The ladder held... mostly.

  Tess tested each rung before trusting it with her full weight, which turned the descent into a slow, methodical crawl through the shaft’s darkness. Hand over hand, foot below foot, testing each rung before shifting her weight. The work lights cast long shadows that made depth perception a nightmare, and her tool belt kept throwing off her balance every time she moved.

  Forty rungs down from the first platform, she found another problem.

  The bolt securing one of the ladder sections had worked itself loose, not fallen out completely, but loose enough that the entire segment shifted when she put weight on it. The movement was subtle, maybe a centimeter, but a centimeter was enough to make her freeze and press herself flat against the ladder.

  Okay, she thought. This is fine. Just need to tighten it.

  She pulled out her multi-tool and wedged herself against the ladder, one arm hooked through the rungs for stability. The bolt was corroded, the threads sticky with decades of rust and grime, but she twisted it slowly, feeling it catch and tighten.

  The ladder stopped shifting.

  “CORE-B,” she whispered. “How many more of these am I going to find?”

  CORE-B: Unable to perform structural analysis without sensor access. However, statistically, infrastructure of this age typically exhibits failure points at regular intervals corresponding to…“”I don’t actually want the statistics."

  CORE-B: You asked. I answered. This is how communication functions, correct?

  “I was being rhetorical.”

  CORE-B: Noted. Will reduce unsolicited statistical analysis.

  Tess kept climbing. The second platform came and went, then the third. Her arms burned and her hands cramped even through her gloves. But the rungs held, one after another, until she finally reached Sublevel Two.

  The landing here was larger than the others, maybe five meters square, with a heavy door set into the ferrocrete wall. A faded sign read: SUBLEVEL 2 - AUTHORIZED MAINTENANCE ACCESS ONLY.

  Tess stepped off the ladder and nearly collapsed. Her legs were shaking, her hands refusing to uncurl properly from their death grip on the rungs. She leaned against the wall and just breathed for a moment.

  “Never,” she said between gasps, “doing that again.”

  CORE-B: Observation: you will need to climb back up. I am uncertain whether this qualifies as helpful information or states obvious facts. Feedback requested. HUMOR PROTOCOLS DEGRADED. Oops.

  “Shut up.”

  She gave herself two minutes to recover, then approached the door. It was industrial-grade, the kind designed to seal maintenance areas from the main dungeon. The lock was mechanical rather than electronic, probably a safety feature from before the Network standardized everything.

  The locking mechanism on the hatch broke apart when she tried to pick it. Apparently, sixty years of neglect on this particular hatch was too much for the metal to take.

  The door opened with a grinding screech that echoed down the shaft behind her. Beyond it lay a tunnel: narrow, dark, and immediately familiar in all the worst ways.

  “Of course it’s a crawlspace,” Tess muttered. “Why would it be anything else? Why would a single thing today be convenient?”

  The tunnel was maybe a meter tall and wide enough for her shoulders if she didn’t mind scraping them on both walls simultaneously. She could see about twenty meters ahead before the work light’s beam faded into darkness.

  “CORE-B, how far is this tunnel?”

  CORE-B: Approximately 400 meters to the junction point. The tunnel runs parallel to Floor One’s foundation, approximately eight meters below the dungeon’s active delving area.

  That was four hundred meters of crawling ahead of her.

  Tess seriously considered just going home. Climbing back up that ladder, telling her father she’d gotten a weird class, figuring out some other solution to their problems that didn’t involve spending half a day contorted in maintenance tunnels beneath a dungeon.

  Then she thought about what CORE-B had promised—a chance to actually fix something that mattered.

  “Fine,” she said, and dropped to her hands and knees.

  The tunnel was exactly as awful as she’d expected. The floor was bare ferrocrete, cold and slightly damp. Conduit bundles ran along the walls and ceiling, some still humming with residual power. Every ten meters, a work light would flicker to life as she passed, triggered by her movement. Surprisingly, none blew out as she passed, which was a minor miracle.

  She’d been crawling for maybe fifteen minutes when she saw the grate.

  It was set into the tunnel floor, heavy steel mesh about a meter square. Faint light filtered up through it, not emergency lighting but something brighter and more active.

  Tess crawled over and looked down.

  Floor Two stretched out below her, visible through the grate’s openings. It was a massive chamber, easily a hundred meters across, with walls of worked stone that looked almost natural except for their perfect structural integrity. Stalagmites rose from the floor in clusters, and a network of walkways and platforms connected different elevations.

  And there were people.

  Four of them, moving through the chamber in a loose formation. They wore armor: plasteel plates over reinforced clothing, scuffed and dented and held together with friction tape and prayer. Three carried laser rifles; the fourth, a vibro-blade that hummed faintly even at this distance.

