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Skill Name
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Prerequisites
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Class Restrictions
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Mana Cost
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Description
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<td>
Novice Enchanter
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<td> </td>
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Dungeon
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Variable
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Craft magical items, equal in power to [core level - 1] (capped at level 10).
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
How hard could it be to make an enchanted item with no prior experience?
The System menu mocked me. I’d been trying for hours but every item I’d made either exploded or fizzled. There was something missing. The smoldering remains of the latest attempt laid in front of me. I absorbed the debris and smoothed away the burn marks absently while I tried to figure out the puzzle.
The enchanting system seemed to be similar, but not identical, to the titles I used to make bosses. It mostly differed by making that system significantly more complex.
Endizar frowned. “Have you considered adding a level to the name? You can create level two items, according to the System menu, so there must be a way to determine what level an item is.”
I didn’t think of that. Here goes nothing
I tried again. I formed a smooth rock, shiny like it had been weathered by a river, and put it on the bench in front of me. Then I funneled some of my mana into the stone until it began to hover very slightly above the table. When it was fully charged, I impressed a name into the stone.
Previously, Stone of Portals hadn’t worked. It had exploded and left behind a spinning portal that rapidly snapped shut. Calling it a Stone of Longlasting Portal had extended the portal’s lifespan somewhat, but it was still one use and explosive - dangerous for any mortal who tried to use it. After that I’d discovered that I could apply a description to the stone as well as a name. The name seemed to determine the stone’s primary function, but the description modified it into a stable item.
There seemed to be specific modifiers I had to use. Some were obvious ones I’d already encountered such as damage types. If I made a Stone of Portal with the description does magic damage, when it inevitably exploded it would inflict magic damage on anyone unlucky enough to be holding it. If I used a damage modifier that didn’t exist, such as does tentacle damage, the item just failed.
<table>
<tbody>
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<td>
Stone of Portals II
Description: The portal lasts for two minutes.
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
The stone … didn’t explode. It floated there, serenely. I nudged Endizar mentally. Try it?
He gave me a placid stare, and then shrugged and picked it up. It was tiny in his hands. Endizar furrowed his brow and focussed his eyes intently on the stone.
The stone glowed vivid blue for a moment, and then, without warning, the air in front of the workbench split open into an endless, depthless void the height and width of the stone itself.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Is that supposed to happen?
Endizar raised one wooden eyebrow. “You made it, not me.”
Whatever was on the other side of the portal, it didn’t look like somewhere I wanted to travel. There was a foreboding feeling to it, one that seeped into me even though my core was far from here and it shouldn’t have been able to affect me. Close it.
“I cannot. You gave it a set duration.”
I’d also failed to give the portal a destination. No wonder it had opened to … where-ever that was. The space between spaces. I watched the dark hole until, finally, the time ran out and it snapped shut without anything coming through.
“I think you need to be more specific,” Endizar said.
You think? The strange abyssal portal had shaken me. I didn’t like this tinkering as much now.
Endizar shrugged and put the stone back on the bench. “I also think we should lock that one away.”
Agreed. I put the stone away in a chest I hastily created in my core chamber, before I returned to item crafting. Attempt number… damnit, I wasn’t counting until now.
“Let me try?” Endizar said. “Make a couple of stones, if you would.”
I formed a row of four identical stones for him, filled each of them with mana, and watched.
“We need to consider the ways the system can exploit what we’re asking of it.” Endizar picked up the first stone. “See?”
I peaked at the item description.
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
Stone of Portals II
Description: Opens a 2m x 2m portal to a location pictured by the user.
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
“Now, if I activate it -” Endizar wrinkled his brow as he focussed. A portal snapped open in front of him. The slightly distorted image of the temple’s front doors appeared on the other side. But the portal barely lasted a few seconds before it snapped shut again.
“I figure the item tries to take the course of action that consumes the least mana. If I don’t define a duration, it closes very quickly. But if I define a duration and no size, it opens a very small portal, like so -” Endizar picked up the next stone. This time, when he activated it, the portal appeared but it was barely the size of a human head.
How did you figure that out?
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It feels like instinct. Something left over from Endoria’s core, perhaps.” He picked up the third stone. “This one should work. Take a look.”
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
Stone of Portals II
Description: Opens a 2m x 2m portal to a location pictured by the user. The portal lasts for two minutes.
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
I read the description with excitement. So if I just define a duration and a size, it should work, right? I focussed on the fourth, unused stone. I was getting a hang of this and I liked the feeling.
Endizar nodded, which was kind of comical as his antlers bobbed up and down. “Yes, but there seems to be a limit to how many modifiers you can apply. I tried to add a fourth modifier to this one, but it just doesn’t work.”
I pressed the same title and description Endizar had used into the fourth stone. The zone didn’t explode or fizzle and most importantly, it would work. I felt accomplished in a way.
The modifier limit is probably one plus item level then. That’d make sense. Either way, this will do what we need it to - get a message to the Dungeoneer’s Guild.
“Who will we send?”
Cixilo makes the most sense, but he is also important to have here if any more of Naya’s people arrive.
“I could go. It would certainly prove to them that you’re a real dungeon.”
They might freak out. You’re not… very human looking, I said with the best tact I could muster. Not that it bothered me, but mortals could be judgemental of appearances. They could mistake Endizar for a monster and kill him.
Endizar shrugged. “Let them. If they want the riches your dungeon offers, they’ll overcome their fear.”
I’m not saying no, but first I want to ask Cixilo what happens to a dungeon champion if they die outside the dungeon. Then we’ll consider it. I don’t want to lose you.
“Very well.” Endizar seemed satisfied with the answer.