《The Dungeon Pact》


 Chapter 1 - Revenge is best served with necromancy

    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    The gods were gone.


    They had been gone so long, yet the thought still sent a shiver of despair down his spine.


    Nowadays, there was only Tyl, the Goddess.


    The despairing chill was banished immediately by a conflagration of rage.


    That bitch. She was the cause of all this. She had betrayed them.


    The gods were gone. Tyl was to blame.


    It had been millenia. When he had begun his arduous crawl towards ever greater heights of power, his current resolution would have been unthinkable. However, the freeze-thaw cycle of anger and despair had broken him. Shattered him into a broken mirror of a man.


    His principles and scruples had not saved the gods. He would not rely on moral posturing to avenge them. Not when their betrayer ruled from Heaven''s highest seat. Not when their betrayer ruled a sky of empty thrones.


    So what if he undid their work? Unpicked each thread of the Veil that they had so lovingly woven.


    It mattered little. They were gone. Gone!


    The gods who had lifted him and his people up, elevated the Mani-elva to the highest of the elven races until their might rivaled the gods. And the Exiles.


    The Exiles were gone too, hence their name, the final gift from a toppled pantheon. Once upon an aeon, Luneil would have been relieved by such knowledge. But all he felt was grief and fire. The gods were gone and he would do anything to bring those gentle deities back.


    It was not possible, alas. He had searched his people''s hidden libraries, long ago fallen to dust and disuse. He had found nothing there. Not even a recipe for bread. Every shelf had been scoured clean by Tyl''s paladins and Pardoners.


    Luneil spat. Pardoner scum.


    He would send them all into the Abyss soon enough. Them and their whore Goddess.


    And to do that, he had to break the Veil¡ªa great barrier between the universes that had been designed for a single purpose: To keep the Exiles out.


    Luneil stroked the pointed tips of his ears, admiring the ritual circle he had created, now laid out before him. It was a work of art and the arcane; the most perfect spell pattern he had ever created.


    Runes spiraled around hundreds of the most flawless Arcane Foci in existence, each diamond, gem, and jewel wrapped in a nest of the purest Demon Silver runes. The Foci would help form the spell, each Arcane Focus converting mana into a distinct useable mana subtype¡ªsuch as air, fire, or death, and also rarer subtypes such as gravity¡ªcreating the perfect combination of mana types that would drive the spell pattern. Although, this would only happen at the last moment. Mana subtypes were unstable and typically lasted for a brief period of time, before deteriorating into depleted mana¡ªa disruptive and detrimental byproduct of the subtypes¡¯ use.


    The ritual circle¡¯s sole purpose was a brute force attack on the Veil, creating a small tear in the fabric of the magical barrier. Such a rent would allow the descendants of the Exiles to return to the world of Era, whereupon they would once again accumulate enough power to rival even a deity¡ªLuneil had a very specific Goddess in mind. Only a few would return at first, however, over time the flow of souls passing through the rift would erode the Veil away to nothing but fragments of mana and Lifeforce, allowing the Exiles'' descendants to return home to Era.


    Most would die at the hands of foolish farmers. Luneil shrugged, it was a fact of life. Only the strong survive. The statement was doubly true, accumulating enough Lifeforce would halt the aging process.


    A light breeze from a nearby window carried the sound of marching feet to him. Outside, an endless stream of torches lit the darkness, winding their way towards his isolated tower. An army of paladins and Pardoners had finally mustered up the courage to come for his head. It was kind of flattering actually, that they would waste an army on him, when a modestly sized brigade would do the trick¡ªgive or take a thousand.


    He watched for a few minutes more, sighing. So this was it. He had hoped they would have taken longer to find him. It was no great matter. He would just have to imagine Tyl''s look of horror as she finally joined the ones she had betrayed.


    Luneil reached into his dimensional bag for the most important part of the spell: the power source.


    Charging it had been the work of countless centuries, but that meant little to one such as him. He was a Rank IX Warder Variant, perhaps the only one of his kind. After all, warding was an art unto itself. Caster Variants of the crystalline mana form would simply create ephemeral spell patterns out of mana and release them. Warders made their magic to last, creating wards¡ªcomplex magical traps and formations out of mana and its subtypes. They were constructed in such a way as to actively prevent the catastrophic deterioration of the subtypes into depleted mana until after they had been triggered. Learning how to do so took dedication and numerous lifetimes, even for simple spells. Not that age was an issue to any mana user sufficiently advanced in Rank. And achieving the prerequisite amount of personal Lifeforce to reach a higher Rank was childsplay to any necromancer worth their salt.


    He withdrew the power source from his bag, feeling a twinge of regret as he stared at it. It was hard not to, considering how many innocents had died to fill the ancient Dungeon Core with power.


    Luneil shook his head. He would do it all again. He would slaughter all of Era, just to hear Tyl scream.


    He had taken up necromancy for that very reason. Sure, it helped in charging the Core and gaining Lifeforce. However, his true motive was that it pissed off Tyl.


    A small distortion in the air flitted past him, barely visible even to his excellent vision. He sent a small bolt of mana at it, to shoo it away. This was not the time for the Sylph to harass him. In truth, he felt bad for the small creature. They were normally shy creatures but this one had seemed rather attached to the Dungeon Core, going so far as to interpose itself between him and the crystal when he had first acquired it. Selgard''s oldest dungeon had ended that day and the growing kingdom had followed in the dungeon¡¯s footsteps soon after. Such was the way of things in a culture that prioritized power over almost everything else. Weakness could kill as surely as a blade in the back, only the dying was greatly prolonged and far more painful. He had caused the deaths of many such weaklings. He thought about them from time to time.


    The ghosts of his past had haunted him for so long, all he had seen, all he had done. Still, the only ghost that ever truly remained was the Sylph. Always nearby. Hovering. Watching. Waiting. Waiting for what? He didn''t know, but ever since he had claimed the Dungeon Core, the Sylph had followed him incessantly. Maybe it was in love?


    Heh. Luneil was secretly quite fond of the reclusive creature, but now was not the time for indulgence. He could feel the sins burdening his shoulders like the weight of a nightmare sky.


    He¡¯d borne the price of those sins for far too long, this was his moment of vindication.


    The gods were gone. Soon, the Goddess would be as well.


    Carefully making his way through the ritual circle, Luneil placed the charged Core at its center.


    He pushed a small amount of mana into one of the many rune-encircled Arcane Foci, giving it the burst of power needed to activate the spell and begin siphoning mana from the Dungeon Core¡ªthe siphoned mana now used to power the removal of yet more mana.


    Luneil stepped back as the ritual circle lit up with the combined power of mana from over two hundred thousand souls, the population of a capital city. It made him feel slightly sick. Even using necromancy to increase the power taken from his victims, it had taken centuries to charge the damn thing. He shuddered to think how long it would have taken to charge it relying only on his mana capacity and recovery.


    His enhanced hearing detected heavy footsteps near the door, metal plated boots pounding against stone.


    He needed more time. He would give anything for more time. Anything except his revenge.


    Luneil delved inwards, alternating the structures and patterns of the condensed points of crystalline mana within his hands, letting them act as Arcane Foci, creating various mana subtypes for him to use. He quickly strengthened the magical wards around the door, using several mana subtypes to achieve maximum efficiency.


    Time. Time. Time. The spell had to be completed, no matter the cost. He just needed time.


    Luneil adjusted another ward. Then, he changed the crystalline mana in his hand to resemble a fire specific Arcane Focus and fired a wild burst of fire mana through the door, leaving a scorched hole behind. It was one of the drawbacks of being a Warder, unlike a Caster Variant, he couldn¡¯t create complex spellbolts. It didn¡¯t matter, he had his tricks.


    The ward he had adjusted detached in the wake of the fire mana burst, settling over the intruder like a shroud. The ward held the fire mana close to his body, forcing the flame inwards, not letting the man escape a single ember. Luneil smiled at the sight, remembering the first time he had learned that wards could be used offensively. They were just like runes, all you needed was the right pattern. He tried to see how his victim was faring.


    The warrior was hard to kill, at least a Rank VII of the liquid mana form, likely a Brawler Variant, a specialization which gave him remarkable resilience and healing, even with rampant fire mana both burning and boiling him alive. His high Rank was probably why he got here so fast. Luneil suspected the warrior was one of his country¡¯s greatest heroes, foolishly running ahead to try and garner all the glory. Instead, he got a face full of fire.


    From the way the screaming had degenerated into a wet gurgling it must have been pretty painful, Luneil fired a few deathbolts to finish him off, quietly thanking the dead gods that he had chosen to practice a form of mana that specialized in magic. The battle junkies had it tough.


    He turned back to the ritual circle. The spell seemed to be progressing as expected. The Dungeon Core was nearing empty, its contents flowing down the lines of the ritual circle and gathering in the hundreds of Arcane Foci. He directed some Lifeforce and mana towards the Core, giving it a little boost. He had gone over the calculations a hundred times, but it was always worth erring on the side of caution. Not that it really mattered, the small amount he gave it was a fraction of a drop compared to the seas of mana and Lifeforce it had once contained.


    Still, it was reassuring. Unlike the pounding of armored boots approaching from outside his tower. That, and the sound of bells, small chiming bells. Hooked onto armor, belts and weaponry, anywhere they would fit.


    Those bells meant one thing... Two actually. One, the Pardoners had finally arrived; and, two, he was royally fucked. Every child was taught to fear those bells. Luneil was no longer a child, and he could take on five hundred Pardoners any day of the week, but some things never left. The irrational fears of darkness and of goblins hiding underneath your bed faded with age and maturity. But those bells... Luneil would happily swear that those bells could vex an Elder Demon to nightmare. He got back to work.


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    There were so many Pardoners, far more than five hundred. The sinister chiming echoed through the corridors, gently insinuating its way into his thoughts and dredging out his primal fears.


    Time. More time.


    Luneil was loath to leave the spell unattended, but circumstances usurped caution and he found himself striding through his scorched door, temporarily deactivating wards wherever he went in order to avoid getting mired in them while retreating.


    Finding a prime stretch of unwarded corridor in the Pardoners'' path, he laid out a complex series of wards upon the floor. Filling them with death mana, he reclined against the wall and waited for the Goddess'' servants to arrive.


    They should be here any second now. Those damned bells were so close.


    The first Pardoner turned a corner, continuing forwards, his mana-augmented vision not sufficient to detect wards lain down by a true master of the arcane crafts.


    His foot landed on a crack between the floor-tiles. And stuck there. Immobilized. An inky darkness oozed out of the crack, slowly seeping up his leg, spreading rot and decay wherever it touched.


    The Pardoner tried to use his own mana to repel the creeping darkness but his attention was divided as he simultaneously tried directing mana to heal his leg, to little avail.


    More Pardoners pushed past him, an unending flood of fanatics promised a Heavenly throne at the Goddess'' right hand. With the amount of Pardoners he was planning to send to meet their Goddess, he suspected her right hand might be a little crowded. Luneil chuckled, they should have asked for a place at her left side.


    Soon, twenty Pardoners were mired in the cracks between the tiles, darkness creeping up their bodies as they struggled. Wherever the sinister blackness touched, flesh rotted and muscles seized up, their owners no longer in control of the affected limbs. Their bodies slowly locking into a living rigor mortis.


    The first Pardoner''s head was fully steeped in blackness. When the darkness dissipated, his head was conspicuously absent.


    Now was the fun part.


    More Pardoners rushed past, thinking the threat was gone.


    They should have learned not to underestimate a six thousand year old mage, one who was both a Warder and a necromancer.


    Luneil just shook his head with a sad smile as the statue-like Pardoner''s flesh uncoiled in rotting ribbons, poised liked a sea of striking snakes above the decapitated corpse.


    Ropes of flesh ensnared the ankles of those passing by, dragging them towards the monstrosity that used to be a man.


    As the last was pulled close to the ex-Pardoner''s headless body, the corpse''s tissues liquified, streams of suppurating flesh forcing themselves down their victims'' throats before solidifying and lifting them up high in the air like hanged-men lynched up on a gibbet of yellowed bone and rotting tissues.


    Luneil vomited on the floor in front of him, eyes wide. He hadn''t expected it to be so... effective. He''d had a lot of time to think up devious little wards and traps; he hadn¡¯t had the pleasure to put them to¡ªsubjectively¡ªgood use, until now. It was fucking disgusting and he once again congratulated himself on choosing to focus on magic and necromancy, neither of which involved wading through magically trapped corridors. That wasn¡¯t to say he didn¡¯t feel a little guilty. He did, but only momentarily. The Pardoners deserved it.


    He was relieved to decide that he had spent more than enough time enjoying the view as more of the ward''s initial victims morphed into macabre versions of trees from the Winter Willow Festival. The memory of the children in his homeland hanging dolls on trees brought a smile to his face. A smile that quickly faded as he took one final look at the gristly scene.


    Killing Pardoners was great... Watching them die... not so much. Luneil batted away the incongruent thoughts with an irritated gesture as he turned to leave.


    A flash of cleansing light erupted down the corridor, dragging him out of his thoughts. He raised a ward to shield himself, but it washed over him harmlessly. Instead, wherever the light touched, his skeletal gibbets withered into windblown dust.


    After an initial surge of annoyance, Luneil shrugged. He formed a series of wards mid air in the blink of an eye, not giving them time to dissipate in the absence of a structure to place them on, rapidly firing a blast composed of several mana types through the center of the magical formation.


    The blast carried the wards with it, trailing the edges behind like the tail of a magical comet.


    The bolt hit the caster who had purged his creations dead center. The young woman barely had time to blink before the power of the bolt overwhelmed her. The crystalline mana inside her body was forcibly condensed, packed closer and closer together, drawing mana in from nearby.


    Luneil felt a tug on his own mana but resisted it. Those near the caster were not so lucky as their entire mana pools were dragged into hers, killing them instantly and overloading the caster''s capacity. The incredible influx of mana also had the amusing effect of keeping her alive, much to the victim¡¯s obvious displeasure.


    And still mana kept on being drawn into her.


    Luneil wondered if he had made the spell too strong, before shaking his head with a wry grin and putting another ten feet between himself and the disaster waiting to happen.


    The girl detonated. Shards of hyper condensed crystalline mana exploded outwards, shredding anyone caught nearby and embedding themselves in the stone walls where they steamed like snowmen on a hot summer day.


    Satisfied with the results, Luneil set another ward in the corridor before returning to the ritual circle to check on it''s progress.


    The spell was progressing well and everything was relatively peaceful. Or, rather, it was, until the seventeenth Pardoner that tried to burst through the warded door died very slowly. After that they decided that going through the walls was a safer bet.


    It wasn''t. But they never touched the magically protected door again, which was a pity since it had so many lovely surprises in it.


    No, the main issue was that, by the one hundred and ninetieth casualty, the stone walls were critically weakened and oversaturated with too much depleted mana to stably support more wards. The floor on either side could probably support enough wards to kill two hundred more, maximum. After that he would have to cast all his wards mid air, moving around to avoid filling the area around him with depleted mana. And that was inefficient in both mana and movement.


    Luneil had been trying his utmost to conserve mana, but he had already drained about a fifth of his maximum capacity, even with his unnaturally high rate of mana recovery due to his massive stores of Lifeforce. It was only going to get worse and the waves of Pardoners was endless, the line of torches making their way up the trail had not thinned out in the slightest.


    Worse yet, the density of depleted mana in the room was becoming disruptively high, so he was having to divide his attention between regulating the amount of mana around his spell circle and dealing with his uninvited guests. It was times like these when Luneil wished that mana subtypes would just disappear when they were used, not clog up the air with their useless byproducts.


    There was no help for it. Ignoring the weakening walls, he began constructing a large ward on the ceiling. It took up a large amount of mana, but if he didn''t do something the high ambient saturation of depleted mana would disrupt his ability to cast wards long before he ran out of power.


    Struggling against the magic distorting effects of too much depleted mana, Luneil painstakingly finalized the required pattern on the ceiling before forcing a full tenth of his total capacity into it.


    Mana began to be sucked up into the magical formation at an accelerated rate, causing the ceiling to warp with a dull greyish blue haze.


    With that complete, Luneil hurried to place a final ward on the wall, hoping it would stick. However, the disruptive pressure of depleted mana finally overcame the structural integrity of the wall and it crumbled in a puff of dust and blue haze.


    At the same time, the ward on the ceiling had finished accumulating the depleted mana, redirecting it upwards while releasing a wide beam of light and heat to punch through the upper floors of the tower into the open air above.


    A small number of bricks and rubble collapsed from the ceiling, mostly intact, despite the damage the beam of light and fire had dealt to the upper floors. The rest had been vaporized.


    Luneil had to ward away the debris from the ritual circle to avoid it being damaged. It was that or risk centuries of work being disrupted by a loose rock.


    It was a small distraction, but it was enough.


    A thrown javelin came sailing out of nowhere, practically iridescent with the amount of gaseous mana imbued in it by some Skirmisher Variant. There was a surge of pain as the projectile cleaved straight through his windpipe before he got the chance to reinforce his skin with a layer of crystalline mana. The javelin continued to tear through his flesh, before embedding itself in his spinal column.


    Luneil cursed in the silence of his mind, it was a foolish error. He hadn''t been watching and it had cost him. The spear was lodged in him, allowing the Skirmisher''s gaseous mana to conflict with his own, slowing the javelin¡¯s removal from his body and making healing difficult.


    Furthermore, its location, combined with the hostile mana, was disrupting the signals his brain was sending to his lower body.


    He made a vain effort to remove it, but he knew it was too little too late. Either way, he would be dead in less than a minute.


    Damn that bitch Tyl. He''d die before he let her have a victory. But he was going to die anyway, so it was best to make his death count.


    Beyond all of these thoughts was a creeping feeling of unease.


    He thought it would be different from this. He had focused a large portion of his life around death. He was a necromancer. So why was he so scared?


    Death? No.


    Failure? Maybe¡­


    In the corner of his fading vision the Sylph flew in mournful circles, weaving dolorous loops around its chosen spot of empty air, always nearby, always watching the Core that sat empty in the center of the room, its former contents now powering a spell that was not yet complete.


    Too little, too late.


    Too little. The thought struck him harder than the spear ever had. It was such a simple concept, and yet it might just work.


    Even as Luneil fell to the floor, he rallied the full might of his power, diverting it away from healing his body, focusing solely on one final beautiful pattern.


    All too soon it was done.


    His last vestiges. Spent.


    His fear. Gone.


    His power, for the first time, truly as empty as he realized he had always felt.


    It was done and he wished he could at least feel something. Anything. The slow creep of despair. The fervent rage against the darkness. The bitter hatred he had adopted as a bedfellow to assuage his grief. There was no sense of triumph now that his moment of vengeance was complete.


    Luneil just felt hollow.


    The gods were gone.


    So was he.


    ¡ª¡ª


    The final spell of the greatest mage to walk the face of Era for millennia settled upon the ritual circle. Copying the pattern of the circle, miniaturizing it, reproducing it again and again. Recursion after recursion. Forcing a tiny inclusion at the center of the Dungeon Core into alignment, bonds between atoms restructuring to form the shapes of runes. Mana temporarily crystallizing to form Arcane Focus-like structures deep within the Core.


    A tiny fracture at the center of the crystal was smoothed over, as if it had never existed, reigniting its long lost potential for life.


    The Dungeon Core glowed with new life as a small Sylph brought the soul it had salvaged from Luneil¡¯s Lifeforce, replacing the one the Core had lost. That of a man who had defended her dead friend''s crystal body with his life and restored it in his death. The only corpse the necromancer had ever truly given new life to. He was a murderer and a thief, but one with purpose, one with loyalty towards his convictions. So different from the monsters whose souls were usually selected for joining with the Core, and yet so similar.


    The soul was absorbed without a hitch.


    The Sylph looked at her handiwork.


    Why did she feel like something was missing?


    Her eyes fell upon Luneil''s last pattern, surrounded by armored men who shrank back in fear from its radiance. Terrified of retribution from beyond the grave by one of the greatest mages in history.


    Then, one of the men nudged an Arcane Focus, disrupting the unfinished spell, mid-formation.


    The continual siphoning of mana from the Core stopped and the mana invested in the enormous ritual circle reversed its course, flowing back into the Dungeon Core.


    A million miniature ritual circles buried deep inside the Core burst into life, each one quickly filling with mana that flowed back from a spell which had never been completed.


    It was a simple thing, but one of unparalleled genius. Where a single large ritual circle would take an hour to activate, a thousand small ones would be done in seconds. It was Luneil''s final revelation.


    The spell concluded.


    The entire tower and its surroundings burst apart in a flash of light, the explosion hurling the Dungeon Core far away and riddling its outer shell with cracks and fractures. A few wisps of the Sylph¡¯s shattered body still clung loosely to the Core, slowly disintegrating into an unseen stream of blue and gold that was quickly absorbed through the damaged crystal. Slowly, however, the Core¡¯s trajectory changed as gravity dug its claws in. The change in direction was too much for the final wisps of the Sylph and even its final remnants fell away, scattering on a late summer night¡¯s breeze.


    The effects on the Ethereal plane were far more drastic. The ritual circles inside the Core latched onto the fabric of the Veil, before blasting apart in every direction, tearing a gaping wound in the magical barrier that no single god or Goddess could ever hope to heal.


    ¡ªTyl¡ª


    Tyl felt the whole of Era shudder as an ancient barrier failed, one intended to last forever. She screamed in outrage, venting her frustration and trying to drown out the small frisson of fear that had nestled inside her very being.


    The Exiles were returning. Humans were coming back to Era.


    Even worse, Luneil''s soul was nowhere to be found.

 Chapter 2 - Rocks for brains

    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    When the soul inside the Core awoke, it was alone. Embedded in its own personal crater of earth at the foot of a gentle hill.


    It wondered how it got there. And why it felt so... hungry.


    It looked around. There was nothing but its crater, the grass at the top, and the glimmering of faint blue motes of light dancing in the air.


    The last part seemed odd, but the soul didn''t dwell on it for too long. It was so hungry, and its facets ached.


    Its facets!?


    The soul looked itself over. Why was it... cracked?


    Spiderweb fractures radiated all over the surface of its body, deep ravines in its otherwise smooth exterior.


    The soul felt oddly displeased about that. But it sensed there was nothing it could do about it at the moment. It was so hungry.


    The blue motes of light hanging in the air looked more appealing now.


    An instinct from an almost forgotten life kicked in. The soul tried to reach out to grab the dancing light, however, the attempt was met was with failure.


    The soul decided to wait. Maybe, if it pretended to be a rock, the dancing motes would come closer to investigate. Then it could see if they tasted good.


    Rocks were interesting after all. Right? The soul was inside a rock, after all. However, its rock was clear and shiny, and that made it suspicious. The soul peeked out at the lights again, were they coming closer? Then it rebuked itself for almost breaking it''s cover by staring at the blue particles of light that it almost certainly wasn''t going to eat. Because it was just an average rock. Nope, nothing special about him.


    The soul didn''t want to alert the blue lights that it wanted to eat them, so it went back to doing its best impersonation of an average rock. Which was hard, because it was shiny. However, it was a true master at rock impersonation. The pebbles scattered around it didn''t have half of the soul''s talent at pure rockishness.


    Rockishness? Was that a word?


    It sounded like a title, such as Your Highness.


    It was definitely a title. They both ended in ¡®ness¡¯.


    The soul congratulated itself on its deductive reasoning skills and then summarily anointed itself as Its Royal Rockishness III of Dirty Crater.


    The soul risked a quick glance around, if it had legs what it saw would have made it jump back in horror .


    Regicide!


    A blue mote had snuck up behind it while it was pretending to be a rock.


    Before it could realize it didn''t have lungs, the soul drew in a deep breath, intending to blow the mote of light away from its royal person.


    The mote was sucked into his body and disappeared. The soul did a double take as its mind expanded. Then, it marvelled at how delicious the mana was.


    What was it doing? No... what was he doing?


    The blue motes were mana. Who in their right mind was scared of mana? He was smarter than that.


    The soul went back to doing his best impression of a rock. A shiny rock, of course. Unlike those stupid pebbles around him. They were doing it all wrong. They would never catch mana that way.


    To entice the mana you had to adopt an aura of mystery. Nothing screamed mystery and excitement like a shiny rock.


    Oh well... more mana for him. He wasn''t giving away trade secrets, no way.


    He leaned back whistling, or at least tried to. He wasn''t certain but he thought it made him as least twice as mysterious.


    He waited for a while, however, no new mana approached him.


    Something wasn''t working. The dancing blue motes made no moves towards him.


    This called for drastic action. He tried to breathe in again. This time he was aware he didn''t have lungs, but there was just something right about the certain impossible action that allowed him to absorb mana.


    Sure enough, the nearest mote of mana accelerated towards him. He luxuriated in the delectable texture, savoring the taste and feel of it as it was absorbed into his body. It was so good. But he was still hungry and he was only eating them one by one, so far.


    He began to suck in more mana, all his hesitation vanishing as he pulled in more and more mana, he even manage to reach some at the very top of his crater. It was an effort, but he managed it.


    Then, he basked in the sublime feeling of satiation. He no longer felt hungry, for the first time since he had awakened in the crater that was his home.


    No longer fixated solely on finding something to satisfy his hunger, he began to examine himself more thoroughly.


    His ''body'' was a smooth orb about six inches in diameter. Rather than being a ''shiny rock'' as he had initially deemed himself, or, more embarrassingly, ''Its Royal Rockishness III'', he now realized that he was in fact a crystal. The cracks radiating his surface penetrated about an inch deep, obscuring much of his vision in the area. They obviously weren''t normal, judging from the fine bluish mist that leaked out of them into the surrounding area.


    He was bleeding mana!


    The thought terrified him and he began trying to staunch the flow of mana, however, nothing he tried worked. The best he could do was reabsorb it as soon as it leaked out, but there were so many cracks that it was difficult to sense the mana in the area.


    He needed to find a way to stop himself leaking mana. It was an impossible task. He couldn''t even see over the crater he was in, how could he even begin to understand the complexities of his magnificent form.


    He lashed out around him in frustration, his mind had expanded, only for his body to betray him. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him gnawing at him like...


    Hunger, sharp and painful.


    Where had all his mana gone? The feeling was actual hunger.


    He shifted his perspective back outside the crystal and gasped at what he saw.


    His crater was pocked with new holes, and one side had collapsed in on itself, exposing a frantically wriggling worm. And what''s more he knew.


    He knew how to make dirt. It wasn''t much, but the implications of it were breathtaking. Anything that he destroyed, he could subsequently remake. All he needed was mana.


    He looked around him, sucking in all the mana that drifted within range of him, feeling the sharp pangs of hunger recede ever so slightly.


    The worm was still struggling to burrow back into the moist loamy soil. He had half a mind to watch it depart, at least until he noticed the faint goldish blue glow leaking out of it, it looked similar to mana. He instantly decided that its mana was his, and for that, it had to die.


    He sent a burst of his own mana at the worm, waiting for it to die. The glow around the worm dimmed, then surged back again. What a disappointment.


    He would have tried the same thing again, but he was wary of wasting more mana than he could afford. Instead, he tried pulling mana from the worm¡¯s outer aura.


    He found that if he concentrated, he could steal a small amount of mana from the worm¡¯s surface aura, but that was it. It was better than nothing, though.


    Unhappy at his inability to kill it, he stopped looking at the worm.


    Anyway, there were more living things around here than just one measly worm.


    He turned his attention to a blade of grass that had been displaced when one side of his small crater collapsed. The plant also had a small aura of mana as well that could be harvested, although it barely had any effect given the sparsity of mana and the small size of the plant. Dejected at the lackluster results, he carefully destroyed the soil around its roots, depriving the small plant of nutrients and water.


    Then he waited.


    This time he didn''t do a rock impression.


    He got bored of waiting, instead, he slowly harvested mana from the air, occasionally destroying pebbles made of different types of rock to obtain their pattern. He learned early on that he needed to destroy the entirety of a small object, or a significant part of a large object if he had any hope of gaining knowledge of how to replicate it. When that was done, he practiced reproducing certain objects, although they all turned out to be miserable failures as he didn''t want to make them too large, otherwise they would cost too much of his precious mana.


    He had been harvesting the aura of mana leaking out of the dying grass for a while now, noticing how, as the plant''s condition deteriorated, the time it took to recover its external aura increased.


    He suspected that in the absence of water and soil, the blade of grass was forced to use its mana supply to stave off its imminent demise and that once the mana drain reached a critical threshold, it would die.


    That critical threshold was rapidly approaching.


    At the moment of its death, a small golden spark was ejected from the grass into his crystal body, within seconds the blade of grass dissolved into a gentle turquoise cloud of mana. It was more mana than he had ever seen. He absorbed it greedily, wondering what that golden spark was and where it had gone.


    He began a focused systematic search inside his body. Beyond the inch deep cracks on his surface, his center was unblemished crystal. Within it was the same small dancing spark that he had seen, and something else.


    It felt foreign, like something that was not part of him. On edge, he probed it with a strand of mana. Nothing happened. It seemed relatively benign. It was a sphere of peculiarly arranged crystal that was so small it was barely detectable to him.


    It seemed familiar, beautiful even. Circles within circles arranged in a mind-bending spiral into the infinitesimal. It reminded him of something, something from before. He wanted to know what it was and was half tempted to destroy it in an attempt to discern its pattern. But an unquantifiable feeling warned him against it. It was too small anyway, his chances of getting any useful information from it were close to zero.


    So, he left it alone and shifted his focus towards the spark.


    It was so vibrant, so vital. It reminded him of everything alive. Of blades of grass and its roots, and of creatures in the dirt, so small he could barely sense their mana as they died. Most of all it reminded him of a hidden form and fluttering wings, always nearby, always waiting for a long dead friend.


    It was a compelling feeling, his mana gathered around him unconsciously, recreating a form he didn''t recognize, but thought he knew.


    A creature made of distorted air fluttered into focus, flitting mindlessly around his core for a single moment before dissolving back into mana and the golden spark from which it had been formed.


    He knew immediately it wasn''t enough. He needed more. More mana, more vital sparks.


    He began eyeing the grass around the lip of the crater. Hoping it would be enough.


    The young Dungeon Core began harvesting mana, straining for every single mote of airborne mana, further than he had ever reached before.


    All around the Core, dirt vanished from existence and grass began to die.


    The earth was dead and barren all around him. The deepest roots had not escaped him and the earth had been gouged out in a radius of at least twenty inches. Within that circle, not a single blade of grass survived.


    A pulsing cloud of gentle blue mana and whizzing golden sparks had rushed into the Dungeon Core, leaving him mentally drooling at the sudden heady influx of mana.


    Eventually, however, the intoxicating feeling of mana swirling within him subsided and he set to work in earnest.


    Rather than letting the pattern of that familiar winged creature be formed by some unconscious process, he slowly started to sculpt it into being. Pumping mana and a single golden spark into it, his excitement quickening as a winged form resolved, blurry and indistinct.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    He added more mana and its body solidified slightly. Excited, he added more and more until he had the same distorted entity as had been created previously. However, it had not survived. So he added even more mana and almost lost concentration as the body began to shift and blur between a thousand forms. A cloud, an iridescent hummingbird, a set of beating wings, a fairy, a gust of wind. Another thousand forms flashed by in a rush of motion, each form unique and changing too fast to see.


    The creature was the wind in all its forms, life breathed into it beyond the simple Dungeon Core''s ability to comprehend. Fortunately, its ignorance was irrelevant. It could make this creature, it had its pattern, even if it didn''t know where it had obtained it from.


    He added some more mana, just to be safe. He didn''t want the creature to dissolve back into mana after all the effort he put into it.


    Then he released his concentration, finalizing the creature. Mana flowed into the framework he had constructed.


    He observed it fondly as its mindless flutterings began, tentatively at first, he knew this creature, somehow. It felt like an echo of a real thing, an image of an ocean with no thought given to its depth. Still, it was alive. It was real, its shifting outline pulsing with a faint aura of mana.


    The creature... he searched for its name. It felt so familiar. Sylph. That was it. It was a Sylph.


    After watching the Sylph for a few minutes, he noticed something odd. The Sylph''s aura of mana had completely faded and the creature was beginning to look weak and sickly, its myriad airy transformations growing hazy and sluggish. Frantic, he pumped more mana into it and the creature''s aura resurged in a glorious aquamarine glow.


    Something was strange, he had more mana than he expected. Paying attention to his mana reserves he noticed that they were creeping upwards, ever so slowly. He was confused. He was still leaking energy from his numerous cracks. So why was he...


    The golden sparks. It had to be them. They must be producing mana in order to sustain living creatures. A word hovered at the back of his mind.


    Lifeforce.


    It made sense. Too little Lifeforce resulted in insufficient mana recovery to sustain life. The creature could survive for a short time, however, if its inherent mana capacity depleted too far it would gradually sicken and die.


    The Dungeon Core focused on the Sylph as it repeatedly bumped its head into the dirt walls with enough force to make him wince in sympathy. It was a good thing its form was so malleable.


    He tried to give it a small glimmer of Lifeforce, but the damn creature kept on moving too fast and being a general nuisance.


    Exasperated, he tried grabbing it with mana.


    Be still damn you!


    His attempt to forcefully immobilize the Sylph with mana was forgotten the moment he accidentally transmitted the thought.


    The seemingly mindless creature stopped in mid air, fluttering in place, its normally shifting form solidified into that of a winged girl made of blowing smoke.


    As if suddenly realizing that it was still moving, it stopped flapping its wings, falling to the ground with a dull thud.


    He sighed at the brainless creature''s antics, mentally shaking his head as he sent a few sparks of Lifeforce into its body.


    He watched the Sylph''s aura closely, noticing that while it was still decreasing, it was doing so at a much slower rate.


    That wasn''t good enough, he needed to at least match the mana recovery imparted by his Lifeforce to the amount of mana used to sustain the small creature. Preferably more, if the creature became injured then a lack of free mana would impair its healing process, maybe even halt it completely.


    He looked at the Sylph, however annoying its sheer brainlessness was, there was still an endearing quality to it. It was cute in a pint-sized sort of way. He felt a warm surge of affection go out towards it.


    He had intended to slowly add Lifeforce to it, until it was just about able to survive.


    Oh well. Plans change. He didn''t have much left, but he still gave all the Lifeforce he had accumulated from his grass destroying rampage.


    The Sylph sat up blinking, then stopped, realizing that it still hadn''t been allowed to move.


    The Dungeon Core projected a scowl to the small creature, but inside he was smiling. The creature was adorably stupid.


    You can move now, he thought.


    The small Sylph zoomed up into the air, doing loops around the Core so quickly that it made his head spin. It was babbling something at the top of its voice, speaking so quickly it was impossible to make out the sounds.


    Slow down, will you? I can''t hear you. He remonstrated the creature gently.


    The Sylph did as instructed.


    "Luneil! Luneil! Luneil!" The Sylph''s voice was distinctly feminine, bubbling with excitement as she repeated the same word over and over again in so many different pitches and intonations that you could have made a language out of the single statement.


    Luneil? The word sounded familiar. Was that... him?


    It was. He could feel it. Luneil was his name, in another place, in another body, but it was as much his as the earth and the sky and all the mana in the air between.


    Luneil whooped with unreserved joy, then quieted down, feeling self conscious about the outburst.


    The Sylph''s one word melody changed, "Alive! Alive! Alive!". The single word song was a statement of joy, a giddy exaltation of life and a profession of gratitude deeper that all the dirty craters in the world combined.


    It was infectious. He couldn''t help it. Luneil whooped again, joining his song to hers.


    Luneil continued on like that for a while. Eventually, however, reality started to reassert itself.


    He was still leaking mana. He needed to fix his outer shell. And while he had an idea of what to do, he didn''t know whether it would work. Either way, he wasn''t going to like it.


    He set about gathering mana. Unlike his supply of Lifeforce, he still had some left over. That being said, he wanted as much as possible and spent a while absorbing mana from the air.


    It was boring work, prompting him to make small talk with the Sylph. That was a mistake.


    So... You knew me from before all this?


    "Yes," Sylph''s form underwent a series of changes, shifting into and out of an approximation of a nod.


    Just yes? Nothing else?


    The Sylph looked puzzled, then nodded again. "No?" she answered.


    Luneil huffed and absorbed another mote of mana from his surroundings.


    What do you mean? Are you nodding or saying yes?


    The Sylph paused and shifted her form into a flying shaking head, "Yes?"


    Urggh. Talking to the idiotic creature was exasperating. She was worse than stupid.


    Luneil decided to change tacks. Open ended questions were obviously too much for the creature.


    Luneil is my name, isn''t it?


    She nodded, "Luneil! Luneil!"


    Was I a crystal back then?


    She shook her head, "No."


    Did I die?


    "Yes," she stated it in a somber tone.


    What happened?


    "Dead," she nodded her head sagely, as if explaining to a child.


    Luneil gave up and went back to gathering mana.


    It was slow going and his desire for conversation was growing again. He just needed an easy subject without any complexity.


    What''s your name?


    That should be easy. No ambiguity there.


    "No." She shook her head.


    Luneil groaned mentally.


    No, you don''t have a name? Or, No, you don''t want to tell me?


    "No," she paused. "Yes."


    This was like talking to a rock. Actually it was harder.


    Do you have a name?


    "No."


    Finally, a simple answer. They were getting somewhere.


    Do you want one?


    The Sylph nodded.


    Gust?


    "No."


    Breeze? Gale? Wind?


    "No."


    Zephyr?


    He waited for a long time, but no response was forthcoming. Was that good? He tried something similar.


    Zeph?


    "Zeph! Zeph!" she trilled, exuberant, repeating her name like she had done with his.


    Luneil tutted in resignation and went back to work. Zeph wouldn''t stop repeating her name. But that was okay. He ignored her.


    Annihilating small rocks also provided excellent stress relief.


    After an hour of Zeph repeating her name, Luneil was satisfied with the amount of mana he had accumulated. Or, rather, he was tired of trying to concentrate with a talkative Sylph inanely babbling the same word over and over again.


    Just celebrate silently, will you.


    Zeph glared at him but shut her mouth anyway and stormed off in a sulk.


    Luneil ignored that. He was too busy preparing himself for what was about to come.


    It was best to do it quickly.


    He destroyed a small portion of his surface that remained unblemished by cracks, leaving a small divot in his surface about half an inch in radius which slowly began oozing mana into the air.


    He waited for what was certain to come.


    Heh. Maybe not, that was surprisingly painle¡ª


    Gaaaaaaaahhh!!!


    Motherfucker! That was horrible. As his mind had finished being overloaded with the last bits of information on his structure, the pain had caught up with him. The agony was nearly indescribable, like he was being dissected with a thousand blades of grass. It hurt like a Sylph flying headfirst into a jagged stone wall at three hundred kilometers an hour.