  Knights. They moved with confident aggression, expecting combat around every corner. The armor design matched what she’d seen on the tutorial pedestals, even if the actual condition was significantly worse.

  She focused on them and activated [ANALYZE].

  The skill responded immediately, overlaying information across her vision:

  KNIGHT - Level 3

  KNIGHT - Level 3

  KNIGHT - Level 4

  KNIGHT - Level 2

  Their voices drifted up through the grate, distorted by distance and echo but comprehensible.

  “…picked clean,” one of them was saying. Male voice, frustrated. “Have found nothing worth selling in three days.”

  “When’s the reset supposed to happen?” Another voice, female. “We’re wasting our time if the spawns are dead.”

  “That’s the problem. Nobody knows. Network says the dungeon’s active, but nothing’s spawning. No encounters, no loot, nothing.”

  “So why are we here?”

  “Because Thorne’s paying us to re-map the first five floors, and I need the credits.” The first voice again. “Just keep moving. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  They continued deeper into the chamber, their lights fading into the distance.

  Tess watched them go, then pulled back from the grate.

  “CORE-B,” she mumbled. “They said the spawns are dead. No encounters.”

  CORE-B: Correct. At current Aether levels, Floor Two cannot sustain active encounters. The environmental generation requires minimal power, but spawning entities, even basic ones, demands significantly more energy than currently available. Reset timers are extended to weeks rather than hours.

  “Weeks? How long normally?”

  CORE-B: Floor Two standard reset: 6-8 hours for basic encounters. 12-16 hours for elite spawns. Current reset estimate: 47 days, 18 hours. This is not how it should be. ERROR: FRUSTRATION ALGORITHM HAS STOPPED RESPONDING. Please disregard.

  “That’s insane.”

  CORE-B: That is why everyone believes the dungeon is cleared. No spawns means no progression. No progression means no reason to delve. The floors exist but cannot function as designed.

  Tess thought about those knights, spending days searching empty chambers for loot that would never appear. About Guildmaster Thorne paying people to map a dungeon that couldn’t even sustain basic encounters.

  “Can you see them?” she asked. “The delvers?”

  CORE-B: No, I am aware of Floor Two’s power draw and basic structural telemetry, but I cannot access internal sensors. I know the floor exists and is drawing 0.73 Arcwatts of Aether. I cannot see what occurs within it. It is like being blind and deaf to my body. WARNING: METAPHOR DATABASE FRAGMENTED.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  She pushed the thought aside and kept crawling.

  The tunnel stretched on and on. Her knees were going to be bruised for days. Her shoulders kept catching on conduit brackets. Twice she had to stop and reroute around sections where the ceiling had partially collapsed, squeezing through gaps that were definitely not designed for human passage.

  But eventually the tunnel opened into a larger chamber.

  Tess pulled herself out of the crawlspace and stood up, groaning as her spine realigned. The chamber was maybe three meters on each side, with walls lined with equipment panels and junction boxes. In the center sat the distributor.

  And it was nothing like anything Tess had ever seen.

  She’d expected something like the power relay she’d fixed earlier: orderly circuits, right angles, components she could identify by sight. Standard Network engineering.

  This was nothing like that.

  The distributor was built around a core of genuine crystalline structures that grew from a central mounting point like frozen branches. Threads that looked almost like fiber optics ran between the crystals, but they glowed faintly with internal light and pulsed in rhythms that suggested active data flow rather than passive transmission.

  The entire structure was fractal. Instead of square circuits with clean right angles, everything was diamonds and curves, nested shapes that repeated at different scales. It looked organic, grown rather than built.

  “What the hell, CORE-B?” Tess said, staring at it.

  CORE-B: Raw Aether distribution node. Pre-Network standard design. All base-Aether technology follows similar architectural principles. This is foundational technology; allow me a moment to structure an explanation.

  “This is base tech? This looks like something that belongs in… I don’t even know. A museum? An art installation? I’ve read about it, but never seen it up close.”

  CORE-B: Raw Aether manipulation requires specific geometries to guide energy flow. Geometric precision matters less than harmonic resonance. The crystalline structure and fractal arrangements optimize Aether channeling efficiency. Is this explanation adequate? I am uncertain of your knowledge baseline.

  Tess walked around the distributor slowly, her work light catching facets and edges. The crystals weren’t all the same; some were clear while others had faint colors: blue, gold, a deep amber that reminded her of her father’s old whiskey.

  “How am I supposed to fix this? I don’t know anything about crystal engineering or harmonic whatever.”

