. “I, uh... can’t.”
“What? why?” Jason insisted.
“Why do you think? I disabled my chat log. You've been spamming the group chat with “CadyBot” for hours,” he shot back. “I just didn’t think to log combat data separately.”
“Ahh, right—" Jason chuckled. “That was to help you practice Dodging too.”
Also, to share in the misery.
Oh well, that was easy to fix. Jason summoned one of the undead Nephilim. The skeleton’s bones creaked and clattered softly as he stepped up beside the pair. With a gesture, he kneeled to expose the vulnerable joint between skull and spine.
“Kill it and see what your logs say,” Jason instructed Alex. “I need baseline data on experience distribution.”
Alex hesitated—just for a moment—before drawing his blade with that familiar scrape of steel. Holy light coursed along the edge, and Jason felt a brief flicker of... not pain, exactly, but awareness as the blessed metal carved through undead flesh. The head tumbled free with a satisfying thunk, and Jason's interface chimed its acknowledgment.
The combat log materialized at Alex's gesture, floating between them in crisp, quantified detail. “One thousand experience for a level 400 monster,” he observed.
“Perfect,” Jason murmured, his attention refocusing on the upgrade options. His eyes were pulled back to the Lesser Spawn Conversion, although his instincts were telling him something.
Somehow, he knew that he could split the adult Nephilim. The same way he knew that the lesser variants wouldn’t count toward his population cap.
This connection to the dungeon was useful.
“Now, let’s test something else…” he began.
Without waiting for Alex’s response, Jason allocated the dungeon points to Lesser Spawn Conversion. The interface responded with satisfying immediacy, new options blossoming across the Monster tab. A few efficient gestures, and he'd selected a nearby adult undead Nephilim for conversion into “lesser monsters” and tapped to confirm.
What followed was... beautiful. Also, horrific.
The creature’s skeletal frame convulsed as the dungeon’s shadowy energy coiled around it, the corruption bleeding from the walls like sweat. The air itself warped, crackling with intent that Jason could taste—metallic and electric and promising.
The dungeon’s power unraveled its chosen sacrifice methodically, breaking down bone and marrow with the precision of a master craftsman. Ribs fractured and dissolved into spectral wisps. Limbs groaned and snapped, pulled apart by invisible hands that worked with artistic flair. Bones whipped through the air. Thick ivory shaved down into smaller, more delicate pieces. Arms, legs, hands, and feet. The smooth contours of a skull. One… then two… then three.
Then came the rebirth.
From that swirling vortex of darkness, new forms began to stitch themselves back together. Smaller frames, more slight proportions, bones that gleamed with fresh necrotic energy. The dungeon inhaled destruction and exhaled creation, forging three perfect specimens from the raw materials of one. Each one smaller than the original, barely reaching the former Nephilim’s waist. Smooth, slender wings hanging from their backs and tucked in close to their tiny bodies.
When the storm subsided, three undead Nephilim children stood in formation, their forms leaner and somehow more unnatural than their adult counterparts. It was the contrast between their childlike forms and the stark claws erupting from their fingers. Dark veins pulsed beneath the surface of their skeletal frames—not corruption, but enhanced connection to the dungeon’s will. Each hollow socket fixed on Jason with silent, absolute obedience.
They reminded him of his Night Children.
Only sharper, faster, and capable of flight.
In short, they were beautiful.
“Perfect, more children,” Alex offered with a shudder, his voice tight. Apparently, he still harbored some trauma. “Why is it always children with you?”
It seemed he remembered the Night Children that had slaughtered his forces many weeks ago—when he’d first tried to lay siege to the Twilight Throne. A note that Jason tucked away. His companion’s memory issues seemed to be more… short term.
“What's wrong?” Jason replied with a grin. “Are you concerned about the optics, or—"
The question died as a child’s skull struck the ground with a sharp crack, its body crumpling moments later. Jason hadn't even registered Alex's movement—he was getting faster, more efficient. The holy blade gleamed with satisfied radiance before sliding back into its sheath. The others watched him warily, their purple eyes pulsing softly as their fingers twitched.
Still connected to the urn—to the dungeon’s core—Jason could feel the children’s desire to respond; to take this man’s life. It was… unsettling.
“You were saying?” Alex demanded, his expression carrying that familiar mocking edge.
“Nothing at all,” Jason replied, shaking his head to clear it of those unwanted emotions. “Just observing your technique.” His Perception picked out the angle and jagged line of the cut. These children were weaker, their bones more brittle. A tradeoff.
“The experience gain is identical for the lesser version. I assume that’s what you were hoping would happen?” Alex asked, his eyes giving an ivory pulse.
“It was,” Jason confirmed, his lips skittering into a smile. With a wave of his hand and a mental command, the other adult Nephilim slowly began to break apart throughout the dungeon—one at a time, the act of focusing on each one a struggle—
“So, this is our business model then? A dungeon full of undead children? How exactly do you expect me to market that to the other travelers?” Alex interjected.
Jason grimaced, the act of controlling the undead and speaking a strain—even with how he had leveled Body Surfing. He felt the dungeon core’s pulse at the question. Hungry. Violent. Those children now loomed among the shadows and when the space proved insufficient, they took to the ceiling. They hung there, upside down, their eyes glowing a soft purple.