    At least it was over. He knew his own pattern now, although he was hardly relieved. Sure, that part was horrifically painful, but he wasn''t sure what he was trying to do would even work.


    He prepared his mana and prayed he hadn''t made some hideously awful decision.


    He started by filling in the part which he had recently annihilated. The pattern was meant to fit the hole perfectly after all.


    With his internal structure mapped out in his head, it was relatively easy to smooth out any irregularities where he had replaced the crystal inaccurately. After a little bit of tinkering, the region was once again unblemished.


    Then, Luneil moved on to fixing the rest of the cracks, working on smoothing out the fractures that penetrated deepest into his shell first, since they leaked the most mana. He worked from the bottom up, ensuring the cracks closest to his center were fixed first, before dealing with the more extensive surface damage.


    There were several areas that were particularly difficult to repair, especially the sites where multiple cracks intersected.


    Luneil persevered and finally even the smallest irregularity on his surface had been dealt with and he was once again smooth and shiny. Whole and good as new.


    At least, he assumed he was as good as new. He had never actually seen himself before in a state that wasn''t riddled with cracks and fractures.


    A loud knocking on the surface of his crystal drew his attention outwards. It was Zeph, and, from the particularly sharp and irritated ways her form shifted from jagged edge to jagged edge, she had been doing it for hours.


    What? He snapped.


    Luneil looked at the new shoots of grass, poking up through the earth around him. He revised his previous estimate. Not hours. Days. Maybe even weeks.


    Zeph pointed at her mouth.


    Oh. Right... He had told her to be quiet.


    Okay. You can speak.


    "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"


    Somehow, Luneil didn''t think she was talking about herself. He was forced to agree, especially when Zeph planted a firm kick on his shiny new surface.


    I missed you too. He muttered.


    Zeph''s expression softened. Then she kicked him again. "Stupid," she declared for all the world to hear.


    I''m sorry, it was silly of me, I lost track of time trying to fix myself.


    "Stupid."


    Yes, I know. I should have checked up on you from time to time. But I was so involved in it all that¡ª


    "Stupid! Luneil! Stupid!"


    Yes, dear. He admitted, slightly surprised at the increased dimensionality to her speech. He suspected she had probably been thinking about what she was going to say while he had been occupied. He felt bad about that. Thinking was so hard for her.


    Zeph hadn''t said anything since, so Luneil left her to her own self-righteousness and began replenishing his energy by killing more plant life.


    As he started to unearth the vulnerable roots, Luneil noticed the increased ease and accuracy of his ability to manipulate mana. What else had changed? He immediately stopped what he was doing and tested the limits of his influence through his favorite pastime. Gathering mana. Well... that and murdering grass.


    Slowly sucking mana into his core, he increased the distance from which he absorbed mana.


    Within seconds he had passed the twenty inch mark, the previous hard limit on his range of influence.


    And his reach kept on expanding, the repairs to his cores had paid dividends and he was now reaping the rewards for the time spent, pain suffered and Sylphs irritated.


    He was now harvesting mana from ten feet away, although it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain, requiring additional focus.


    Still, he pushed further and further, edging past approximately fourteen feet in distance, until he could collect no more.


    Luneil was filled with more mana than he had ever experienced during his entire short life. Sure, the air contained less mana than the grass, and none of the Lifeforce. However, he had expanded his range by over one hundred and forty inches in every direction. Almost four meters. From his current capacity of mana, he estimated that fixing his core had allowed him to harvest sixty times more mana from the air, at least.


    He felt like celebrating, then he realized that the mana concentration in the air surrounding him had to replenish, he couldn¡¯t drain it indefinitely. Mana didn''t just spring into existence out of nowhere.


    Except it did. Lifeforce seemed to generate it naturally and he now had access to a glut of Lifeforce, simply begging to be liberated from the tyranny of life.


    The only issue was that, submerged inside his small crater, he could not see all of the delicious energy containing grass that he knew was out there.


    He started by creating dry dirt and packing it beneath him as tight as he could manage. This was his first time creating something on a large scale. Apart from Zeph, of course. It was an extremely odd experience. He knew the composition of the dirt, down to its smallest fraction of dirt, sand and clay, there was even a little gold. However, the actual act of creation seemed as if it were an almost automatic process, only require conscious initiation and the intent to maintain it. Furthermore, while he could alter the amounts of various minerals and organic compounds to a minor degree, he found himself totally unable to isolate the trace materials that helped form it in any significant or usable way. Sure, he could make top quality fertile soil, just as he could make a barren and ashen wasteland to rival Zeph''s mental faculties. But, try as he might, he was unable to turn dirt into gold.


    Actually, now that he thought about it. What was the obsession with turning base materials into gold? Luneil shrugged, must have been something to do with his past life. The gold inside the dirt was worse than useless. It was soft, heavy, too easy to deform, and above all else, it was scarce as well. Why would someone want more of a useless thing? It was like wanting more politicians.


    Hmmm. Luneil didn''t know what politicians were. But he didn''t like them. They sounded like warriors who would only attack shiny defenseless crystals. What was the point of that? Crystals were awesome, and totally not useless. Unlike gold...


    ...or politicians.


    He switched his focus back the dry dirt, packed tightly beneath him. He checked it had a decent amount of clay and created a crude stone barrier around the cylinder of packed dirt. Then he added water to it.


    The clay expanded, pushing him upwards on an improvised plinth of wet soil. As he rose, he added more stone to the sides of his elevating construction, only allowing the upwards expansion of dirt.


    After he had risen by an inch or so, he added a small stone platform to the cylinder, providing a place for his body to rest on and destroyed the wet dirt beneath him.


    Mana poured into him, completely unexpectedly.


    Well... That was interesting. It wasn''t exactly the same amount of mana as he had put into creating the soil, but it was close.


    Luneil was thrilled with the discovery. He could regain some of the mana used in creating objects. He supposed it made sense. The same thing had happened with Zeph when she had first disintegrated, although he hadn''t noticed it at the time.


    Furthermore, it gave him a plan. One that he would test out as soon as he could see out of the crater.

 Chapter 3 - A hero arriv... uh, nevermind

    ¡ªAcherys¡¯ Dread Adventuring Team¡ª


    The five man... dwarf... adventuring team, Acherys'' Dread, was on an exploration mission. Or more accurately, they were running away.


    Something had set the entire Church into a state of frenzy. The kingdom of Adamer was a whirlwind of Church-sanctioned denunciations and executions. Eight weeks ago, an army of paladins and Pardoners had gathered near the capital city of Valis before setting off into the vast unclaimed wilderness to search for some necromancer. Six weeks later unverified reports of massive losses began to surface with no mention as to whether the necromancer had indeed perished.


    From the wave of brutality Tyl''s Church brought down upon the entire kingdom soon afterwards, they assumed not. Messages gleaned from the Adventurer''s Guild scrying-links had told of similar events unfolding across all of Era, giving live updates of the unfolding situation. Some Guild outposts even spouted unconfirmed rumors of humans showing up in the middle of nowhere, confused and disoriented. They were probably unfounded, ugly elves could sometimes be mistaken for Exiles. What was more worrying was that those outposts went silent soon after those final transmissions.


    It was time to leave Valis, and Acherys'' Dread didn''t bother waiting until morning, not when the gates could close at any time. They stocked up on essential supplies before returning to the Guild Hall. Once there, they registered a request for an adventuring team to explore the wilderness to verify the existence of a new dungeon.


    It cost one silver in registration fees but it wasn''t a problem. Roughly three seconds later, the team was delighted to discover that a new quest that had opened up outside of the city for dungeon exploration. What a coincidence.


    They had happily accepted the quest and sprinted out of the city, paperwork in hand.


    They had been happy to part with the silver, bureaucracy was alive and kicking despite the worsening situation, and even a small amount of Guild registered forms could go a long way towards aiding their escape. They didn¡¯t know if the dungeon they had reported even existed, but since the location of the dungeon was registered as ''somewhere in the wilderness'', it was technically true. Also, given the circumstances, the clerk was inclined to let a small degree of flippancy slide.


    It was a good thing too, the paperwork had gotten them past the guards at the city gates without too many eyebrows raised, although one soldier had to muffle a snort of amusement.


    Unfortunately, the team now had a new member, in the form of a lowly Guild clerk. She''d had the same idea as them and made the acceptance of their exploration request conditional upon her inclusion in the group.


    Which was why an all-dwarf adventuring team now had a gnome as their newest member.


    To their credit, the adventurers hadn''t ditched her the moment the city disappeared over the horizon.


    But they were dwarves after all. Not those hoity toity Sol-elva, who were just as happy to stab you in the back, while muttering something about racial purity, as they were to give you the time of day. No, dwarves had concepts such as honour and loyalty. And while they would readily admit they were probably a little biased, in their defense, at least they weren''t those duergar scum. That filthy race of vermin probably had a thimbleful of dwarven blood between the lot of them.


    The adventuring team, plus their newest ''member'', reached the edges of Adamer a few days later. It didn''t bother them in the slightest that there might be a necromancer on the loose. There was only one of him, if he was even still alive. Meanwhile, the whole kingdom, especially Valis, was swarming with thousands of Pardoners by now.


    Heretics were, coincidentally, almost always a different race than the accuser, usually one of their people''s sworn enemies. Valis was a city of many differences, including those along racial lines. Which meant that no one was safe when the Pardoners arrived in force.


    As they crossed the border they took a long look behind them to ensure they weren''t being followed by any of the Church''s men. The dwarves immediately stopped paying their Devotions to Tyl, letting out a groan of relief as a missing part of themselves fit back into place. Their mana recovery increased by a small percentage, their tithed Lifeforce no longer being ''freely given'' to the Goddess.


    Such Devotions were a chore, but a necessary one. One of the fastest ways to be labelled a Heretic was to not pay your Devotions to Tyl. All of the Goddess'' servants had ways of telling if someone was paying Devotions or not. Especially the Pardoners, they could smell unpaid Devotions like a Ravening Fly could smell shit. Those Flies were a menace to all adventurers. They would do anything for manure, including burrowing right through a meaty dwarven belly.


    The gnome looked on at the scene in confusion. Why were the dwarves all groaning so happily?


    The team''s leader, Kort, explained.


    "You see, lassie. Us adventuring types are... how shall I put it... lax... with our Devotions when the Pardoners are nae watching, you wouldn¡¯t know since you stay in the Guild Hall all the time. Hard t¡¯ revere a Goddess who does nae even bother t'' help a humble adventurer fighting for their life, yet still demands part of the Life and soul of a fighting adventurer.


    "We dwarves have an additional reason not t'' pay Devotions. The world forgets but the dwarves remember," his team gathered around him, eyes burning with zealous fervor, each one repeating ''the dwarves remember'' under their breath.


    Kort looked around at each of them, nodding in approval, before facing the gnome once more, "Your Goddess is not our God, lassie. The dwarves remember,"¡ªagain his team echoed his words¡ª"our God might be dead but that does nae make him any less of a God. Freedom to choose which deity we worship is nae freedom when there is only one choice." Kort looked her in the eye, enunciating each word, "Fuck the Goddess, fuck her rules and pretenses of autonomy and free-will. We have our god already, and always will. Gnur," he declared, slamming a gauntleted fist against his breastplate with an almighty crash of steel on steel, "the God Under the Mountain."


    "The God Under the Mountain," the rest of the dwarves intoned, some quietly, some bellowing it to the Heavens¡ªas if daring Tyl''s wrath to fall upon them.


    The gnome was silent for a second, "My name''s Blue, master dwarf. Stop calling me lassie."


    Kort''s brow furrowed, he loomed over her like a steel-plated thundercloud. Then he burst into uproarious laughter, "I was wondering when you''d grow a beard. Blue," he tested the name. "Blue it is, and so you are. Welcome t¡¯ the team, las¡ªBlue."


    Kort reached around and clapped her on the back, careful not to injure her with his gauntleted fist.


    "Seriously though, Blue,¡± he stressed her name, ¡°try not paying Devotions for once. Nae anybody watching ya. You can thank me for it later."


    He turned back to his team, "Alright ladies, break time''s over. Let''s get moving. Put some distance between us and that shithole called Adamer." Kort looked back at Blue, "Nae offense meant by it. Place is going down the drain through nae fault of it''s own." Blue nodded back.


    He continued on down the road, missing a step when he heard Blue gasp behind him, a broad smile forming on his lined face.


    "Proud of ya, lassie." He whispered under his breath.


    ¡ªBas¡ª


    Sebastian heard the floorboards creaking as his father approached his room. With a level of dexterity that was usually far beyond him, he seized his physics textbook in one hand and powered down his computer with the other, his game of Starcraft II going dark even as enemy zerglings overran his base, one final ''you must construct additional pylons'' ringing in his ears. He loved the game, even if he sucked at it.


    Remembering the precarious nature of his situation, especially with exams tomorrow, Sebastian dove towards his bed, book in hand, trying to at least give the illusion that he was studying. He already knew most of the material, but his parents wouldn''t see it that way. If they weren''t nagging him about schoolwork, they were nagging him about playing too many video games, not going outside enough, not doing obscure chores they never told him about, not doing enough sport, the list goes on.


    It wasn''t his fault that video games were better than reality, the ¡®great¡¯ outdoors obviously included, or that his parents¡¯ communication could be better handled in ways other than nagging. And it wasn''t his fault that he didn''t really like spo... okay, maybe that one was his fault, but he preferred video games to sport... and his parents always told him to do what he loved...


    Sebastian''s bed wasn''t there when he landed. He moved to push himself off the carpet, but the carpet wasn''t there either. It had been replaced by a sharp, gritty texture beneath his fingers. It hadn''t been cleaned it in days, but this was a bit much.


    In shock he examined his hand, oblivious to everything else. It was covered in a fine dust, adhered to his hand by a thin layer of sweat left over from the final nerve-wracking moments of his game. Embedded in his palm were small bits of...


    Gravel. Stuck to the meat of his palm, popping out as he flexed his hand, leaving small red ringed indentations behind.


    He watched the stones fall to dusty track beneath him.


    He looked around in panic. Where was he?


    Was he in a different world? No, that wasn''t it, it didn''t happen anything like this in books he had read. It had to be a dark and stormy night, thunder and lightning abounding, voices of cosmic entities announcing the arrival of the hero of prophecy. Even a wardrobe with a few coats in it. Missing a landing on his bed was just¡­ humiliating.


    "Hey! You up there, Divine Being! I know you''re watching me! Was a dramatic entrance too much to fucking ask for your hero of prophecy? Huh? Answer me, you cosmic asshole!"


    Nope. Nothing. There you go, Sebastian, just humiliated yourself once again.


    He stood up. Sat back down. Adjusted his glasses. Pinched himself. Closed his eyes wishing to wake up from whatever nightmare he was in.


    He couldn''t leave Earth now. Not just yet.


    Sure, he had dreamed of exactly this type of scenario, one where he got to be the hero of his own story. But it wasn''t meant to be like... like... this. He needed supplies, armor, blueprints for modern technology, a gun.


    What did he have?


    His glasses, a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, socks, shoes, three day old underwear.


    A physics textbook.


    ...


    Knowledge of science, maths, economics, politics, history, art, geology... and more, all crammed inside his head for some useless exam that would test things he never needed to know.


    A lifetime of reading fantasy books with scenarios similar to the one he was in now. Prompting him to scour the internet for all sorts of survival skills and simple advances in technology that changed the world. Precisely in case something like this happened... well... that, and because it was cool.


    He knew the basics of how to mass produce steel and the principles behind the waterwheel and printing press. Every day, he saw things on television that were commonplace to him, but wondrous to anyone living in a medieval world. Did they even know that there was something far greater than themselves beyond the thin atmosphere of their planet?


    And in his left hand he held the starting point of every aspect of modern technology. A compendium of the most important discoveries in physics, all simplified down to a level that even an eighteen year old could understand. He had walked into a medieval world with all the answers to the universe sitting right in his hand.


    "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"


    He stood up suddenly, pinching himself.


    "Nope. Still not real. Definitely not real."


    He didn''t want to get excited about this. It wasn''t real. He was just going to be ripped away from it by some rude awakening any minute now. Nothing here was real, however wonderful it would be to believe it.


    Then again... that didn''t mean he couldn''t enjoy it while it lasted. It was fine if he recognized it was all a vivid hallucination during REM sleep, right? Like a lucid dream. That way, when reality reasserted itself, he wouldn''t be completely crushed and crestfallen.


    And, if he remembered the dream, when he woke up, he could write it down. Turn it into a story, or something like that. Give someone else a chance to dream as he had done.


    Content with his decision, he set of down the road. Roads almost always led somewhere, and since this was a dream, something interesting was bound to happen sooner rather than later.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    It was a strange feeling, not unpleasant but certainly odd. His body was slowly being overwhelmed with a warm tingling sensation, like the echo of an electric current beneath his skin.


    He stumbled on a half-buried rock, righting himself just before he fell. His vision was beginning to warp and blur, objects losing their definition and texture.


    What was happening?


    Sebastian stopped walking. He quickly removed his glasses, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose to rid himself of the disorientating blurriness. This wasn''t turning out to be a particularly enjoyable dream, after all. All he had done was walk and lose his vision.


    He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, moving to replace his glasses. And for a second, just before they reached his face, the world was crisp and clear. And then it was gone again, replaced by blurriness.


    "What the...?"


    Okay, that was cool. Something in this world had rectified his vision, fixing a distortion in the lens of his eye that had been there since birth. He slipped his now useless glasses into his pocket, he didn''t need them here.


    A tear slid down his cheek, impacting the dusty road below. He didn''t want to wake up, he didn''t want this dream to end.


    He bent down, marveling at the clarity of each blade of grass poking tentatively through the ground. It was like his reality had expanded, no longer dependent on two thin sheets of curved glass to recognize the world for what it already was. He could still feel the thrum beneath his skin. It was comforting, a simple statement telling him that he was here. That he was alive.


    It felt so real. He just wished it was.


    There was something different here. In this dream everything was... more. The sound of the wind raised the hairs on the back of his neck, calling to him in an haunting song of sky and freedom. The air had a simple energy to it, a faint prickle against his skin, a reflection of the gentle hum beneath. Even the grass. The beautiful simple grass was filled with something that, up until now, he hadn''t even realized was missing. It was more than their newfound detail and refinement. He could feel their vitality, beating like a heart. Every edge shimmering with a blue that screamed: alive!


    This world was not perfect, but even in its imperfection it was real.


    Real... until he woke up. Until he had to drag his feet out of bed and shamble his way to school like a reanimated corpse.


    Sebastian continued walking down the road. The moment had ended, but the pulse of something more than blood beneath his skin remained.


    He kept on walking. Breathing in the air, watching every blade of grass bend and bow in the wind. Day turned to night and he kept on walking, unfamiliar constellations whirling in a celestial waltz above a three-moon sky. His thirst increased, but he ignored the urge to drink from nearby streams. There was so much to see, no time to stare at his own moonlit reflection. This world might be real, but it was still a dream. And every dream must end. He had to make every second count.


    ¡ªAcherys¡¯ Dread Adventuring Team¡ª


    "Wait." Kort held up a fist, "There''s a body on the road."


    "Is it a trap?" Blue''s voice was laced with worry.


    "Maybe. An empty plain is a fool''s place for an ambush, but that nae means anything if they have someone specializing in the gaseous form of mana, possibly a Cloaker Variant." Kort sounded disturbed by the thought, idly flicking his beard, "Those Cloakers are a nasty bunch, can hide by bending light around themselves, powerful ones can even hide their mana signature. The only honest fighter is one who actually fights, none of that namby pamby crystalline or gaseous shit." Kort gesticulated wildly with his hammer.


    Blue gave him a long-suffering look, "I work for the Guild, everyone here knows what a Cloa¡ª"


    One of the dwarves, Grimheld, cut her off, "Ya think my mana form''s ''namby pamby'' do ya? Ya wanna test that out, right here right now? I''ll show ya the right of things. All ya sloshers think yer so tough, pretending that ya piss liquid mana."


    Kort scratched his bearded chin, "I may have spoken rashly," he amended, "but how do you think you can beat me when you can nae even hammer steel, much less your own wife? I swear t¡¯ Gurn, her beard is longer than yours."


    "Oh really? Who burnt half their beard in a campfire last winter?" Grimheld was caressing his crossbow menacingly, fingers twitching.


    Kort glowered. "Nae need t¡¯ get personal," he muttered.


    Blue put a stop to the argument, "So... possible ambush. Now what?"


    "Right you are, lassie,¡± Blue glared at him but Kort continued on, unabashed, ¡°I''ll cycle my superior liquid mana through my eyes to try and detect any Cloakers. The rest of you, follow me slowly, watch every angle and make sure Blue is safe."


    The jocular arguing ceased as they hefted their weapons, each team member fulfilling their role without being asked, their expressions serious. They formed a loose circle around Blue, protecting her from any unseen threats.


    Kort crept towards the body in the road, his team following from behind.


    "Fuck me upside down with an anvil.¡± Kort broke the tense silence, unable to restrain himself. ¡°That is one damn ugly elf."


    "Kort," Grimheld spoke up hesitantly, "I don''t think that''s an¡ª"


    "Shit.¡± Kort cursed, his voice was urgent, ¡°If the body moves an inch, hit it with all you have."


    "What is it," Blue stammered.


    "It''s a human," Kort replied, bleak as a winter''s day. "It''s a fucking human."


    "An Exile?!" The entire group gaped.


    "That''s what I said. You know any other kind of human on this side of the Veil?" Kort tried to lift the mood with a lighter tone, but his face was still grim. He circled the body in the road, jumping at every shifting shadow and errant gust of wind, hammer ready to fall at any given moment.


    No one took their eyes off the human for a second.


    Kort spoke quietly, "It¡¯s alive, and a living breathing Exile means one thing. The Veil is broken. Where there is one there is more. You all know the saying."


    It takes one human to change the world, and two to destroy it.


    There were far more than two of them. The Guild reports had hinted as much before they went ominously silent. The world had ignored them.


    Kort idly pondered how many humans it would take to kill a Goddess.


    "The dwarves remember," he whispered. "The dwarves remember."


    ¡ªBas¡ª


    Sebastian awoke to frantic whispering. He opened his eyes a fraction, trying to gauge his surroundings. He was lying on a sleeping roll inside a thick cloth tent. This was definitely not his bedroom. This dream was so exciting at times, especially when people were talking about him.


    "What didn''t ya tie it up? It could kill us all." The voice was gruff, earthy and undeniably panicked.


    Even hushed as it was, the second person''s words were spoken in a bass rumble that rattled his bones, "If he is a powerful Exile, then he could kill us all, tied up or nae."


    "Then why did ya let it live." Sebastian was liking this dream less and less.


    "Are you so foolish as t¡¯ think this be the only Exile out there. Mark my words, where there''s one, there''s more. Let us hope that Gnur smiles upon us and grants that this one have nae ill will towards us. Besides, this one could not hurt us if he tried."


    "Why are you so sure about that?"


    "I checked his aura while he was out, it was as weak as a newborn child''s." His aura? What was that? Was it related to the buzzing feeling beneath his skin.


    "How do you know he wasn''t suppressing?"


    "If he were strong enough to suppress his aura, he would be strong enough to nae get in such trouble in the first place."


    "If he''s so weak, why are you interested in him? Looking to add another useless member to our all-dwarf team, a non-dwarf at that?" Sebastian felt slightly insulted...


    "You will bite your tongue when talking about Lady Blue, Grimheld," the bass voice rumbled threateningly, then continued in a softer more gentle tone. "And you will bite your tongue about the human, too. He is weak, yes. But he is human. He has potential. We will help him survive, we will help him grow; and when he surpasses us, Gnur-willing, we will have a friend at our side when Tyl''s reckoning comes. Now hush, I will wake him."


    Sebastian quickly closed his eyes as heavy footsteps approached him. He could feel hot breath wash against his face, sweat began to form on his palms. Who was this person?


    The bass voice boomed in his ear, "Stop pretending t¡¯ be asleep, it is a tiresome trick that I have seen far too often, I heard your breathing change just before you woke and came t¡¯ greet you. I hope you enjoyed that little conversation. It was... unexpected."


    Sebastian blinked. Had they planned that conversation? It didn''t matter, there were more important things. Such as the fact he was looking at a stout dwarf with dark black hair covering his face. Not a Tyrion Lannister sort of dwarf. An actual dwarf. And he didn''t look like the friendly kind of dwarf either. This one looked like he could eat metal and shit bullets. He had initially wanted to ask him if he knew Gimli. The ¡®no nonsense¡¯ look convinced him otherwise, what he actually said was.


    "Unnghh."


    The dwarf chuckled, otherwise ignoring the slip.


    "I am Kort, the leader of Acherys'' Dread. I assure you, what you just heard was not staged. We have much t¡¯ gain from helping you and if we wished you dead, you would never have even felt my hammer fall."


    Sebastian could sense Kort measuring him up, trying to get a sense of who he was. The dwarf was incredibly intense and lifelike for a simple figment of his imagination. Oh well, he was obviously more creative than he thought. He abandoned that train of thought, Kort was waiting for him to say something.


    "My name is Seb¡ª," did he really want to go by Sebastian? He had always hated how long his name was. He wanted something short and sweet, but also familiar. He decided upon his go-to moniker when playing online games¡ªalbeit without the long string of numbers attached.


    "Greetings, Kort, my name is Bas. Thank you for helping me in my time of need," Kort gave a shallow nod in acknowledgement.


    "Very well, Bas. I don¡¯t see the need t¡¯ play politics with you, my kind are nae fond of sweet talk and sharpened knives. We will help you and continue to do so, in the hope that one day you will do the same for us. Not out of obligation, but out of friendship. I will nae lie and tell you that it is a fair deal, we stand t¡¯ benefit far more than you, yet it is my hope that you will accept our friendship, all the same."


    Sebast¡ª Bas... was caught off guard, though he shouldn''t have been, not with all the stereotypes about dwarves. The dwarf was surprisingly straightforward, a thoroughly uncomplicated individual with no concern for the protocols of bargaining and a flagrant disregard for social graces. It was a refreshing change to his normal life. This was a person who would keep his word, even if it cost him everything. Most of his friends had been the opposite, happy to share the good times, but little else.


    Bas weighed up his options, feeling Kort''s gaze resting on him like a physical weight. Wordlessly, he extended his hand.


    The gruff dwarf ignored it, instead drawing him forwards into a lung crushing bear hug, clapping him firmly across his back.


    "Welcome t¡¯ Acherys'' Dread."


    Bas struggled like a fly stuck in dwarf shaped amber, weakly flailing against Kort''s armored back.


    Kort eventually released him, letting Bas fall, hacking and coughing, to the ground.


    "Thanks." He said weakly.


    He looked at the tent all around him, it was simple, filled only with a sleeping roll, a large backpack and an oil lamp. After walking for a day and a night, it was the lap of luxury. Yet something was missing.


    "Kort?"


    The dwarf looked at him.


    "Did you, by any chance, find a book near me? It''s important."


    Kort reached into the backpack, drawing out the book reverently. "You mean this tome? We were wondering what it was, we have never seen such a fine work of craftsmanship and try as we might, we could nae decipher a single word or image. Is it a legendary spell-book from beyond the Veil?"


    Bas had to think about that, "Yes, I suppose it is."


    "What does it contain? If you do nae mind sharing your secrets, that is."


    "The answers to all the mysteries of the universe."


    Kort started in shock, scrutinizing Bas, trying to detect some falsehood, and finding none. He looked at the book with newfound reverence and just a hint of greed. The dwarf hesitated for a single second, before gently passing the book to him, as if he were handling a sparrow''s egg.


    For a second, neither moved.


    "I would nae be able t¡¯ read it anyway. And even if I could, I would nae understand it."


    Bas took it in both hands, but Kort held it firm, staring deep into his eyes.


    "Throughout the history of Era, there have been mages that have wielded unfathomable power. Yet they understood so little of this world. I shudder t¡¯ think what even a child such as yourself could do with knowledge of not just the world, but the universe." Without waiting for a reply, Kort released the book and left the tent, letting the flaps swing shut behind him.


    Bas smiled, watching the dark haired dwarf exit. Did wanting to build a magical nuke make him a bad person?


    Probably...

 Chapter 4 - Dial D for dismemberment

    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    Luneil felt a thrill of triumph. It had worked.


    All around him everything, except a single new shoot of grass, was dead.


    The ground had been denuded, only a pockmarked brown wasteland remained. He was buzzing with new mana and Lifeforce. But that was not the source of his excitement.


    He had created something new. Something actually useful, unlike a certain Sylph who kept on shouting random inanities.


    The young shoot wobbled in the breeze like a baby animal finding its legs for the first time. It was a young shoot, barely protruding from the surface.


    Placing the seed below ground had taken a minimal amount of Lifeforce and mana. Accelerating its growth by adding Lifeforce had taken more, but would not be necessary in the future. He had the newly germinated seedling''s pattern now, and creating a new shoot above ground took the same amount of energy as creating a seed and adding the energy later. The main difference was between more mature grass and this young shoot.


    There was a not insignificant gap in mana and Lifeforce between them. If he allowed the sun to provide the energy, he could reap the gains provided later. Literally farming mana and Lifeforce.


    He examined the power his body stored, feeling its fluctuating dimensions within him. Half of it should be enough.


    The barren earth was suddenly coated in a fresh layer of green. Perfect.


    They would be ready in about two weeks and then he could absorb them.


    It was another thing he had discovered. Since he had created them, their mana and Lifeforce was technically his. He could remove all of it at any time he wanted, letting the plants dissolve away. No need to destroy the dirt around their roots anymore.


    He had tried reverse aging a blade of grass by removing mana and Lifeforce in small amounts but it resulted in catastrophic failure as the plant became more and more unhealthy. He supposed it made sense in a way. He could help something develop, but he couldn''t make it age, either forwards or backwards. It might look like a six day old shoot, but in reality it was brand new.


    Zeph slalomed between the new shoots, happily yelling, "Green!"


    Luneil watched her with indulgent annoyance, she was so cute sometimes. He absentmindedly fed her a small parcel of Lifeforce. Ever since his crystal had healed, he was able to exercise greater control, and that extended to funneling energy into a hyperactive Sylph, mid-flight.


    Halfway through the process, he realized what he was doing, but didn''t stop. It was his energy, he could do what he wanted with it.


    He might tear his facets out from time to time at the sheer stupidity of the small creature, but in truth he loved her like a daughter. Anyway, he still felt bad about leaving her on her own for two weeks straight. He had been delighted when she had first spoken. The company and conversation she provided, however limited, filled something inside of him that yearned for companionship. He was not alone.


    He loved her deeply, she was perfect, like all of his creations.


    Luneil focused his attention on a random grass seedling and began pumping Lifeforce into it, this was something he had wanted to test out.


    What would happen if he added more Lifeforce than necessary to something he had created? Not in small to moderate amounts like he had done with Zeph, but in amounts that could be excessive compared to a simple organism like a new shoot of grass.


    He regulated the amount of Lifeforce leaving him, adding in a bit of mana to help smooth out the plant''s adjustment. Its aura swelled, glowing brighter and brighter, becoming tinged with gold as it practically overflowed with power.


    The grass developed drastically, gaining weeks of growth in seconds. Even the significant increase in size did little to dilute the extraordinary brilliance of its overcharged aura, which waxed brighter and brighter as he added more energy to it.


    The grass lost all definition before it suddenly sharpened into focus, literally sharpened, a wicked serrated edge forming along each side. Its hue changed to a deeper bluish green with yellow spots circling its base and extending halfway to its tip.


    Interesting... So what would happen if he added even more?


    Nothing. The aura brightened, once again bleeding a bright blue-gold along the edges, before returning to a normal wispy turquoise.


    Luneil quelled his feelings of disappointment. Things like this happened, it was part of life. Not everything went as expected.


    It wasn''t like he didn''t have other interesting things to look at.


    Like dirt. Or rocks.


    Zeph shrieked, sharp and shrill.


    What is it? I''m coming.


    She had ventured too close to his experiment while he wasn''t concentrating. The long grass was prehensile! It had coiled around her with all of its sharp length, wrapping her fluctuating form in an tightening bundle like a razor sharp constrictor.


    Luneil barely withheld himself from obliterating the murderous grass. He needed to test something out.


    Would his modified grass respond to his commands like Zeph had? It probably had the same level of intelligence...


    He directed a thought at the offending plant.


    Stop, right now. Let her go.


    The whiplike grass almost seemed to direct a baleful glare in his direction, but obeyed his orders, all the same.


    It slowly loosened, releasing a shaken Sylph. Zeph trembled in place, almost seeming to vibrate. She seemed on the edge of tears.


    Don''t touch her again...


    Luneil was not satisfied. Not in the slightest. A killing calm blossomed in his center.


    Actually, no... Kill yourself... Slowly...


    The grass hesitated, then, almost glacially, it stabbed into the earth. Its pointed tip pierced the soil with deadly slowness, targeting its own root system with unerring precision.


    Luneil was quietly amused. He hadn''t meant for it to take his words literally, but the grass was doing just that. Killing itself slowly, very slowly indeed.


    It took an hour for the grass to sever its connection to the earth. Luneil savored every second of its death, until it finally dissolved back into the mana from which it had been made.


    Luneil choked, taking stock of how much Lifeforce he had used to upgrade his grass. He had used almost fifty times more than he had regained from its death.


    Hesitant, he tried to recreate the grass again, using its pattern this time, rather than trying to add mana to a weaker version of it.


    The bloodthirsty grass sprang into being, requiring only slightly more mana and Lifeforce to produce than normal fully matured grass.


    He sighed in relief. He wouldn''t have been able to make a whole field of them if they had cost so much. It obviously required Lifeforce to trigger a change in the grass, but once it had changed he could copy the altered grass'' pattern and replicate it relatively cheaply from then on.


    First things first...


    On no condition will you ever touch Zeph.


    He imprinted the thought firmly on the newly created plant. What else did he want it to do?


    You will gather mana and Lifeforce for me. Kill anything that has not been created by me.


    Perfect. Not only would his basic grass naturally accumulate mana and Lifeforce as it grew, his new species of grass would kill anything that entered his territory gaining him power and new patterns of creatures.


    On the subject of new things, Luneil realized he hadn''t given his new type grass a name. Everything needed a name, how else could he understand the world if he didn''t even know what to call it.


    Razorcoil. Luneil nodded, the name fit well.


    He planted several clusters of Razorcoil within his influence, disguising their somewhat distinctive coloration by adding tufts of normal long grass around them.


    Then, Luneil settled down and waited, watching Zeph staring at unmodified blades of grass out of the corner of her vision, careful avoiding the large tufts. The three moons slowly rose above the horizon, one by one.


    There was something moving. He was certain of it. Its form was camouflaged by the darkness helped hide it, but he could practically taste its succulent aura.


    He wasn''t hungry, but he supposed he would make an exception, especially for something so deliciously novel.


    The creature crept closer, avoiding the range of the stalks Razorcoil by mere inches. For a moment it was illuminated in a patch of moonlight. A carapace glistened darkly over its entire body and it sported a pair of oversized mandibles, poised to slam shut in an instant.


    The beetle plodded forwards, escaping death multiple times. Eventually its luck ran out.


    A questing stalk of Razorcoil struck, looping around the unfortunate beetle''s leg and pulling it into the range of yet more of the modified grass.


    They each seized a struggling leg, their serrated sides biting deep into the waving chitin-covered limbs but otherwise unable to cut straight through.


    Soon the beetle was pinned between multiple tufts of grass, several stalks attached to each of its legs. Slowly the Razorcoil began living up to its name, forming tight loops around the beetle''s weakly struggling legs and wrapping its mandible tight. Whenever the loops shifted and tightened, the edges sawed from side to side, cutting deeper and deeper.


    The coils constricted around the beetle, binding it even tighter while pulling on it from every direction. The insect squirmed furiously, making a valiant effort to free itself from impending doom, trying to rip the Razorcoil from the earth as it shifted its weight from one side to the other.


    But it was not to be, the Razorcoil''s root system anchored it into the ground while the unfortunate beetle was hoisted into the air by the growing tension, its legs splayed wide and immobilized.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The beetle was exhausted and it had given up fighting, now relying on its hardened shell to save it from dismemberment. Its chitinous exoskeleton was tough, Luneil could see the Razorcoil straining, but it was nothing compared to the sheer persistence of the plant world. Grass could pierce the frozen ground in its quest for sunlight and crack stone with nothing but its roots as it searched for water. All it took was time. The Razorcoil had plenty.


    Luneil, on the other hand, was getting bored. He wanted its pattern and its life. He tried planting more Razorcoil to finish the beetle off, however, some property of the beetle''s aura rebuffed his efforts. He could still move mana with relative ease, but moving Lifeforce anywhere in the vicinity of the beetle was like pushing paper through molasses. The energy broke apart, losing all its coherence whenever it neared the struggling insect, flowing back to Luneil as if it had been pushed.


    Something about this insect was more than a simple plant, he checked its aura more closely, but in the darkness it was difficult. It felt stronger, he tried stealing mana from its aura, expecting to be stopped dead in his tracks by some invisible force, once again.


    Mana poured into him. And the beetle still wasn''t dead. Which meant that the large amount of mana he had just received originated solely from the beetle''s surface aura.


    There was so much.


    The beetle''s armor screeched and, exhausted as it was, the insect resumed its futile spasming. Luneil was practically glowing with excitement, the beetle was obviously on its last legs¡ª


    A liquid pop filled the air and one of its legs detached, slowly leaking mana and a greenish liquid. Another pop came immediately after as the Razorcoil that had been wrapped around the detached leg now helped pull another limb off.


    Okay... now it was on its last legs, Luneil corrected. Four to be exact. Pop.


    Pop, pop, pop. The final limbs came off in quick succession, letting the dying beetle fall to the ground, only its mandibles still snared in Razorcoil.


    Luneil waited for the legs to vanish, but nothing happened. He should have their energy by now. Was something stopping them from dissolving into mana and Lifeforce?


    Ahhh... That must be it. There was something stopping the beetle''s Lifeforce from leaving its body, just as there was something stopping Luneil''s Lifeforce from entering the area around the insect. Probably something to do with it still being alive.


    Damn. He would just have to wait for the creature to die.


    Its death was followed by one solid burst of energy and knowledge, almost drowning him in its intensity. The beetle''s pattern was identical to how it was when it was still intact, without any detached limbs. Luneil was pleased by that. Anyway, there was an easy method of pulling off its legs if he really wanted to.


