Chapter 4, in which I learn of a new danger

Translation is no easy process, and the excerpt you’ve just read took me the greater part of the evening to translate — a candle I had lit when the sun had set was now half burnt. I had to sleep for tomorrow, as Dungeon diving is a dangerous prospect, but before I prepared myself to go to sleep, I had to look over one last thing.

The excerpt I had translated had genuinely hurt me.

I walked over to the shelf to the left of me, and grabbed a makeshift book, poorly bound by a few loops of string passing through holes on the left of the paper. These were a handful of notes I had taken regarding other translations I had made. I opened it, and leafed through a handful of pages to read the few I was looking for.

[…] …owlithe, but … not particularly effective. […]
——————————————————————————————
 – first word is Growlithe?
 – maybe this is in reference to type effectiveness
  – the rest of the book is about caring for Fire types, this seems a bit redundant
 – this is the only sentence legible on this page — not much to be learned here

And another page.

[…] Ga..r’s Champion is Leon, who ma…ged to win with his team of …, Charizard, …, […] …strong leadership and great moves from … team, es…lly Charizard, who makes good usage of Solar Beam. […]
——————————————————————————————
 – first word seems to be the name of a location, perhaps Galar?
 – human champion, pokémon team?
  – it’s clear humanity had some degree of control over pokémon
 – mention of Solar Beam, likely champion of pokémon battles in some way
  – humanity probably coach pokémon since they didn’t have moves

More similar pages existed, but these had what I needed.

That is, all evidence showed that humanity had existed alongside Pokémon all along. Why did the writer of the journal only ever mention them as a game? As this was a journal, I would have expected more mention of them, seeing that humanity lived alongside Pokémon, no?

I had a few thoughts. The first of which, the one that seemed clearest to me, was that this was a fabrication of Quil’s. The raconteur was far too dedicated to his craft — I was certain that he’d have no issue learning Unown for the sole purpose of telling a story about a human properly in character.

It was also well known he occasionally paid Guild members to drop pieces of his puzzles in Dungeons. As I was popular enough in town for my passion, I’m sure he knew it would reach me sooner or later. This, compounded with the fact he’d told me he had something in store for me, made it a very convincing thought.

The second thought was that we were missing some crucial part of history. Perhaps there’d been a haven of humanity, devoid of Pokémon, and this journal came from there. I could not think of dismissing this idea, as the journal had made mention of Rubik’s cubes, the same as I’d found in the Dungeon.

The cube was made of plastic, a material Pokémon had not yet been able to replicate, meaning that the relic was not able to be faked by Quil or any other Pokémon out there. In other words, if the journal were not genuine, then Quil had found the cube first and had decided to write it in the journal, which seemed unlikely, given the rest of the journal was as removed from history as it was.

In either case, I didn’t like it. If it had been the former, what could have been my greatest discovery becomes a waste of time, and Quil’s tactless story is lost on me. If it had been the latter, then I’m hurt that something of this importance somehow eluded all historians for so long. We had found several human scholarly articles on geography and history that had offered a fair bit of information, despite horrendously mangled pages — that a casual journal might be the first evidence of a breakaway human society was not a pleasant thought.

Another interesting mention was that of electronics. Historians had seen allusions to them before, but this journal clarified things — it seems humanity had managed to use electricity to manipulate the world around them in some way or another. Perhaps it’s the key to their technology, maybe even the purpose of some of the curios I’d found.

I chose to turn the page over one last time before heading to sleep — after all, a few pages had little drawings on them, and I was curious what the next one held.

I should not have done that. What I found on the next page was worse than I could have expected — it was the Shining Crown, drawn in gold ink, with a sentence next to it, written in a handwriting different from Anna’s. Below it was graphite handwriting, Anna’s chirography once more — but something was terribly off. It was an uneven, near illegible scrawl, and the lines of the page had been smeared, in a pattern akin to tears.

This made everything so much worse. Why would a human living in a Pokémonless haven suddenly have the Shining Crown in their journal? What had happened to make her cry?

As curious as I was, I really did have to go to sleep, so I shut the journal, and headed to bed.

---

I was, once again, passing through the door of the Guild, ready for my fourth day of apprenticeship. I found Team Bravado on the other side, though Amber was absent this time. Arc could be seen at the board, eagerly picking out a handful of missions, while Elm and Nivas were having a small conversation.

”Hello,” I said, approaching.