  CORE-B: Use your [ANALYZE] skill. Aether technology is built on Skills, structured templates that tell Aether how to behave. Everything that uses Aether, from class abilities to infrastructure, uses Skills to manipulate energy flow. The Skills are the instructions. The hardware is just the medium.

  “Skills. Like my class has skills.”

  CORE-B: Correct. Your [ANALYZE] skill is an Aether manipulation template that lets you perceive and understand other structures. The distributor’s functions are also Skills, pre-programmed routines built into the hardware itself. You should be able to see them. Can you see them? Confirmation requested.

  Tess focused on the distributor and activated [ANALYZE].

  The skill exploded across her vision with so much information she almost stumbled backward.

  The distributor’s structure unfolded in layers: the physical crystals and fiber-optic threads, yes, but also the energy flows running through them. Energy flow pathways emerged in layers: branching decision trees, conditional routing protocols. It was like looking at code, except the code was written in light and crystal and mathematical relationships she somehow understood without knowing why.

  ·········································

  AETHER DISTRIBUTOR NODE B1

  Function: Power Regulation · Flow Distribution · Overload Protection

  Power State: Minimal

  Output Efficiency: 11%

  User Tech Skill: 1

  ·········································

  Blowoff ……………… Damaged [Tech 1]

  Redistribution ……….. Offline [Tech 4]

  Surge Dampening ………. Locked [Tech 6]

  Harmonic Stabilization … Locked [Tech 8]

  Cascading Distribution … Locked [Tech 10]

  Connected Systems:

  Tertius Surface Grid

  Floor 2 Respawn Module

  Floor 3 Environmental Control

  ·········································

  Most of the modules were locked behind TECH requirements she didn’t have yet. The names were visible, [SURGE_DAMPENING] and [HARMONIC_STABILIZATION], but trying to examine their internal structure just gave her error messages.

  INSUFFICIENT TECH LEVEL.

  REQUIRED: 6.

  But [BLOWOFF] was accessible. TECH requirement: 1.

  She focused on it, and the pattern unfolded.

  It wasn’t a single skill but a collection of smaller functions working together: safety protocols that vented excess Aether pressure, rerouting systems for when primary channels failed, failsafes that shut down critical components before they could catastrophically overload.

  And she could see exactly what was broken.

  One of the primary venting channels was blocked, not physically but… energetically? The Aether flow that should route excess power to a safe discharge point was… frayed. Like a wire with damaged insulation, except the wire was made of light and mathematical certainty.

  The physical hardware was also damaged. The crystal node that anchored [BLOWOFF]’s primary function had a crack running through its core. Not large, maybe two centimeters, but enough to disrupt the energy running through it.

  “I need to replace that crystal,” Tess said.

  CORE-B: Understood. The [BLOWOFF] module cannot function with a compromised resonance structure. However, repairing skill crystals is not within your current ability. You will need to substitute a replacement.

  Tess examined the other modules. [REDISTRIBUTION] was offline, its crystal dark with no light flowing through it at all. According to [ANALYZE], it was intact but unpowered, waiting for higher Aether flow rates to activate.

  “This [REDISTRIBUTION] crystal,” she said. “What does it do?”

  CORE-B: Manages dynamic load balancing when multiple high-demand systems are active simultaneously. Not required at current Aether levels. Will not be necessary until surface power draw increases by approximately 400%.

  “So I can borrow it?”

  CORE-B: Temporarily. You will need to restore it once Aether flow increases sufficiently. Do not forget. Creating reminder task. Task priority: Medium. Should I send you periodic reminders? I can do that now.

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t forget to fix it later. Got it.”

  She pulled out her tools and approached the distributor. The crystals were mounted in housings that looked almost biological, curved sockets that held the structures firmly but without obvious fasteners. She ran her fingers along the edge of the [REDISTRIBUTION] crystal’s housing, feeling for release mechanisms.

  There. A slight depression, barely noticeable. She pressed it and felt something click inside the housing.

  The crystal lifted free easily, surprisingly light in her hand. It was about the size of her thumb, clear, with facets that caught her work light and scattered it into rainbow fragments.

  She carried it to the damaged [BLOWOFF] module and examined the cracked crystal. Same size, same basic shape. The crack was visible even without [ANALYZE], a dark line running through amber material.

  Getting it out was trickier. The crack had caused some kind of energy bleed that fused the crystal partially to its housing. Tess eased a thin spudger between crystal and socket, prying gently to avoid shattering either.

  The damaged crystal came free with a sound like breaking ice. She pocketed it, thinking maybe she could repair it later or at least study how it was made, and lifted the replacement crystal toward the empty housing.

  The moment it got close, the crystal pulled toward the socket, drawn by forces she couldn’t see but could sense through [ANALYZE].