    The actual volume of power he had acquired from it seemed wrong though, it was almost like he had absorbed too much energy. Not that he was complaining, mind you. But the energy he had received from the beetle was enough to make at least ten of them. He hadn''t noticed it with the grass, through inattention or otherwise, but in the beetle the difference was so large it was hard not to.


    Was it something about how its body dissolved when it died?


    Maybe its biomass was also converted into power when it died? That way, he gained its mana capacity as well as the energy of the matter that composed it.


    It made sense, although Luneil was annoyed about being unable to convert matter to mana when destroying inanimate objects like dirt.


    But it also made Luneil wonder. Did that mean that all of his plants and creations, even the small pillar that held him above the crater, were constructs made of mana and Lifeforce?


    If one of his creations left his area of influence would it disintegrate? How could he test it out?


    Much to his shame, his gaze immediately fell upon Zeph, who was silently spinning in place, making herself dizzy and wobbling through the air. He silently reprimanded himself for even thinking such a thing.


    He created a Razorcoil at the very boundary of his domain, with its roots lifted fully out of the earth.


    Drag yourself forward, away from me.


    The plant buried its tip in the soil outside of his domain. Nothing bad happened, although its entire body might have to cross his boundary in order for it to degrade.


    The Razorcoil began to twist and writhe, dragging its body outside. Inch by inch it continued forwards until it fully left his influence. It was alive and healthy... well... as healthy as a plant could be without a buried root system. That is to say, dying.


    Luneil was pleased that his experiment had been successful, it would have been a pain trying to figure out how to allow his creatures to survive outside if they were at constant risk of disintegration.


    Now... how to get it back.


    Come back.


    No response, the Razorcoil just lay there spasming as it wilted. He tried again.


    Come back, please.


    Still nothing, damn.


    Oh well. Such is the price of knowledge.


    At least he had tested it with something expendable before he tried it with something more difficult to replace.


    On the subject of testing...


    The Razorcoil had died a short while ago. Outside of his influence, the spark of Lifeforce had whizzed off somewhere unseen and only a small amount of mana actually diffused back towards him.


    He had found the exact information he had set out to discover, but he was still finding it difficult to be happy about losing one of his creations. It was only a small loss in power, but it still hurt. He had invested something far more than mana and Lifeforce into it.


    He focused on his newest project, namely trying to induce the changes in plants that he actually wanted, rather than letting the changes occur at random, not that the Razorcoil wasn''t a pleasant surprise.


    He had plans and desperately needed a way to implement them.


    So he was instead focusing on his fifth blade of grass, trying to get it to grow in a spiral pattern. Not because spiral grass was useful or anything, but simply as a proof of concept before trying to modify something as energy intensive as a beetle.


    He had achieved a recent breakthrough by ''brushing'' the edges of the grass with Lifeforce in such a way that it would lengthen along that side, causing it to curve in the opposite direction.


    It was an important discovery, if he could determine the location and direction of growth and change, he would have the opportunity to select certain features of a creature he would like to adapt, rather than using the scattershot approach of pumping it full of energy and wishing for the best. Also, he didn''t have the Lifeforce to waste on such a broad-brush approach.


    He spent a few more hours trying to perfect the process before he decided that he had optimized it sufficiently to risk practicing on beetles.


    The first beetle died horribly. He had tried to make its carapace thicker, and it had expanded as Luneil had hoped, the issue was that it expanded on both sides, blocking the flow of a vital greenish fluid within a vital organ along its back, an hollow organ which seemed to help disperse the fluid around its body.


    It wasn''t a complete failure, it was just a matter of adjusting where he placed the Lifeforce. The next time, he permeated the outer carapace with energy, allowing a small amount to diffuse into the tissue below, hopefully to help with expansion of the area to counteract the thickening of the carapace. After that he saturated the entirety of the organ within its back with Lifeforce, isolating the power solely to the fluid. He watched carefully as it was dispersed around the body. Finally, after five tense minutes it had mixed to a level he was satisfied with. The Lifeforce spread out once he stopped isolating it and the beetle began to visibly enlarge, expanding again and again. While this was happening, he manually pushed the diffusing Lifeforce away from certain organs that seemed less important.


    It was a resounding success. At least until the beetle stopped moving as much after several hours. It wasn''t dead, just conserving its energy.


    Luneil didn''t want an inactive beetle, so he absorbed it, comparing its pattern to the smaller one. He puzzled over it for a long time before he finally noticed the issue. In both species there was a series of holes along its body which it could breathe through. Except in the larger one they had not widened, even though the rest of its body had expanded to almost six inches in length and it now had a set of mandibles almost two inches long.


    The fact that the holes had not expanded meant that the beetle was slowly suffocating as it was unable to get enough air. Through some miracle of its biology, the beetle had been able to withstand oxygen deprivation extremely well, but that didn''t change the fact that it was slowly dying. Luneil made the required the changes to its multiple airways and was immediately satisfied with the result.


    The previously lethargic beetle perked up immediately and began scurrying around with reckless abandon, without a care for the Razorcoil that had killed it in its previous incarnation.


    The beetle still had a tiny brain and a small digestive system, but that was irrelevant since it was made out of and sustained by mana and Lifeforce.


    What was important was that his new method had only taken a relatively small amount of Lifeforce to modify it significantly compared to if he had simply flooded it with power and prayed for the best. Luneil was pleased. It wasn''t perfect, the method could really come back to hurt him if he misunderstood something about a creature''s biology. It was a high risk, high reward method, but the dangers were diminished with correct knowledge and accurate deductions. It was a case of the application of knowledge being superior to the application of power.


    All his new creation needed now was a name. He decided on calling it a Blackshell Harvester, and absorbed it for its improved pattern, before replicating it. He promptly set it to work.


    Go out and bring back new plants and seeds for me. If something attacks you, run back here.


    Luneil was getting worried, dawn had come hours ago, but his Harvester hadn''t returned yet. He had hoped that a larger variety of plants would attract greater insect diversity to his influence, garnering a rapid increase in both power and knowledge.


    The absence of his Harvester made such a thing difficult. He would have to keep his next Harvester close to him in the future, even if it hampered his development.


    He didn''t have enough Lifeforce for another one and was now forced to wait two weeks for his grass to grow. It was frustrating, but he only had himself to blame.


    The Harvester hadn''t been properly tested for long term survival.


    Damn thing probably fell down a hole and snapped its legs, Luneil mused bitterly.


    He should have made something with wings. Like those birds that always seemed to come within a stone''s throw of his territory, but never close enough to actually be in any danger.


    He doubted that his Razorcoil could even kill them. The size difference between a bird and a small beetle was just too large.


    A Harvester might be able to do the job, at least it would have been if he had one.


    And he didn''t have the pattern of those worms that the birds seemed to like. He was still lamenting the unfortunate escape of that damn worm. Never in his wildest imaginings did he imagine that the weak and slimy creature would actually be useful in acquiring mana.


    The next time he found one, he wouldn''t let it escape. He had a few new dirty tricks up his sleeve.


    A thought struck him. He didn''t need a worm. He just needed something that looked like one.


    Absorbing the grass within a small area, he created a young Razorcoil that looked as if it had just sprouted and covered it in a small coating of mud to make it look as if it had just emerged from the ground.


    Now all he needed was a Harv¡ª


    Damn. He had forgotten about that. He didn''t have enough Lifeforce for it.


    Although...


    He absorbed all of the plants within his influence, except for the Razorcoil, letting their energies rush into him.


    So close, but still not enough. He only needed a little more. Only a tiny bit more Lifeforce.


    The birds were so close. They might not come by this way for days.


    He had to grow stronger, if not he would always be a pitifully weak crystal, unable to kill a single measly worm.


    But he had no more to give and no more to take.


    Zeph buzzed past him, gleefully shouting his name. Luneil smiled, she was completely oblivious to all of the world''s hardships. He envied her for her happy simplicity.


    Her babbling calmed him. Maybe waiting wasn''t a bad thing. The Harvester might come back any second.


    He could do it the simple way. Grow incrementally. Start off small. Moving slowly from weak to str¡ª


    NO!


    If he was content to settle for a little less each time hardship reared its bloody head, he would soon be left with nothing. It might take months, or even years. But he could still feel the danger of that slippery slope into stagnation.


    But maybe it would be okay. He had Zeph after all.


    He smiled to himself.


    Zeph, my darling, come here.


    It wasn''t really a command, but she came anyway, her form was shifting through multiple shapes composed of bubbles. Luneil guessed that meant she was happy... or full of air.


    Zeph? There''s nothing wrong with letting go of power, right?


    Her bubbles scrunched up into the approximation of a frown. She shook her head, "No."


    Can you help me?


    Zeph whirled around him. "Family! Love!"


    Thank you, my dear. You always know how to ease a father¡¯s troubled heart.


    Luneil burned with frustration, with regret. He knew it was all too good. Nothing good ever lasts forever. This was what letting go felt like.


    I love you so much.


    "Love! Love! Lo¡ª"


    Her mana and Lifeforce poured into him as she disintegrated.


    Self loathing burned within him. He had what he needed. He had done what was necessary.


    He created a new Harvester, giving it a single command.


    Be still.


    Luneil used his mana to heap dead grass on top of it, lacking the Lifeforce to create a single living shoot.


    He felt hollow, as if his soul had been sucked out to produce that final Harvester, in a way it had. He still had a glut of mana, but all his Lifeforce was gone.


    So was she.


    In the middle of a barren circle of earth, a small mud covered blade of Razorcoil began to wriggle.


    Zeph... I''m so sorry.

 Chapter 5 - High elves are not on drugs

    ¡ªBas¡ª


    Bas had begun his training, if you could call carrying Kort''s bag ''training''. He had complained, but Kort had told him, in no uncertain terms, that the only way to develop Lifeforce, was to develop muscle. And developing muscle meant one thing: training.


    So Bas trained, his muscles screaming in agony at the end of each day. He was in naturally better shape than he was in reality, but that was a small solace when he had a massive bag strapped to back. Especially, when Grimheld decided to... help... with his training. Make that two massive bags.


    The two dwarves argued jovially at the front, although their hands were never far from their weapons. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Bas didn''t blame them. Their backs were enviably unburdened.


    Meanwhile, Bas was practically hunched over as he struggled to keep pace with Blue, trying not to fall behind the three other dwarves taking up the rear, Gern, Dirri and Ola. They were a taciturn bunch, often speaking only in half-intelligible grunts, it had taken him half a day to extract their names from them.


    Given the uncommunicative nature of the dwarves behind him, and Kort''s penchant for speeding up whenever he came too close, Bas was limited to conversing with Blue. Not that it was unpleasant, mind you.


    Blue was a wellspring of knowledge on all things adventurous, as was to be expected of a Adventurer''s Guild clerk, and their discussions proved to be particularly informative.


    Bas had found himself on a world called Era, awakening in the wilderness outside the backwater kingdom of Adamer. It was a quiet and secluded place, a vast range of mountains lying between it and the rest of civilization.


    It kept the area safe from invading armies, but it also explained why the area was such a shit-hole.


    You would have to pay someone to invade a place like this, and no one had that kind of money.


    The track was overgrown and, on rare occasions, branched off towards the dilapidated farmhouses of peasants too poor to afford the taxes levied by the nearby kingdom. In Adamer''s defense, it was more a matter of simple greed, the cost of protecting the borderlands from monster incursions was exorbitantly high. And, if some sources were to be believed, the High Pardoner of Valis had run off with the king''s daughter, taking half the royal treasury with her.


    And that brought up the subject of the Pardoners. The battlepriests of a religious order dedicated to their autocrat Goddess, Tyl, the only deity in Era. They maintained power by subjugating the populace with the continual threat of Heresy if they did not comply. And while the aristocrats were generally safe by dint of accumulated wealth and strength, the peasants and artisans suffered far more miserable existences, walking a knife edge between the zealotry of the church and the vicissitudes of the nobility.


    It was remarkably similar to Earth. The powerful did what they could and the weak either moved out of the way or were trampled underfoot. Here it was simply more obvious.


    There were, of course, differences. On Earth there would have been a thousand different religions springing up all over the place. But when a single Goddess had a monopoly on miracles... Bas supposed that unilateral monotheism was only reasonable, especially when it was spread by sword and spell. It was also healthier.


    As Bas had come to suspect, magic was a fact of life in Era. It was categorized according to manipulation of three distinct forms of mana: gaseous, liquid and crystalline, presumably according to the main states of matter. There were further specialties associated with each form of mana, but Blue had glossed over them, seeing his vacant expression.


    From what he did understand, gaseous mana was primarily dedicated to supporting members of adventuring teams.


    Liquid mana was specialized around physical augmentation and therefore tended to be used most often for close combat roles, either absorbing blows or dealing them out.


    Finally, there was crystalline mana, a form focused on casting spells in combat, it was the most versatile, but also the most difficult to learn, often requiring years of training to become proficient in it.


    Then again, he was the summoned hero, which meant he would be a natural prodigy at combat magic, rising in power with a speed equivalent to that of a caffeinated race-car. He decided to bring it up with Kort when they stopped for lunch. The wily dwarf was careful about not giving Bas a chance to return his bags to him or Grimheld.


    "You want t'' do what?" Kort collapsed into a howling heap of laughter. "Oi! Grim, come over here. This lad here thinks he has what it takes to learn the crystalline form of mana."


    Grimheld''s expression remained sober, he gave Bas a quick look up and down, nodding in obvious approval, "Calm yerself down, Kort. I think the youngling might just have what it takes to become a master mage."


    Bas preened at the compliment. Of course, he was the hero of prophecy after all... It was just a matter of time before he ran across an oracle who would fully outline his epic destiny in one massive exposition.


    Kort stared at Grimheld, disbelief written all over his lined face, "Seriously, Grim? You must be fucking kidding me." Kort''s eyes flitted towards Bas, "I mean nae offense by it, lad."


    Grimheld flashed Bas a crafty grin. "With a bit more training, of course," he amended, turning to face Kort directly. "Three bags?"


    Kort chuckled, nodding slowly, "Three bags sounds about right."


    Bas groaned, how was he going to survive this? He hoped this would all be a training montage when he woke up. He did not want to remember this shit.


    "Don''t worry lad, the settlement should nae be far from here."


    It took the rest of the day to reach the settlement. They would be staying in a small inn, just inside of the settlement''s walled perimeter. The rickety palisade was, at best, barely serviceable and had a small gate built into it which couldn''t fully close.


    Any random band of adventurers could strut right into town, as if they owned the place.


    Which was exactly what a certain random band of adventurers did.


    Bas let the three bags slip from his back with a pained gasp as they entered the dimly lit inn.


    He looked around, there were no separate rooms, or even beds, just damp straw pallets laid along the floor, pressed tight against the wall on one side, and rows of tables and benches on the other. There was no one behind the empty bar to greet them. It was as if the inn¡¯s owner had just upped and left.


    Bas shrugged, it was opulent compared to the deprivations of life on the road. There would be no stones poking him through his bedroll tonight.


    "So, Blue," he shuffled round to face the diminutive gnome, his back aching with each movement, "how long do I need to carry these bags to get more Lifeforce?"


    "What?" Blue gave him a funny look, "Who told you that carrying bags would make you stronger? I thought you were just trying to pull your weight. Where would the Lifeforce come from? Putting on muscle?" Blue laughed.


    Bas was not liking where this conversation was heading. It sounded suspiciously like he had been hoodwinked by two bored dwarves.


    Blue continued, "You acquire it by killing other living beings, people or monsters. You can even obtain it by killing plants, but they give a minimal amount of Lifeforce. The only other way is to have it gifted to you by the Goddess. Which won¡¯t happen, unless you become one of her Pardoners or paladins."


    Bas was still irritated at Kort''s little joke, but something wasn''t adding up here.


    "Where does the Goddess get her Lifeforce?"


    "Devotions," Blue stated, as if that explained everything.


    "What are they?"


    "Small tithes of Lifeforce to the Goddess."


    "And you''re saying that she redirects some of that to her Pardoners, to help them grow stronger?"


    "Yes," Blue drew out the word in an irritated expiration, as if she were explaining something obvious.


    Bas thought he''d had it bad with Kort tricking him into carrying three bags. That had nothing on this. His chagrin was rapidly replaced by an abnormally good mood, he let out a mirthful laugh. This dream was getting better by the second.


    Blue looked at him questioningly.


    "Your Goddess is running a pyramid scheme, and you''ve all fallen for it so hard. I thought I was dumb... but this? This is something on another lev¡ª"


    A small blade was pressed against his throat.


    "Blue," he began hesitantly, cautious of the length of shining metal resting on his windpipe, "what are you doing?"


    "What they do. Pick up the bags," she snarled. "Now."


    Bas reluctantly reached for the bags, eyes on the... wait... that''s wasn''t a dagger, it was a shiny metal letter opener. He straightened, "What did you do that for? You¡¯re a fucking psycho, I thought you were going to kill me. Can''t you take a joke?"


    Bas continued ranting for another minute or so. Blue simply stood there calmly, one eyebrow elevated in a dismissive arch. It was the most perfect pissed-off-clerk face possible,


    Bas stopped to take a breath.


    "Finished?" Blue didn''t give him time to answer, "Good. Firstly, what are you shouting for, asshole? It¡¯s only a letter opener. Can''t you take a joke." She looked him in the eye, "Secondly, never judge someone who¡¯s just trying to survive until you know what it''s like to have a knife at your throat. Do you understand?" She enunciated the final sentence clearly, protracting it to an almost absurd length.


    Without waiting for a reply, she kicked him in the shins and stomped off.


    Bas rubbed his lower legs, she had a kick like a weightlifting donkey. He might have deserved that...


    He eyed the departing gnome warily, suppressing a shiver, as she let the door slam behind her. Damn! Guild clerks were scary.


    He nearly jumped out of his skin as a firm hand clapped him companionably on the shoulder. His still-tender back protested at the heavy handed treatment.


    "Nae need t'' worry yourself, lad, gnomes can be a little high strung at times, not entirely your fault. We have just the thing t'' soothe yer aching."


    Oh god... Kort had seen that? He was never going to live that down.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    He turned slowly, his anxiety turning to dread as the dwarves pulled out linen wrapped bottles of amber fluid from their bags, predatory smiles on their faces.


    "I see ya understand the situation, lad. Now come on," Kort grinned, "share a round or six, you helped carry the stuff. It''s only fair."


    He let Kort guide him gently to a bench, too tired to refuse what was obviously a terrible idea.


    "Right on, lad. Put her out of your mind, she''s a big girl, tough as jerky, she''ll be fine. You on the other hand... Let¡¯s just say that we''ll make a man out of ya by nightfall, and a dwarf out of ya by morning."


    He did not like where this was going...


    Sweet baby Jesus... This wasn''t a dream was it? It hurt too bad. He felt like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs were running a mining operation in his skull, with pneumatic drills and dynamite.


    He whimpered slightly. What sort of world didn''t have ibuprofen for times like this? What kind of twisted and sadistic imagination would dream up a world with no painkillers and super-strength dwarven alcohol?


    His throat was drier than an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting''s liquor cabinet, even his eyes felt as if they''d been left out in the sun too long.


    And... Oh god... That was so not good.


    The dwarves were all beaming at him, even Dirri, Gern and Ola. This was worse than he thought. What had he done last night to thaw the perma-frowns of those three?


    Kort helped him up off the floor. Why did his body feel like it was covered in bruises? He examined himself. He was covered in black and blue blotched from head to toe, there were some particularly nasty hand shaped ones located across his back. No doubt, courtesy of a certain black haired dwarf who was now smiling at him with an innocent expression.


    "Rough night, lad? I see you''re up bright and early, unlike the lass o''er there," he gestured towards Blue, who was snoring fitfully, passed out in the corner, "ready for another round?" Kort grinned brightly.


    "Unngh... Another? Hell no. What did you put in the bottle? Dragon piss?"


    "Close enough. That was mana fortified sacchar, you don''t want to know the ingredients."


    "Why would you even want to drink that? That stuff should only be used to clean toile¡­ rust off armor."


    "Only way to get drunk once you reach the higher Ranks of your mana form. Mana heals your body too fast, otherwise."


    Bas wanted to ask about Ranks, but was suddenly aware that his tongue felt like sandpaper. So thirsty... "Help. Water..."


    Kort chuckled, passing a small waterskin, "Sure thing, lad, we''ve all been there."


    He choked as he started gulping down the soothing wetness far too quickly for his own good.


    Kort thumped him on the back, taking the waterskin from his hands. "Take it easy, lad, you just survived drinking sacchar with dwarves... nae need to ruin it now, especially on water. Come on, walk it off."


    Kort bustled Bas out of the door, squinting in the midday sun as they left the darkened interior of the inn.


    A harsh voice split the air, "I told you! I knew I saw an Exile frolicking in the chicken coop last night. And here it is, plain as day, come to kill us all."


    Huh? Chicken coop?


    Frolicking?!


    Kort cursed beside him, "Ah. Sorry lad, I forgot humans were such a big deal round here. You just seemed so normal."


    A threatening murmur broke out as an angry crowd quickly surrounded the inn''s entrance, some members of the mob even going as far as to extend crude weapons in their direction.


    The one who had spoken stood a full three feet ahead of the rest of the crowd. Was that an elf? He looked like one. Pointed ears, a slender build and tapering chin. He was hideous.


    The bone structure on his face was exaggerated to comic proportions. He didn''t look like an elf from any of the movies he had watched.


    His face was gaunt and atrophied, placing emphasis on his protruding cheekbones, jaw and receding hairline. In short, he looked like an elf with a drug addiction.


    It would certainly give new meaning to the name High-Elf. Bas chuckled, despite himself, earning a few glares from the surrounding mob.


    Kort leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Try not t'' antagonize them too much. Jord-elva are a nasty lot. They''re the lowest race of elven races but they still think they''re better than everyone else, since they¡¯re elves and all that crap. Snobby bastards to a fault, nae wonder the Sol-elva have a thing for racial purity. I don¡¯t like them, but I don¡¯t blame them either. Especially when they have them as their cousins."


    The ringleader spoke again, his voice grating against Bas'' ears, "Get out of our town mud-grubber and take your pet human and mud-grubber friends with you."


    Kort''s fists clenched, "This isn''t an elf-only settlement, we''re allowed t'' stay here."


    The elf''s voice was clipped and cutting, "Not when I have to smell you and your filth. Now get the human out of here, before we all end up dead, or do the mighty," he sneered the word, "dwarves have no knowledge of the past."


    Kort relaxed all of a sudden, speaking in a conversational tone, "You can smell me? Really? It must be the goblin blood in ya. Was it your mother or your father?"


    The elf glared at him.


    "Ah, I see, my mistake. It was both, wasn''t it?"


    The elf shrieked, leaping at Kort and drawing a vicious looking dagger from his belt. Kort dodged to the left, moving out of the path of the knife.


    The knife, however, was a distraction. The elf''s hand became sheathed in a layer of glittering turquoise energy, arcing round to deliver a punishing blow to Kort''s unarmored stomach. A wash of fire burst up the dwarf''s chest, burning through his cotton shirt and exposing hard muscle beneath, luminescent aquamarine veins springing into life and light at the point of impact.


    The dwarf staggered backwards, reeling from the blow.


    The elf pressed his advantage, closing in for another strike. It never landed.


    The dwarf whirled in a blur of motion, catching the elf''s forearm in a vice-like grip. The dwarf¡¯s skin took on a distinctive aquamarine tint, veins writhing and glowing with mana suddenly made visible. The turquoise gleam covering the elf''s arm shifted in response, moving to encompass the area enclosed in the dwarf''s fist. Another burst of fire billowed up from it, eating away at even more of the already ruined shirt and leaving behind a smearlike haze. There was no response, except for the tint on the dwarf''s skin intensifying.


    "That," Kort spat, "was my least favorite shirt."


    The elf looked at him in confusion, before his expression gave way to panic as he saw the murderous look in the dark haired dwarf''s eye, the knife he held was forgotten in his terror.


    "And it was still too good for ya." Kort squeezed his fist, veins popping with mana all the way up to his neck.


    The elf''s arm shattered, literally shattered, bursting apart into shards of bloody flesh that steamed with blue vapor in the sunlight.


    Haughty demeanor gone, the disarmed elf tripped over his own feet in an effort to escape the dwarf-shaped thundercloud that loomed over him.


    Kort stepped forwards menacingly, the whimpering elf scrambled backwards in fright using his arm to propel himself.


    Kort reached down deliberately, snatching away the knife that was still dangling loosely out of the elf''s only remaining hand.


    He hefted it, testing the weight and balance, looking at it speculatively.


    Then, he turned, speaking softly, "Bas, why don''t you come over here?"


    Bas hesitated.


    "Now!" The voice carried an irresistible aura of command, honed by decades of leadership and adventuring.


    The dwarf pressed the knife into his palm, Bas could feel the warm wet stickiness of the elf''s blood, still clinging to the handle.


    "Kill it."


    Bas didn''t move, the elf might not be real, but he still had morals.


    "Stab the bastard," Kort roared.


    Bas jolted in terror at the dwarf''s screamed command, his hands moving without his consent.


    He bent down and gripped the squirming elf behind the neck. This wasn''t real, this wasn''t real, it was just a dream.


    Still, the tip of the knife hovered at the elf''s neck, moving no further.


    "Stab the fucking elf, or do you need me t'' do it for ya." Kort bellowed, his head pressed right next to Bas'' ear.


    The hand holding the knife jerked, as if of its own volition, redness bubbling up out of the wound it had created. It wasn''t real. The elf wasn''t real.


    He pulled the knife out of the wound, tossing it away in disgust. He wasn''t going to do it. Kort could scream at him all day.


    Kort remained silent.


    The elf began to sputter and spasm. The knife had previously stemmed the flow of blood from the wound; now, in its absence, squirts of crimson fountained eight inches up into the air before pattering against the parched earth with each failing heartbeat.


    Bas looked around, the mob had vanished once the violence had begun in earnest, losing their taste for blood when it was theirs being spilled.


    Only a young Jord-Elva maiden remained, her features, which might have been described as pretty, were marred by a large burn across the side of her face.


    "What do we do now?" she asked. "Jolel was the strongest guard here."


    Bas wanted to beg her forgiveness, but he didn''t know what to say, guilt blazed through his body. He could barely even breathe. This wasn''t real.


    Kort came to his rescue. "Don''t rely on a thug t'' defend you."


    Which was not quite what Bas had in mind when he thought of the word ¡®apology¡¯. The young elf, however, simply nodded and walked away.


    Kort placed a hand, the marginally less bloody one, on his shoulder. "I know what you''re feeling, lad. I truly do."


    Bas said nothing.


    "You come from a different place. But out here..." Kort trailed off, searching for the right words as he gestured expansively with his hands, "There is no rule of law out here. This settlement belongs to no kingdom or Goddess. I doubt a Pardoner has ever set foot here. The law is one of strength alone; the elf broke it by attacking us. He came looking for violence and violence found him."


    "So why didn''t you kill him? Why make me do it?"


    "You''ll know any second now." Kort replied cryptically. "The elf doesn''t have much time left."


    The elf''s spasming had calmed to a gentle, almost peaceful, twitching. A blue veil misting over his body before it dissipated.


    An epicenter of electric tingling began in his chest, escalating to an indescribable buzz a thousand times more intense than the throb of mana beneath his skin. Lifeforce.


    Then it was gone, but the ever-present pulsing had shifted somehow, it felt more.


    Kort spoke again, "You need t'' grow stronger, I made you a promise. If you don''t, you''ll die. You saw it for yourself, a mob like that doesn''t assemble just to run someone out of town. The Jord-elva don''t work like that, they''re a degenerate half breed race between the Mani-elva and Sol-elva, and as rotten as both race¡¯s vices combined. They believe honor should be given to them, but pay no thought to its reciprocation. They would have killed you the second you turned your back, as is their way. We can talk later, but first, let''s get you cleaned up."


    Kort pressed a bloodstained hand against his back to steady him, then led him back into the dark inn.


    Blue was awake, looking worried, but no worse for wear. "What happened? We heard fighting, but Grimhled said that you could handle a few villagers."


    Kort answered her cheerily, pride in his voice, "Bas here killed his first rat. Some Shiner Variant of the crystalline form, middling Rank II, attacked us. Likely thought knowing the pattern for fire made him a big deal, fucking amateurs like that are always trying to scoop easy gains in power... and paying for it."


    Blue scowled at him. "Do you know how irresponsible it was for you to drag him into that mess of yours. I know you started it, don''t think I don''t see what''s left of your shirt. Why didn''t yo¡ª"


    She cut herself off, eyes darting between Kort and Bas, before fixing the dwarf with a glare that made him wilt under its vehemence. "Kort, how could you..." Blue seemed to realize she had already hinted at too much, "We are going to have a long talk, in private."


    Blue was right, she had said too much, the gears in Bas'' head were already turning.


    Kort''s liquid mana vastly augmented his strength, but Bas knew from experience that it also improved his senses. Kort had heard him waking up just before he had first talked with him...


    So why hadn''t Kort heard the crowd outside, or Jolel''s search for a human? Unless he had, and pushed him through the door, anyway. Out into the hands of the mob.


    Was it Kort''s fault that there was now a dead body on the ground outside? Had Kort lied to him? It was no secret that Kort didn''t like the Jord-elva... but... to call them rats? There was something sinister in that choice of words.


    Could he trust Kort at all? His first impressions might have led him astray. The dwarf was obviously not as straightforward as he had assumed.


    Yet, Kort''s claims of altruistic selfishness seemed to hold true. He was certainly interested in helping Bas gain power, even if only to reap the rewards later on. He had stated as much, several times in fact.


    He had even demonstrated it. Bas suppressed a shudder.


    But that didn''t mean that Kort''s methods for doing so were either moral or principled.


    Kort had dedicated himself to growing Bas'' power. He had orchestrated a situation that left Bas stronger and a person dead. Perhaps even the choice of settlement had been carefully selected in the hopes of provoking exactly this scenario. After all, Kort hardly seemed the type to indulge in the luxury of a roof over his head. After all, he had a tent and a helmet, and had stated as much. What more could a dwarf need?


    It seemed a pretty damning conclusion, especially considering how Kort had gotten him drunk on sacchar. Had that been deliberate too?


    Bas wasn¡¯t sure, all he knew was that he had been played like a fiddle... no... a triangle¡ªthe most pathetic musical instrument of all...


    A person was dead, all because Kort had made a promise. To make him stronger.


    Kort would do anything to keep his word and his word had cost a man his life.


    Urgghh, why did this have to be so complicated. He believed Kort.


    He just didn''t trust him.


    Not anymore.

 Chapter 6 - Angry birds?

    ¡ªCorvus Corax¡ª


    The raven approached the worm, hopping cautiously towards it.


    As it entered the barren circle of earth it flared its wings, preparing to flee. There had been a disturbing shift in the air, one that screamed danger to its primitive mind.


    However, the sight of the mud covered worm emboldened it.


    The raven glanced warily around itself. No predators were in sight, only a small heap of dead grass.


    It stared at the pile, sensing something amiss in its unnatural stillness.


    But it was hungry, despite the vast bounty of grass in the surrounding hills, the area was remarkably devoid of life. After all, ravens couldn¡¯t eat grass.


    So hungry¡­


    It threw caution to the wind.


    With a couple of rapid hops, the raven closed the distance, neck flexing downwards, pecking at the wriggling form to expose...


    ...grass?


    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    Kill!


    The Harvester lunged, mandibles snapping shut around the raven''s torso.


    Luneil whooped at the success, practically salivating in anticipation of the upcoming glut of Lifeforce and mana. Not to mention that the raven''s pattern would allow it to gather plants more easily and at a greater distance. No more disappearing Harvesters.


    The raven labored into the air with strained wingbeats, despite its unwelcome payload.


    Luneil watched as it reached the edges of his domain, the Harvester still latched onto the raven.


    A worrying thought struck him.


    Bring the bird back to me, alive if possible.


    He sighed in relief, if the Harvester had left his influence without any commands, it might not have returned.


    With a final frantic flap, the raven crossed the threshold of Luneil''s domain out into the world beyond.


    Then, slowly, Luneil watched it descend below the other side of the hill. Unable to sustain its flight for long due to the Harvester clinging to it.


    Luneil was aware that once the raven finally landed, its exhaustion combined with the Harvester¡¯s attacks would be a death sentence. He just hoped the death sentence would be executed in his territory. He needed all the power he could get, no matter how small or inconsequential.


    While he fixated on the top of the hill, Luneil thought about Zeph. It had been necessary, but he still felt some pangs of guilt. He would reconstitute her as soon as possible. Some part of him knew that loneliness would kill him before hunger ever would.


    He waited anxiously for the Harvester to bring the bird back to him. He cursed his crystalbound form for its immobility. If he had legs, like most other creatures, this would be far easier.


    He couldn''t even create a creature to help lift him, given the dire state of his Lifeforce reserves, he would be hard-pressed to create a living blade of grass.


    Then again, he still had mana. Which meant he could create inanimate objects. And the fact that he was a perfect sphere gave him an advantage. He could roll.


    The only issue, was that he wanted to go uphill.


    Luneil thought he had a solution. It might be difficult, but he could probably manage it. After all, he was just wasting time waiting for the Harvester.


    He filled in part of the moat-like crater around his raised pillar of earth.


    Creating three small walls around him, leaving his path uphill open, he then created a wedge-like chunk of stone above and slightly behind him.


    It fell, brushing against his edges and helping push him up the hill as he repeated the same construction around him. Inching his way up towards the top of the slope, he ignored the grass that had come within reach. He had other priorities, namely the dying raven waiting for him on the other side of the hill.


    He rolled regretfully onwards, lamenting the loss of the Lifeforce beneath and all around him, feeling the thunk, thunk, clink of small wedges of rock ricocheting off his body as they pushed him forwards and upwards. He was no longer bothering to make walls around him to help push him in the right direction. He had gotten the hang of the method behind his movement and was making good headway towards the top of the hill, in spite of its imposing size.


    Luneil crested the hill after several minutes and almost ran into his Harvester and the still struggling raven. He stopped his momentum by creating a small hole in front of him. Then, he took in the life and death battle taking place.


    The Harvester was winning, sort of.


    Its carapace was gouged and scored in numerous places by the raven''s sharp beak, but the sturdy armor along its back had not been penetrated.


    The grass behind it was flattened from where it had dragged the raven uphill.


    However, it could go no further. Even though it held the bird in a death grip, the canny raven had managed to peck off two of the Harvester''s legs on the same side of its body.


    Unable to move much further with two legs missing, the Harvester had hunkered down, folding its remaining legs beneath its body as it clung to the raven and waited for the bird to die.


    Both beetle and bird were locked in a desperate struggle, one to break free, the other to fulfill its creator''s orders.


    The beetle was a simple creature, unable to form conscious thought without the intervention of its master''s commands. However, Luneil was here now and while the creature would have, no doubt, subdued the bird, the Dungeon Core''s input would be invaluable in accelerating the process.


    Bear down on the raven, force it to the ground.


    The Harvester complied and the raven was shoved into the ground with a squawk of pain and indignation.


    When I command you to do so, release the bird''s body and crush its neck instead.


    Slowly the Harvester''s back legs unfolded, leveraging its abdomen upwards and forcing the bird in the mandibles'' grip further into the ground. The raven squawked again.


    Now!


    The Harvester''s jaws unlatched, leaving the raven stunned on the ground for a crucial second. Surprised by the sudden release, it made no attempt to escape.


    That second was all it had. The raven twitched as the mandibles slammed shut around its neck, cutting off vital circulation and knocking it unconscious within seconds.


    Luneil was stunned by the speed of the raven''s incapacitation. When blood-flow to its brain was blocked, it had fallen unconscious extremely quickly.


    By comparison, the Harvester had far more endurance and was able to survive oxygen starvation for longer periods of time.


    The beetle''s mandibles, however, were less than perfect. They were blunt tools, fit for the purpose of crushing and holding, however, unlike the raven''s beak they could not stab or slash.


    Also, the beetle had no wings, which was a disadvantage since Luneil''s domain extended in all directions, including upwards. Just like him, his Harvesters were earthbound, unable to take to the air and move through the open sky.


    The raven was almost dead, but Luneil wanted to examine it in order to see the damage his Harvester had done more closely. Soon, the raven breathed its last.


    As the bird''s Lifeforce and mana began to flow into him, Luneil exerted his will. Demanding that the once-living body within his influence not disintegrate into energy just yet.


    The power he received was incredible. Not overwhelming, but certainly delectable in the extreme. Luneil couldn''t wait to absorb its body and memorize the raven''s pattern.


    Luneil reassimilated the wounded Harvester, regaining a portion of the Lifeforce and mana he had used to create it.


    Then, using the recovered power with a fragment of the raven''s divested Lifeforce, Luneil recreated the Harvester in perfect condition.


    Drag the raven closer.


    Turn it left...


    No. The other left.


    The Dungeon Core carefully examined the raven''s side, reconsidering his evaluation of the beetle''s mandibles. The skin and feathers where the Harvester clamped down had been shorn away, leaving a patch of flesh that had been rubbed raw, oozing small drops of blood and a clear shiny liquid. Beneath the raven''s fleshy covering, its ribcage was bent and splintered, unable to fully withstand the force of the Harvester''s jaws.


    Luneil glanced at the Harvester with renewed appreciation, pondering whether he should make it bigger. It was probably better to wait until he had the raven''s pattern.


    First, however, there was a debt he had to repay.


    He brought up a familiar pattern, channeling Lifeforce and mana into it.


    Her body formed, as if out of solid air, misting into being. Her figure shifted faster and faster until she blurred into being.


    As Luneil added more Lifeforce to her than he had ever done before, Zeph''s whirring form began to fluctuate even more rapidly, if such a thing were possible.


    Intrigued at the result Luneil infused her with the remaining Lifeforce he had obtained from the raven''s death. For a second, he considered converting the raven''s corpse into energy in order to fuel further development, but he decided to wait.


    He had filled her with more Lifeforce than he had ever done before, and now, interesting changes were occurring.


    Zeph''s continual metamorphoses were slowing down. Soon, she was only shifting once per second, each chosen form far more considered and refined than those of her previous incarnation.


    "Hello, Luneil." Zeph''s voice was neutral and measured. She sounded cautious; jaded, even. "I see you''ve gotten on well without me." He felt a pang of guilt. Zeph had grown up.


    She moved around slowly, with the stately bearing of a breeze, testing her upgraded form.


    Luneil simply watched her, a bittersweet feeling soothingly aching away at his center.


    "This body is... suitable, I guess. However long it may last." Her words were half acknowledgement of her new form, half remonstration. "It''s good to see you again," Zeph added, hesitant.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Zeph waited for a response. After a while it became clear that she wasn''t going to take silence for an answer.