”Oh, hey. Amber is marking last night’s mission as completed right now,” replied Nivas.

”I feel like the Guild should make the client do that, right? Makes more sense that way, they’re the ones that have proof we completed the mission,” grumbled Elm.

”I agree,” I replied. ”I wonder why they ask the team leader to do it. Surely there’s a reason.”

”Beats me,” said Elm.

Although we’d already received our reward in hand from Asterus himself last night, the Guild still needed to mark the mission as complete, for a few reasons. The most important of these was team promotion — as the Guild’s primary mission is to rescue those lost in Mystery Dungeons, the most competent teams needed to stand out to be quickly selected for emergencies, should the need arise.

This was accomplished by handing out points for completed missions. Once a team reached a certain threshold, they’d be given a promotional mission. Should they succeed, they’d then be promoted, and granted new badges, slightly more intricate than their previous rank. This also came with a few benefits, to encourage teams to work harder — the greater of which being bigger discounts at most markets. Supplies were often expensive; all the more reason to work harder.

There were five ranks a team could be, the first without a title, followed by Wanderer, Explorer, Pioneer, then Paragon. As one climbed the ranks, they’d need more points to continue to the next, which meant that only the best teams would become Paragons.

Team Bravado was sitting at Wanderer; not quite new, but not experienced by any means either.

”By the way, Ida, have you heard what happened at Mental Meadows? It’s insane,” Nivas asked me.

”No, what’s this about?”

”There’s a group of twenty or so idiots who thought they could outnumber the Dungeon Pokémon,” said Elm. ”Now all of the Paragon teams are out because they need a lot of people to escort all twenty of them back.”

”They probably could have gotten away with it if they tried anything easier than Mental Meadows,” laughed Nivas.

A brief pause filled the air until Nivas pulled up a new topic.

”About that, I was thinking maybe we’d try something a little more challenging, y’know? Maybe we could try a C mission about now, especially since we were able to split up last dungeon.”

”Sounds doable,” came Elm’s curt reply.

”Actually, I was wondering about that. What makes different Dungeons harder?” I asked.

”I think it’s just that they’re longer, like you have to stretch out your supplies and endurance and stuff,” said Nivas.

”Some Dungeons also have smarter Pokémon in them, I think,” added Elm.

”You think?” asked Nivas. A little pause later: ”You know, I might’ve heard something like that, yeah.”

Our brief conversation was stopped when we noticed Amber coming our way. He was joined by two other Pokémon, a Ceruledge and a Mismagius. I’d recognised the both of them, as they were prominent figures in the Guild.

A little introduction to Guild history and its hierarchy is in order, I think, to really demonstrate the importance of their presence.

The Guild itself spans all of Vie. It was put in place about a hundred years ago by the contemporary Council of Emperors, just after Mystery Dungeons first appeared. Back then, it was the Rescue Guild, as that was its only purpose — its members were sworn to save any Pokémon who had lost their way in a Mystery Dungeon. They were centralised in Cordelia City, as there was no time to prepare a continent-wide operation — the Dungeons had appeared overnight. The Council had complete control over the Guild; almost no attention was needed, as there were few missions to be given, and fewer rescuers up to the task.

However, Mystery Dungeons were not a temporary thing, as many Pokémon would have wanted it to be. When it was clear Dungeons were sticking around, the Rescue Guild had shifted into the Exploration Guild as it is today. Although rescues are still a huge priority, phylakelogy and commission work have taken over. The Guild has also spread all across Vie, evidently, so the leadership had to change. There were three leaders appointed to oversee the Guild in its totality. They still reside in Cordelia City, as it is the capital of Vie, and they hold the connection between branches by use of messengers. They would still occasionally find their way to peripheral towns should something abundantly important come up, but that was incredibly rare.

Nowadays, the head of the Guild is the Guildmaster, Cel, a Delphox. She manages most of the operation of the Guild, and holds the connection between the various branches in most towns. As new locales are granted branches of the Guild, she finds suitable regional Guildmasters to manage their operation. She is also the public figure for the Guild, as she is the one to speak publicly on its behalf.

The Guild, of course, is completely unable to operate without proper funding. Asking payment of a rescuee is essentially extortion — but turning Dungeon dives into volunteer work was simply not doable. Said funding still comes from the oligarchy, who even now hold a hand in the Guild’s operation. They’ve chosen to do so by sending in Falzar, Decidueye, son of Emperor Loph, to manage the Guild’s economy. He is, in fact, the one that works out all the deals for discounts for the Guild. He also holds the power to completely overtake the Guild should the Council instruct him to do so, but it has been, as of yet, completely unnecessary.