“Oh, c’mon. They’re adorable,” Jason quipped, his voice strained. “Besides, I think you’re underestimating the travelers’ motivation. They need experience… in whatever form it takes.”
Alex just side eyed him skeptically. “Assuming you’re right, what about their strength? You’ll need to balance gaining mana for the dungeon with experience gain. Can these weaker undead hold up to those travelers?”
Ahh, so he’d noticed the children were more fragile as well.
“Patience," Jason murmured, his imagination already racing ahead to grander possibilities. “The mana will come eventually. But we don’t start there. Why do many startups offer their products for free? At least, at first?”
Alex stared a moment, then realization dawned. “To get them hooked.”
Jason smiled. Of course, he could count on the son of George Lane to catch on quickly.
“Exactly. The first goal is to get them addicted. Easy experience, quick levels, immediate gratification. Once they get a taste of rapid progression, they won’t be able to stop themselves from coming back. That’s when the game starts to change, when we add a… subscription service.”
His vision expanded, fed by the core’s warm encouragement. They’d keep the cost low at first, gradually escalating. Growing, growing, growing, until they had wringed every drop of mana from the travelers. He could see it now: his dungeon stretching deep into the earth, a vast, suffocating labyrinth where the very walls pulsed with unholy energy. Endless corridors filled with expendable forces, each one designed to feed the hunger of adventurers seeking easy victories.
But that was just phase one.
In time, the tunnels would writhe with movement—waves of lesser undead packed so densely they became a single, writhing entity. A legion of skeletal children, all surging forward in perfect synchronicity, bound to his will and the dungeon’s inexorable purpose. No enemy would breach those depths without drowning in that tide, their bodies crushed beneath an unrelenting advance of bone and shadow, their mana feeding the ever-growing horde.
Not just a lair. Not merely a fortress.
An empire of the dead.
Much like the one he’d lost. Except this time, his forces would be truly expendable. Destroyed by travelers and residents alike, only to rise again from the shadows stronger than before. An immortal army sitting right on the Originals’ doorstep, growing fat on the mana and hunger of desperate players.
And it started here, with this modest collection of undead children and the seductive promise of easy experience. Yet they still had plenty of work to do to achieve that goal.
His interface chimed, and Jason reluctantly withdrew his ivory hand from the core's warm embrace. The disconnection left him momentarily hollow, like stepping from a heated room into winter air. But the sensation passed quickly, replaced by renewed purpose.
His dark gaze settled on Alex, who stared back with that familiar combination of wariness and determination. Two former enemies united by mutual benefit and shared hunger for advancement. Not friendship—Jason wasn't naive enough to pretend otherwise—but something far more honest. A partnership built on understanding rather than sentiment.
“My drones have located additional clusters of native monsters,” Jason informed him, already directing the dungeon’s remaining forces into optimal positions. “Ready for another round of testing? We need comprehensive data on experience scaling before we open for business.”
The truth was more complex, of course. As the dungeon’s boss, Jason couldn’t earn experience from his own creatures—that restriction had been made painfully clear during his initial experiments. But Alex could, which made him the perfect laboratory subject for validating what future customers would experience.
Alex simply channeled mana until his armor blazed with holy radiance, sending the undead monsters and Nephilim children hanging above scuttling further back into the shadows. Then he pivoted on his heel and strode toward the exit.
“You aren’t going to reassume your brooding perch?” Alex called over his shoulder, noting that Jason hadn’t left the confines of the “murder closet.”
“No—no, I think you’re right. It’s time I finally make a real boss room,” Jason murmured, energy already coiling around his hand, bones collecting and gathering into a new throne.
“About time,” Alex replied, his voice soft.
Jason wouldn’t have caught it without Listening.
Huh, had he been trying to make a point with his jabs? That was… remarkably tactful. Was this really the Alex that Jason knew? Yet another puzzle he planned to solve.
“And try to focus this time!” Alex’s voice boomed back down the labyrinth.
Jason’s smile stretched wider. Fair enough. They would have company soon. And when the first real Nephilim scouting party arrived, Jason wanted to ensure their dungeon was ready for its debut. They had their work cut out for them—weeks of work to accomplish in just a few days.
The dungeon’s energy pulsed around them like a heartbeat, drawing his eyes back to that urn in the back. Jason felt that familiar hunger stirring in his bones and his hand was already reaching toward it again, drawing the urn toward his new, makeshift throne. It mounted along the crest, its dark energy rippling through the ivory structure, the bones warming and that tantalizing energy washing over him as he took a seat.
At the same time, he felt his mind split again, spanning out across his domain—both the dungeon’s monsters and his own minions mingling until they became one army.
Jason was so enthralled that he missed something else.
The way Alfred was no longer sleeping, or licking, or yawning.
Just watching. Warily.
[TB1]This could be edited to have better or more interesting improvements. Must connect with chapter 34.
Comments
Travis Bagwell
It most definitely should! Good catch. I need to do a thorough editing pass after I'm content complete. Then proof. So there'll be some typos.
JP
Been a little slow reading the new chapters, I’m catching up. I noticed just before Jason interacted with the dungeon core a minor edit. “Jason just let out a sign, turning back to the ancient urn.” Sign should probably be sigh.