    Do you forgive me?


    "No," the Sylph stated, matter-of-factly, "I''m going to be holding what you did over your head for a long time."


    Luneil was silent for a second.


    I think I preferred you when you were stupid.


    "Me too, Luneil. Me too. But life got in the way... death, I suppose." She shook her head, her shape-shifting approximating a feeling of wistful longing. "Do you plan on killing me again?"


    Luneil almost answered immediately, intending to say that he would never repeat his actions, but he sensed the question was more important than it initially appeared. He opted for the truth.


    I don''t intend to, but I will if necessary.


    Zeph gave him a long look, "I can live with that. But remember, Dungeons far more ancient than you have annihilated themselves out of loneliness. Don¡¯t think you¡¯re any different."


    I can survive a little solitude.


    "Is that what you think, Luneil? I¡¯ve watched you, and people just like you, for centuries. My kind have long memories, even in this reduced state I still remember my creator. What do you remember Luneil?


    "I know everything about you. I remember how you used to stare out of the window, wondering how long it would take you to hit the ground. Four seconds and a fourth.¡± She stated, ¡°Then, once your bones had healed, you would do it again. But you don''t even remember how loneliness can break a person, do you? All you know is that you are strong enough to kill a raven... badly." Zeph gave the cooling corpse a dismissive snort.


    "If you want power, I can help you find it, that is my purpose. I can help you act like a proper Dungeon. And if you don''t, there''s always someone happy to take your power from you. There''s nothing wrong with letting go of power, right?"


    And if I don''t want your help?


    "Then, once again, you will die as you lived: hated and alone."


    I definitely preferred you when you were dumb.


    "Tough." Zeph said, "Now, do you plan on rejecting my help?"


    Only if you lecture me again.


    "Lovely. Now absorb the bird." She commanded.


    Luneil did as ordered. The power rushed into him in an unending flood, submerging him in its energetic euphoria. He could feel the pattern of the raven as it entered his consciousness. And then, all too soon, the unending rush of energy... ended.


    What now, O great and mighty Zeph?


    "Now?" Zeph mulled over the question, "Now, you stop being a smartass. Then, once you''ve spent a few years meditating over your inadequacies, we can finally get to the part where you''re a tolerable person to be around... Or, we can skip the meditation and you just do what I say."


    Yes, ma''am.


    Zeph eyed him carefully, trying to detect the sarcasm in Luneil''s tone. Her form shifted into a shrug, "Recreate the raven." It wasn¡¯t a request.


    An avian body, covered in midnight-blue feathers, began to take shape as Luneil siphoned mana and Lifeforce into it. It¡¯s aura began to surge into its full glory.


    "Good, it should be able to sustain itself." Zeph paused, as if trying to bring a distant memory to the forefront of her consciousness, "I remember the Lifeforce arrangement for a Dire Raven. That is, if you want to create one?"


    What''s that?


    Zeph spoke insultingly slowly, "A big raven."


    Heh. Sure, sounds good. Luneil projected.


    Zeph didn''t answer, her body already starting to change into a new arrangement.


    She began to resemble a raven, composed of wispy lines that seemed to dissipate and reform in the same fraction of a second. Each strand had a unique thickness and position. The wings, beak and talons seemed to be almost opaque blocks of smoke, while other parts such as the heart and bones had less defined, but still significant, patterns running through them.


    A voice emanated from inside of the smoky replica of the raven. "Use Lifeforce to replicate this pattern inside of it."


    Luneil gaped at the detail on Zeph''s representation, hurriedly weaving veins of Lifeforce through the raven according to Zeph¡¯s specified pattern.


    The bird swelled, the edges of it''s feathers became tinged with white and its claws extending into wicked points. Seeing the successful result, Zeph gave an airy sigh of relief as she returned to her usual fluctuating form.


    After being quickly absorbed for its pattern, and subsequently recreated, the newly evolved Dire Raven flapped its reinforced wings experimentally, before launching into the air with a jubilant squawk, traversing the inside edge of his domain in lazy circles.


    Noticing the Harvester still standing about, Luneil directed it to uproot the grass within his influence. Might as well try and eke out as much power as he could acquire. He never knew when he could make use of it.


    Next, with his remaining Lifeforce, Luneil created three more Dire Ravens.


    What was the plural noun for them, again? Multiple crows were a murder... and wasn¡¯t a group of ravens an unkindness?


    Which was unfortunate. Whereas a murder of crows sounded threatening and intimidating, an unkindness of ravens was just... pathetic. Somewhere on the same scale as being mauled by a butterfly.


    He settled for calling them a flight, instead.


    Luneil addressed his newly dubbed flight of Dire Ravens, giving them their orders and watching as they took to the sky.


    Zeph piped up, "This is completely irregular. I wasn''t going to say anything, but you keep on breaking with tradition. You should be creating a Dungeon complex, not sitting on the top of a hill, and you definitely should not be sending your protectors away from yourself. You''re just begging to be..." Zeph broke off, eyeing the trail of flattened grass which showed Luneil''s path. "How did you even get up here anyway?"


    I rolled.


    "Uphill?!"


    What''s so odd about that? Luneil couldn''t resist goading her.


    Zeph didn''t answer, shaking her head as she examined the crushed and broken grass.


    Would you like me to show you?


    "There must be something wrong with you."


    Now that was just rude... Luneil shrugged, ego definitely not bruised in the slightest. Ignoring the Sylph, he instead watching with anticipation as several black specks streaked towards him, moving at breakneck pace.


    They hurtled closer, their indistinct shapes resolving into a furiously flapping flight of Dire Ravens, each carrying a struggling object in the talons. Each DireRaven held a bleeding captive in their claws. The first had a large mouse trapped within a cage of long sharp nails, the remaining three had small songbirds.


    "Oh, good. Your ravens are back. Wait... Why aren''t they slowing down? What are you up to Luneil?" Zeph sounded on the verge of tears. Accustomed to the rigid and systematic traditions of countless of millenniums of Dungeons, the shock of the unfamiliar was unnerving to her. Especially when the first creature landed.


    Thud.


    The mouse impacted the ground at full speed. Thud, thud, thud. The remaining flight followed suite, dropping their songbird payloads within his territory. The stunned birds splattered against the ground in a spray of gore and bloodied feathers, before they could even spread their wings to halt their descent.


    "Stop! Stop this right now! Why can''t you just be normal for once." Zeph was hysterical. This was all too much for her.


    All four creatures dissolved into energy and knowledge, immersing him in oceans of ecstasy and enlightenment. He was submerged under a tranquil swell of utmost bliss and¡ª


    "Are you even listening to a word I''m saying?" Zeph shrieked, face pressed against his side.


    What the... Can''t you just let me enjoy the good feelings?


    "Power junkie," Zeph muttered, under her breath.


    I heard that.


    "Good."


    Luneil ignored the retort, he began creating a weave of grass below him.


    "What are you doing?"


    He continued to wordlessly create a small net of grass beneath him. He checked the Harvester, seeing that it had finished uprooting all the grass within his influence.


    "What is that for?"


    Luneil remained silent, this wouldn''t take long and Zeph''s surprise would be priceless.


    The mana and Lifeforce from the grass flowed into him, but Luneil was so accustomed to the vast influxes from larger and more mobile creatures that he barely even noticed it, except in passing. Instead, he created three flights of four Dire Ravens.


    He reabsorbed his Harvester and ordered one flight of Dire Ravens to arrange themselves evenly around him.


    Zeph was glaring at him, annoyed by his secrecy.


    Luneil gave another command and the birds hooked their talons around loops in the grass net.


    Turn towards those mountains in the distance and fly together on my mark.


    Luneil prepared himself to go where no Dungeon Core had ever gone before.


    Now. The rest of you, follow.


    Zeph''s jaw dropped, literally dropped, fading into wisps of smoke that were assimilated back into her body. "No, no, no! You''re meant to go underground, not over it. Come back right this instant! Don''t make me chase you."


    Luneil made her chase him. The Dire Raven''s wingbeats were slightly unsyncronized, leading to a jolting and unpleasant flight. Surprisingly, however, that was rectified by a single command. Within only a short period of time, the Dire Ravens were flying in perfect unison, with only the occasional thermal or strong gust disrupting his smooth ride.


    From time to time, a flight of Dire Ravens would swoop down to retrieve a struggling creature that would be torn apart mid air when they returned to his side.


    The extra energy was good, but it was even better to be leaving this grass filled desert


    Luneil had recognized that the grassy hills he resided on were devoid of most life, with the exception of the grass itself. There were few animals here, except for the occasional bird passing by.


    It could have been a variety of things, he wasn''t certain. From the way the grass seemed to leech toxins from the soil and incorporate it into its blades and roots. Or perhaps it had something to do with how the few animals living there were extremely sensitive to changes in mana, as his first raven had been when it entered his domain.


    The poisoned grass would limit his growth by killing off any large animals in the area, and most small ones as well. The raven¡¯s sensitivity to mana hinted at some unseen threat with the ability to manipulate mana lurking in the area.


    He decided to ask Zeph who had finally caught up with him. She seemed to be in a more mellow mood, the wind rushing around her was soothing after spending so long being pent up in fusty underground cave systems. Luneil had a feeling she wouldn¡¯t complain too much about any future flights


    "It could be anything. Another Dungeon Core nearby, or simply Minor Ifrits absorbing too much mana and causing wildfires. There are hundreds of creatures that can produce flame, thousands if you include all those that have been modified by Dungeon Cores."


    Could you show me how to make them?


    "I only know the pattern of a few, Dungeons tend to only use a small range of creatures, and all of them require knowledge of how to create and incorporate Arcane Foci into your creatures. You''ll never be able to get one of those until you settle down and form your own Dungeon complex, you''re not an adventurer after all."


    What are Arcane Foci?


    "An Arcane Focus is a magical catalyst, allowing bound mana to be converted into one of its subtypes, such as air mana, life mana or time mana. You need a specific Arcane Focus for each subtype of mana, and some are rarer than others. Some schools of thought even class Dungeon Cores as a type of Arcane Focus."


    Interesting. And what''s bound mana?


    "There are many types of mana, the most basic of which is bound mana. This is produced in living creatures by Lifeforce, which is the ''soul'', for want of a better word. When their bodies become oversaturated with bound mana, it is released into the outside world where it forms the aura and proceeds to dissipate throughout all of Era. Mana that is not bound to a creature or Dungeon is called ''free mana''."


    Free mana must have been the motes of mana that he had been consuming in his early days. It didn¡¯t give much of a yield. So little in fact, that, upon reflection, Luneil realized that he had simply stopped harvesting it from the air.


    He decided to rectify that immediately, absorbing free mana from the air as he flew, his continual motion always bringing him into contact with areas of untapped free mana. It wasn¡¯t much, but it all added up. He had great plans, after all.


    Luneil looked at the ground below, they were nearing the foot of the mountain; a continuous, slowly rising slope reaching up towards an unbroken spine of mountains stretching as far as he could see. As he looked up he began to appreciate their truly gargantuan scale, each mountain terminating in jagged snow covered peaks that glinted in the sunlight, joined by high passes.


    Far to his left he saw a deep gouge in the side of a mountain that felt almost familiar, hundreds of armored figures picking through the disturbed dirt and rubble. He thought he could discern one of the armored men look up and point towards him, but he couldn''t be certain.


    It wasn''t an issue, the distance between them was large and littered with obstacles that had to be traversed. Such things were of little concern to Luneil, by dint of his current aerial transportation. For a person in full armor? The situation was completely different.


    Regardless, the armor plated figure continued to watch him until Luneil passed behind the shoulder of a mountain and faded from sight. Luneil relaxed, unaware until that moment of his anxiety. Something about those men made his facets crawl.


    But enough of that. He was here to explore.


    Luneil examined the area closely, it seemed far more suitable than the grassy hills. Even through the thick brush and occasional misshapen tree, he could see the plentiful forms of animals prowling through the vegetation.


    It was a good place to make his new temporary home. However, the figure in armor had worried him. He didn''t want to be found, especially not by someone who might be able to bring a small army with him. It was best to keep on going.


    So, instead, Luneil flew through a small mountain pass that opened into the side of a surprisingly wide and level valley that stretched all beyond and below. Sitting in the center of the spacious valley was a picturesque river gushing gently down between small boulders and fertile meadows. Trees dotted the sides, clinging to the gently rising slope. Small herds of deer moved through the fields wildflowers and gently swaying mountain grasses.


    Luneil ordered the Dire Ravens to slow down. He wanted to appreciate the sight for a moment longer.


    He watched as small fish leapt from the river, before splashing back into the fast moving waters.


    He could even hear the shrill whistling squeaks of marmots as they scurried between their holes.


    It was a beautiful and unique place. A location of unrivalled splendour and subtle majesty that teemed with countless species all working in synchrony to comprise and maintain this incredible habitat.


    Now... How could he kill all of the poor innocent creatures with the most efficiency?


    Their patterns and power were his for the taking.

 Chapter 7 - No... It doesnt taste like chicken

    ¡ªBas¡ª


    "That''s right," Grimheld growled in approval as Bas aimed the borrowed crossbow. The dwarf reached out a meaty hand, steadying the crossbow¡¯s shaking stock, adjusting the aim slightly and infusing a small amount of gaseous mana into the bolt, which began to iridesce with acquired energy.


    The infused mana would help increase the damage that the bolt dealt, disrupting the target''s internal mana flow. It was a hallmark advantage of the gaseous mana form''s Skirmisher Variant, one which Grimheld utilized to its fullest extent, even if he wasn''t the one depressing the trigger lever.


    "Ya look good to go."


    Bas hesitated, the memory of his first kill burning through him.


    He fired anyway. Just as Grimheld had taught him to.


    The bolt hit the springglider in its muscled hindquarters, causing it to reflexively leap into the air with a pained bleat. The involuntary contraction of its powerful leg muscles around the projectile elicited a second, protracted, bray of agony from the hapless predator as its blood began to water the thirsty earth from above.


    At the height of its leap, the springglider spread its three uninjured legs wide. A translucent cloak-like membrane billowing out like a sail between its razor-tipped limbs. Its descent slowed as the membrane caught the wind.


    Grimheld called out to the rest of the party behind him, "He''s all yours Ola, just keep him alive for the boy. The kill''s his, as it should be." He turned to Bas, grinning as he rested a spade-like hand on his shoulder, "Nice shot, kid. Just like an amateur expert."


    Bas frowned. That sounded suspiciously like an insult.


    His train of thought was interrupted as a dwarf shaped blur streaked past him, braided pigtails streaming behind her. It was Ola.


    Bas looked closer, noticing how the muscles of her legs bulged with blue as she blazed past at speeds that were superhuman. And simply absurd for a dwarf. Ola would leave an Olympic sprinter eating her dust, and then choking on it again as she came round for the next lap.


    She was accumulating liquid mana in her heart, airways, joints and muscles. Boosting her speed and endurance to an insane degree. She closed in on the springglider, readying to pounce on it when it landed for its next leap. The springglider was fast, but Ola was faster.


    As a Daggerdancer Variant of the liquid mana form, Ola had none of Kort''s legendary Brawler strength or durability. It didn''t matter. Kort could take hits for days on end, Ola would simply be gone when the hits landed.


    Grimheld chuckled as he saw Bas¡¯ expression. "That could be you one day, if ya do what must be done."


    Kort jogged past, "Are you ladies coming? Or are you just going t'' stand around nattering all day?"


    Bas'' jaw clenched. He really wanted to punch the dwarf in the face after the stunt he had pulled. But he would just break his fist. Skin and bones that had been reinforced by liquid mana were no laughing matter. They weren¡¯t good for hitting either.


    Bas honestly had no idea how Blue could smack the dwarf without shattering every bone in her small body. He might need to ask her for lessons on her technique.


    Grimheld placed a calming hand on his back, "Simmer down, now. Simmer down. Let''s get going. Don''t want to make Ola wait too long, she might eat yer kill... raw."


    Bas let his anger drain out of him. Kort had put him through hell, back at the settlement. The only satisfying resolution, barring the increase in power, was that Grimheld had taken over his instruction and training. Kort was keeping a careful distance, held at bay by three feet of gnomish mild disapproval.


    Grimheld was right, it wasn''t good to hold onto anger. Which didn''t mean that he wouldn''t beat the shit out of Kort for what he had done, once he was able to. "Asshole dwarves," he grumbled.


    "I heard that." Grimheld said wryly.


    Shit... "Sorry."


    "No harm in the truth, kid. If ya ever call me a duergar, though, I''ll bunch ya into a bellows and beat ya like a drum."


    Bas decided it might be a good time to jog away from the psycho dwarf.


    The psycho dwarf was faster. And very talkative.


    "You two lovebirds took your time," Kort yawned as he helped Ola pin the struggling springglider onto its back. They had slashed the membranes between its limbs, stopping it from gliding far, but that didn''t mean it couldn''t still jump like a gnome in a dark alley.


    Bas was about to reply, but Grimheld beat him to the punch, "Fuck off, Kort. Ya literally just got here. Anyway, Dirri, Gern and Blue aren''t here yet." He gestured behind him.


    Kort looked mollified at the thought of more victims. He turned to Bas, "C''mon, lad." He tilted his head towards the subdued springglider, "You do the honors. Would have taken Ola hours t'' catch this beauty without that shot of yours. There''s a knife in my boot." He wiggled his foot in what he thought was an alluring manner.


    Bas approached slowly, Grimheld spurring him on with a motion of his hand and a curt nod.


    Bas reached for the dagger.


    And his hand froze. It was the same vicious looking blade that the dead Jord-elva had once wielded. Sure, it was clean and shiny now, but...


    When had Kort picked it up?


    Ola noticed his hesitation, "Gods dammit, Kortvalund. You know how springgliders are when they get some lift. The kid saved us hours of chasing down dinner and you had to be an ass about it."


    Bas was stunned by the torrent of words from Ola, a sudden oasis of speech in a silent desert. Maybe she was warming up to him? He almost laughed at hearing Kort''s full name.


    Kortvalund. Who would have guessed? He even sounded like an ass.


    Ola beamed at him, "Come on, darling. Don''t be bashful. I''ve got plenty of daggers on me, take your pick." With one hand, she lifted the long blue tunic sitting on top of her chainmail, exposing a veritable arsenal of knives and daggers so numerous that they would set off an unpowered metal detector back on Earth.


    As he selected a knife, a simple blade with sharp edges and clean angles, Bas thought about Earth. He hadn''t thought about it for a while now and his conviction that he was just in a dream was waning with every passing day and the surge of power each new kill sent through him.


    He felt better in so many ways. He could run faster and for longer. He had shed a good deal of weight and the joy of perfect vision without the need for glasses had remained, despite all of his worries that his eyesight would regress to its former state.


    Where Kort had brutally forced him to kill, Grimheld had been more compassionate and understanding, teaching him how to do the deed, quickly and efficiently.


    Each kill sparked him with new vitality, racing through his veins to fill his body with bliss after every swift slash or stab of a knife, after each thrum of the crossbow''s thick sinew bowstring as the bolt was flung towards its target at incredible speeds.


    It was addictive, Bas recognized that. He recognized that it should have felt sickening, knowing that each rush of energy was verification of another death. But it wasn''t. The acceleration of the murmur of electricity beneath his skin reminded him of one simple truth. He was alive.


    "Well? Are you just going t'' stand there?" Kort grumbled at him.


    Ah. That was right, he had to finish off the spr...


    He looked down at the knife in his hand, covered in the animal''s lifeblood, recoiling at the shock of the involuntary execution. It hadn''t been a conscious choice. It had just happened. How long had he stood there with his knife buried in its neck?


    He calmed himself, as Grimheld had told him many times, it was just an animal. And now, it was their supper.


    As the last of the sun''s rays exsanguinated over the knife-edge horizon, they began to clear the area around them. Careful, to uproot every single blade of grass under Blue''s watchful eye.


    Known as powdergrass, it accumulated toxins from the soil, converting it into a flammable substance that would set the green hills alight for days until the fires finally abated, leaving a scorched hellscape behind. The powdergrass would return, its seeds wafted above the conflagration by the plentiful thermals, and then the cycle of inferno and rebirth would resume.


    There were no plants except powdergrass for miles all around, and no sane creature without the ability to fly would live here, either. Which meant that an all-dwarf adventuring team, two honorary dwarves included, were right at home.


    Of course, they didn''t want to tempt fate, especially not in a region called the Tinderbox, and so all the grass in the vicinity was uprooted and piled into a hastily dug pit.


    Many would consider it the height of idiocy to then set fire to that selfsame powdergrass-filled pit and cook dinner on top of it. But these were dwarves, and they knew better.


    Still, they were here for a reason.


    As the heavenly smell of cooking springglider caressed their nostrils, Kort withdrew a tightly wrapped bundle from his bag.


    Ola immediately moved closer, hands at the ready.


    Earlier that week, they had found something very interesting indeed, while travelling close to the, literally, volatile region.


    Kort loosened the ties on one end of the linen wrapped package, tipping it upside down to dislodge a massive black beetle inside. Its legs had been tied together with spare bowstring and its mandibles had been given a similar treatment after they had bruised Kort''s nose. A truly impressive feat in and of itself, given Kort''s resilience to physical wounds.


    Then again, when he had first captured it, the dwarf had tried treating the beetle like a household pet. The rest of the team were hardly sympathetic to Kort''s plight when he shot bolt upright, trying to remove the beetle swinging from his nostrils.


    It seemed that Kort bore a grudge. He gave the black beetle a hefty kick on its armored side. While the blow flipped the beetle onto its back, otherwise, it''s not very effective. At the attack, the beetle immediately began wiggling, with its legs still tied, towards the distant mountain range. Known as the Heaven''s Parapets, they sectioned off Adamer and its surrounding wilderness, from the rest of the continent.


    "Huh?" Kort murmured, "It was going in a slightly different direction yesterday."


    "Maybe it''s not a Dungeon creature. Or maybe it was one, but escaped in order to satisfy its need for adventure." Grimheld seemed happy with his conclusion, gesturing expansively with a bottle of sacchar that had appeared, seemingly, out of thin air.


    In response, Kort lifted up the beetle, spinning it around, flipping it over and generally trying to disorient it. Then, he gave it a hearty punt in the opposite direction of where it was trying to go. "If it''s a Dungeon creature it''ll be back this way."


    "With its legs tied like that, it''ll take all night." Grimheld chuckled.


    Kort cussed in agreement.


    The springglider was delicious and tender, a mix between succulent lamb and gamy wood-pigeon. Bas quickly discovered that the wing membranes were particularly tasty, like the crackling of roast pork. Compared to the trail rations, the taste of the cooked springglider''s crispy skin crunching beneath his teeth, gushing delicious rivulets of molten fat, was to kill for.


    The enlarged beetle eventually crossed their path, the ties on its legs having finally worked themselves loose, long after the group had treated themselves to a third helping of springglider and settled down to sleep.


    Grimheld was babbling merrily to himself as he caressed his empty bottle like a lover. Kort watched the entire performance with a hint of envy. Not even deigning a glance at the returning beetle as he intercepted it on its beeline towards the mountains, scooping it up into a bundle of linen and securing it. He didn''t bother binding its legs again. Too much effort.


    Bas watched as the grumpy dwarf slid gently down onto his sleeping roll, not bothering to set up the tent. He wanted to find out more about Dungeons, to see if they were what he thought they might be, but Kort was the last person he wanted to ask for help at the moment. So with one last look at a snoring gnome and the sleeping dwarves, he closed his eyes, resolving to ask about Dungeons in the morning. The sound of Grimheld''s crooning serenade to the empty bottle filled his dreams.


    They didn''t burn to death in the middle of the night, which was small solace given the ungodly hour that Kort decided to rouse them at.


    He was insisting that they make the most possible haste available to them. The renewed prospect of an undiscovered Dungeon had ignited a fire in his belly and spurred him on to set a brutal pace for the rest of the morning.


    Bas made conversation with Grimheld, even as they both struggled to match Kort''s urgent stride.


    "So, kid," Grimheld began, "have ya spared any thought as to which form of mana ya might be interested in?"


    "Gaseous mana."


    Grimheld''s bushy eyebrows both seemed to lift off his forehead. "Really?"


    "Yes."


    "That''s a mighty mature choice, actually. Why not the others?"Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "From what I''ve seen, liquid mana is oriented around combat and weapon use. Before I came here, I''d never used a dagger for anything more dangerous than chopping onions, and even that made me cry. The rest of you have been training for years, and even you admit that you''re not the best adventuring team out there. I want to get stronger, but that doesn''t mean that I have to do it alone."


    Grimheld nodded, "And why not solid mana? There¡¯s nothing better for pure power output."


    "It requires years of practice. Years that could be better spent getting stronger quickly. If obtaining enough Lifeforce to achieve a higher Rank really extends my life, I can learn it later. There''s nothing stopping me from changing my mana form."


    "Absolutely right, Bas. Although, it¡¯s best to stick with optimizing one form, as reaching a higher Rank in a single form is more effective than reaching a lower Rank in two different forms." Grimheld had to admit that Bas'' reasoning was spot on. The canny dwarf was actually somewhat disappointed that he couldn''t give him a grilling. "Why gaseous mana, then? It''s shit for combat, unless you choose to go down the route of a Skirmisher Variant, like myself, and as you said, you have no weapons training."


    "Kort promised that he would help me grow stronger, I believe him when he said that. If I fight at the front, I''ll only be a liability. But with gaseous mana, I will be able to contribute from the very beginning and still be able to provide some value to the team. That will, in turn, accelerate my own growth. Also, I can still learn how to use your crossbow from time to time if I ever want to go down the more offensive route."


    "Right on, kid. Right on." Grimheld gave him a hearty slap on the back. "I''m proud of ya. It''s not the simplest path to power, but it''s the one that suits yer situation most."


    Bas smirked to himself. Everything he had said was true. He just hadn''t said everything. He had been reading through his physics book and confirmed what he already knew. There were more than three states of matter.


    Sure. The mythology of Era stated that their was a form of mana for each of the three moons. One solid, one liquid, one gas.


    It was a pretty explanation. But to Bas, a visitor from a different and more advanced world, it seemed like a trap. A widely believed fallacy, too superficial to actually be true. After all, they were missing something very obvious every time they looked up.


    The moons weren''t the only objects in the night sky.


    Stars, small miniature suns, raging balls of hydrogen and helium visible across distances so large and with so many zeros on the end that he didn''t even know the name of the number. Incandescent spheres of gas, heated to such a degree that they formed the fourth state of matter. Plasma.


    He didn''t know how long it would take to be able to create such high temperatures in his mana, but he did know that gaseous mana was a prerequisite for its formation, if it existed.


    He would help the dwarves happily. Each kill helping him grow stronger. And when he was strong enough, he would burst forth in a blaze of glory beyond this primitive medieval world''s comprehension.


    Using his imagination, and the knowledge contained in his book, he would send change sweeping out to the farthest corners of Era. A tide of change that every member of his species would recognize, drawing them and their expertise to him, like iron filings towards a magnet.


    There were humans out there, stranded, just like him, on an unfamiliar world. Many would soon be dead.


    Bas had been lucky. Many would have killed him on sight, and a large segment of the rest would have tried to quietly exploit him to an egregious degree. Kort had been more than reasonable, and honest about his motive.


    The other members of Era¡¯s new human species would have it harder. They would have to fight for even the smallest fractions of power as they tried to avoid death. All Bas had to do was serve. And eventually, the revolution would begin.


    The mountains were close, looming over him as he pulled the crossbow bolt from another springglider''s neck. A clean kill, no pursuit required. Grimheld had helped him aim, but a victory was still a victory. No matter the means in which it was achieved.


    Even as the Lifeforce flooded into him, he knew something was different.


    The quality of the pulsing had changed, becoming more localized. A tangible surging ball of energy within him, moving and morphing with each mental prod he gave it.


    Kort approached him, veins in his eyes flashing turquoise with liquid mana, trying to see the change in Bas that he had sensed.


    He gave Bas a congratulatory slap on the back, sending him flying face first into the tall powdergrass.


    "Congratulations, lad. You got dinner and you achieved your first Rank. You, my boy, are now Rank I. And in good time, too." Kort nodded as he spoke, it almost sounded as if he was congratulating himself as well. "This calls for a celebra¡ª"


    Blue was there in a flash. Swatting the dwarf on the back of the head, "How about, let''s not get shitfaced and burn down the Tinderbox right when we''re about to leave it. You can save it for tomorrow."


    "Yes, lassie." Blue glared at him, "I mean, yes, Miss Blue." Kort rubbed his shins out of force of habit, muttering something about ''fucking shin-smashing head-bashing gnomes'' under his breath.


    Blue smiled contentedly. She had the dwarf well trained. A little backchat was fine, as long as Kort knew who the real leader of Acherys'' Dread was.


    Bas sat back and relaxed, special privilege of killing their dinner and ranking up. He watched as distant springgliders leapt up to snatch birds from the air with their needle-like claws.


    It had been a good day, even with the punishing pace that Kort had set.


    He loosed a snort of amusement as Grimheld brushed past him. He quickly hid the small flask of sacchar that the dwarf had ¡®accidentally¡¯ dropped into his lap. He spent a moment to appreciate Grimheld''s thoughtfulness, the gesture did not go unnoticed, especially considering Grim''s fondness for the stuff.


    Bas gave the flask a quick shake. It was mostly empty, but that wasn''t a bad thing. It was enough to have a good time, but not so much that he would forget the fun that he was about to have.


    When no one was looking, he took a quick swig.


    Okay. He had definitely overdone it. Why did he even drink that stuff in the first place? It was just an obviously bad idea. A bit like splitting up to look for the murderer in horror movies.


    He groaned as he retched onto the ground beside him. The sour taste of bile and sacchar clung to the back of his throat like napalm.


    Blue shot him a disapproving look, shaking her head in a disappointed manner while Kort gave him a thumbs up behind her back.


    "I would give you a long talk about consequences," Blue''s tone was dispassionate, "but I suspect that you''re experiencing them already." She smirked, "Still, it wasn''t as bad as it could have been."


    Something about the last part made Bas uneasy. He ran a hand across his head.


    Good, his hair was still there, although some of it was a little charred. He brought his hand lower, across his face. Nothing. His eyebrows were gone.


    Yep, he had definitely overdone it.


    Blue gave him a knowingly superior smile. "So," she began, "what''s plasma?"


    Oh dear. "What did I do?" A worm of dread began to writhe within his gut. He looked at the hills around him, slightly panicked. Green. He breathed a sigh of relief, he hadn''t burnt down the whole Tinderbox. Only his eyebrows.


    "You," Blue emphasized the word, "spat a mouthful of sacchar onto the fire while shouting something about how mana and fire makes plasma."


    "It was something t'' see lad." Kort cut in from where he had been listening, "the pillar of fire must have been visible for miles around. It was definitely impressive, I think you''re onto something. We''ve been drinking it for years, and it still does a ton of damage. Little did we know... Mix in a little fire, and BOOM." The deranged dwarf cackled madly.


    "Kort," Blue''s single word admonishment cut his laughter off short.


    "Sorry la... Miss Blue." Kort''s expression became serious as he turned to Bas, "What I meant t'' say was, don''t do it again. Sacchar ain''t cheap." His attempt at solemnity was, however, foiled by the teasing way in which he waggled his eyebrows.


    Kort''s face froze for a second, before brightening. "Seeing as Miss Blue," he sketched a shallow bow in the glowering gnome''s direction, "was talking of consequences, how about we teach you how t'' change your mana into one of the three forms. Have you got any preferences?"


    "Gaseous." Bas responded curtly, slightly annoyed at the capricious dwarf''s antics.


    Kort''s eyebrows raised, "Good choice." He turned and shouted at a dozing figure ten feet away, "Oi, Grim, get up you lazy bastard. You''ve got t'' teach the lad how t'' become a gasshole."


    "Fuck off ya cunt. Can''t ya see I''m sleeping."


    Kort gave Bas a rueful shrug, "I tried, lad. I tried."


    "I can still hear ya."


    Bas chuckled as both dwarves vented deep, long-suffering sighs.


    Oh well, he wasn''t going to get any help, so he might as well try and see how to use mana himself.


    He zeroed in on the amorphous pulse of energy within him.


    It deformed with the slightest exertion of his will, forming improbable shapes as it flexed beneath his scrutiny.


    He moved it around his body, sending it flying through his arms and down to his fingers as jolts of vibrant power seemed to transmit shock-waves through him.


    It soothed his aching muscles and stiff joints wherever it passed, filling him with renewal. Its size diminished with each ache it quelled, but was fully restored within a few minutes.


    Comfortable with moving his power around, he sent it flowing slowly into his skull, wary of messing with his brain too much. The hangover headache dissipated by a small fraction but his power was shrinking rapidly, its form becoming turbulent and incoherent as it fought against the hangover.


    Why was it shrinking so quickly? Did it have something to do with the sacchar? What was it Kort had said about it? That is was mana fortified, or something.


    He knew it had been too good to be true. In a world where magic existed, of course there had to be magical hangovers. Because why the fuck not.


    A chill at the implications crept down his spine. If there were magical hangovers, were there magical poisons and magical diseases too?


    He really didn''t want to find out.


    "So, kid. Did ya enjoy my present?"


    "I hate you so much."


    "I''ll take that as a yes." Grimheld chuckled with good humored wickedness.


    "Just teach me how to manifest gaseous mana and then let me die."


    "Sure thing, kid," Grimheld said. "Just imagine yer skin is full of tiny holes that ya can push mana out through. It can be a difficult concept at first bu¡ª"


    "You mean pores?"


    "What?"


    "Pores," Bas repeated slowly, "the tiny holes in your skin that sweat comes out of."


    "Don''t be ridiculous. If ya actually had holes in yer skin, ya would be leaking blood everywhere. I wouldn''t think too hard ''bout it, it''s just a tool to help you visualize." Grimheld said, disconcerted by the idea. "Just push yer mana outwards."


    Bas'' mana had recovered from when he had tried to dispel his headache, with partial success. Apparently even magic couldn''t fully cure a hangover.


    He pictured his skin on the microscopic level, covered in thousands of small holes, leaking a fine mist of blue mana that swirled around his skin, clinging to his fingertips. Thickening into whorls of smoky blue fog that tested the surrounding air, flicking forwards like a serpents tongue before retreating.


    "Well, I''ll be... You got it, kid." Grimheld exclaimed.


    Bas down look at his arm, sheathed in a writhing blue mist, "Now, extend yer senses through it."


    Bas'' world expanded. Rushing outwards, retreating, flexing and falling with every rush of air. Through his mist he could taste the scent of grass and ash carried on the breeze. He could see the errant eddies of wind as they buffeted against him, causing him to billow away into the leeward side of his arm.


    And he was gone.


    His connection to a large part of his mist was cut off as it was ripped away by a strong gust, leaving his reserves depleted.


    "Ya need to be careful about that, kid. One of the weaknesses of the gaseous form of mana. It''s prone to just flying off when you don''t use a little bit of mana to keep it held in check. When yer only using a small amount it doesn''t matter much, but it¡¯s useful when ya start being able to manifest large clouds of mana."


    Bas was a little disappointed, sure it was cool but... "Was that it? I can sense things through my mana and that''s all."


    Grimheld laughed, "Not at all. There is so much more, but I''ll show you while we walk. Lots of great stuff ya can do with it. Imbuing projectiles, healing and strengthening allies, making shields, even turn yourself invisible. And who knows, as an added bonus, we might just reach the Parapets by nightfall, it''ll be good to get out of this grassy shithole and into some real landscape. Mountains, now they''re a joy to walk along and under."


    ¡ªTyl¡ª


    The Goddess passed her hand through the Ethereal Plane. The Veil was slowly falling into ruin. It would take time for it to fully disintegrate, but the process was beyond her ability to reverse. No matter how much mana or Lifeforce she tried to patch it with.


    The Exiles were returning to Era in a slow trickle, there was now a sighting once every two days or so, and panic was starting to spread.


    If only her precious flock knew what was coming.


    Humans. Millions of them. Billions...


    She peered through the Multiverse, her eyes boiling in their sockets from the power coursing through them, her unseeing gaze alighting on a small star in the outer spiral of a backwater galaxy in a mostly empty universe.


    The chaos of the lifeless void made her shiver.


    There. Nestled close to a relatively dim star, three planets out.


    Earth.


    A planet always on the brink of annihilation.


    There was no order there. No mana, no Lifeforce, no magic.


    Instead the humans rode the waves of chaos, bending entropy itself to their puny wills.


    She shuddered again. Such a thing was anathema. The humans, in their arrogance, thought that such a practice could last forever.


    Tyl shook her head sadly. How many more of them would die trying to harness the disorder of their world.


    How many more of them would have to die when they tried to harness the disorder of her world. She would not let that happen.


    And it was all because of that fool elf, Luneil. Blinded by grief and hatred, he had failed to recognize what had always been clear.


    The former Pantheon had been dangerously unstable, just like the Exiles. They had warred without end, trying to bend the land to their individual wills. Never giving it a moment''s respite, or a single second of stability.


    In their warlike nature they had happily seized the opportunity to cast out the powerful humans and set up the Veil behind them, thinking of it as driving out a powerful opposing faction.


    Tyl supposed she ought to thank them for banishing those cuckoos of chaos from her nest of order.


    Weakened by their combined spell, they all succumbed to her full might. After all, who would have suspected that she had a taste for betrayal.


    The old gods fell and only the Goddess remained.


    Order flourished.


    Maybe not peace, or equality, or universal prosperity. Such things took time, but she had enough of it to last her far past the end of this world.


    That was then.


    Instead, the Veil had been sundered and everything was falling apart. Rivalries encouraged by the old gods were already boiling to the surface and her Pardoners and paladins were busy trying to maintain the balance. It was like trying to bottle an ocean in a teacup.


    All because of Luneil. Tyl had scoured the Planes multiple times for his Lifeforce, searching for his soul. But she had found nothing. Not even he could have survived that blast. But he was nowhere to be found, no matter how much his soul deserved torment.


    The necromancer had deserved to suffer, for the souls he had annihilated to gain power, and for what he had done with the power he had gained. There would be no return to the cycle for him if she had her way.


    Tyl quashed the anger inside of her. She could not let her hatred flourish, that would only lead to instability. Instability led to chaos. And chaos was anathema.


    She let the matter lie, for now. There were more important things than a single elf to worry about.


    The Goddess tore her gaze away from Earth and that gods-forsaken universe, her eyes slowly healing from the trauma.