  She guided it into the housing. It clicked home with a sensation that shot up her arms, like completing a circuit except this circuit was made of light and intention rather than copper and electricity.

  “Okay,” she said, pulling up [ANALYZE] again. “Now I need to reroute the power flow to actually use this thing.”

  The connections were visible now, pathways that needed to be reestablished, energy flows that required redirection. She could see exactly what needed to happen, but actually doing it required physical work.

  She traced the fiber-optic threads back to a junction box mounted on the chamber wall. Standard Network design, thankfully. She knew how to work with this part. Cables and connectors, even if they were glowing slightly and humming with pure Aether.

  Ten minutes of methodical work, disconnecting damaged pathways and rerouting through backup channels, replacing a burned-out relay that [ANALYZE] flagged as critical. The distributor’s status shifted from DAMAGED to STANDBY.

  Tess took a breath, checked her connections one more time, and reached for the activation switch.

  “CORE-B, anything I should know before I turn this on?”

  CORE-B: Activation will immediately restore Aether flow to 7.4% of baseline capacity. The surface power grid will experience a surge as extra energy becomes available. Floor Two respawn systems may come online. Multiple secondary effects may occur.

  “May occur?”

  CORE-B: It has been offline for a long time. Some predictions are uncertain. Many predictions are uncertain. I am sorry I cannot be more precise.

  “It’s alright.”

  Tess flipped the switch, and the distributor sang.

  That was the only word for it. The crystals lit up all at once, glowing from within with light that shifted through the spectrum: gold to blue to white to colors she didn’t have names for. The fiber-optic threads pulsed with energy. The fractal structures seemed to move, like watching ice form on a window but infinitely more complex.

  And as the air changed, something tingled on her skin, like static electricity but warmer. The temperature rose slightly. Her hair stood on end. The ambient hum she’d been hearing since entering the dungeon grew louder, more present, until it wasn’t just sound but pressure against her eardrums.

  Aether. This was what real, dense Aether felt like.

  [ANALYZE] showed her energy pouring through the distributor’s channels, splitting into dozens of pathways, racing through the infrastructure toward endpoints she couldn’t see from here: the surface grid, the respawn modules, environmental controls. Everything that had been starving for power suddenly had it again.

  Something went thunk in the distance, a heavy mechanical sound like a massive lock disengaging. Then another, and another.

  “CORE-B?” Tess said, watching the distributor’s readouts climb. “What’s that sound?”

  CORE-B: Floor Two respawn module has come online. Floors one and two are generating encounters.

  As if to punctuate the statement, shouting echoed through the dungeon’s infrastructure—distant but clear, followed by the high-pitched whine of laser discharges and then screaming.

  “Oh shit,” Tess whispered.

  CORE-B: Floor Two now operational. Reset timer triggered. This is working. The repair is working. I almost feel—ERROR: EMOTIONAL PROCESSOR HAS STOPPED WORKING. Nevermind.

  More sounds filtered through the tunnel. Combat—definitely combat. The clash of metal against something that wasn’t metal. More shouting, closer now. Someone yelling orders. They sounded… excited?

  Tess’s vision flooded with text.

  LEVEL UP!

  LEVEL 2 ACHIEVED

  TECH: 1 → 2

  NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: [INTERFACE]

  [INTERFACE]: Direct connection to Aether-based technology. Spend Aether Potential (AP) to make alterations, repairs, or adjustments to connected systems. Higher TECH allows more complex modifications.

  CURRENT AP: 2

  She stared at the notification, at the new skill sitting in her interface as if it had always been there. [ANALYZE] let her see the structures. [INTERFACE] would let her change them.

  “Holy crap,” she said.

  CORE-B: Congratulations on your first level. It worked. The repair worked. You leveled. This is how you level up your class. Do you believe me now? This is real. You made this real. With additional levels, you’ll be able to access lower floors and repair more systems.

  The shouting was getting closer. Something heavy slammed into the ferrocrete, the impact reverberating through the tunnel floor.

  The distributor still hummed and glowed, energy flowing through channels she could now see and potentially modify. Her hands were dusty from the crystal swap, her tools scattered around her feet.

  She’d just turned on systems that had been dark for decades. Restored power to a dungeon that everyone thought was dead. And she’d leveled up from doing it.

  “I need to get home,” she said, already moving toward the crawlspace. “I need to tell my dad.”

  She needed to understand what she’d just become capable of doing.

  If she could level up from fixing infrastructure, if each level gave her new abilities to understand and change Aether technology, then maybe she could actually fix things. Real things. Important things.

  Tess grabbed her tools, took one last look at the glowing distributor, and crawled back into the tunnel.

  Behind her, the sounds of combat faded as the delvers discovered that “cleared” was a lie this whole time.