The last overseer of the Guild as a whole is Vaya, a Mismagius. She supervises the phylakelogical component of the Guild — that is to say, all research on Dungeons. She often put out missions for escorting a group of University students to a Dungeon, ensuring them a safe study, or collections of samples from Dungeons, among others.

I knew her well from my time at the University of Vie — we were students at around the same time. Often, I’d find her in the Athenaeum of Cordelia, working on her next idea to prove the Spatial Dungeon Hypothesis — the thought that Dungeons were formed from a rift in space, rather than space being affected by the presence of a Dungeon. Though it was clear Dungeons weren’t conform to the rules of reality, academics were heavily debating this distinction — if the Spatial Dungeon Hypothesis were true, we might be able to get Orbs to work outside of Dungeons, which would be a great discovery.

Although she still hasn’t managed to prove it rigorously, she’s still managed to make great strides in the research, a significant achievement in itself, given the uncooperative properties of Dungeons. I believe she was also part of the research team that had managed to create the first Escape Orb. As one of the leading minds on phylakelogy, she was well suited for the Guild job.

Although the triumvirate did well to head the Guild, they were not all-capable; there were far too many branches to manage, and fringe towns could be tough to reach by word of messengers alone. This is where regional Guildmasters come in. Their purpose in the Guild is simple — they merely manage operation of the Guild within their region. It could get confusing when both Cel and the regional head of a branch were both called Guildmaster, but unfortunately, that’s what stuck.

Back to my story — the two Pokémon accompanying Amber were Lem, Verdant Town’s regional Guildmaster, and Vaya. Vaya had left Cordelia City to come to Verdant Town rather than send a messenger — something big was happening. Arc, also noticing Amber, left the board to come join us.

”Good news team! We’re getting a promotional exam,” said the Breloom.

”Oh, Ida! Nice seeing you here,” said Vaya, recognising me.

”Vaya,” I greeted, with a nod of my head, a convivial smile.

”I’d love to ask what you’ve been up to recently, but we don’t have the time.” She now turned to the rest of the team. ”Team Bravado, please follow me — this mission is both important and private.”

”I shall leave it to you, then,” said Lem. ”Your Explorer badges will be ready when you get back,” he added, with a smile towards the team.

We followed Vaya into a more isolated room. There was a table in the center surrounded by a couple of seats. The table itself held a map of the locality of Verdant Town — a point somewhat north of us had a pin in it. She shut the door, and began her briefing.

”As Dungeon explorers, I believe you’re all aware that there are exactly 248 Dungeons in Vie right now, and that they are all named and charted to the best of our ability.”

A few nods, a chorus of assent. All Dungeons had appeared around a hundred years ago — there’d been no new ones since.

”Last night, a tradesmon has recently come across what seems to be a new Dungeon,” she stated.

”No WAY!” shouted Arc.

”There has to be a mistake, right? Surely this one was well hidden and we just didn’t notice it before,” proposed Amber.

”I thought the same thing, but it seems to have appeared directly on a well-travelled trade route. Team Grasp said they couldn’t miss it when looking for it during the first survey,” replied the Mismagius. ”This should go without saying, but the sudden appearance of a new Dungeon brings terrible news for the near future. We’ve kept it under wraps for now, to avoid panic, but we need more information to figure out what to do next.

”All of the Paragon teams we’d usually send for something like this are currently stuck facing Mental Meadows. Fortunately, as I said, Team Grasp has already surveyed the Dungeon, and they’ve ranked it at around C tier. It should be doable for your team if nothing goes wrong.”

”I presume it’s this place on the map?” I asked, pointing to the pin in the map.

”Yes, of course. Your mission is simple — just run through the Dungeon, and compare the Dungeon with Team Grasp’s findings.”

”Why? You don’t trust them or something?” asked Elm.

”We do; but when Dungeons first showed up, they were very unstable — apparently they went as far as to change floor counts, looks, and internal Pokémon daily. We need you to check if it’s also unstable this time around.”

Heavy expressions could be seen around the room (with the exception of Arc), as we thought over this mission that had just been handed to us. Although Dungeons’ contents were typically unknown, there were a handful of constants we could work with — this time around, we would be completely lost.