    She looked at her Pardoners with distaste, many only followed her out of greed, viciousness or a lust for power, but they were vital to maintaining order in Era. For now, anyway. She dreamed of the day when her great Balancing settled over the world and she could dispense of those thugs and bullies. Now, that day might never come.


    The best she could do was send them out to die, as she always had, completing their tasks in the most inefficient way possible in terms of lives.


    She looked over her armies of Pardoners. They were spread too thin, given the dire state of Era. It was an impossible task to hold together a world that was falling apart.


    She looked over the rest of her followers, observing them through the link created by their Devotions. The dwarves and adventurers were still only pretending to worship her when her Pardoners were nearby. She let it slide. After all, she didn''t need everyone to give Devotions, but the more she obtained, the more clear her picture of the world became. And with the increased clarity, her ability to right the growing disharmony could be put to the best use.


    Maybe one day¡ªwhen she had achieved order, when she had cast aside the Pardoners and paladins like the broken dolls in armor they were¡ªthings would be different. Maybe then she could let her people give Devotions as they wished, instead of her Pardoners extorting it from them, as if the tithe of Lifeforce was a form of taxation or protection money.


    Tyl sighed.


    There was no way to achieve what Era needed without her going against her own morals. It hurt every time she broke them. But it was vital to maintain balance, she was the only deity left. She didn''t like sometimes being a force for evil, neither did she find joy in being alone. But it was necessary.


    She felt the old familiar agonies welling up inside her, threatening her with chaos.


    "Damn stability!" Tyl muttered, staring at the field of thrones behind her.


    The Goddess of Order wept.

 Chapter 8 - Self pollinators can go screw themselves.

    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    A collective quiet had settled over the valley as the flights of Dire Ravens passed overhead.


    It was as if the very mountain itself had taken a fearful breath and fallen still.


    Death had come to an unnamed valley in the Parapets.


    The flights of ravens swooped down, daring the trembling earth to reach up and snatch them out of the sky.


    Three flights roamed ahead, acting as a vanguard for the fourth, which held a shining gem within a woven net of grass.


    The Dungeon Core flew within inches of the ground, vast furrows appearing beneath it as the dirt beneath was annihilated indiscriminately.


    Occasionally, small spheres of dirt would hang in the air for a single second, buffered from Luneil''s destruction by the negating effects of the Lifeforce of an uncontrolled creature.


    But gravity always triumphed in the end.


    Luneil watched in satisfaction as these orbs of earth burst against the bottom of the furrows, cracking apart like eggs. Exposing underground animals and lifeforms blinking in the sunlight.


    Their surprise was always short-lived.


    The Dire Ravens acting as the vanguard arced around, descending upon the uncovered creatures in an attempt to lift their struggling bodies into the air.


    The earth that had once protected them now acted as a gutter, preventing them from easily escaping the deathtrap that Luneil had created.


    Two flights of Dire Ravens swept through the newly created terrain in a v-shaped formation.


    The creatures had nowhere to run, some scrabbled at the sides, others simply stared in shock at their impending doom.


    The ravens clutched their prizes in their talons, returning them to Luneil, where they were promptly torn apart and absorbed.


    All that was left behind were small uprooted plants and insects too small to be worth his notice.


    Still, he made a note to return for the patterns and energy of the plants later, after they had died. Compared to the bounty of energy from animals, the difference between absorbing a plant as it died versus when it was already dead was minimal.


    Luneil repeated the procedure several times, making sure to stay away from the river. He didn''t want to divert it down the holes and collapse the earthen gullies he had created.


    Finally, he commanded his ravens to set him down next to a small tree.


    He had absorbed a truly incredible amount of energy, so much so that he was still reeling from the influx. However, what he really wanted was new patterns.


    The flora here was so much more diverse than the grassy hills he had previously inhabited. Even the grass looked slightly different.


    Luneil ordered a Dire Raven to shred a nearby blade of grass. He barely noticed the insignificant amount of power he received from it.


    The pattern, however, was interesting. It differed from the other grass in numerous small but significant ways.


    The plants were, in terms of their pattern, astoundingly similar. However, Luneil could see how small changes in their pattern had vastly different results.


    Spurred on by the revelation, he compared the two species of grass to his Razorcoil. There were even more differences if one knew where to look.


    He began expending minimal amounts of energy to create multiple grasses, sometimes omitting or adding small motifs of another''s pattern.


    He was able to transpose the motif controlling the prehensile nature of the Razorcoil onto both other species of grass, although the effect was less drastic than in the original modified plant.


    Luneil also added the toxin-accumulating motif found in the hill-grass to one Razorcoil, since it was somehow absent in the altered grass. It was a relatively innocuous change, with the abnormal coloration becoming slightly more vibrant, but little else. Disappointed, he switched his attention to other plants nearby.


    There was an abundance of mountain herbs and wildflowers, carpeting the gently sloping valley in a patchwork of a thousandfold greens with interspersed islands of floral brightness in between.


    Zeph had wandered beyond his influence, airily jaunting between the blossoms.


    Luneil wasn''t sure if it was a deliberate attempt to avoid talking with him, but he let it slide. She wasn''t doing any harm.


    Anyways, it provided the perfect opportunity to make amends for his previous transgression.


    He sent out his ravens to stealthily gather a few of the brightest and most vibrantly colored flowers.


    They returned shortly, beaks full of flower laden stems.


    Luneil absorbed them and quickly recreated the flowers all around him.


    Still in an experimenting mood, he pumped a small amount of Lifeforce into them, forcing them to change, as their forms became saturated with power.


    Whether it was the nature of the changes, or that modifying plants no longer put a dent in his reserves, Luneil was pleasantly surprised at how little energy was required.


    The flowers swelled, leaves unfurling into fantastical shapes while the petals divided and subdivided, layering together into an eye-catching bouquet that seemed to shift and sway as sunlight struck the petals, sending sunbeams scattering across the valley slope.


    A gust of wind caressed the newly-created wildflower meadow around him, sending golden gusts of pollen streaming out across the breeze.


    The effect was stunning, and not entirely what Luneil had expected.


    After all, who on Era would have guessed that every single insect within a hundred foot radius would stop dead in their tracks and begin a frenzied rush towards the flowers.


    A cloud of black and iridescent blue swarmed towards him.


    Luneil frantically sprouted a small forest of Razorcoil, but it did nothing to halt the advance of the legion of insects when they arrived. The serrated grass whirled in a deadly gyre of cutting blades that was rendered ineffectual against the plague of chitinous exoskeleton and blurring wings. There were simply too many of them.


    If the Razorcoil was inadequate at stemming the tide of insects, the Dire Ravens were downright useless. Their talons and beaks were only able to catch one or two insects and eventually they were relegated to the task of buffeting the insects away with their wing-beats, to an equal degree of success. Which is to say, zero.


    Suddenly there was a burst of fire as a flaming lash scythed a smoking rent through the clustered insects, flames charring delicate wing membranes, sending twitching insects falling to the ground.


    The Razorcoil, to which he had added the toxin-accumulating motif, was finally coming into its own. A quirk of its prehensile nature caused the volatile toxins inside to ignite as it began to flagellate at the swarms of insects.


    The result was a fearsome trail of fire lashing through the air in every direction. Where the fire failed to incapacitate the insect horde, the toxic fumes served to drive them away.


    It was a glorious spectacle.


    Unfortunately, it was also a brief one. Fire and living organisms tend to have a somewhat adversarial relationship. The flaming Razorcoil was no exception to this rule. Its flailing grew even more frenzied as it began to smolder, before finally succumbing to its own flames like a suicidal phoenix. It collapsed into ash, even as a few precious grass seeds were wafted by rising air-currents up and away from the site of the brief but brilliant inferno.


    To make matters worse, the other Razorcoil was tiring, unable to sustain the continual exertion without a break.


    Depleted, they fell limply to the ground as the buzzing maelstrom centered itself around the flowers and began to lap up the nectar, finally uncontested.


    After about thirty minutes, the storm of wings and pollen covered legs had diminished sufficiently for the howling laughter of a small Sylph to be heard above the din.


    Every now and then her laughter deteriorated into an adorable fit of hiccups, in which her entire body would shape-shift upwards in a jumping spasm, before her gales of mirth continued unabated.


    What? Luneil was feeling a bit miffed at being swarmed for half an hour, however, Zeph''s laughter was contagious and he couldn''t resist a small chuckle.


    "Pffft." Zeph tried in vain to stifle her giggles, struggling to form a coherent sentence, "I can... not... be...lieve... that... actually... ha... ppened."


    I probably should have learnt by now to be more careful when I experiment, eh?


    Giving up on speech for the time being, Zeph simply morphed into an approximation of a nod, her form jolting with hiccuping laughter.


    Luneil felt a warm glow unfolding within him, this was how things should be.


    He gave a brief, soundless sigh of contentment as he eyed up the trees nearby. His Dire Ravens mopped up the last of the insects, mostly stragglers that hadn''t yet left the scene of the crime.


    Relieved by the lull in the insects'' assault, and finally being able to utilize Lifeforce without interference, he began to rejuvenate his exhausted Razorcoil, taking a moment to examine the smoldering ashes of his former plant.


    Tentatively, he absorbed it, dubious that its pattern had survived. He was partially correct. Its pattern had been distorted by its spontaneous combustion.


    However, it was far from unusable. With his knowledge, he was easily able to reconstitute the pattern into a far more recognizable whole, correcting altered motifs and replacing obliterated ones, through several minor adjustments.


    Confident in his work, he began planting the oddly patterned stalks around his domain, focusing around the clusters of flowers in anticipation of another incursion by the insects. Their Lifeforce was welcome of course, but only on his terms. And those terms were maximizing casualties.


    Satisfied, he looked his new plants over. All they needed now was a name.


    Firecoil.


    It had a gratifying sense of continuity that appealed to him, it was in keeping with the plant it had been adapted from.


    A hesitant knock on his crystal surface brought him back to the moment. It was Zeph.


    She spoke haltingly, "Was this for me?" She gestured at the wasteland of petals and insect parts.


    Uhhh... Well it was... Buuuut, then this happene¡ª


    "Thank you, Luneil. It was... is... beautiful. They smell wonderful," she giggled, "even if they''re covered in dead insects."


    Luneil was at a loss for words, he was content to bask in her adulation. He hadn''t even thought about the flower''s scent, lacking that sense himself.


    Zeph knocked on his body again, "Luneil? Are you there?"


    Luneil started slightly, realizing that Zeph couldn''t see his emotions in his crystal state. Still at a loss for words, he projected his feelings towards her.


    She huddled close, pressing her back against him. "I''ve been alive for a long time, but no one has ever done anything like this for me. It''s not normal for a Dungeon Core to give. It''s not natural. So, before I start to lecture you on proper Dungeon comportment, thank you."


    Luneil''s heart broke at that moment, or it would have, if he still had one. It was a bittersweet moment or newfound joy and lingering guilt.


    Do you forgive me?


    Zeph looked away, gazing out over the valley, now scarred with the signs of Luneil''s airborne rampage. She bounced playfully upwards, her form blurring for a second before it settled into a new arrangement, "More flowers, minion."


    Luneil sighed at the deflection, Yes, dear.


    He poured a small volume of Lifeforce into the disheveled flowers surrounding him, not enough to force further mutations, but enough to rejuvenate them.


    Then, absorbing a few for their modified patterns, he carpeted the ground in Firecoil and flowers, which he had decided to name Mirages.


    They attracted the inevitable horde of insects, although in diminished numbers with so many have already sated themselves on his flowers. This time he was ready, his Firecoil searing flaming fissures through the nebulous black cloud of bugs. Once again, many fell like miniature flaming meteors to the ground while the toxic smoke repelled the rest.


    He quickly absorbed the insects off the ground where they had fallen, filling himself with energy and information.


    He was happy to watch Zeph gamboling through the Mirages for a while, replenishing his Firecoil after they self-immolated.


    But the same hungers were gnawing at him. To grow stronger, to know more.


    So far, there had been little he couldn''t handle through either the application of strength or problem solving, with a small amount of luck to boot.


    It wasn''t good enough. What if one of the deer roaming the valley decided to invade his little patch of paradise? What then?


    Sure, they were herbivores, but his Dire Ravens could do little to them. Beaks and claws were no match for thrashing antlers and flailing hooves.


    He needed something stronger, something bigger.


    His attention settled on the small deformed pines clinging to the sides of the valley.


    He gathered his ravens around him, forming a grassy net beneath him. It was time to kill some trees.


    The stunted trees only seemed to have an insecure grip on the slope, Luneil soon learned that their roots ran both wide and deep. To further complicate the issue, unlike small plants, these pines possessed sufficient Lifeforce to be able to frustrate his attempts at excavating the root system without expending unnecessarily large amounts of mana.


    He needed a new approach, one where he could create an object to destroy the tree, an object he could reabsorb after it had done its job.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    He directed his Dire Ravens to carry him upwards, above the tree.


    Hopefully this would work.


    He began to form a boulder out of mana, an enlarged replica of a pebble he had once destroyed in his formative days.


    A framework of mana began to appear, slowly solidifying into a mass of stone that hung in the air for a fraction of a second before plummeting down onto the dwarfed pine below.


    The diminutive pine splintered under the force of the falling rock. Shards of wood spewed out from beneath the boulder.


    Luneil hoped that he wouldn''t have to retrieve every fragment to recreate its pattern. Although, he doubted he would have to. His ability to piece them together had progressed since his early days. After all, he had been able to obtain the pattern of the Firecoil, scorched as it was after the first insect invasion.


    Practically salivating in anticipation, and hampered only by a lack of salivary glands, he absorbed the over-sized pebble, letting the mana return to him.


    Hmmm. What if he repeated the same trick on the deer? He discounted the idea. The boulder took too long to form to be able to reliably position it over the top of a mobile creature. The advantage of killing plants was that they couldn''t run away.


    Well... none that he knew of, anyway.


    There aren''t any walking plants, are there?


    "A few," Zeph looked at him for a moment, "why are you asking?"


    Just wondering. He replied weakly.


    "Feeling guilty?" Zeph asked, "Don''t worry. Most of them are cannibals anyway."


    Weird. Why''s that?


    "Plants have low standards. Haven''t you ever heard of self pollination," she winked at him. "Plant literally go fuck themselves. Do you think a little bit of cannibalism is going to stop them in their tracks?"


    Luneil desperately tried to purge that delightful image from his head. He really did not want to know that.


    He began to absorb what remained of the pine, assimilating small fragments as he went. The mana and Lifeforce from it was nothing special, especially given the large difference in size between the tree and the animals he had been killing. Complexity was evidently a factor in how much energy he received.


    Still... the pattern was useful, especially given what he had in mind.


    Luneil took a moment to appreciate his new tree. It had been the work of moments to smooth out the residual irregularities in its pattern. For such a large organism, its structure was composed of remarkably similar basic units.


    Adding in the required motifs had been a minor degree more time consuming.


    Then he had decided to make the pine larger.


    It had taken far longer to make the desired adjustments, an entire night, to be precise. The cost in Lifeforce was exorbitant. He had sourced part of his inspiration from his pebble to boulder transformation.


    It turned out that things didn''t quite work that way for living things. Simply expanding them didn''t work out the way he had first anticipated. Often, the tree grew too large, its trunk rupturing beneath its own weight. Other times, it was too brittle, slowly tearing itself apart as it swayed stiffly in the breeze.


    Even for a simple lifeform, comprised of such uniform building blocks, its transformation had been a three-part effort, demanding perseverance, finesse and luck.


    The result was far from beautiful. From trunk to treetop, the misshapen pine was corded in ropes of thickened bark. Its branches jutted out at odd angles, stabbing at the sky with its needle-like pine leaves.


    Far larger than any other of the dwarfed pines in the valley, it was still difficult to call it a giant. The pine was hunched and twisted, its trunk corkscrewing erratically upwards. It looked as if it would topple over at the slightest breath of wind.


    Luneil absorbed it, happy with the finished product, despite its less than first-rate appearance.


    It was time to put it to good use.


    The mutated pine had been planted by the river at the center of the valley. The deer had been wary of it, at first, shying away every time they came to close to its twisted branches.


    Now, ever so slowly, they crept towards its trunk, which was surrounded by succulent grasses, flowers and herbs that Luneil had planted there.


    The first began to crop at the lush bounty that surrounded the pine, working deeper and deeper inwards, towards the corded bark of the altered pine tree.


    Seeing no obvious danger, the rest of the herd closed in, cautiously nibbling at grass shoots and fresh green buds.


    The pine seemed to sway in a windless breeze, setting the deer on edge and extracting a whinnying snort of unease from them.


    The pine stilled, and the deer resumed their grazing, throwing the occasional wary glance towards the tree.


    The pine swayed again, this time barely drawing a reaction from the converging herd.


    Good.


    Luneil watched with anticipation as the pine seemed to uncoil over several minutes, its strange branches still sticking straight towards the heavens.


    It struck like a wooden snake, its rope-like strands of bark grating against each other as they shifted to assist the trunk''s downward movement.


    The deer bolted, faster than Luneil thought possible, hooves and hindquarters desperately flying as they put as much distance between the descending tree as they could.


    Most escaped by a whisker.


    Two were not so lucky.


    The descending cage of branches trapped them, piercing their hides, pinning twitching bodies to the ground.


    Creaking branches wrapped around them, eliciting snorts and brays of pain and terror. They were dragged towards the trunk, smearing the grass with streaks of reddish-brown.


    The cords of bark shifted once more as the pine straightened, only the branches with the two deer hung down, burdened by the weight of the bleeding bodies.


    The pine settled back into its normal misshapen corkscrew, imprisoning the deer within the well of its central spiral as it shifted, and splintering some of the branches pinning them. Still... they were trapped.


    Perfect.


    Luneil ordered his Dire Ravens to carry him towards the tree from his vantage point. He had been wary about his presence scaring away the herd before his newest creation had the chance to prove its worth.


    The occasional pained snort reached him as he approached. He took a moment to appreciate the sight. The deer were pinned between the coiling trunk, limbs sticking out at improbable angles, branches piercing through them and twining around them in such a way that they were held suspended within the pine¡¯s central spiral.


    The best part was that they were still alive, even if only for a while longer. More power for him.


    His influence washed over the deer inside the tree. It was time.


    Crush them.


    The pine compressed, the corkscrewing coils of its trunk crushing together, turning the deer into a red paste intermingled with stained tufts of fur and splinters of bone. As they died, Lifeforce and mana rushed into him, tracing lines of liquid ecstasy through his crystalline body.


    The blissful sensation magnified as he absorbed the bleeding bodies of the deer.


    They were the first large patterns he had obtained, except for the pine trees, of course, which he hadn''t named yet.


    Zeph?


    "Yes," Zeph broke out of whatever daydream she was in, replying in a befuddled manner.


    What should I call the tree?


    "Bob?"


    I think I''ll give that name a miss.


    "Miss Bob?" Zeph looked at him quizzically, "You do know that Bob is a guy''s name."


    What are you talking about?


    "Well," Zeph elongated the word, "when a man and a woma... Oh, wait, wrong talk. Where wa¡ª"


    Luneil cut her off. Can you please just give me a good name for the tree. I don''t know what to call it.


    Zeph harrumphed playfully, "Bob is a perfectly nice name, and so is Miss Bob, if you''re so inclined. But seeing as you''re being a killjoy, just call it a Ropewood pine, or you could call it Zeph-Is-Awesome." Her shifting form emoted a wink a him.


    Ropewood pine, it is.


    "Hmph, that was my least favorite choice."


    Luneil didn''t respond, instead forming a small ball of water above the Sylph. It fell, meeting minimal resistance as it passed through her, sending her body billowing out around it. She reformed when the large droplet exited out through the bottom of her gas-like form.


    "Hey, not fair." She huffed indignantly, planting a firm kick on the side of his body. It was an impressive feat, considering her insubstantial form.


    Luneil projected the feeling of a shrug to her.


    "FIne," Zeph sighed theatrically, raising a hand-like strand of smoke to head height, palm facing outward, "be like that. I''ll be crying on the ground when you decide to apologize." She swooned, an arm-like projection moving to her forehead as she drifted to the ground like a falling leaf.


    Luneil chuckled at the amateur dramatics, although he was a bit confused when she shifted into a strangely flat four-legged creature.


    What''s that?


    "It''s a chaise longue, also, don''t talk to me."


    Sure, whatever you say, dear.


    Zeph immediately bounced up, giving his surface a playful flick that made his whole body ring slightly. "Oh, what would I do without you, you are indeed my knight in shining armor."


    Glad to be of service.


    "Don''t be snide, my faithful minion. On the subject of people in armor, you really should be making a Dungeon complex. Unusual behavior is indicative of a rogue Dungeon, and your behavior is definitely aberrant. What are you even doing now?"


    Trying to set up a farming operation? He''d had to set the idea to one side when he decided to leave the grassy plains he was born in, for literally, greener pastures, but the concept had stuck with him.


    "I rest my case. It''s not normal." Zeph said the word with a self-satisfied air, as if ¡®normal¡¯ were the textbook definition for moral excellence.


    There was no way Luneil was going to just settle down, however. The ability to generate energy simply by allowing plants to grow and mature was alluring. Furthermore, it seemed as if animals had disproportionately high amounts of Lifeforce and mana, compared to what the plants possessed. If that was the case, then creating an ecosystem of both animals and plants would allow him to harvest energy from them, simply as a matter of them living and developing.


    He conveyed the idea to Zeph.


    She shook her head vigorously, as if trying to rid it of a tenacious migraine. She pulled herself up, ready to give a lecture to the errant Dungeon Core, which was obviously in desperate need of guidance on normalcy. Then, she stopped herself short. Her form shifting into a representation of a crafty grin.


    "You can farm people, you know. They have truly incredible amounts of Lifeforce."


    Huh? He could farm people?


    What?


    Zeph was grinning from ear to ear, or at least that seemed to be what her body was trying to convey, "Oh yes," she continued, "and rather than having them run away from danger, they''ll run towards it."


    Why was Zeph being so obliging all of a sudden?


    And what do these people like?


    "Oh, nothing much," Zeph replied innocently, "good food, better alcohol, killing things. You know... the usual."


    That''s it?


    "There is one other thing..." Zeph broke off, shaking her head dejectedly, "But you probably wouldn''t want to hear it."


    Tell me, I promise you, I do.


    "Okay, then. If you insist," Zeph''s ear to ear grin turned predatory. "So, as you so kindly asked me to elucidate. What these people, adventurers especially, like most of all is..." Zeph stopped speaking.


    What? He asked cautiously, there was a growing feeling in the back of Luneil''s consciousness that he had just been played.


    "Dungeon complexes." Zeph replied brightly, almost shouting the word.


    Motherfucker! He projected the thought so loudly that all the airborne mana in a twenty foot radius was blasted away at high speeds.


    "What?" Zeph asked, the very picture of sweetness and light.


    Luneil had finally stopped screaming in impotent rage at the brazen Sylph.


    How do you make a Dungeon complex?


    "You dig out a cave system and fill it with monsters and treasures that people want."


    Is that it?


    "Pretty much, the sentient races do most of the work. Building settlements near you, making farms, rearing livestock. Only a small number come at first, but as infrastructure develops more arrive as the standard of living improves."


    So what do they need?


    "Generally just wood, food and water. But you don''t need to worry about that. They sort all that stuff out."


    An idea was beginning to take shape in Luneil''s consciousness.


    And could you please just clarify for me that when there is more food and material to go around, more people come to live nearby?


    "Yes, pretty much. The strength of the monsters is also a consideration, since you attract more powerful people. But that''s the basics, yes."


    Can I provide food in my Dungeon complex? Yep, he was definitely liking this idea.


    "I suppose you can, I''m not sure why you would want to though?" Zeph answered guardedly, suspicious of the leading questions.


    Luneil quickly created a variety of all the plants he knew around him.


    Which ones of these are edible?


    Luneil looked at him, "You''re actually thinking about creating a Dungeon complex?"


    Yes.


    "Well... I suppose providing food isn''t the strangest thing I''ve ever heard of. I mean I once heard of a Dungeon with tentacles."


    Tentac¡ª


    "Don''t. Talk. About. It." Zeph hissed at him, suppressing a shudder as she muttered something about ''fucking deviants'' under her breath.


    What about fucking deviants?


    "How did you know about that? You''re only meant to be¡ª" Zeph stopped herself, realization dawning on her. "Oh... Okay. Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Just, whatever you do, do not create tentacles."


    Sure. Whatever. Though I still want to know, what are tent¡ª


    "Shut. Up."


    Luneil kept silent as the flustered Sylph smoothed her metaphorical skirts.


    "Moving on. That is wild mountain wheat." She pointed at a plant, "That is sage. Pine needles are good for tea, as are the roots of those dandelions. And that small tree with red berries over there is mountain ash." She pointed to a tree at the other end of the valley.


    She then began listing the names of all the edible plants he had surrounded himself with, "Chicory. Mountain thistle. Mealroot. Sorrel. Velas flower. Coalberry." The list continued.


    Soon, his head was spinning with the sheer bounty of edible plants in the valley, even despite its obvious abundance of flora.


    It was a truly incredible sight. Exhilarated by the idea that Luneil was making a Dungeon complex, Zeph had suddenly become a wealth of information.


    Wow. Thank you, Zeph. I am truly impressed.


    Zeph puffed her chest, "Well, you took your time, but I''m glad you finally came to your senses."


    Me too. Luneil tried not to sound smug. He failed. One last question.


    "Sure." Zeph beamed at him.


    Do I need to make my Dungeon complex underground? It was mean, but he couldn''t help but bait her a little more.


    She glowered at him, then shrieked at an impossibly high pitch, for an impossibly long period of time.


    I''ll take that as a no?


    Zeph glared.


    I was joking... sort of...


    She shrieked again, even louder this time, as she began to shower him with kicks.


    Luneil ignored her. Slowly pumping Lifeforce into the plants she had indicated previously.


    Luneil had upgraded and reabsorbed the edible plants, as well as the lone Ropewood pine. He had killed the mountain ash with another boulder, before giving it a similar treatment to the edible plants, recreating it and pumping it full of Lifeforce.


    With that completed, he set about his real work.


    Zeph had then started to intermittently yell obscenities at him, while at other times lapsing into a sullen silence.


    After a short while, he began running out of Lifeforce. Zeph looked relieved when it happened, but her expression soon turned to spluttering horror as she realized that he would soon be able to continue.


    He had the ravens set him down, as he created a line of Ropewood pines.


    He sent out his Dire Ravens to corral the deer towards the murderous conifers, harassing the deer with dive-bomb attacks of outstretched talons.


    Several sickening crunches echoed around the valley as no less than twelve deer died to the tree-shaped deathtraps.


    He absorbed the trees and deer, drinking in their Lifeforce, brushing aside the feelings of pleasure from the intake of energy as he busied himself once again. Zeph''s sounds of outrage were enjoyable enough. She was so cute when she was mad, her body shifting erratically into jagged abstract shapes.


    He had his Dire Ravens lift him off the ground once more, ordering them to lift his high into the air so that he could survey his handiwork.


    He ascended higher and higher.


    A large swathe of the valley was a riot of color and verdant greenery, the occasional tree popping out from amidst the psychedelic swirl of flowers and plants.


    It was beautiful and breathtaking, even Zeph shook her head in wonder, not able to chastise him for what he had created. It was a paradise. Even more so than it had already been.


    The valley had previously been a lush green landscape, dotted with flowers.


    Now it was as if the sunlight itself had been distilled into a spectrum, enlivened and amplified, then smeared across the valley in a lavish extravaganza of vibrant hues.


    They had risen high over the valley, and so, something caught his attention that surpassed even his valley in majesty and grandeur.


    Sunlight glinted and danced off a seemingly endless expanse of water. He directed his ravens to carry him closer to it.


    Encompassed by a vast ring of snow-capped mountains, through one of the high passes a glorious, awe-inspiring body of water stretched out as far as he could see, disappearing over the horizon. The level of water was thousands of feet higher than the grassy plains he had grown up in, accumulated by countless ages of rain and glacial meltwater from the towering mountaintops that crowned this high-elevation freshwater ocean.


    The peaks of submerged and eroded mountains pierced the placid surface in places. In others massive bodies were moving beneath the water, sending hill-sized ripples washing towards the mountaintop shore. These ripples, large though they might be, were dwarfed by the incredible extent of this watery plain.


    Both he and Zeph gazed at it for what seemed like hours, marveling at its impossible vastness.


    In actuality, it was more than hours.


    The sun slowly set over the water, painting it in oranges, golds and reds, the last glimmers of the evening sun sending crimson coruscations shooting between the mountaintops, across the calm high-altitude ocean.


    The light had fully faded now, and they regretfully descended to the valley below, but not before they witnessed a flash of fire devouring the grassy hills at the foot of the mountain.


    Oh well, not their problem. Although, the region being prone to wildfires would explain why there had been so little life there. He thought for a second, making a connection between the volatile toxins in his Firecoil and the toxins in the hill-grass. Good to know.


    Luneil alighted on the upper edge of the valley, acutely aware of the vast body of water on the other side, only a mile of stone between it and him. From what he had seen, he would be underwater at this low elevation.


    He pushed the disconcerting thought out of his mind, focusing on Zeph as she strode leisurely through the air down to meet him. She seemed calm and refreshed after watching the sunset with him.


    As gently as he could, he asked, So, Zeph, how do I make a Dungeon complex.


    Zeph gave him a radiant smile, "First you need to hollow out a cave for yourself. Then I''ll show you how to make gaseous mana."

 Chapter 9 - Here kitty kitty

    ¡ªBas¡ª


    A change settled over the dwarves just after the first moon rose over the plains behind them. They straightened, all the weariness falling from their shoulders.


    The change in the terrain was innocuous, but these were dwarves.


    "Mountains." Grimheld breathed beside him. "Have ya ever felt anything more beautiful beneath yer feet."


    Bas snorted, "You mean blisters?"


    "Pah. Ya need need to appreciate the finer things in life, kid." Grimheld''s face took on a yearning look, "Mountains underfoot, the pounding of hammers on steel and a lass in need of hammering." He skipped backwards, sweeping up Blue in his muscled arms, causing her to yelp in fright. "Whadd''ya say lass, ya don''t have any beard to speak of, but it''s awful lonesome out of here. Do ya fancy a quick roll in the grass?"


    Blue gave him a scathing look, "How quick? Ten seconds? Twelve at most, from the looks of you." She paused, smirking at him, "Or, how about I shove a bottle of sacchar up your backside and set fire to it. You can choose which end of the bottle goes where. Who knows, you might even get that roll in the grass that you wanted." She smiled sweetly at him.


    Grimheld paled, dropping the gnome back on her feet.


    Blue straightened her shirt, smoothing out the creases from being hoisted up into the air. She continued onwards as if nothing had happened.


    Both Bas and Grimheld held back, the gnome was the very image of gentleness and sweetness most of the time, but sometimes...


    "Why are you all so scared of her? Even Kort treads lightly when she''s nearby."


    "Ya see, Blue is a Mentalist Variant of the liquid mana form. They''re able to concentrate mana in their brains for short periods of time. Allows them to predict exactly what gonna happen do over a short period of time, almost to the point of prophecy. If yer a decent marksman, for a short time you become one of the best shots in the world. If yer a champion sword-master, ya become a whirlwind of steel and death, capable of mowing down hundreds of people with graceful efficiency. The downside is that it makes ya a bit loopy, downright fries yer brain if ya use it for too long at one time.


    "That''s the problem, kid, ya never quite know if a Mentalist is serious or not. Especially if the Mentalist is a gnome as well. If she is, you''d better prepare for a bottle up yer ass, because nothing in the world is gonna save ya." Grimheld winked at him, in a way that made Bas think that he might be exaggerating, "That''s why they make such good Guild clerks."


    "Sounds a lot like librarians. Are there any other liquid mana Variants apart from Daggerdancer, Brawler and Mentalist."


    Grimheld shook his head, "No... Well... there might be. But any other Variants are kept closely guarded secrets by their inventors. If you discover one, keep it to yourself. You never know who would be willing to kill you for it."


    Bas gripped his chin, suddenly pensive. He felt he could trust the dwarves around his physics book, safely stored away in Grimheld''s pack. They wouldn''t be able to understand it without him.


    Plasma was a different matter, he once again reproached himself for almost letting the secret slip while he was drunk. It was a good thing that the team hadn''t taken it too seriously. He didn''t expect anything bad to come from them knowing, entrusting precious secrets to a handful of alcoholic, murder-happy dwarves was probably not the best of ideas.


    He slipped out of his musings as Kort slowed down, joining up with them.


    "I think this be as good a place t'' stop as any. The powdergrass is thinning out, so there''s nae risk of being burned t'' a crisp while we sleep, although we can still use it t'' make a fire."


    Bas simply nodded, not wanting to engage in conversation with the dark haired dwarf.


    "We need t'' be careful from here on out. In the Tinderbox, the fires killed off any large predators, in the Parapets there''s nae anything t'' kill them off ''cept something stronger."


    Bas scratched his head, unwillingness to speak with Kort forgotten at the mention of danger, "What''s the problem with a few large predators? You''ve got mana, right?"


    "There''s nae problem with predators. But when predators accumulate enough Lifeforce, by killing other creatures, they become monsters. They''re natural killers, they have t'' be in order t'' survive long enough t'' progress. Therein lies th'' issue. The increased mana granted to them by their Lifeforce makes them deadlier and more long-lived."


    "So why haven''t we seen any monsters here? Shouldn''t they be ubiquitous?"


    "It''s nae that simple, lad. These monsters have large ranges. They hunt throughout their territory, killing t'' get stronger. They''re extremely strong, any monster below it learns t'' run or hide until it''s strong enough to rival the local apex predator." A gleam appeared in the dwarf''s eye as he basked in the opportunity to give his favorite sermon, "Welcome t'' the real world, lad. The strong survive, the weak eat shit." Kort grinned madly.


    Grimheld intervened, steering Bas away from the dark-haired dwarf. "Okay. I think it''s time to show you how to use your mana properly."


    Bas gave Kort an apologetic smile, although, secretly, he was relieved by Grimheld''s timely and totally intentional interruption. He allowed himself to be led off towards the side as the rest of the team set up the tents, it was far too inclement near the mountains to risk a night under the stars.


    "So, kid. Let me explain how gaseous mana works." His entire body billowed with blue mist, diffusing out through the surroundings. All of a sudden, its expansion stopped, constrained by invisible walls.


    "First lesson, always keep yer mana contained. If ya don''t, ya might as well wave goodbye to it. It requires a bit of mana to do so, but if not yer mana''s gonna fly off like a fart in a hurricane." To prove his point, a small bubble of mana partitioned off, dissipating into strands of moonlit smoke.


    "Second lesson, the gaseous mana form practitioner is the most important member of the team. Ya don''t hit shit, but yer still the first and last of defense. Try and hit me." Bas hesitantly did as he was told. His fist passed right through the fog surrounding Grimheld. "Harder! Ya call that a punch? Yer trying to hit me, not jerk me off."


    Bas tried again, throwing all his weight behind his fist. His knuckles brushed against the cloud of mana.


    And stopped.


    Straining for every inch, Bas clenched his teeth, pushing his fist deeper and deeper into the cushioning smoke.


    A jarring sensation began to fill him, his arm slowly going numb. Within seconds convulsions began to wrack his body as he hastily withdrew his arm from the cloud of mana.


    Grimheld explained, "Ya see how my mana stole the force from yer blows. If ya used more mana to strike, ya would have overcome the small amount I invested in the shield. When ya pushed through, despite not being strong enough, my mana began to seep into yer body, conflicting with yer own mana."


    Bas nodded, clutching his arm as the convulsions subsided.


    Grimheld''s arm blurred, withdrawing a small knife from his belt. Before Bas could yelp in pain, he had a thin line of red running down his arm.


    "Oops." Grimheld muttered, grinning all the while. "It was an accident, I swear on my uncle''s life."


    "Liar."


    "Yeah, but my uncle was a bit of the touchy feely type when I was younger, if ya know what I mean. So who knows, if I swear on his life enough, I might get lucky."


    He clapped his hands.


    "Anyway, this gives me the perfect opportunity to rescue a damsel in distress." His mana flowed out, enveloping Bas'' forearm in cooling blue mist. Unlike last time, Grimheld''s mana didn''t conflict with his.


    "Why isn''t it interacting with my mana?"


    "Good question, kid. Because it is yer mana."


    Bas watched as the cut began to close, not even leaving a scar behind.


    Grimheld lunged at him again, bringing his blade across the exact same spot.


    This time, the blade bounced off his skin, as if it were made of stone.


    "What do you mean, it is my mana?"


    "I gave some of my mana to ya, letting it flow freely into yer body. Mana determines many things, including how strong yer body is and how fast ya heal. Normally, yer Lifeforce produces a limited amount and can only constrain so much mana to yer body. This bypasses that." Grimheld gestured expansively and another wash of mana flooded into him.


    "Wow." Bas felt distinctively stronger and more healthy. He bent his knees and jumped, soaring a full three feet into the air. Not bad for someone who could barely climb stairs back home.


    "Of course, it doesn''t last forever. Yer aura will dump it at a much faster rate, but it can still be real useful in a pinch. Give it a second and try again."


    He still jumped higher than he would have, but Grimheld was right. The effects were somewhat diminished.


    "Now, third and final lesson." Grimheld looked at him, "What? Ya thought I would leave it at two?"


    Bas shook his head, then nodded, thoroughly confused.


    "Never try and change yer mana Variant without a bit of preparation first, unless you''ve got top notch control of yer mana form. And never use two Variants of the same form at once. What you''ve seen so far is the Mitigator Variant. Now, if I do my usual Skirmisher Variant at the same time." Grimheld braced himself, his arm whipped back and the dagger suddenly became infused with gaseous mana.


    His mana cloud pulsed once, jarring angrily with the mana inside the dagger. Grimheld quickly hurled the dagger, which burst apart a mere second after it left his hand.


    The dwarf''s mana cloud contracted, snapping back into his body like a demonic rubber band.


    Grimheld went flying backwards twenty feet, as if he had been kicked by a mule that had been fed on anabolic steroids and Chuck Norris'' breast milk. The stout dwarf gouged out a long furrow of grass and dirt where he landed.


    "I''m okay." He groaned, briefly raising his upper body to give a brief thumbs up before slumping back down to the ground. A round of cheers came from the rest of the team.


    Bas'' mouth hung open. Dwarves were fucking insane, it shouldn''t have been a shock, but Grimheld had taken it to the next level.


    Why had he decided to tag along with these guys, again?


    It was actually surprising that the tents had been properly...


    What the fuck!?


    He was just in time to see Blue load a strange looking bolt into Grimheld''s crossbow. The dwarf had left it unattended. Which was obviously a grave mistake when you had a half crazy gnome running around.


    Bas examined the bolt, well aware that he was within range. Tied to the shaft was a flask.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Blue looked at the crossbow as if something were wrong with it, then she shrugged, bringing the flask¡ªstill attached to the crossbow via the nocked bolt¡ªto her mouth.


    She smacked her lips in a satisfied manner, wiping stray drops with her sleeve, before pacing towards the fire. Was Blue about to go on a sacchar fueled murder spree?


    She ripped off part of her tunic, plunging the scrap of cloth into the fire. Was this some sort of weird summoning ritual? If so, he had enormous respect for the fact that Blue was even functioning after a swig of the mana-fortified drink.


    She withdrew the smoldering rag from the flames, stuffing it down the neck of the flask.


    Oh god. Bas'' brain caught up with his eyes a few seconds later. Was she making what he thought she was making?


    Blue turned, sighting down the stock, her entire head glowing blue with liquid mana for a brief second.


    "Burn, burn, burn." She giggled, depressing the trigger lever.


    The bolt arced out and away, disappearing into the darkness. The smoldering embers clinging to the rags where not enough to light its path, and it was moving to quickly to easily discern its shape in the moonlight before it had moved on.


    Bas relaxed. No harm do¡ª


    A muffled roar blasted out over the surrounding area.


    Kort''s head whipped out from in between his tent''s flaps. His eyes gleaming in appreciation at the awesome ball of flame searing itself into the sky. Then his fingers twitched, moving with lightning speed towards the bags nearby, rifling through them for the missing flask. "BLUE! What did you do with the sacchar?"


    The gnome didn''t hear him, already passed out and snoring on the grass, a bemused smirk of satisfaction spread across her sleeping face.


    Kort loomed over her, leg drawn back, aiming right at Blue''s rump. He sighed, bunching his beard between his fingers. He let his leg relax forwards into a resting position. "Fucking delinquent midgets." He muttered, bundling her up beneath one arm, picking up the discarded crossbow with the other. After depositing the drunk gnome into her tent, he dove into his backpack and pulled out the strange beetle, evidently gratified by the fact it was still there.


    Kort placed it on its armored back and spun it like a roulette wheel.


    It righted itself and began scuttling off towards a mountain pass several kilometers away. Or it would have, if it hadn''t been stopped by an iron studded dwarven boot and unceremoniously stuffed back into Kort''s bag.


    Bas turned his back on the scene, staring at the flames spreading out across the hills, setting the powdergrass on fire. A few minutes later, Kort walked up beside him, "This is nae going t'' be a fun night, lad. You better get some rest while you can." Once again, the dwarf grumbled something about midget gnomes, unaware of the irony.


    Bas nodded, taking his leave and entering the spare tent that had been set up for him.


    A disconcerting yowl split through his peaceful dreams of home. Bas shot bolt upright, disorientated, expecting to find himself in his room, computer screen glowing softly in the corner.


    Instead, moonlight filtered through the entrance of his tent, each moonbeam dancing off wisps of smoke and motes of ash that were being blown towards them.


    He poked his head outside, trying to see what was wrong.


    A gigantic mountain lion blurred through the moonlight, its body covered in a shifting tangle of soil and vegetation.


    What?


    Vines and streams of earth shot out from the mass, exposing matted fur below. One ripped a tent out of the ground, exposing a sleeping Blue, she didn¡¯t stir.


    The cords began to close in on the gnome, when they suddenly changed their focus towards a figure that blurred blue as she moved.


    The questing cords of plant and soil missed completely, neatly severed by Ola as she sidestepped, they fell limply to the ground, breaking apart upon impact.


    Ola was at the mountain lion''s side before it could turn to stop her.


    A wicked knife gleaming in each hand, she unleashed a flurry of blows into its side, growling louder than even the big cat.


    The animal hissed in pain, and the shifting mass on its body contracted around Ola''s wrists as she stabbed it once more, trapping both the blades and her hands. The mountain lion began to buck and whirl from side to side, trying to smash the desperately twisting dwarf against the ground.


    A metallic clatter sounded to his right, Bas turned away from the impromptu wildcat rodeo to see Kort stumble out of his tent, trying to hold his hammer and slip a greave onto his leg at the same time. Bas stifled a laugh.


    The cantankerous dwarf turned to him, "What are you laughing at, lad? I swear to Gnur..."


    With a growl of exasperation, Kort gave up on trying to strap on the reluctant greave, instead hefting it in his off-hand as he swung his hammer menacingly.


    With a shout he barreled towards the bucking mountain lion, throwing elegance to the wind, and a few choice curses as well. A barrage of knives, coruscating with gaseous mana, whistled past him as Grimheld and Dirri joined the fray, the former having foregone his crossbow for the greater rate of fire provided by throwing knives. Gern, a Caster, shot blasts of ice from his hand, muttering under his breath, using mnemonics to assist his formation of the spell patterns. Neither the knives nor the ice did much damage, dissipating harmlessly against the big cat''s outer coat of writhing soil and plant-life.


    Blue was snoring peacefully, a thumb stuck in her mouth.


    Kort had finally reached the mountain lion, effortlessly brushing aside the big cat''s tentacle-like projections of vines and earth. He brought down his hammer firmly upon the head of the cat, causing its forelegs to buckle and pitching Ola forward violently. "Watch it, you ass. I''m hangin'' on for dear life here." She shouted.


    "Sorry," Kort roared back, then swung the hammer down again.


    Only for it to be swatted to one side, unbalancing Kort and leaving him open to another follow up strike that scored three deep bleeding lines down his side, ripping through hardened steel and mana reinforced flesh with little effort. Kort kept his grip on the hammer, but the greave in his left hand went sailing away behind Bas, falling to the ground with a clink.


    Bas gulped, the animal was far too strong.


    Grimheld abandoned his barrage, sprinting forward as a large cloud of gaseous mana enveloped him.


    Even without mana-assisted speed like Ola''s, Grimheld was wickedly fast, he was next to Kort in seconds, healing and reinvigorating him.


    Gern shouted for them all to stand back as he summoned a prison of ice around the cat to restrict its movements as they reorganized. He was, however, forced to abandon the attempt when the mountain lion began slamming a restrained Ola against the icy walls.


    It shattered into a thousand fragments, no longer being sustained.


    The big cat stalked towards Kort and Grimheld, dragging Ola behind it as if she weighed no more than a kitten.


    Its jaw opened wide, exposing sharp teeth and a lolling tongue, its muscles coiled to pounce.


    It sprang forward, closing the distance in the blink of an eye.


    A tiny form sprang fearlessly into its jaws, her skull aglow with liquid mana. One arm extended out front, clutching a letter opener, the other holding a discarded greave that was used to prop open the big cat''s gaping mouth for a single crucial second.


    Blue''s outstretched arm disappeared down the predator''s gullet, twisting viciously.


    The mountain lion shook its head desperately, trying to dislodge the gnome. In its agony it gave no thought to crushing both the greave and the plucky gnome caught in its jaws.


    Blue was thrown to the ground, minus one letter opener, which was still embedded in the cat''s gullet. She clutched her skull, curled up in a fetal position, whimpering in pain at utilizing her ability for so long.


    Not far away, the mountain lion collapsed to the ground, every single major artery on the left side of its neck had been completely severed and even its absurdly large stores of mana and Lifeforce couldn''t save it from the catastrophic hemorrhaging that was underway.


    Kort limped up to it, raising his hammer for a finishing blow.


    The black-haired dwarf paused, looking towards the gnome curled up on the floor. "The kill''s yours, Blue, so are the spoils." His hammer fell to his side as he let the massive mountain lion shudder its last, imparting a fraction of its former power to its killer.


    Blue seemed to perk up slightly, her pained shaking and whimpering diminishing as the Lifeforce of one of most powerful monsters in a several hundred kilometer radius flooded into her. Her mana recovery jumped upwards, accelerating the healing of the mostly reversible damage she had done to her brain.


    The vines and earth surrounding the corpse of the mountain lion sloughed off, finally freeing Ola''s hands, which had been dislocated by the abuse.


    Bas slowly walked up to the victorious, but shaken, team. He was ashamed at his lack of involvement in the fight. He should have tried to help but¡ª


    "Good job, kid." Grimheld patted him gently. "Sometimes the best thing ya can do is sit a fight out, it''s that or be a liability. Come on, I''ll show ya one way to heal with yer mana. Ya can do Blue, she has a few nasty scratches."


    "That''s it. Feel where your mana brushes against her aura and let the feeling of your mana match the feeling of hers. That''s it, kid, you got it." Bas could feel his mana draining into Blue, depleting at a rapid rate. Even though he could see her small wounds healing over, an uncomfortable thought struck him.


    "What if¡ª"


    Grimheld cut him off, "It won''t conflict with hers. And ya don''t need to worry about using all of yer mana either, it''ll recover. There are more important things right now."


    Bas kept on healing Blue as she sat by the roaring campfire, wrapped in a warm blanket while taking small sips of Dramal tea, a restorative drink made from the roots of a specific Dungeon monster with profound regeneration abilities. Every now and then she would look out at the burning hills with a sense of pride, enjoying the view.


    When all the gnome''s visible wounds were gone, Bas turned to Grimheld. "What was that thing?"


    "That," the dwarf gestured at the corpse, "was a monster. It might have started off as a mountain lion, but it enlarged as it grew more powerful. It probably came here to defend its territory after we started the wildfire." Grimheld shrugged, "It''s dead now."


    "Why were vines and soil protecting it?"


    "Ahhh. I see what yer getting at. It was casting a spell to create a natural barrier that it could control, which means it was most likely using crystalline mana. That''s where monsters differ from people. Some can cast spells on an instinctual level, but they are limited to them, unless they have the ability to memorize spell patterns." Grimheld clapped his hands together loudly, "Now, let''s fix up Ola."


    Bas had been surprised by Ola, both her hands had been badly dislocated but she had seemed to just shrug it off, instead shouting at them both to go help Blue. Now that Blue had been mostly healed, she would probably be far more open to being healed.


    Grimheld picked out a small purplish-green gemstone from one of the packs, waving it in front of Bas'' face. "This is tourmaline, an Arcane Focus for the life subtype of mana. It''ll change normal bound mana into life mana for a short period of time. As life mana is better at healing, using a life Arcane Focus will mean you use less mana and get better results. You can even cast simple spells without using crystalline mana through them, but you still need to know the required arcane patterns."


    Bas followed Grimheld, watching as the dwarf held the Focus in front of Ola''s wrists. The gemstone was encircled by a blue halo of mana that rapidly shifted to a whitish green as it streamed out towards Ola, settling across her like a blanket.


    The life mana swirled into her wrists, a dull greyish blue fog rising up and out to replace it.


    "What''s that?" Bas asked.


    Grimheld didn''t answer, strain evident on his face, all his attention on pushing mana through the stone.


    To Bas'' surprise, it was Ola who replied. "You shouldn''t disturb him, Arcane Foci require immense concentration to channel mana through them. That nasty haze you see is depleted mana. You see, the various subtypes of mana don''t last long, and once they''ve been used they leave depleted mana behind."


    "What does it do?"


    "Nothing. Just makes the external manipulation of mana difficult. It really only affects Caster and Warder Variants of the crystalline mana form, the other crystalline Variant, Shiners, form spells internally, so they don''t get affected by it. Technically, gaseous mana users can be affected too, but nothing you do produces depleted mana."


    "Shiners? You mean like the elf at the settleme..." He trailed off.


    Ola nodded once, "Yes, like him. Shiners form spell patterns inside their bodies, activating and releasing them on contact. They produce depleted mana, they''re just not affected by it."


    "Why would they create depleted mana, though? They''re not using Foci."


    "The mana subtypes are essential for spell formation, you can''t cast without one. You can either use an Arcane Focus, or you can do what they do, and use crystalline mana to mimic the structure of Arcane Foci. It''s quicker, more efficient and you don''t need to fiddle around with gemstones." Ola motioned to Grimheld with a tilt of her head, "Unlike that idiot."


    "I love ya too." Grimheld said in a wry tone.


    Ola gave a startled exclamation, "Don''t you dare surprise me like that you big oaf." She tentatively reached out to punch him. Her fist connected normally, showing no signs of damage from the dislocation.


    "There ya go, ya spiteful bitch," Grimheld grinned, "good as new and right as rocks."


    "Thanks, Grim." Ola beamed back.


    Then she punched him again, harder this time.


    Grimheld doubled over, wheezing, "That''s my girl."


    Kort wandered over, putting an end to the moment of violent levity, "Okay, you can all go back t'' sleep now. There should be nae more attacks t''night. I''ll keep an eye on Blue."


    There was no path upwards, so to speak, just an endless slog through bushes and the occasional scree slope. It was difficult going, even for the dwarves, and Kort brought out the beetle frequently, as much to confirm they were going in the right direction as to give them a brief respite.


    Bas was on constant lookout. Every snapping twig, or rustle in the underbrush brought to mind images of sharp teeth and rending claws.


    "Relax, yer not going to solve anything by needless worrying."


    "But what if there''s something stronger than that mountain lion?"


    "Then it''ll eat ya, and once it''s had a snack, it''ll leave the rest of us alone." Grimheld waggled his eyebrows.


    Bas glared at him.


    "I''m just joking with ya, kid. With the kitty dead, there''s nothing between us and Heaven''s Plain that we can''t handle."


    "Heaven''s Plain?"


    Kort''s eyes grew wistful, "I''m not one for oceans myself, although if ya gave me a sea of ale I would be more than happy to revise my opinion, but ya should see it, kid, even if only once. It''s like nothing you''ve ever seen. An ocean on top of the world, dammed up by the Parapets themselves.


    "We crossed it on the way here, during winter when it was partially frozen over. Only real way to get to the rest of the continent, but right now it''s nasty business. Whole thing is full of sea-beasties."


    Surely there was another way to travel. "Can''t you just go around? Or use a boat?"


    "Sure, you can go around, if ya fancy meeting lots of monsters that have been gaining power for centuries. Ya can use a boat, there''s a mostly safe route across Heaven''s Plain, shallows almost the entire way, except for one part, called The Run. Dangerous to do, though, there are ancient monsters in there that would use yer mast for a toothpick. If ya want to pick a fight with a monster, do it in a Dungeon, not on Heaven''s Plain."


    Oh, right. He had been meaning to ask what Dungeons were, for quite some time. He knew what they were in video games, but he just didn''t know if they were the same things here.


    "Monsters spawn there and you can kill them for loot, right?"


    Grimheld nodded, not even deigning to give such a basic question a verbal reply.


    "What can you tell me about them?"


    "Dungeons are more than just a place where ya find monsters. They''re the lifeblood of Era. Almost every kingdom has access to a Dungeon, they wouldn''t last long without one."


    "How so?"


    "They''re for more than fighting and looting. They''re also for helping artisans and crafters gather Lifeforce so that they can extend their lifespans and allow them to use mana in their work. After all, a country without good crafters has a problem. And there''s no better source of materials than a Dungeon."


    "And Kort thinks he''s found one?"


    "Ya can''t tell what Kort thinks; I don''t think he knows, himself. But if there''s one thing I do know, it''s that Kort would do anything if he thought it might give him a chance to..." Grimheld trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief at himself, "What am I saying. Don''t ya pay any attention to me, kid."


    Bas had been paying a lot of attention.


    A dwarven adventuring team had crossed a dangerous, monster-filled ocean, just to hang around some shitty backwater region of Era.


    It sounded suspiciously like they were running from something.

 Chapter 10 - Killer squirrels are going to eat your nuts

    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    When creating a tunnel angled down into the heart of a mountain, it''s important to check one thing.


    Don''t be spherical.


    Avoiding this simple state of being was, unfortunately, not an option for Luneil.


    The ground disappeared beneath him, replaced by a smooth steep slope descending twenty feet down, terminating in a rounded depression at the far side.


    The walls spun past him, before he was brought to a sudden jarring halt by the end of the tunnel.


    Okay, let''s not do that again.


    Zeph flew down to meet him, laughing delightedly, "Embarrassing yourself as usual?" She looked back up at the stone enclosed circle of night sky, "A bit small, don''t you think? Actually, wait, nevermind, size doesn''t matter." Zeph grinned at him.


    Luneil practically turned red, an impressive feat for a crystal. Ignoring Zeph''s jab, he looked back the way he came, the tunnel was only twelve inches in diameter and perfectly round. Nothing, except the occasional fat marmot or baby deer, would be able to come down.


    Which reminded him of something. His flights of Dire Ravens were outside of his influence. Urgh... Contacting them might be somewhat of a pain, although if worst came to worst he could always create something to drag himself out of the hole he had made for himself.


    But first, he had to fix the tunnel, or else any Ravens he created would be unable to fly inside it.


    How big are people?


    Zeph giggled once again, before answering, "It depends, gnomes can be as short as two and a half feet, while elves can be seven feet. Other creatures like Anolin can be much larger, but very few of them fight since the last Burrow War."


    Anolin?


    "Sentient clockwork beings that were created by the gnomes for labor. Instead, they rose up against the gnomes to gain their independence. Now, their races are best of friends, ironically. But it makes for an important lesson, the more intelligent you make something, the less likely it is to do what you want it to. That applies for Dungeon creatures as well."


    And you?


    "Don''t be silly. Sylph are special. We are made to serve our creator." Zeph''s form shifted to smile winningly at him.


    And who''s that?


    Even Zeph''s voice sounded as if it was rolling its eyes. "The Dungeon that created us, obviously. Haven''t I served you faithfully?"


    Luneil would have mimicked the gesture, if he could, but he settled for creating a pair of Raven eyeballs near the top of the tunnel and letting them do the rolling instead.


    "Ewww. What is wrong with you?"


    Want a list?


    "Yes."


    Let''s see. What''s this? Nothing? Oh, more nothing. And, look, another entry. What''s this? It says¡ª


    "Let me guess: nothing." Zeph butted in.


    No, actually. It says: Sylph. Hmmm. I wonder what that means.


    Zeph pouted, leveling a kick at him, "Get back to work, minion. There''s still a project or two that you haven''t botched yet."


    Luneil created a few more eyeballs, just for Zeph, and set to work expanding the tunnel so that it was eight feet high, three wide and with a flat, smooth, down-sloping floor rather than a rounded one.


    That should be able to accommodate most people.


    Luneil focused his attention on the sulking Sylph.


    So. You were going to show me how to make gaseous mana?


    "Feel your mana inside yourself and let it seep out past your body. Maintain the sense of connection you have with it once it leaves your surface."


    Luneil did as he was told.


    Slowly, a blue mist began to envelop him. It was the strangest feeling. He could touch the motes of dust scattered across the floor, taste the sweet coolness of the breeze and the delicious crisp green sharpness of pine needles and mountain grass.


    The world as he knew it expanded. He knew the concepts of hot and cold, he knew that things had scents and textures. He had experienced similar things through the patterns he had obtained.


    But it simply did not compare. A whole new dimension of sensory vividness and vibrancy had opened up to him, overwhelming him beneath a wave of concepts that had suddenly been given meaning.


    He pushed more gaseous mana out towards the entrance of his tunnel, feeling his consciousness flowing up towards the outside world along with it.


    He surged out into open, relishing the night air as it gusted against him, tearing away small strands of mana from his cloud.


    The loss meant little to him. His mana recovery from the Lifeforce he had acquired was massive compared to the negligible losses he sustained from the wind. While his Lifeforce supply was often precarious and limited, his mana reserves were anything but.


    An interesting idea struck him. Had his influence changed now that he was surrounded in a cloud of his own mana?


    He pushed the cloud further and further, the rate of loss increasing as he billowed outwards towards his Dire Ravens. He might as well try and bring them back in. It would also allow him to test out his influence.


    As he neared, he began continuously ordering them to return to him.


    The first tendrils of his mana crept within five feet of the nearest Raven. As if suddenly registering his command, it hopped towards his tunnel.


    Okay, so his influence extended twenty feet from his body and five feet from his mana cloud. He could work with that.


    He instructed the rest of the Ravens to come towards him, before withdrawing his gaseous mana back to the mouth of his Dungeon complex. If he could even call his basic tunnel a complex.


    He could see why Dungeons built underground. While the losses from the wind were minimal, if he had been fully exposed to the wind he would have been stripped of a lot more. The tunnel, however, served to act as a container of sorts for the swirling blue mist, protecting it from the gradual attrition of the mountain gusts.


    Zeph was humming to herself, nodding in satisfaction at the mist.


    "Very good, you''ve obviously retained some of your instincts from your past life. Mana manipulation isn''t always easy, especially when you''re starting out. That being said, I didn''t have that high expectations anyway."


    Luneil projected the impression of a stony-eyed stare.


    Zeph stared right back at him, "Oooh. Isn''t this fun? Let''s see who can stare the longest. Oh. That''s right. You have no eyes. So I guess that means I w¡ª"


    The Sylph shrieked as a veritable flood of Raven eyeballs filled the tunnel to the very top. It had cost a fair amount of mana,although no Lifeforce, since they were not actually alive.


    You were saying? Luneil projected the thought in as dry a tone as he could muster, unable to keep aslight vein of amusement out of it.


    "Pah. Get these disgusting things out of here." Zeph''s voice was muffled by the press of jelly-like orbs entombing her.


    Luneil chuckled, leaving the eyeballs in place for a couple more seconds before annihilating them, recovering the majority of the energy he had invested in them. Worth it.


    So. What now?


    Zeph glowered at him for a second before replying, "You''ve made an entrance, in both senses of the word. Not a particularly graceful one, but it will do for now. It would probably be a good idea to make a room for yourself and any monsters you''ve created."


    Luneil got to work, hollowing out the area in front of him with mana.


    He had only extended out fourteen feet, however, when the far end of the newly made cavern collapsed in a burst of rubble and splintered stone.


    What happened?


    "The apocalypse?" Zeph shrugged, her voice completely deadpan.


    He projected a withering look in her direction.


    "Fine," the Sylph groaned, "you need to redistribute the load on the room''s ceiling. Either redirect it into the walls or maintain a slow trickle of mana into the rock to counteract the excessive weight of the ceiling."


    It made sense. His Dungeon complex was like a hollow being with an exoskeleton of stone. Adding too much weight would cause that exoskeleton to collapse, which meant that he would need to adjust how his room bore the weight of the mountain above it.


    He spread his gaseous mana throughout the room to ensure that his influence would be able to reach everywhere, even between the cracks in the rubble.


    Luneil repaired the ceiling where it had collapsed, strengthening the stone and arranging it so as to transfer its weight onto the side walls.


    He cleared the rocks strewn over the floor and smoothed out where there rockfall had pitted it.


    However, he couldn''t be certain that the parts of the room he hadn''t fixed would hold.


    His gaseous mana began to seep into the walls through microscopic cracks. They took on an iridescent sheen and he felt a pressure begin to build up inside of him. Whenever he pushed mana into the rock it seemed to interact weakly with his gaseous mana, causing a small backlash of mana to return to him.


    However, the backlash was minimal and he tried pushing past it, not particularly worried about any adverse effects. Zeph had said he could infuse mana into the rock, and while she could be infuriating and mischievous, she was never actually malicious. She took far too much pride in her role for that.


    The sheen faded away and the stone walls became joined to his consciousness. Like a muscle, he flexed them and they contracted, showering the ground in dust as cracks began to appear.


    An aching grew in one area, a sharp tearing sensation that dissipated as soon as he channeled mana towards it.


    Luneil examined the area more closely. As he watched, the mana was being expended, swirling down into two ends of a large crack that had been hastily prevented from widening.


    That wouldn''t do. Not at all.


    He plugged it with newly created stone, seamlessly melded to the rest of the wall.


    Painstakingly, he began smoothing out the entire room, previously unnoticed tension now making itself known by its absence.


    Once finished, he began expanding the chamber again, restructuring his new walls with mana.


    He worked in a daze, adding in columns of joined stalagmites and stalactites to help provide extra support for the ceiling.


    Finally, he was happy with the room. Shrouded entirely in a faint mist of gaseous mana, it was one hundered feet wide by more than two hundred feetlong and the floor sloped gently downwards along that length.


    Where the tunnel connected to it, the height of the ceiling was eight feet, at the far end of the room, however, it was a comparatively lofty twenty feet. Occasional pillar-like stalagmites and stalactites would jut out from the ceiling and floor, breaking up the monotony of what would otherwise be a rectangular room with a sloping floor.


    Now he just needed to put things in it. He just didn''t know what or in how large a quantity.


    It was a dilemma of balancing growth with safety. By having a high mortality rate he would be able to personally grow quickly, but it would be counteracted by making risking venturing into his depths less attractive, not to mention that an excessive fatality rate would mark him out as a rogue Dungeon. Furthermore, no one would want to live near an unsafe Dungeon, which would mean less adventurers in the long run.


    Comparatively, just letting adventurers waltz in and out with precious treasures and greater power would simply result in him being exploited, thereby stunting his growth.


    Which brought up another issue. If he made too many monsters while maintaining a low death rate, he would make large losses of Lifeforce over time, which would be unacceptable.


    Which meant he had to be smart.


    His monsters didn''t have to be the ones killing the adventurers, just the ones assisting in their death.


    Which meant he needed to make traps that would use the laws of the world against anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in them.


    Sharp objects could impale, long falls could kill and a sufficient number of descending rocks would bury someone until they were crushed or air ran out.


    Luneil began placing traps around the hollowed out room, copying the same designs for most of them, but inserting unique ones every now and then. He wasn''t sure if all of them would work, but those that did would provide him with promising mechanisms for new traps.


    Of course, he wasn''t so foolish as to leave all of them out in the open, instead disguising them with dust and sheets of stone so thin that they seemed translucent under close inspection.


    Then, he covered a large area in a layer of dirt, planting Razorcoil, shrubs and herbs around the place.


    He withdrew his consciousness back to his crystal body, taking in the bigger picture. Spikes of stone protruded from a sea of vegetation, sometimes standing free, other times connecting to stalactites that hung down from the ceiling.


    It was fresh and green, a departure from the plain, cavernous room he''d had only a short while ago.


    But it was missing something. He added in some Mirages, his insect-attracting flowers, quickly sending word to his Ravens waiting just within the entrance of his tunnel to kill any intruding bugs. He didn''t want them disturbing him, even if there were likely not very many this high up on the valley slopes.


    The splendid flowers added a much needed splash of color, but, yet again, the room didn''t feel complete.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    What it needed was some water, the sound of a babbling stream winding its way around the stalagmites would hopefully distract less experienced adventurers. If they died to something as basic as inattention, in a Dungeon no less, they would certainly deserve it.


    How to make water, though? He had no idea, especially since there was no convenient spring right next to his walls...


    Wait? Was there?


    Luneil probed the walls, pushing his gaseous mana deeper and deeper, infusing them with large amounts of energy to bring them under his control.


    He spread out ten feet from his walls in every direction, mentally wincing at how quickly expanding his influence ate up mana, but there was nothing. Nothing but the faintest dribble of water and some strange rocks that he promptly absorbed for their patterns.


    He recreated them in front of Zeph.


    What''s this?


    Zeph gave it a cursory glance, before turning her nose up at it, "Nothing special. White Iron ore. It''s relatively strong and durable, but it lacks the mana capacity of most other metals. It''s used in Anolin manufacture, or birth, if you would rather call it that."


    Mana capacity?


    "Try letting some of your gaseous mana merge with it, don''t push it."


    Luneil allowed a small amount of gaseous mana to sink into it , causing the White Iron ore to iridesce ever so slightly.


    Mana drained out of him. Then, even though the flow continued, it stopped being absorbed. It was like trying to fill an iced over puddle with a stream. The mana simply skimmed off the surface, refusing to fill it any further.


    He stopped providing mana and slowly the sheen of mana permeating the ore died away.


    Well... that was confusing.


    Why was it shining? The rock walls did that, but they weren''t previously under my control. And what even happened?


    "You put mana into the White Iron, temporarily rearranging and strengthening its current structure. You couldn''t add much, though, since it has a low mana capacity.


    "Anyway, the difference was, that when you try pushing mana into something, you''re forcing it to conform to you. If a living creature did that, trying to force an inanimate object to become part of them wouldn''t work. But Dungeon Cores are different, blurring the lines between animate and inanimate, allowing them to control both."


    Something hovered at the edge of Luneil''s mind. Something painfully familiar. An echo of a remembered echo, a partially recalled thought pertaining to something he had done so often that it had practically become instinctual.


    What would happen if a living being forced their mana into a living being, making it conform to them?


    Zeph peered at him, head morphing from side to side in order to examine him from every angle.


    Luneil endured the needless inspection, intent on getting an answer.


    Finally, Zeph began to speak, slowly. Far too hesitantly for Luneil''s liking, but for the sake of knowledge, he endured it. "Necromancy. It''s similar to what a Dungeon does. Forcing a once living body to conform to the necromancer''s will." Zeph took a breath, even though she had no lungs to speak of, "The body is turned into a husk and the soul connected to the Lifeforce is obliterated, de-individualized, so to speak. It leaves the remaining drained husk under the necromancer''s control and gives a greater yield of Lifeforce. The creation of servile corpses, is associated with it, but it''s not true necromancy. Necromancy is the corruption of a soul for power."


    Does tha¡ª


    "No, Dungeons don''t obliterate souls. The process is complicated, but eventually the soul is returned to the cycle." Zeph said with an air of finality, still observing him cautiously. As if trying to see some change in his crystal surface.


    I was a necromancer in my last life, wasn''t I?


    Zeph jerked back, as if stung, "So you do remember?"


    No. It''s more feeling than thought, but it''s something.


    "What does the name Selgard mean to you?"


    Nothi¡ª


    Regret, a ghost''s tear in a spectral ocean, half forgotten, wholly unseen. A chilling pattern spreading like congealed blood across an entire city. And power. Sweet and sublime as shards of crystalline mana protruded from his...


    What was that word?


    ...fingertips... burying themselves ever so briefly in a victim before the next rush of power. And the next victim.


    "Really?" Zeph could hear the lie beneath his silence.


    Luneil almost answered in detail, but he held himself back.


    Gone, he said simply.


    Zeph''s head tilted quizzically to one side, before reforming into a nod. Her form jarred for a second, before returning to its normal elegant transition between shapes.


    "No use worrying about the past. After all, if not for that, you would never have met me. And your life would have been so much worse off." She smirked, tapping a rhythm on his body, "You wouldn''t be able to tell me how amazing I was."


    Oh really?


    "Most certainly, and I''m just getting started. Start small, finish big, you know how it is"


    Luneil couldn''t help it, a surge of warmth snatched him from the icy grip of the corpse-like fingers of memory. Everything was perfect as it was.


    "Why don''t we populate this place with some monsters, and then we can create some new ones for your Boss room."


    Boss room?


    "Don''t worry about that for now, we are going to have so much fun."


    It was actually surprisingly enjoyable. Luneil had some Ravens carry him around while they positioned monsters around the room. He could have just used his gaseous mana to sense all the areas at once, but when Zeph was flying around pointing out prime locations, sitting near the entrance and managing everything from afar seemed just a tiny bit too lazy and impersonal.


    So instead he had fun. Zipping around, chasing Zeph around stalagmites and brushing against the tips of the grass, watching them bend before bouncing back upright.


    It was only hours later that he realized he had forgotten something. It was minor, but it irked him that it had slipped his mind.


    The stream.


    "What?" Zeph came to a halt, looking at him as if he had suddenly started glowing pink.


    I wanted to make a stream, but I got sidetracked by the White Iron. Except I didn''t know how to make a constant stream with no water nearby.


    Zeph giggled.


    What? Luneil asked plaintively.


    "You are so ridiculous sometimes."


    I don''t unders¡ª


    "You wouldn''t." Zeph cut him off with a mischievous smile, before continuing. "Cisterns." She stated. "One at the top, one at the bottom, fill the top one with water and let it drain via a stream into the bottom one. You can destroy the water in the lower cistern from time to time and replace the top one''s level whenever it gets low."


    How do you know that?


    "I used to be the Sylph for other Dungeons before you, remember. How did you think I knew so much about Dungeons and the patterns for monsters, it was hardly a secret?" She gave a dramatic sigh, "I mean really, this isn''t all about you." Her tone brightened suddenly, "It''s actually all about me."


    Luneil ignored the capricious Sylph, instead pushing his mana further into the mountain above him and hollowing out a basic reservoir, making sure not to stray too close to the surface. He carved out his desired path for the stream, linking it up to the reservoir above, and creating a space for the water to drain into.


    Finally, not wanting to encourage adventurers to wade the entire length in an effort to avoid the dangers in the rest of the room, he placed some of his nastier prototype traps along the stream.


    There. Done.


    He added water to the upper reservoir, feeling a thrill of pride and accomplishment at completing the water feature. He checked the traps. No adverse effects from being submerged? No. Good.


    Checking his Lifeforce, he was surprised to find that he had only used around a third of it on the fifty of so Dire Ravens and Blackshell Harvesters he had distributed around the room. The deer he''d killed previously had certainly netted him a truly massive amount of power.


    What was it that Zeph had been talking about?


    So... what''s a Boss?


    "It''s an powerful monster or collection of monsters that serves to test adventurers for their worthiness to descend to the next floor of your Dungeon complex." Zeph''s tone became more cynically amused, "It''s also an excellent excuse to kill them for their Lifeforce."


    Now that was something Luneil could get behind.


    What monster should I use?


    "Nuh-uh, that''s your job. I won''t do everything for you. This is your Dungeon complex, not mine. Choose what sort of place it''s going to be. It''s your decision of what you want to be. Are you going to be the forge-fire in which the steel of the strongest adventurers are tested? Or will you be the warming flicker of a candle''s flame, gentle and guiding, but sharp and searing to any that underestimate you and stick their hands too close?"


    That was dramatic, but then again, Luneil suspected that she''d worked out what she was going to say for all these deep and pretty speeches a long time ago.


    Uh, can''t I be both?


    Zeph looked down her nose at him, emanating smug superiority, "And just how are you going to do that?"


    Well... I could help the settlers outside my Dungeon complex, but kill them in h¡ª


    The Sylph was getting frustrated, her form spiking erratically, "Are you allergic to doing things properly? Just kill them in here and give them stuff. Stop trying to revolutionize Dungeons, it''s been the same way for millennia. It works."


    But¡ª


    "Just make your damn Boss monster." She flew over to examine one of the Harvesters.


    Luneil sighed to himself, Women.


    "I heard that."


    Shit. He hadn''t meant to think that out loud.


    Anxious to avoid the swift retribution that would inevitably be incoming, he began examining all the patterns he possessed.


    There were the standard insects, however, he wasn''t sure of their size limit. It might be better to start with something bigger. Then there were the small birds he had obtained, but nothing could rival his Dire Ravens. He could of course enlarge those, but it did little to alleviate the fact that their wings were a glaring vulnerability. They would be useless if they were unable to fly. He needed something strong and durable.


    He looked at his mammals. Mice, deer, marmots, rats, rabbits and squirrels. None of them were particularly exciting.


    Although...


    He brought up the pattern of a deer. What could he mix it with?


    Inspiration struck.


    An adjustment here, a minor alteration there. Make those sharper, lengthen the teeth, add a bit of Lifeforce to the leg muscles to strengthen them.


    An hour later Luneil felt a twinge of worry begin to worm its way inside of him.


    No, no, no. That wouldn''t do at all. It was completely wrong for his Dungeon complex. Having a creature like that would kill his reputation, he had definitely crossed a line somewhere.


    It was a terrible mistake, a truly awf¡ª


    "It''s so cuuuute!" A squeal of delight split the air. "Can I keep it?"


    Fuck...


    Laughingstock, here I come, Luneil thought bitterly.


    Zeph was lounging between the antlers of what she had, not so tentatively, named the Squirreleer. What''s worse, she had flat out demanded that he add the excessively adorable deer-squirrel hybrids to his first room.


    The sounds of the room had changed completely, where there had once been only running water the occasional Raven''s caw and clack of Harvester legs on stone, now it was a din of lovable barks and squeaks that sounded like, of all things, raspy quacking.


    Luneil felt every ounce of self respect he possessed drain away into some unseen abyss, never to return.


    Furthermore, they were totally unsuitable as a Boss monster. Even with their sharpened antlers and elongated front teeth. They clambered all over the stalagmites and stalactites, leaping incredible distances as if they were simply jumping from branch to branch. In a nutshell, the Squirreleer were just too small and winsome to be Boss monster.


    He also wanted to see them die in great numbers, and that couldn''t be so easily achieved otherwise.


    Luneil swore a silent oath to himself, if anyone laughed at him for those fluffy monsters, Hell would have to settle for their leftovers.


    What he needed was something to shut them up. Something decidedly un-cute.


    Time for round two. He brought up the base pattern of the deer, once again.


    What he had in mind would give those poor innocent Squirreleer nightmares, and he had the perfect room idea for it.


    ¡ªTyl¡ª


    As expected, the majority of the Exiles had died within days of returning. Some were killed by monsters, others by starvation and yet more by terrified peasants who had never seen a human in their lives.


    Those Exiles didn''t worry her. The living ones were more troubling. They had been taken under the wings of various groups looking to exploit the unique potential humans had.


    The various parties had done it for the power they had expected the humans to wield. And indeed some members of the newly returned race might indeed transcend Rank IX in time, as they had done millennia ago, only to find that there was no true limit on power, only a limit on a person''s ability to imagine it.


    That was the true horror of the humans, Exiles no longer. Imagination. A unique way of thinking. Bending the world to their wills instead of finding their place within the world''s natural order.


    Such a state was anathema. It would only spawn conflict, bring about more instability. They would devise incredible works, with no thoughts to their consequences until after they had been unleashed, creating even grander works with greater potential for harm in order to rescue themselves from their prior mess.


    Burning the forest down to put out a campfire, so to speak.


    It was a pity. They were an incredible species. It would be a shame to waste them. If only they could all be set upon the right path.


    She felt for the Devotions which her followers had bequeathed to her, following the link between the Lifeforce and its contributor, allowing her to peer into the Mortal Plane. It was her preferred way of viewing Era, divination was just too unclear and had a prohibitively high mana cost for general monitoring of the world.


    The Devotions were necessary in a very real way, they were the threads holding the fabric of the Planes together, allowing her to easily follow the holes they passed through and see through the eyes of her devotees.


    She skimmed through thousands of perspectives in an instant, until the image of a human caught her attention. She took in the blocky buildings with the shallow-sloping roofs, the familiar cathedral and the statue in the city square. Durada.


    Tyl made a mental note to warn High Pardoner Fleet, if she wasn''t aware already.


    Actually...