”Well then, team, get ready for our toughest dive yet,” declared Amber.

”OOO I can’t wait THIS IS SO EXCITING—” yelled Arc, now hopping in place.

”One last thing — the importance of this mission has allocated us a greater budget to ensure its success. We have a handful of extra items in here for your usage,” she said, pushing us a bag of seeds and Orbs. ”You’ll also need Team Grasp’s notes,” she added, sliding us a paper.

”Thanks, they should come in handy,” said Amber, grabbing the bag.

”Oh, before I forget — wait here a moment,” she said, before floating out the door.

”So, thoughts?” asked Amber.

”We’re getting promoted for this, right?” asked Elm, visibly unhappy. ”We’d better.”

”Why are there new Dungeons? That’s not supposed to happen,” added Nivas.

”WHO CARES, WE GET TO EXPLORE A NEW DUNGEON BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE!!” yelled the Shinx, ever optimist.

Before anyone else could add their thoughts, Vaya was back, wooden sign in hand.

”Here, you’ll need to put this at the entrance of the Dungeon. It shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

The sign read simply:

Humid Hollow

!! Warning !!

This is a Mystery Dungeon

Entrance prohibited
except for Guild members.

”Well, without further ado, good luck!” she said.

A murmur of thanks resounded, then we were left to ourselves.

”Well, in that case, I think we should start by getting more Oran berries. We almost ran out yesterday,” started Amber.

And so, we were off to the hail-fellow-well-met atmosphere of the market, to refill our supplies — seeds and Orbs alone weren’t going to cut it.

---

The market was filled with buyers, sellers, and window shoppers alike, all contributing a vigorous air to the area. We were at a bright orange tent, labelled Berlo’s Berries, where Nivas was haggling a deal for the Oran and Cheri berries presently on the table.

I believe it a fair assessment to say the market was the only place that could rival Arc’s boundless energy — every which way was another seller singing the praises of their products, another buyer arguing their price down. I’d spotted an Alakazam demonstrating the abilities of a crystal ball of sorts, likely imbued with psychic power — though, judging from his expression, it seems that things had gone awry at the worst time, as they tend to do. A busker could be seen on the side of one of the streets, jovially strumming a tune on their likely homemade instrument; I couldn’t recognise it. Nearby, two produce vendors could be heard in a friendly altercation.

”Buy your vegetables at Alfen’s Produce and definitely not at the Tamato Store!”

”Don’t listen to Alfen, buy my stuff instead!”

The tents all around us were heavily multicoloured, though many sellers ensured their tents were of similar hue to their skin, scales, or fur — it made it easier for buyers to recognise the vendor among the crowd. Most sold under tents or on tables, but some of the more enterprising businesses had managed to obtain buildings for their own — Kecleon’s market most important of all.

Beside me, Team Bravado’s discussion had shifted to vociferous conjecture regarding the contents of Humid Hollow — we were struck by anticipation.

”It’s mostly Water types, right? That’s what the notes say and they named it Humid Hollow,” asked Elm. ”Shouldn’t be too hard.”

”YEAH! This will be SO easy!” noted Arc.

”But it’s uncertain, right? It could change,” replied Amber. ”We should stay on our toes. Seventeen floors are a lot, after all.”

”I’m somewhat excited to see the place, myself,” I added. ”I imagine a forest Dungeon would be lovely if it weren’t for the haze.”

Over by the counter, Nivas had finished, now walking towards us, wide grin upon his face.

”Good deal, only 50 Poké for the six of them.”

”Really? Wow,” admired Amber, impressed. Typically it would have been near 12p a berry — 22p off was a great deal.

I was about to comment on it myself when I was bumped from behind.

”Oh, sorry!” said my interlocutor, ”I’m in a hurry!”

I turned around to see them speeding off, and I recognised them to be Asterus from yesterday. Curiously, he was running towards the amnesiac Emolga from yesterday, who looked fairly downtrodden.

”Arc, isn’t that the Emolga we rescued yesterday?” I asked him.

”OH YEAH, there’s Asterus too!”

As soon as Asterus first spoke towards the Emolga, she began crying. Asterus did little more than to huddle up against her in an effort to console her.

”Odd,” said Amber. ”I want to help them, but we have a more important mission to do right now.”

”Right,” I agreed. ”Lead the way.”

Our shopping done, we began our way to Humid Hollow.