    She would talk to her right now. That woman was practically a saint, compared to the rest of the Pardoners, taking her duties solemnly and seriously. It had been a while since they''d had a conversation together.


    She felt for a sliver of her own Lifeforce, feeling for where it was contained within a shard of a Dungeon Core, embedded in the altar of Durada''s cathedral.


    The altar was not suddenly wreathed in flame or light, she''d left the theatrics to her siblings, when they had been alive. Instead, a deep, dull chime rang out throughout the spacious interior of the place of worship.


    Instantly, everyone dropped to their knees, waiting for the sound to fade.


    Fleet, true to her name, came running. The diminutive Sol-Elva placed a reverential hand on the altar.


    "What is it thou desire, my lady?" Fleet''s voice had a pleasant contralto thrum to it.


    "How many times do I have to tell you, stop being so deferential, not with me." Tyl said, in a not quite scolding manner, quietly amused at the familiar situation playing out.


    "Yes my¡ªTyl. Yes, Tyl." The elf chuckled ruefully, "What may I do to help you out? I imagine it''s been rather busy with the Exiles returning."


    "Oh, you would not imagine. They''ve been keeping their heads down so far, thankfully. It''s actually the other races who are causing the problems. They think to believe that I''ve suddenly gone blind, all because the Veil has been breached and the humans are returning." Tyl sighed, "I''ve tried my best, but the old rivalries are flaring up again."


    "Do you think there''ll be another war?" Fleet asked.


    "I hope not, it''s been centuries since the last one."


    "You don''t need to remind me, I was there."


    "I know, my dear. I know. Just making conversation. You have no idea how lonely it gets up here sometimes. It''s nice to have a... friend," Tyl savored the word, "to talk to."


    "How do you think it will start?"


    "Who knows? Some dwarf will attack a duergar, or maybe one of your people will attack a Jord-elva, perhaps the other way round. Though, in my experience, it''s often the ones in the stronger position that start these things, and for the most ridiculous of reasons."


    Fleet nodded, "I never understood my race''s obsession with bloodlines."


    "Me neither."


    "So, what was it you wanted to ask me?"


    Tyl sighed, "Yes, I suppose you''re right. It''s just been so busy that¡ª"


    Fleet coughed, it sounded suspiciously like she was holding back laughter.


    "Fine. There''s a human outside, in the square. Should be attracting a large crowd."


    The elf nodded slowly, a frown appearing on her face, "You want me to kill it?"


    "Ye¡ªNo. Make sure nothing bad happens. Bring him inside. Tell him I just want to talk."


    Fleet laughed, "Don''t we all."


    Tyl joined in, her worries falling away, forgotten.


    The elf cleared her throat politely, "Should I g¡ª"


    "Nah, stay a while. The human isn''t going anywhere, it''s not urgent, I''m keeping an eye on him. It''s nice to chat, it''s been far too long."


    Fleet smiled, not saying anything.


    "So. Did you hear about Loa?"


    The High Pardoner nodded, "Yes, I thought it was just sensationalism though. Good on her, I''ve been telling her to take a break for so long. The king must have been furious."


    Tyl chortled, "I''ve been telling her exactly the same thing. As for the king, you cannot imagine, I watched the entire thing. The official statement is that Loa only ran off with his daughter and half the treasury. What a load of crap. They emptied the whole treasury, including the door."


    "The door?"


    "Don''t worry, I''ll tell her to give it back the next time I speak to her."


    "And when''s that?"


    "A year or two."


    Fleet smiled, before her face turned serious, "I really should b¡ª"


    The Goddess sighed, "Yes. I suppose you should."


    "How about next week?"


    "What?"


    The elf smirked, "Great! I''ll put a note down, I wouldn''t want to be busy. Talk to you in a week''s time."


    "Wait, I don¡ª" Tyl''s remaining words were wasted as Fleet abruptly withdrew her hand, already sprinting towards the city square and the human.


    The Goddess shook her head, laughing to herself. If only her siblings could see her now, outmaneuvered by her own followers.


    There were worse things.

 Chapter 11 - Okay... who made the flowers evil?

    ¡ªBas¡ª


    The pass was up ahead, only a thousand feet, maybe less.


    The air carried with it the sharp bite of cold, funneled down from lofty mountaintops that streamed sheets of cloud out into a crisp blue sky.


    The wind was weak and intermittent, yet Bas still tightened the borrowed blanket around him in an effort to ward off the chill that had suddenly arisen this close to the mountain pass.


    He would have rather foregone the entire experience, but Kort pressed on ahead. The dwarf seemed immune to the effects of ''a little nip t'' the air'', although, it was more likely that the armor he wore was keeping him warm.


    Two thousand feet above the pass, the first speckling of snow appeared on the mountainsides, quickly spreading and thickening farther up, until the whole mountaintop was blanketed in cold and white, merging seamlessly with the clouds billowing off the peaks to make it seem as if the lofty summits were the pillars of the sky.


    Bas glanced around him warily, part of him worried for the threat of potential predators nearby, yet a small voice urged him to face them, to take their Lifeforce for his own and experience the bliss of being united with their strength.


    He shook the errant thoughts away, he would reach Rank II soon enough. Then he could begin his plans.


    If the extensive history of Era was anything to go by, the world had been stuck in a semi-medieval period for tens of thousands of years, at least.


    It was truly incredible that they had not even discovered steam power yet. Such a thing would tip the balance of power so firmly in a nation''s favor that it would come to dominate the world within a century.


    Bas was practically salivating at the idea of creating a steam engine. The uses of rapid transport, ranging from distribution of materials to troop movements would turn Era on its head. All he needed was to be the first one to create it in this corner of the world. It might not even require steam, this was a magical world after all. Controlled application of gaseous mana might be able to replicate the process, although he had no idea as to how much mana it would take to move a vehicle.


    Kort''s loud intake of breath ripped him from his plans for world domination, "Well fuck me with a fire iron. I''ll be a liar if I say that''s nae the most beautiful thing I''ve ever seen."


    They had reached the top of the pass.


    Spread out below them was a valley bathed in a thousand prismatic hues. Patches of flowers, almost too bright to be real, carpeted the ground in color, their petals blurred by distance into a greater more cohesive whole. Bushes seemed to erupt from the ground in a riot of life and leafy shades, tossing their green manes in response to the breeze that funneled down the valley.


    A gemlike river glinted in garish shades of sapphire and the whitish-blue of sunlight seen through fresh snow. Trees burst out from its banks in thick rows, before beginning solitary journeys towards the valley''s sloping sides. Evergreen pine and red-berried mountain ash proudly braving the silent scorn of the frosty mountain summits that peered down from so high above, crowned in clouds and sky.


    A small herd of deer could be seen grazing below, although they kept a wary distance between the tree studded riverbank.


    Was there something in the water? Bas put the thought out of mind. The entire valley exuded a sense of peace and serenity.


    Kort, however, was on edge, "This should nae be here." His eyes glowed blue, indicating that he was massively augmenting his vision with liquid mana.


    The dwarf scanned the valley floor, searching for anything out of place.


    "Huh? There ought t'' be a Dungeon here. This ain''t natural for so high up, and I''ve nae ever seen those flowers before."


    "I never took ya for a botanist." Grimheld said, a teasing grin on his face.


    "It''s nae joking matter, Grim. Just give me a second." Kort was perplexed, his mana enhanced gaze darting from side to side, almost peeling away the vegetation with his scrutiny in order to see what lay beneath.


    The dwarf scanned the area for almost a minute, before his gaze jerked up toward where the slope of the valley''s side began to steepen.


    "Huh?" Kort scratched his chin, working his gauntleted fingers in between the strands of his beard, "What are you doing up there?"


    Bas followed his look, barely able to make out the abnormality on the opposite slope. It was only its shape that gave it away¡ªan almost perfect ellipse. "Is that a Du¡ª"


    "Yes." Kort and Grimheld said, answering simultaneously.


    "What''s so strange about it? I understand why the valley is odd; it looks like an acid trip. But..."


    "Acid trip?" Kort''s eyebrows raised as he turned to face Bas, "Are you telling me, laddie, that acid is used for transportation in your world?"


    "No." Bas laughed, "An acid trip is when... you know what. Nevermind. Forget I ever said anything."


    But Kort wouldn''t let the matter go, "Would I find anything about this acid travel in this book of yours?" He gestured towards Grimheld''s pack, and the physics book that sat inside it.


    "No."


    Kort''s eyes narrowed, "So, you would nae mind me checking, then? Just t'' make sure."


    It was a bluff, and Bas knew it, "Go ahead, be my guest." He dismissively waved Kort toward Grimheld. No one in Era would be able to make head or tail of its contents.


    Kort was obviously aware of this. He smirked, before answering Bas'' previous question, "Dungeons often send out creatures t'' gather food for them. Like this one," He patted the side of his bag, where the strange beetle was stored. "When a Dungeon goes rogue, it will sometimes claim land above ground and colonize that as well. But, by all rights, those plants ought t'' be up there, they should nae be down there." Kort squinted, "And those deer. Over there. They''re completely normal." He said the last part in an accusatory grumble, as if the deer had just eviscerated his grandmother with a rusty spoon.


    Bas stared at him. Were the deer meant to be anything other than normal?


    He didn''t have time to dwell on that train of thought. Kort straightened, moving closer and straining upward to loop a metal-encased arm around Bas'' shoulders. "So, lad. Are you ready t'' get stronger? I have a promise t'' keep." He gave Bas a hearty, companionable thump on the shoulder with his free hand, completely oblivious to the the gauntlets he was wearing.


    "Ow!" Bas, on the other hand, was all too painfully aware of the hard metal slamming congenially into his shoulder joint.


    Kort laughed, "That''s what I like to hear." He withdrew his arm from Bas'' shoulders, giving him one final pat on the back, which, as usual, sent him sprawling face down on the grass.


    The asshole dwarf set off down the hill, humming jovially to himself.


    Bas, meanwhile, was spitting out the familiar tufts of grass that somehow always managed to intricate themselves into him mouth whenever Kort was being friendly.


    Grimheld walked forwards, stopping beside Bas'' prone form. "Ya know, kid. If ya used yer mana properly this wouldn''t happen." Despite the seemingly reprimanding tone, Grim''s voice was full of humor.


    "And you''re telling me now?"


    "Ya have to let me have a little fun at yer expense. It''s only fair..." Grimheld cradled his chin between his thumb an forefinger, smirking all the while, "Actually... Let me retract that last statement. It''s not fair, but it was just too funny."


    "Ha. Fucking. Ha."


    "Glad ya see the humor in it." Grimheld helped him up, "C''mon, let me show ya how to develop yer Mitigator Variant. I''ll show ya as we walk."


    Bas perked up immediately, on hearing those words, quickly dusting the dirt and grass off his badly stained trousers. He followed after him.


    "So, I''ve already shown ya the basics of how to heal and strengthen. Just let yer mana flow into someone. Simple." Grimheld paused, waiting until Bas realized he was supposed to nod along, "Good, so ya remember that, then. Now, that''s only one side of the coin when it comes to the Mitigator Variant."


    Absentmindedly, Grimheld drew a knife across his own forearm, "Heal this."


    Bas did as requested, summoning out his mana cloud and letting it seep into Grimheld''s self-inflicted wound.


    "Good, so ya weren''t just bullshitting me when ya said ya remembered." The dwarf seemed to radiate approval, "Now, let''s move on to something more advanced. Stop this."


    Grimheld stopped walking tossed the knife in the air, he eyed it for a second before taking one step forward and tilting his head to the side, exposing his neck.


    The blade''s upward momentum slowed and it angled itself downward, toward Grimheld''s bare flesh.


    Time seemed to slow for Bas. He tried to summon up what he had learnt, but little was forthcoming.


    He could try to strengthen Grim''s skin by letting mana flow into it, but if the mana he added wasn''t enough the knife could do some serious damage.


    Oh well, it was worth a try. He began to let his mana pour into Grimheld.


    Wait! He wasn''t going about this in the right way. Only one way would work for certain.


    Acting purely on instinct, he struck Grim''s rear with a hasty kick that sent the dwarf stumbling forward. The hurried kick unbalanced Bas, causing him to land hard on his backside.


    The knife hit the ground, burying its point in the rocky dirt, denied of its victim.


    Grimheld turned, choking back a guffaw as he saw Bas once again indignantly collapsed on the ground, "I shouldn''t laugh. Ya did well, kid." Grimheld gazed into the distance, "My first teacher, back when I was still set on being a healer, had me do that exercise for days on end until I did what ya just did. I already knew how to absorb the energy of objects with my mana, but truthfully it makes little difference. He would throw a knife, this one, a hundred times a day up into the air and position himself below it."


    Grimheld bent down to pick up the dagger, rubbing off the dirt with his thumb and a bit of spit, "Sometimes I would stop the knife before it hit. Other times I would strengthen him and watch the blade bounce off. I failed his test every time. On the eighth day I finally decided to not protect him at all." Grimheld turned the dagger over in his hands, chuckling, "Ya should have seen his face when the knife landed. I had to use all of my mana to heal that wound."


    Grimheld tossed the dagger up in the air, "Do ya know what he said, kid?"


    Bas shook his head.


    Grimheld shrugged, "Better, but you still failed. Then he tossed the knife up in the air again, knowing full well that I had no mana left. Guess what I did?"


    Ah, so this was where Grimheld''s story was going. "Uh. You pushed him out of the way?"


    Grimheld laughed, a deep resonant bass sound, "No. I punched him in the face and broke his nose. Ya should have seen him stagger back, clutching it. He didn''t expect that."


    Bas joined in the laughter, despite himself.


    "Served him right, although his mana healed him pretty quickly, even if he wasn''t a liquid mana user. Still, it was an important lesson. Not everything has to be solved with mana." Grimheld gestured behind Bas. "If anyone can tell you, they can."


    Bas turned on the ground to look behind him. He twitched in surprise, Blue and Ola had been standing behind him, likely for the entire time.


    Ola just gave them both a knowing look, eyes sparkling with a strange mix of sadness and humor. She gave him a brief nod, before catching up with Kort.


    Blue, however, was keen to add her own bit of advice, "Pay attention to Grim, this is the most important lesson you will ever learn. Sometimes mana causes more problems than it solves." She fiddled with a strand of hair, saying nothing more. Then, with a faraway look in her eye, she followed after Ola.


    Grimheld was still tossing the dagger up in the air and catching it between his fingertips. "Well... anyway..." He began to look slightly sheepish, "what I meant to say is... my teacher gave me this knife when I punched him out of the way, I''ve had it ever since... and, um..." Grimheld scratched the back of his head. "You see... uh... I would like ya to have it now. Although I would appreciate it if ya didn''t punch me for it." He laughed nervously, holding out the dagger, hilt first.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Bas pushed himself off the ground and walked towards the dwarf, a maelstrom of emotions swirling in his chest. He reached for the dagger, almost reverently. Grimheld''s hand drew back almost imperceptibly, hesitant to hand over the blade. The dwarf shook his head in silent self rebuke, pressing the hilt into Bas'' hand. "Take care of ''er, kid."


    Bas didn''t trust himself to speak, but still he managed to choke out a brief: "I will."


    Grimheld stood there awkwardly, fiddling with his fingers. Then, he opened his arms, "Ah. C''mere, kid." He glanced quickly at the knife, before adding, "And try not to stab me with that."


    Bas stepped into the hug, making sure to keep the dagger well away from Grimheld.


    The dwarf handed him the knife''s sheath and clapped Bas across the back a couple of times, with none of Kort''s excessive force.


    Speaking of Kort...


    A voice blasted up towards them, "Will you two lovebirds leave it till later? We''ve nae got all day."


    Grimheld rolled his eyes, giving Bas one last pat on the back and walking towards Kort, he called out behind him, "Anyway, ya want to avoid getting sent flying? It''s the opposite of healing, let yer mana cloud jar with whatever ya want to stop, resist its movement and absorb its force. Try it. I''ll test ya as we go. Tell me when you''re ready."


    Bas let his mana cloud expand outwards, spending some of that mana to keeping the rest from being stripped by the wind. He focused on his mana cloud, trying to instill a sense of immovability and resistance into it. "Ready."


    Grimheld bent down, his steps barely faltering as he scooped a small rounded pebble off the floor. With a flick of his wrist he tossed it into Bas'' mana cloud.


    The stone sailed through his gaseous mana without resistance, bouncing softly off his stomach instead.


    "Try again, kid."


    Another stone hit him unimpeded.


    Bas focused harder, furrowing his brow in concentration, trying to imagine his mana cloud as immovable and unyielding. It did nothing as another salvo of stones rebounded off him.


    "Why are ya trying so hard? Ya don''t need to do it all at once. The goal is to sap its speed and strength, not stop it dead. Imagine yer cushioning it, not trying to force it to stay in one place."


    Bas blinked. Was that what he was doing wrong?


    He stopped focusing on his mana cloud as a solid object, instead viewing it as if it were a strong headwind that opposed movement but did nothing to actually impede it.


    A stone came flying towards him. It entered his mana and began to slow as its impetus was stolen by the mana.


    Bas could feel his mana being expended in slowing the pebble, up until it stopped.


    Counter-intuitively, the mana drain remained, even as it reached a standstill, hovering in the air.


    It wasn''t moving. So why was it still costing him mana?


    Unless...


    Of course. Gravity was trying to bring the pebble back down to the ground, yet his mana was actively resisting that.


    Satisfied with the conclusion, he let the stone drop to the grass slope beneath his feet.


    "Nice work, kid." Grimheld gave him a thumbs up.


    They continued down the slope, Grimheld intermittently throwing small pebbles that Bas would catch with his mana and subsequently allow to fall when their forward momentum had been stolen.


    The valley wasn''t far below, but they were blazing their own tortuous trail down towards the valley floor. It was mindless walking and soon Bas descended into uneasy contemplation and painful reminiscence.


    He thought of Earth and his family. A twinge of pain settled in his chest, right between his ribs, he wondered how his parents were. Had they been transported here? Or were they back home? Wondering where he was. Waiting for their Sebastian to return.


    It had dawned on him slowly, he''d been trying to ignore the facts. But he was here, actually here. His friends and family, everyone he knew and loved were elsewhere. Or perhaps, even more disastrously, they could be here, in Era. Trying to adjust to a world that wouldn''t think twice about seeing them face down and forgotten in a ditch.


    The last threads of self-delusion, which he had clung to so desperately, slipped from his fingers. This was no dream.


    All the beauty and splendor of the world around him seemed strangely muted now. When he had still harbored some remnant hope of it being a dream, the world''s rotten core had been easy to ignore. But this place was real. He could die here, as so many already had.


    Danger did not stalk the shadows here, instead it walked brazenly in the sunlight.


    Bas eyed Kort up ahead, walking with Grimheld, Ola and Blue. They were obviously strong, far stronger than him, and there was only one way to gain strength.


    How many monsters had they killed? How many people?


    Bas left the disturbing thoughts for later, they were nearing the valley now and a heavenly scent had begun to assault his nostrils, wafted up by errant winds. It smelled like home, warm chocolate cookies and that orange air freshener that sat on top of the table next to the couch.


    Kort and his small group in front could smell it too, they had called a halt, blissful smiles on their faces as they luxuriated in the blasts of cold but fragrant air.


    Bas jogged forwards to catch up with them, sparing a brief glance behind him, noticing Dirri and Gern''s equally enraptured expressions. They could smell it too.


    A few feet ahead, he heard Kort rumble in a strangely soft and broken voice, "It smells so much like the tunnels of home during springtime. Do you remember when they planted flowers just in front of the mountain''s entrances?"


    Grimheld and Ola nodded.


    "Ah, I thought I was nae ever going t'' smell something like it again. Every gust of wind would blow petals through the hallways."


    Grimheld gave Kort a funny look, as if he were going crazy.


    Now that Bas thought about it... when had Kort gotten so soft. He hardly seemed like the sort to appreciate the smell of flowers.


    Oh well. They still had a short way to go until they reached the valley floor.


    Then Kort spoke again, walking over to Bas, "Hey, lad. Do you want t'' hear the Adventu¡ª"


    "It''s not the Adventuring Song," Ola and Blue both said at once.


    But there was no stopping Kort, and Grimheld was too busy grinning to offer his opinion on the matter. Kort didn''t wait for Bas to respond, launching into an impromptu rendition that was simultaneously cacophonous and strangely melodious. It was actually sort of beautiful, in a very dwarven way...


    Until Bas heard the actual lyrics that Kort bawled out.


    My wife she waits at home for me


    As faithful as the tides


    Tis nae her fault that all I¡¯ve got


    Is bastards at me sides.


    It was at this point that Grimheld couldn''t take it anymore, and joined in. The only thing that stopped him from being criminally out of tune was the lack of any tune to begin with. It was pure anarchy.


    My wife is warm and welcoming


    ''Specially between her legs


    But nothing beats a toasty tavern


    And draining casks and kegs.


    You dragged me off t''Adventure


    Where we drink and fuck and brawl


    You made my wife wait for me


    Buuut


    You''re brilliant bastards, one and all.


    My wife''s love is truly endless


    She''s even got a decent hole


    But nothing beats a brothel


    And a different girl each night, dancing on my pole.


    Blue and Ola gagging quietly at the last line. Bas almost fancied he could hear Ola mutter that ''it''s gotten worse''. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Kort wink cheekily at her. And continue to sing. Four more verses to be precise.


    By the end, both Ola and Blue were cradling their heads in their hands, trying to forget what had just taken place. Bas decided that it might be a little impolite to clap and demand an encore, given the content. Still... the singing wasn''t that bad was it?


    All of his misconceptions were immediately dispelled when he heard Blue curse loudly, "Dwarves."


    Ola shook her head sadly, correcting her wayward friend, "Men."


    Kort and Grimheld were grinning, completely unperturbed by the tough crowd. "It was nae that bad, we even spiced it up with a verse we got from some friendly lads in Valis. Only decent people there, now that I think of it."


    Ola groaned softly to herself.


    The grin never left Grimheld''s face as he turned to Bas, "So, kid. Do ya have any songs where you''re from." It wasn''t really a question.


    Bas chuckled, if only they knew... Earth had so much music, easier than ever to reach on account of the internet. He searched his memory for any familiar tunes.


    And drew a blank.


    Except...


    Oh god...


    Anything but that.


    Grimheld and Kort looked at him in anticipation. "Well?"


    Frantically Bas tried to summon up another song to mind. To no avail.


    "Uhhh."


    The two dwarves motioned at him to continue, while Ola and Blue looked at him with an expression caught between expectant fascination and wariness. Well... they had little to fear in the way of bawdy lyrics... this was far worse.


    Oh well, he''d better get this over with. He''d try and wing it as best he could.


    Heigh ho, heigh ho, adventuring we go...


    The girls relaxed, cautious hope filling their eyes at the prospect of a song that hadn''t been written by horny drunkards.


    Bas'' totally original, definitely not stolen song flooded across the valley. And while he hated to admit it, he sort of felt that Kort''s Adventuring Song was better.


    They reached the valley floor an hour later. The air was thick with the smell of the flowers and their pollen, which hung heavy over the valley like a golden veil in the noon sunlight. The flowers themselves were masterpieces, mind-bending arrangements of leaves and petals into impossibly intricate curls and spirals that framed perfect, pollen-laden anthers.


    Hypnotizing veins of color and light drew the eye in deeper and deeper, stealing their consciousness away into the darkness of their petaled folds. Rays of eveni¡ª


    "The flowers! Their pollen is doing this!" Blue''s sudden yell broke through the flower''s strange mesmerism.


    Bas'' mind surfaced like a diver rising from a ice-laden ocean, shaking itself free from the clutches of the cold abyss.


    A cloud of gaseous mana erupted from Grimheld and Dirri, expanding to encompass the adventuring team and expelling the pollen. Fear and worry, driven away by the pollen''s effects, returned.


    Bas shook his head, turning to glance at the setting sun. They had been standing there for hours, at least. He looked back at the flowers, without the soothing effects of the pollen, their cold beauty had taken on a crueler edge; like the sinister stillness of a perfect drop of blood poised on the tip of a blade of grass.


    Blue spoke again, "We need to destroy that Dungeon. If these things have spread out here..."


    Bas looked at her with a small sense of awe. How had the small gnome sensed something amiss? How had she pulled herself out of the flower''s embrace to warn them of the danger? Bas had no doubt that if she hadn''t broken that strange hypnosis, then they would have stood there until they died. He shuddered.


    This valley was dangerous. He looked at the trees in a new light, noting how the deer were reluctant to venture too close to them. Why weren''t they affected by the pollen? Although, perhaps they were, and their fear of the pines still won out over the calming effects.


    His gaze returned to the flowers, basking innocently in the rays of the setting sun. Their designs where still eye-catching, but knowledge of their hidden dangers blunted their former power to ensnare.


    Still... it was best to be on guard.


    Heh. Fuck defensiveness. Out of pure spite, he drew his new dagger from its sheath and decapitated all the flowers in reach. After the first dozen he looked out over the valley and groaned. There were hundreds of them and he didn''t want to risk the dangers of the pollen again, not with Grimheld or Dirri''s mana protecting him. He didn''t trust his own.


    Grimheld, however, saw what Bas had been doing, "Good idea. We need to get this area cleared out. Then I need a drink."


    "We do nae have any left. Someone," Kort directed a glare at Blue, "used the last of our sacchar t'' burn down the Tinderbox. Although, I''ll let it go, since you saved our asses. Probably..."


    "How kind of you," Blue muttered, looking down at her feet.


    "How did ya recognize that ya were being hypnotized by the flowers?" Grimheld asked.


    "The pollen, I think it smells different to everyone. The flower scented wind of dwarven halls for you. Juniper smoke and wreaths of wildflowers lain on turned earth for me. The pollen reminds you of an old soothing scent from your past, a time when you could let your burdens fall from your back. Mine," Blue paused, "was bittersweet. Not as calming as it should have been."


    "Why?" Ola lay a comforting hand on the gnome''s shoulder.


    "You know that the Adventurer''s Guild draws its staff from those who can no longer fight." Blue said. Ola, and the other dwarves nodded in understanding. "They take soldiers too. The ones who aren''t completely broken anyway. There aren''t many of those. There aren''t many of us."


    "And?" Ola prompted.


    "A small skirmish. Shouldn''t have happened. It was all a misunderstanding, a stupid mistake. I pushed my body and my mana too far, I couldn''t fight after that, not properly. It was like my life had been torn out from under my feet, and, at the same, it was a relief. No more fighting, no more battles. Just settling down." Her voice rang with melancholy, the end muffled as Ola drew her into a warm embrace.


    "There, there. It''s okay, my dear." Ola soothed, stroking Blue''s back with a practiced hand, a conflicted expression on her face, "If it weren''t for that we wouldn''t have met you. And we wouldn''t be alive. I wouldn''t wish what happened to you on anyone, but maybe it happened for a reason."


    Blue simply nodded into Ola''s shoulder, sniffling quietly.


    "C''mon, you just sit down here and we''ll set up camp. I''ll be right here." Ola gently lowered Blue onto the ground and sat down next to her, throwing pointed looks at everyone else.


    Everyone else got the message and made themselves busy setting up the tents.


    At one point Kort, Grimheld and Gern walked over to the trees by the river. They had noted the deer''s strange behavior and were therefore watchful for any surprises. But none arose. The trees seemed normal, at least. Which meant that the danger was probably in the river.


    Kort removed a gauntlet and slipped it into his belt, evidently not wanting to damage it. Then, his hand glowed blue and sailed into the tree trunk.


    The pine burst apart in a shower of splinters and moments later Kort was lugging the remainders of the tree back to the camp. The bizarre spectacle drew a snort of amusement from both Ola and Blue.


    At least they had plenty of firewood.


    It was getting pretty dark and they didn''t dare risk hunting the deer at night, so they settled down by the fire and feasted on their supplies. It wasn''t fancy food by any stretch of the imagination, but they were all exhausted, and to be honest, it was good enough.


    While Blue turned in for an early night, Grimheld and Dirri arranged watches throughout the night so that they could maintain a persistent mana cloud. They didn''t want to risk letting too much of the pollen filter near them, even if they were aware of its effects.


    Kort gathered them together, announcing the plan for the next day. "Tomorrow, we''re going t'' clear more of those damn flowers out of here, and we''re also going to scout out the Dungeon, see if it needs destroying." Kort''s voice turned decidedly sour at the last part.


    Kort seemed as if he was about to say something else, but a small rustling sound came from Blue''s tent. They walked over as a group, on the lookout for some creature that had somehow slipped past them.


    It was nothing. Simply Blue tossing and turning on her sleeping roll, sleeping. Still, the prospect of unknown creatures in the dark was worrying. They added more logs to the fire as a precaution, driving the blackness back.


    Ola sighed, hesitating for a second, before walking over and scooping up the severed head of a flower from the edge of the camp.


    She crouched through the flaps of Blue''s tent, lightly dusting the area beside the gnome''s head with the flower, leaving a few small grains of pollen behind.


    Blue''s expression changed, becoming more calm, no longer twisting and turning. Ola nodded to herself, looking in for just a moment more. Then, she turned and tossed the flower into the fire, before making a beeline for her tent and some much needed rest.


    Bas decided to follow her example, they would be exploring a Dungeon tomorrow. He''d never seen one, but he had some theories about them that the natives of Era might have overlooked. When he finally got there, he wanted to be fresh and ready.

 Chapter 12 - The wrong sort of stag party

    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    Luneil had completed his Boss room a while ago. There were a few minor finishing touches that needed to be added, but for now there was something far more interesting going on.


    There were adventurers in his valley.


    There were seven of them, and they had stood around for a couple of hours, before pitching tents and clearing the area of Mirages, his insect-attracting flowers. All in all, his first real view of adventurers was far less exciting than he had hoped it would be. There wasn¡¯t anything particularly noteworthy from them. Except that a large number of them were dwarves.


    The short black-haired one, was extremely strong; while two other dwarves appeared to have limited control over gaseous mana. Apart from that, however, the function of the remaining members of the party seemed unclear. Zeph had helpfully pointed out that the extremely short female was a gnome and that the tall one was probably some species of elf.


    They all seemed somewhat on edge, peering fearfully into the darkness as they clustered around their campfire. Luneil didn''t miss the occasional glances that were shot in his direction. Something about their gazes seemed off. They was less excitement in them than he had expected and more the sense of an animal backed into a corner by a predator.


    Zeph, why am I getting strange looks from them?


    "Probably because they''re worried you''re a rogue Dungeon."


    Why would they think that?


    "Oh, I don''t know." She tapped a protrusion of smoke against her chin in mock thoughtfulness, "Maybe because you stuck plants that obviously belong in a Dungeon in the middle of a valley." She kicked a nearby Mirage.


    But there''s nothing wrong with¡ª


    "Did you test that?"


    Luneil didn''t answer. He hadn''t. The flowers didn''t seem to affect the deer in the valley, but that didn''t mean that they had no effect whatsoever. Suddenly he found himself wishing he had listened to Zeph''s advice a bit more closely.


    Well... I''ve obviously made a mistake somewhere along the line.


    "You think?" Zeph asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.


    What will they do?


    "They''ll come in here, clear the place out, and if you seem too dangerous, they''ll kill you."


    How will they do that? I''m pretty hard to break.


    "You don''t need to be broken to die. You''re connected to your Dungeon complex, yes?" Zeph didn''t wait for him to respond, "If you''re moved away from here without being given time to adjust, then the shock will destroy your mind. That''s how."


    Wait, so can''t I just hide myself inside a wall then? That would stop someone removing me against my will.


    "I suppose you could, but it''s no guarantee of safety since you would need to leave a small space for your mana to flow through. It''s also extremely atypical. Sentients don''t like it when they can''t find the Core anywhere. It''s another one of those rogue Dungeon things."


    Too bad. They''ll just have to deal with it. They don''t look particularly friendly anyway


    Luneil directed his Ravens to move his Core up against a wall at the far end of his Boss room which opened up according to his will. He fell into the cubbyhole as he destroyed the lattice of grass beneath him. With a slightly flexion of will, the wall closed back up around him. He was left in darkness, surrounded by stone on all sides, except for the slightest of fissures that penetrated the rock and allowed his gaseous mana to enter and exit.


    Using his mana to sense the world around him he watched the adventurers in the valley below.


    ***


    They had spent a while clearing away the Mirages from around their camp, but now they were trudging up the slope towards his Dungeon entrance.They had made good progress, even if they had been throwing cautious glances in every direction, wary of a sudden ambush. They were close now.


    As the adventurers scrambled up the final ascent, Luneil began to hear faint snippets of conversation.


    "There''s nae anything t'' worry about this Dungeon. It''s nae gone rogue. Ah, sure, there are a few measly flowers in the valley, but it''s nae like the Dungeon''s properly expanded down there."


    "Kort, I don''t know why you''re defending the Dungeon, but those flowers were not measly. They''re deadly if you''re not careful." The gnome said.


    "Lass, you''re blowing those flowers out of proportion, they''re hardly Hellspores. I''m sure we would''ve all snapped out of it once we got a little peckish. You had a bad experience and the flowers reminded you of them, that''s nae a reason t¡¯ take it out on their poor petalled heads."


    "I''m not taking it out on the flowers, it''s the Dungeon that''s the problem here and you''re refusing to see it. That thing needs to be destroyed before it hurts someone who didn''t sign up to this. It''s one thing when an adventurer dies in the Dungeon, it''s an entirely different thing when one dies outside of it. I''ve been a clerk for a while now, I know how this starts. This needs to be nipped in the bud."


    "Nipped in the bud? And you''re saying this is nae about flowers, lass? You''re practically obsessed. I think you should calm down and just think this through before you go doing something rash. We have plenty of time to prove it''s nae gone rogue. No one''s sent a message to the Adventurers Guild yet, so no matter what happens, we''re good. Grim, Ola and myself will scout it out first, and then the rest of you can join us. Once we¡¯ve proved it¡¯s safe."


    They were standing right in front of his entrance now, close enough for Luneil to see the frown on the gnome''s face in perfect detail. The rest of the party looked slightly pensive, not reassured by Kort''s explanations. Except for the elf, who just looked confused. And ugly. Well... he looked somewhat average, compared with the dwarves, but something told Luneil that elves ought to be judged to a higher standard. They were superior after all.


    He shook the errant thought away. Or at least he tried to.


    Zeph? Why does that elf look so ugly?


    Zeph peered closer, "That''s not an elf. I''ve seen someone like him before, a long long time ago. Before the gods died and the Veil was created." Her voice became tinged with worry,  "That''s a human. And I think you¡¯re responsible for him being here."


    Luneil felt a surge of emotion as a memory from a past life took hold. His final moment, one hand wrapped around the shaft of the javelin buried within his neck, the other outstretched towards the ritual circle. The rush of power leaving him, mana and Lifeforce intermingling to create a spell that seemed to defy comprehension, a strange thing that carried echoes of replication and creation in equal parts. And then nothing.


    It worked.


    It worked!


    "Yes it did." Zeph''s voice was soft, almost worried, "Be very careful Luneil, we don''t know what he''s capable of."


    Luneil checked their auras, momentarily confused by the astounding brilliance of the mana leaking out of them. They each possessed a seemingly phenomenal amount of energy, but comparing the weakest, the human, to the strongest, the angry looking gnome, was like trying to understand the sun by looking at an ember.


    I''m not so sure, he seems pretty weak.


    "He comes from a different world. Knowledge was always the source of the humans'' power, and believe me, it is a dangerous thing."


    Dangerous? Knowledge? Hah. Luneil could have barely held back his amusement, even if he''d wanted to. All knowledge was his, and if it wasn''t, it would be.


    However, his definitely-not-deranged plans for domination of the world''s libraries ground to a halt when Kort, the black haired one, pulled a familiar creature from his bag. With one final curse towards it, the dwarf kicked it near to where Luneil was watching.


    The Harvester''s chitinous legs creaked, almost in relief, as it skittered into Luneil''s influence. Quickly, Luneil absorbed the prodigal Blackshell Harvester, feeling as if a long lost part of him had been reunited.


    He mulled over the last order he¡¯d given it: If something attacks you, run back here. So that¡¯s how the adventurers had found him so quickly. He suppressed a twinge of admiration for their craftiness, replacing it with a surge of annoyance at his own foolishness.


    He returned his attention to Kort as the dwarf turned to the rest of the party and, drawing himself up and puffing out his chest, spoke again, "I told you so." Kort gave a half-assed shrug and faced the Dungeon entrance once again, unable to keep a wicked grin off his face. "Now for the best part. Killing, and loot." He dumped his bag on the ground outside


    Then, as if going for an afternoon walk, Kort strolled right into the mouth of the tunnel, two other dwarves following close behind.


    Luneil instantly felt faint, a sensation that magnified as a cloud of gaseous mana expanded around one of the dwarves¡ªGrim, if he remembered the name correctly. His vision was blurred and his sense of touch and smell in the area was similarly impaired. Unaccustomed to the strange sensation, he tried to brush it away with his mana, but to no avail. His mana wouldn''t respond.


    Luneil flailed around, his panic mounting. But his mana didn''t respond, it was there, he could feel it. Yet no matter how hard he tried it was uncooperative.


    He calmed himself for the moment it took to release his consciousness and let it return directly to his Core. A clear, soothing darkness enveloped him immediately and, after a bit of self-reassurance, he pushed his consciousness back into the mana cloud, he had to see what was happening.


    Surprisingly, the image was clear, and all his sensations were unhindered. It took a moment to shake off the residual feelings of disorientation but he decided that the effect was most likely localized to the area surrounding the dwarves. Still... Luneil was apprehensive about what would happen if they came too close to his Core.


    And then they were moving, quickly. Kort withdrew his hammer from its frog on his belt. He swung his weapon in violently graceful arcs that intercepted midair any Ravens, Harvesters or Squirreleer that leaped towards the party, turning them into clouds of bone and gore.


    Grim''s mana seemed to probe the stone beneath their feet, checking for buried dangers that he called out for Ola to deal with. The she-dwarf darted forwards, almost too fast for the eye to follow, evading snares, dodging pitfalls and falling stalactites.


    Luneil was in a state of shock. He''d thought he was ready for these adventurers, but it was increasingly obvious that they could obliterate him in the blink of an eye. He didn''t want to think about it, but he suspected that they could even take down his Boss with no difficulty whatsoever. Individually the three dwarves were powerful, but together they were nigh-on unstoppable, working seamlessly together to thwart any threat from the land, air or ground beneath their feet.


    Almost unconsciously, Luneil moved his Core a few inches deeper into the fissure that he''d created. Not that it would help if these whirlwinds of steel came knocking on his wall. He began to see the futility of even hiding his Core, there could be no true escape when these three seemed as if they could reduce the very mountain to rubble beneath their feet.


    Strangely, and for no good reason, they moved to the left wall of his first room, positioning themselves near the corner, far from the entrance of the Dungeon complex. Then, of all things, they began to talk, in hushed whispers.


    Grim spoke first, "Kort, do ya think there''s any merit to what Blue''s been saying?"


    "I''m nae sure what t'' think. If you want me t'' tell you honestly, those flowers worry the fuck out of me. I''d nae ever tell Blue that, though. Too risky she''d blab t'' the Guild, and we don''t want them getting first dibs. Agreeing with her would only confirm her suspicions and a person like her will probably have a Cogwork Dragon ready to send a message in anticipation of a situation like this. We need this Dungeon. What I''m hoping for is that the Council needs this Dungeon too."


    After almost a minute of silence, Ola spoke up, "But what are the chances the Council will actually reverse the sentence?"


    Grim seized upon the question, "The only way to maintain leverage is to own the land the Dungeon is on. Yet, owning the land is practically inviting them to uphold the sentence of the banishment, not reverse it as ya want. The Dwarven Council can always do with a new Dungeon, that''s not the issue. The issue is that they claim the land and then decide, all of a sudden, to notice that we''re trespassing on dwarven territory, even if we own it. Then, they Stake us out to die and our possessions pass to them. Nice, clean, simple. We''re fucked."


    "We could always make it out t'' Blue," Kort said, before adding, "or Bas, I suppose. Neither of them have been banished by the Council, as far as I know."


    Grim shook his head, "Blue wouldn''t work, she''s a Guild clerk and she''s on Guild business right now, unfortunately, as are we all... except Bas. If we gave the land to Blue, then the Guild could state a prior claim. It has to be Bas. Neither the Guild nor the Council have a claim on him."


    "And we''re all fine with this?" Kort looked at each of them, noting the resolve on each of their faces, "Well, bugger. The lands around a Dungeon is a hell of a windfall t'' lose, but getting that banishment revoked is the bigger prize." He kneaded his hands together, "Now, I hate to say th¡ª"


    Grim cut in, "Then don''t. We don''t need to ''keep him in line''." His fingers formed quotation marks in the air. "He''s a good kid and he won''t screw us over." Grim seemed almost content to leave it there, but he couldn''t resist one parting shot, "Unless you see fit to continue acting like a cunt."


    "I''m nae bei¡ª"


    "Can you two just stop bickering like little children." Ola poked a finger at Grim''s chest, "You, keep your focus on the end goal. Don''t get too distracted." The finger of doom moved to fix itself over Kort''s heart, "And you can stop being a cunt."


    Kort spluttered indignantly but said nothing.


    Grim clapped his hands, "We should be getting back. We''re only meant to be scouting out this first room and the others will be getting restless."


    Luneil didn''t bother watching them as they traced their path back to the entrance. He was too busy pondering what he had heard. He had little knowledge of the factions who might wish to claim the lands outside the Dungeon and had even less context to go by. However, he was certain that the majority of the adventurers, with Blue being the obvious exception, meant him no harm.


    Luneil didn''t know the motives that drove the Adventurers Guild and Dwarven Council, and for that reason he thought it best to ensure that neither one of them gained complete control over his location. It wouldn''t be the end of the world by any stretch of the imagination. He could simply fly away, relocate somewhere else, but he had already devoted time, effort and more than a little love into the creation of his Dungeon complex. He was unwilling to see that go to waste over the prospect of an easily surmountable thing like bureaucracy.


    After all, it sounded as if ownership of land conveyed some degree of power. Given the choice between the Council and Kort''s party as proprietors of the surrounding land, Luneil would always prefer the group that would try and regulate him the least. It seemed likely that Kort¡¯s group fit the bill far better.


    He mulled over the decision for a few seconds more, trying to find any alternatives he might have missed. But no. It was decided. The adventurers would be most likely to further his cause, minus one gnome, if possible.


    With that decided, Luneil cleaned up his Dungeon, removing the spatters of gore and strings of entrails that festooned the dwarves'' path. He rearmed the traps and replaced the dead monsters. Uncertainty washed over him or a moment. He should have had more Lifeforce, shouldn''t he? He wasn''t sure. It was a tiny amount, but he couldn''t shake the feeling that some if it had gone missing.


    It wasn''t a large loss, but it was still a loss. He would have to pay extra attention when the dwarves returned. If they returned. Luneil hoped his painfully inadequate challenge hadn''t scared them off.


    ¡ªBas¡ª


    Bas'' eyes went immediately to the blood-spattered armor of the three dwarves as they exited the Dungeon. He didn''t say anything, merely raised an eyebrow at the sight. If any of them had been badly hurt, he would have heard some colorful cursing. Still, the blood was shockingly well distributed in a thick and even red coat, especially down the front of Kort''s breastplate.


    To Bas'' consternation, the bloodstained dwarf beamed as he spotted him and proceeded to saunter companionably over towards him. "You nae need t'' worry, lad. None of it''s mine. There''s nae too much of a challenge with this Dungeon, some beasties and a few traps to watch out for and that''s it."


    Kort raised his gore covered arm to slip around Bas'' shoulder, but stopped halfway. A strange look passed over his face and he gently placed his hammer on the grassy slope. "You know, lad... if I''ve been too... tough on you, I''m sorry about that. It''s been a rough year for all of my team and, well, I might have gotten a little over-eager about the whole getting-you-stronger thing." Kort wrung his hands, "If y... if you do nae want t''... argh, damn it. What I mean t'' say is that if you aren''t interested in being an adventurer and Ranking up anymore, that''s fine. You can always be a crafter, or something else, I suppose. It''s safer and t'' be honest, it does nae stop you from Ranking up a little bit either. It just takes a little longer, that''s all."


    Bas looked at the floor, "Kort, I¡ª"


    "I''ve been pushing you a little hard, I''ll readily admit that. But I would like t'' think that I did it with the best of intentions." Kort scratched his beard, leaving little flecks of red nestled in among the black strands, "I just don''t want you t'' feel as if you''ve got nae other option. The valley is nae going t'' be such a small place forever, and when that happens the world''ll be your oyster, so t'' speak." Kort drummed his steel-clad fingers against the gauntlet on his other hand. "That''s all I have t'' say about that."Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Bas wasn''t sure how to respond. He felt a lot of his enmity towards the dwarf drain away, not entirely dissipated but definitely diminished. He''d initially considered cutting and running, just to spite Kort. He wasn''t thinking of that now. He''d kept secrets too, held his own cards far too close to his chest. He hadn''t even mentioned anything about his theories regarding mana.


    So, with a sigh, he bent down and clasped his fingers around Kort''s hammer, holding out towards the dwarf, haft first. "Kort, you''re a pain in the ass, do you know that?"


    Kort smiled sheepishly, placing his weapon back on his belt.


    "But, I saw that mountain lion attack. I know now why you did what you did, even if I hated you for it at the time. I can''t promise that I''ll always stick to adventuring, I''ve got my own plans and ambitions after all, just as you do. But I made a promise to you as well, and I intend to honor it."


    Kort moved to give him a hug, but stopped, suddenly mindful of his bloodied armor. He extended a hand, "So, all''s forgiven?"


    Bas waved the question away, taking Kort''s proffered hand and shaking it, "Nothing to forgive."


    They stood there awkwardly for a few moments before Grimheld began humming an unfamiliar tune. From the way Kort dropped his hand like a hot potato and turned bright red behind his beard, it was probably a wedding song.


    Kort wiped his hands on the grass, moving over to where he had dropped his bag. "Now, let''s find you something t'' use in that Dungeon. The knife Grim gave you won''t do much good against those beetle''s shells, so you''ll want something with a bit more swing."


    "Wait. You mean I''m going in there?" Bas eyed the slick of blood that Kort¡¯s handshake had left on his palm.


    "Why not, lad? It''s perfectly safe, especially with a strong and practiced team. Nothing bad''ll happen, but it''s always best to have the right weapon, just in case. This," Kort pulled out a small wood-axe with a flourish, "is nae the right weapon. But it''ll do. If a monster gets too close, knock ''em away with the sharp end and we''ll do the rest. And try t'' avoid taking out your own kneecaps with it. Happens more often than you''d think."


    Bas turned over the hatchet in his hands. The cutting edge was protected by a stiff leather cover that nonetheless came off easily with a few light tugs. It was nothing impressive, probably intended for splitting logs into firewood. But it was a reassuring weight in his hands, all the same. The extra reach would certainly be good for handling the monsters in the... "Kort, what''s in the Dungeon?"


    "Nothing particularly dangerous, squirrels, beetles, couple of birds. Few nasty traps, though, so keep an eye on your footing and don''t wander off too far. There''s nae much Lifeforce t'' them, so it''s a bit of a waste of time for us. But for you, it''s perfect t'' get a head-start on Ranking up." Kort placed a hand on the head of his hammer, "Come on, let''s get going. There''s nae any loot in there yet, the Dungeon''s too young, but it''s a good learning experience all the same."


    Bas was more than a little excited at the prospect of entering a Dungeon. Would it be like in a video game? Or would it be something else. There were other, equally important questions though, "This isn''t dangerous is it?"


    Grim walked up to him, "Only if ya make it so. This is part of our job. After all, there''s more to being an adventurer than raiding Dungeons for loot, it''s also about escorting crafters who need Lifeforce to extend their lives and help them in their professions. Then there''s replacing shortfalls in local militia, exploration, subduing monster infestations and incursions, although the last is sometimes dealt with by soldiers."


    Bas nodded, it made sense that mana was used for things other than simply fighting, but the sheer number of roles adventurers had to play was more than a little surprising. They were like mercenaries, pest control and explorers all wrapped into one. If you could call dangerous and violent monsters ''pests''. "How often do¡ª"


    Ola touched his arm gently, having approached him unnoticed, "Bas, dear, we appreciate that you might be a little anxious, but we really do need to get moving if you want a decent crack at your first Dungeon dive." She smiled at him encouragingly, "Don''t worry about us, we''ve all done this a thousand times, just focus on observing and using your mana if you feel up to it."


    Bas nodded and slowly followed along.


    "I''m coming too," Blue piped up, "just to see the Dungeon."


    Ola looked to Kort, who shrugged. Ola turned back to Blue, "Hurry along then." She gestured to Dirri and Gern, "You two, as well."


    Then Bas entered the Dungeon for the first time.


    The mist around the entrance enveloped him in a slight tickling sensation that crawled along his skin, he could feel the Dungeon watching him as he followed Ola down the sloping tunnel. The air wasn''t moist or sticky, despite the misty air around him. There was something strangely familiar about it, "This is gaseous mana, isn''t it?"


    Grimheld spoke up from somewhere in front, "Yes, it is. Dungeon Core''s produce it naturally as an a way of extending their influence."


    "You say that as if they''re alive."


    "In some ways they are, but they''re not like either of us. A Dungeons Core doesn''t think or feel, at least not in a complex way. They''re a type of parasite with the power of creation. They need Lifeforce, just like us, yet they don''t produce it themselves. So they replicate what they encounter and use it to gather more Lifeforce."


    "But you say that they sometimes produce loot? Why would they do that?"


    "Monster ingredients are useful to crafters, since their parts contain both mana and Lifeforce. However, that means the Dungeon loses more Lifeforce, so, if ya let the Dungeon absorb the corpse of a monster, sometimes ya''ll get some nice loot in return. The alternative is taking the bodies out of the Dungeon to deprive it of Lifeforce, do that enough and ya can soften it up for an easy extermination. They tend to fight back when ya go for the Core."


    "That sounds an awful lot like they think."


    "I get what ya mean, kid, I really do. But don''t think on this too hard, Dungeons are strange and even though they''re complex that doesn''t mean they''re conscious. They have no Lifeforce of their own, unlike the monsters they create. They are quite literally soulless killers. And even if they did think, can you imagine the sort of alien mind that would create this and still try to kill ya?"


    Bas stepped out of the tunnel, into the first room, which was roughly the size of a small football pitch, just in time to see Grimheld throw his arm out to encompass the sight before him.


    The Dungeon''s gaseous mana glowed with a soft almost ethereal light, pooling on the ground, encircling stalagmites that reached up to the ceiling. A small stream bubbled its way down a sloping floor towards the wall at the far end, framed on either side by verdant grass intermittent bushes bearing plump red berries. Small shapes seemed to scuttle, scurry and fly through the air and underbrush. Equally eyecatching were the flowers placed intermittently on the floor, the same hypnotic flowers as those in the valley.


    Bas took a moment to look at Grimheld, noticing that the dwarf had a mana cloud expanded around the entire party, keeping the pollen out. Grimheld saw him looking, "Do ya want to try lad, just for yerself? It''s safe with us around."


    Bas nodded, "Why not."


    Grimheld''s mana cloud parted around him, and only him. In response, before he took a breath, Bas let his mana seep out of him, expanding to encompass his head. He tried to cover more of his body until it stopped just short of his belly button, at which point it could go no further. He needed more Lifeforce if he wanted to use more mana.


    Like before, he could sense the world around him, including the Dungeon''s mana in the air. It was strangely resistant, like moving his sense through custard. Which was odd, since the mana felt far less dense than his own. Maybe he could copy that somehow.


    He imagined his mana as if it were a gas, imagining the diagram of atoms in his physics book, loosely arranged and bouncing around. He pictured the bonds between his mana weakening, letting it expand to fill the vacant air.


    Bas felt a small dip in his mana levels, but it was nothing unmanageable, far less than his normal recovery. He looked at his mana cloud, it required a small upkeep of mana but in return it was now four times as large, and also four times less dense, although he was unsure of the implications of that. It seemed reasonable to assume that it might have some negative effect if he was using the Mitigator Variant to steal momentum, but otherwise it granted him a greater range with which to sense the world around him.


    He tried expanding his mana cloud again, working on increasing its coverage. He encountered greater resistance and mana draw, but the area of his mana cloud increased again, now covering his body and a significant area around it. He was building up a slight headache, but it didn''t matter too much, there was something wonderful about the air in the Dungeon, a balmy soothing scent of choco¡ª


    "Uhh, Grim, how do I keep the pollen out?" It wasn''t a big deal, but he might prefer it if wasn''t in his air supply.


    Grimheld laughed, "I was wondering when ya would notice. Yer control of mana is very impressive by the way, for a newbie. How did ya figure that one out?"


    "Guesswork, now would you kindly tell me how to get rid of the pollen?" It didn''t really matter, but it probably wasn''t the best idea to enjoy the smell right now, he could always do it later, after all.


    "Same as the Mitigator Variant, but instead yer giving momentum instead of taking it away. Pulse yer entire cloud outwards once, then just maintain it at the borders after that."


    Bas did as Grimheld had suggested, taking one last breath of orange air freshener and chocolate cookies before pushing the wonderfully scented pollen out of his mana cloud. He stood there for a moment, wondering how he hadn''t noticed it sooner.


    He was beginning to appreciate how incredibly dangerous it could be, even on its own. Without adequate protection, foreknowledge or a strong will, the pollen could create a sense of relaxation and unconcern in its victims, even in the presence of lethal danger. Bas once again found himself thanking his lucky stars for being with a group who were able to prevent the worst from happening, and more than that, teach him to prevent it too.


    Bas followed the party down the slope, being careful where he put his feet. He almost didn''t see the first mutated squirrel jump down towards him from a stalactite, the tines of its antlers angled forwards to impale him.


    He flared his mana, pouring every ounce of energy into stopping the psycho squirrel from spitting him on its antlers. The squirrel''s flight through the air slowed, then stopped. Kort''s hammer thundered through the air at the same time as Grimheld''s crossbow bolt. Both weapons met empty space, having been aimed for where the monster would have been had Bas not stopped it.


    Ola leaped into the air, snatching the critter out of the sky as Bas'' mana dropped precipitously, interrupting its levitation. She hammered its antlers into the ground, leaving the squirrel to flail four legs in adorable impotent rage. "All yours, Bas." She smiled.


    Bas hefted his axe thoughtfully, then he turned to Kort, grinning, "You wouldn''t mind would you?"


    "Go for it, lad." Kort laughed, handing over his hammer to Bas.


    Bas positioned himself, checking behind him to make sure no one was in the way of his backswing. Like a golfer teeing up, he rested the hammer against the antlered squirrel squirming in the ground then raised it to behind his head. In one smooth stroke, the hammer came arcing down and around. It impacted the antlered squirrel with a satisfyingly meaty thunk, sending the unfortunate creature pinwheeling about twenty feet across the Dungeon floor to its final destination.


    There was a cheer from the assembled dwarves. "Nice swing, lad." Bas barely felt Kort''s hand slap his back, sending him stumbling forwards. The feeling of Lifeforce rushing into him filled him with the indescribable electricity of euphoria that only a living being''s power could provide. He realized it had been a while since he had felt this, way back on the now-blackened hills of the Tinderbox. He''d missed the feeling, more than he''d realized.


    The experience was a constant reminder that he was getting stronger, and that meant that he was closer to his goals. Not only that, but even the brief time he had spent in the Dungeon had been an educational experience. His plans regarding plasma mana all seemed to hinge on theory for the time being, even if it was good theory. However, his successful attempts at excluding the pollen from his mana cloud by imparting outwards momentum were significant. They proved that mechanical engines driven by gaseous mana would work. He wasn''t yet able to sustain something like that for any period of time, but that would come with time and power.


    Nevertheless, if both worked out, they would provide an incredible double threat. The use of plasma mana would hopefully make him an unstoppable force inside the Dungeon, while the application of mana engines would boost the effectiveness of whichever faction took him in, most likely the dwarves. He smiled in satisfaction, his plans were all starting to come together.


    He was broken out of his daydreaming by Kort gently prying the hammer out from between his fingers, "What are you thinking about, lad?"


    "Noth¡ª" Bas cut himself off, did he really want to keep on hiding all his plans from people who were dedicated to helping him? No... he didn''t. "Back on Earth, there used to be this thing called steam power. An old empire used it to power complicated machines to do all sorts of labor intensive task. I want to use gaseous mana to do the same thing."


    They all had thoughtful expressions on their faces, but to Bas'' surprise it was Blue who spoke first, "If you want to use machines for work, why not just use Anolin? Sure, they require materials in payment but it''s still far easier than doing the work yourself."


    Bas tilted his head to one side, "You make it sound as if these Anolin are alive."


    "They are, clockwork with a spark of Lifeforce given to them."


    "No." Bas shook his head, "These machines wouldn''t be like that. They wouldn''t think, demand payment or even truly live. All they need is gaseous mana to make them work."


    "But what use are they?"


    "Look." Bas gritted his teeth, trying to find an example that would convince them, "There''s something called a train. It''s made of small metal carts connected together and travels on a special type of road, called a railway track. Even if coal and steam were used to power its engine, instead of converting gaseous mana directly into momentum, then it would be able to move faster than Ola, without any need to eat sleep or rest. Not only that, it could carry a hundred times more weight than Kort ever could."


    Kort glared at him, standing on his toes and pressing his chest up against Bas in an effort to intimidate him, "You want t'' bet on that?"


    Bas smiled back down in the most demeaning way he could possibly manage, "Yes."


    Kort''s demeanor changed in an instant, and he gave a hearty laugh, poking Bas in the chest, "You''re on!"


    Kort looked around briefly at the rest of the team, "Well? What are you all standing around for? We''re in a fucking Dungeon, it''s nae your granny''s tea room. Are we going to kill monsters now or what?"


    ***


    For the next hour, the team devastated the Dungeon''s population of antlered squirrels, beetles and ravens. Under Grimheld''s tutelage, Bas quickly learned that he could extend his gaseous mana through the ground for a short distance in order to check for traps.


    What he found was horrifying, to say the least. There were standard pitfall traps, of course. However, there were also smaller pits as well, covered by a thin layer of stone. The walls of these were lined with downward facing spikes of rock that would tear a foot to shreds if it was pulled out. Likewise, snares made out of a strange wood could trip and entangle an unsuspecting adventurer, perhaps even break bones if given the chance to constrict.


    These were not traps designed to kill. They were designed to incapacitate and leave victims exposed. The nature behind the Dungeon''s design became clear. Its creatures were weak, pitifully so. But they were still an unwelcome distraction. In hindsight it was incredibly clear that they tended to congregate around trap-heavy areas, where they had the greatest chance of directing an unwary adventure onto unsafe ground. Combine that with the soothing effect of the pollen and the place was a complete deathtrap to anyone unable to protect themselves against its effects. With their minds in an addled state, they would be increasingly likely to step wrongly, a fatal error that would result in them being ripped to pieces by otherwise weak monsters.


    But that was all behind them now, quite literally. They had reached an archway which led into the second room.


    Its design was completely different. Now thick coils of bark and branches snaked their way down from the ceiling, spilling out over the floor in a tangle of twisted wood. In the center was a small meadow of gently swaying grass with small dots of yellow running along them.


    Then there was movement at the far side of the room as two particularly thick ropes of wood flexed away from each other, exposing a small passage behind it. And then, a deer stepped through the opening.


    It could only be called a deer in the loosest possible sense. This was not some placid herbivore that wanted nothing more than a mouthful of plant matter and a scratch of its antlers against an unsuspecting tree. No, this eldritch abomination of a buck was a baleful Lovecraftian monstrosity, a demoniac nightmare, mean as hell and nasty as gluten free birthday cake.


    The deer was covered in a thick black shell that Bas recognized from the beetles in the first room. However, this deer''s carapace didn''t seem sufficient to contain its bulging muscles, causing the shell to crack and heave with every step taken. Its maw, there really was no other way to describe it, was a composite of clacking mandibles that eagerly shredded the air in front of it. The most normal thing about it was its antlers, and even those were glossy black and looked like the lovechild between a pitchfork and a cactus.


    It took another step forwards and the tangle of branches beneath it shifted to provide a stable platform to walk upon.


    Bas reeled as Kort pushed him backwards, away from the strange deer, "Stay here, looks like a Boss monster, don''t help us fight it. It''s too dangerous for your first dive."


    And then the carapace covered deer charged.


    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    Luneil''s first ever Boss, his Fell Deer, charged at the pesky intruders, sticking close to the wall of the room and avoiding the grassy clearing at the center. The adventuring team formed up, Kort at the front.


    Luneil felt a twinge of worry as Gern began shooting glistening spears of ice from his palm. They flew unerring accuracy towards the Boss, shattering against its black carapace, leaving lacerations and pock marks, but doing no other damage.


    A hail of blades and crossbow bolts followed, glistening with infused mana. They struck true, quivering as they pierced through the thick black armor and buried themselves in the surging muscle beneath.


    The Fell Deer let out a chittering scream, lowering it head to present its glossy antlers and the thick nub of bone and carapace between them. The embedded projectiles jerked wildly within its body, causing the chitinous shell to shudder and crack. The pain only served to spur the Fell Deer forwards as it closed on Kort, who held his hammer at the ready, staring the Deer down with a nonchalant smirk on his face.


    Grimheld''s mana surged outwards as he lowered his crossbow. His mana cloud brushed against Kort''s back and stopped there, swirling softly.Kort chanced a look backwards to give a small nod of appreciation towards Grimheld.


    Luneil watched as Kort''s aura seemed to strengthen as excess mana seemed to pour out of it. He felt a glimmering of trepidation and fascination as he detected the air within Grimheld''s mana cloud change. It was faint, especially with the adventurers¡¯ powerful auras the sensation from his mana in the vicinity, but it was there. The air seemed to lose all its quickness, almost seeming to thicken into a treacly consistency that braced itself firmly against Kort.


    The dwarf''s body glowed as turquoise power burst into being beneath his skin. Leaning back into Grimheld''s momentum buffering wall of mana he prepared to deliver a devastating sideways strike to the Deer''s cranium.


    Kort''s hammer thundered around. The incredible force behind it pulled the dwarf forwards as it began to finalize its arc, yet Grimheld''s mana seemed to tug at him, maintaining Kort''s stability.


    Luneil felt a surge of admiration for the brave dwarves and their teamwork. But only for a moment. He chuckled to himself, this was going to be good.


    The ground beneath the adventurers gave way.


    The tangled branches of Ropewood shifted to provide a stable platform for the Fell Deer, making everyone except Ola stumble and lose their footing.


    Grimheld''s stabilizing mana cloud failed as he suddenly lost concentration. He rectified it almost immediately, but it was too late.


    Kort slipped and fell backwards, instead of hitting the Deer''s skull, his hammer instead hit the splendid black rack protruding from its head. The antlers were pulverized and the Fell Deer stumbled, bowling into Kort and Grimheld''s wall of mana.


    For a second it seemed as if the mana cloud might hold, but then it gave way and the Deer slammed into the rest of the adventurers sending them flying.


    Everyone was lying on the floor groaning, including the Fell Deer.


    Luneil directed an order at it.


    Get up.


    With a pained clatter of its many mandibles it eased itself onto its feet and took several wobbling steps towards the nearest dazed adventurer.


    No. Not him. Kill that one.


    It wasn''t anything personal, but she was too much of a risk towards his existence.


    The Deer reared up onto its back legs, angling its onyx forehooves at the gnome''s head.


    The light was almost blinding as mana surged through her skull and her eyes flashed open. In one smooth motion, as if she''d spent a lifetime practicing it, Blue whipped a dagger out of her boot and drove it between the cleft of the Fell Deer''s black hoof.


    The Deer''s mandibles clacked as Blue seized the same hoof with her other hand and jerked to one side.


    Maddened by the pain and unbalanced by Blue''s tug, the Deer''s hooves crashed down on either side of her shining head, missing by mere inches.


    The blue light vanished from her skull and convulsions began to rip through the small gnome''s body.


    The Deer reared up again for a fatal strike at the incapacitated gnome.


    And then Ola was there, flying through the air, having been tossed by Kort. She crashed into the side of the Deer, sending it tumbling over Ropewood branches that tried to assemble themselves into a flat surface as it neared. But its head got caught between two moving branches and with a sickening crunch the Deer''s momentum snapped its own armor plated neck.


    "Fuck," Kort said, fists clenched, ¡°I should have told her t¡¯ wait with...¡± Kort stared at the archway connecting to the first room, "Where''s Bas?"


    Luneil jolted. Kort was right. Where was the human? If he wanted anyone to die least, it was him. Bas was important for keeping his Dungeon out of the hands of the Guild and the Council. It also didn¡¯t hurt that he represented an important part, perhaps even the culmination, of his past life, what little he knew of it.


    And...


    Oh dear.


    ¡ªBas¡ª


    Bas was running. He didn''t always like Blue, but when he saw her go down, he knew it was bad. Far worse than when she''d killed the monstrous mountain lion. She needed treatment, and she needed it quickly.


    Dramal root tea would help her recover, but that was in Grimheld''s bag. Outside the Dungeon. It meant crossing the first room alone. But that wasn''t an issue. They had cleared out all the monsters and traps before they entered the Boss room, so it was relatively safe.


    The tunnel to the entrance was close and he''d made good headway, even if he was running uphill.


    And then, in his haste, he splashed straight through the small stream at its widest and shallowest part.


    Something seized his leg and dragged him under.


    Bubbles exploded out of his mouth. Branches, just like those in the Boss room, poked through the silty streambed and began to squeeze the life out of him.

 Chapter 13 - Immortal combat

    ¡ªBas¡ª


    The last bubble left his lips, rising to the surface, only inches above his head. His body blazed with agony, but it was nothing compared to the primal terror of drowning he had experienced as a child.


    The world faded into darkness, along with the pain. Suddenly, Bas was elsewhere, and everywhere, he could feel every shattered¡ªthere was no other was no other word for it¡ªpart of himself. Like the remnants of a dream, he could feel everything, see everything.


    He was in the walls, power surging like a heartbeat, ebbing and flowing in constant motion. He was in the air, rushing around the adventurers as they carried a small gnome to the center of...


    Strange... he almost recognized them... they felt familiar, but so very far...


    It didn''t matter.


    He was everywhere, yet at the same time he was there, in the crystal that sat buried within the walls that were also him.


    Until he wasn''t.


    The world slammed back into focus in front him, like regret after a round of sacchar. However, unlike the aftermath of the potent drink, his memories were all intact. The most vivid memory hit him hard.


    He''d just died.


    Bas looked down at his hands, examining the familiar tracery of veins beneath his skin, trying to confirm his existence. He had been dead. He was almost certain of it. He remembered his last moments vividly, he shouldn''t be alive, he shouldn''t be here.


    He was nowhere near the treacherously placid stream. In fact, he was at the Dungeon''s border, surrounded by swirling mist, staring out over the valley below. He took a step, and paused. He was forgetting something...


    Blue!


    The packs were right there. He needed that Dramal root. He had somehow survived one death, but he had no confidence that Blue would be similarly blessed.


    Bas took off towards the bag and the lifesaving root within it.


    His legs disappeared beneath him. Literally vanished. Slowly, the rest of his body began to dissolve away.


    Where are you going, little human? Trying to run?


    A soundless Voice echoed within his head, bearing an almost jaunty arrogance, if not for the the faintest undertones of a soul steeped in its own bitterness.


    Bas tried to whirl from his position on the floor as the Voice spoke again, forgetting for a moment that his lower body was no longer there.


    My, my. You won''t even deign answer to your creator? Tsk, tsk. After all I''ve done for you... after all I''ve sacrificed. Make no mistake. You are mine. Now and forever.


    Thoughts flashed through Bas'' head. But all too soon, his body vanished and he was sent back to the abstract world of half-forgotten echoes and sensations. Then, once again, he found himself standing back at the mouth of the Dungeon, staring at the packs.


    This time he had no interest in them. A glimmer of hope blossomed in his chest, perhaps the Voice was constrained to the Dungeon. If he was fast enough, he might be able to escape it.


    Bas stood idly by, waiting until he thought the Voice might become complacent. Soon, his impatience had reached a breaking point. He lunged forwards in an explosion of motion.


    With a feeling of relief he burst out of the Dungeon''s mana.


    Safe.


    He was close to Grimheld''s bag, he could almost touch it. But there was no point. He was never going back to the Dungeon and the Voice that resided there. He had just escaped them both.


    Bas laughed, despite himself. The Voice laughed with him.


    His body disappeared and he was back where he started.


    Do you think you can run? I am forced to create you here, but even beyond the bounds of my domain I can destroy you at my leisure. I told you, Bas. You are mine.


    The voice laughed again, We''re going to be such good friends.


    Bas barely heard him. The Voice knew his name!?


    ...of course it did.


    "What do you want?" He stammered out. The thought of the Voice''s power made him weak at the knees. He couldn''t outrun it.


    What a good question. I want to help you, of course. The Voice chuckled darkly.


    Bas flinched back, further into the Dungeon''s mouth.


    The Voice sighed, I see you misunderstand. Why would I want to hurt you? You know so much, traveler from another world. I simply want to... The Voice seemed almost to lick its lips, bargain.


    Bas took a step forward, his courage rallying. The Voice wanted something. That was good, it meant that Bas had something the Voice couldn''t take by force.


    "What is it you want from me?"


    I want your mind. I already have your soul, after all. The Voice chuckled. But this is a bargain, so let me present to you my offer. You will help me grow, feed, learn. In return I will give you power. I will even save you from death, should you fall within my domain. If you die outside of my walls... well, we''ll see.


    Bas'' mind was racing. The Voice''s walls? The Voice belonged to the Dungeon. The revelation gave him confidence, if only by knowing the identity of the vaguely threatening voice. "You said this was a bargain. Yet, so far, you''ve been the only one to do the talking. You don''t know what I want, and you''re giving me no choice."


    Ah, so that''s what bargaining is. See. You''re teaching me new things already, The Voice gave an ironic laugh. It was obvious the Voice was toying with him. It knew full well what a bargain was.


    Bas clenched his fists.


    Now, now. This is not the time for anger, your friends need you. What is it your friends keep repeating? Blue? What a delightful name.


    Bas jerked. He had forgotten about her. He took a step towards the bags, but the Voice spoke again.


    Wait.


    The word was layered with compulsion, rooting him to the ground, but it was an easy feat to break free from the urge to remain still. The Voice''s next words lacked the same feeling of command but stopped him in his tracks anyway.


    You say that I do not know what you want? That I give you no choice? Very well, The Voice sounded amused. You may leave freely, to live out the rest of your days, however long they may be. Your life will be yours, and I will not reclaim from you what is rightfully mine. The Voice paused, before continuing in a sly tone, Or... you can help your friends. They are... occupied... and not all of them may survive without you. If you choose to help them... I will consider our bargain struck. You wanted a choice. Have it then, if it is so important to you. Choose. The Voice growled out the last word in Bas'' head.


    It was a cruel choice to force on someone. But it wasn''t one that required a moment''s thought or hesitation.


    Bas darted to Grimheld''s bag, scattering its contents across the grassy slope as he found what he was looking for. The Dramal root and the purplish-green chunk of tourmaline¡ªan Arcane Focus for life mana.


    Then, steeling himself, Bas ran back into the Dungeon. The mist brushed against him like an electric feather, sending involuntary shivers rippling across his skin. He clutched the precious objects tightly, one in each fist.


    Left. Go left. The Voice said, words laced with command.


    Bas felt his feet carry him to the side. "Will you stop that. It''s bad enough having you inside my head."


    Then don''t run headfirst into a trap and listen when I speak.


    "There aren''t any more traps here. We cleared them all out."


    Oh? Is that so? If I remember, you cleared one out particularly well, a truly innovative method that I am certainly hoping will catch on.


    "For the love o¡ª"


    Shhh. They''ll hear you talking to me. Trust me, you don''t want that to happen.


    "I''ll talk whenever I want to." Bas said, but his voice came out hushed, regardless.


    Oh, I know why you''re so hostile. You don''t know who I am... Luneil. Pleased to make your acqua¡ª


    "Go fuck yourself." Bas said, his voice a low growl.


    Really, stop talking now. You''ve got company.


    Bas glanced up, momentarily taking his eyes off the terrain beneath his feet. He was almost rewarded with a painful stumble and fall, but righted himself just before he plowed face first into the ground. In that brief second''s glance upwards, however, he saw Kort jogging towards him and the rest of the party dragging an unconscious Blue out of the Boss room, smoke and flame billowing out from behind them.


    "Where''ve you been, lad? You scared the shit out of us."


    "Getting these," Bas held up the items he''d removed from Grimheld''s bag.


    For a second Kort''s eyes gleamed with a strange hope. He snatched both out of Bas'' hands and ran towards Blue, calling out behind him, "Sorry lad, there''s nae time t'' talk. Good work though." Faster than Bas would have thought possible, Kort was next to Grimheld at Blue''s side. "C''mon lass, we''ll get you up and walking soon."


    Bas edged closer, overtaken by morbid curiosity, just as Grimheld spoke softly to Kort, "I don''t think she''s breathing. Smoke got her. We can''t help her now."


    An memory hit Bas like a truck, one of when he was resuscitated after drowning. It worked for smoke inhalation, didn''t it?


    Bas'' walk morphed into a run and suddenly he was pushing the dwarves out of the way. He fumbled the first chest compression. And the second.


    But by the third, he had found his rhythm.


    One, two, three... again and again. Then he brought his mouth to Blue''s.


    Breathe.


    One, two, three... one, two, three... breathe.


    Strong hands pulled him away.


    "She''s dead lad."


    Bas struggled, "No, I can save her."


    "You can''t bring someone back from the dead. When you''re gone, there''s nae coming back as you were. Even necromancy can nae do that." Kort spat.


    It''s true. A part of her Lifeforce flowed to me when she died.


    "Can''t you bring her back?"


    Grimheld laid a hand on Bas'' shoulder, even as he held him back, "There''s no magic that can do that for ya."


    Bas'' question hadn''t been addressed to him, or any of the dwarves.


    No. You all saw her die. Unless you want your friends to die in her stead, there is nothing I can do. I can''t reveal myself, I''ve already taken a risk with you.


    But Bas'' mind was blazing ahead at a million miles an hour. "I can bring her back, I know it. Just trust me."


    Kort looked at him, "Are ya sure? This is one of those things in your book, yes?"


    Bas nodded. It was a barefaced lie, but Kort would accept it.


    Kort sighed, "Let him go Grim." He gestured to the rest of the team, "All of you as well, give him some space."


    Once again, Bas knelt over the gnome''s body. He didn''t know how long she''d been like this, but it didn''t matter. He had to try. Hopefully she hadn''t been dead too long.


    "Please let this work," Bas whispered as he brought his mouth to Blue''s. This time he would do things differently.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Mana exploded out of his mouth, and for a sickening moment he could see, feel and even taste Blue''s trachea. He gagged, despite himself, but pushed on. His mana burst into the gnome''s lungs, even pushing slightly through her inert tissues, immediately coming into contact with the particles of smoke that had killed her. Bas was momentarily at a loss. He knew how to resuscitate someone, no person who''d ever drowned wouldn''t. But this...


    And then it came to him. Smoke, just like pollen, was comprised of particles, albeit much smaller. If Bas could clear pollen out of his breathing supply, there was no reason he couldn''t clear smoke out of someone else''s.


    Small puffs of clinging smoke lifted out of Blue''s lungs, travelling up her throat. Bas coughed and spat, choking back the urge to vomit. He couldn''t stop now. He repeated the procedure, once, twice, three times. And then he was satisfied.


    He changed the action of his mana. Instead of forcing things out, he imparted momentum to the air around him, forcing it into Blue, inflating her lungs like fleshy bellows. Blue''s chest lifted to the rhythm of his mana and breath.


    It felt natural, it was as easy as breathing. Because it was.


    But still Blue''s heart failed to beat.


    What was mana? In the end it was energy. Or he hoped so, anyway.


    A small aspect of mana''s function was altering kinetic energy. Giving it to an object, taking it away. But what if there was more? Thermal energy, light energy, even electrical energy.


    Bas didn''t know how to manipulate it to such an extent. But if mana was so vital to life, then it logically followed that all life was able to utilize it on a cellular level. Mana''s natural acceleration of healing proved that. What Blue needed was a constant source of mana. Lifeforce.


    Breathe.


    The ball of electric energy that existed within Bas flickered and began to break apart into streamers of gold and blue. It was an irritating feeling, like an itch that couldn''t be scratched.


    Breathe.


    Mana and Lifeforce spiraled out of him, passing into Blue.


    Breathe.


    A pulse burst into being beneath his fingertips and Blue took a faltering breath.


    With that breath, the drain of energy on Bas magnified tenfold. He couldn''t stop it. It didn''t matter anyway, the world was peaceful. It was like he was back home, just after his mother had taken a tray of chocolate cookies out of the oven. It was all going to be okay. He took a labored breath, savoring the smell of oranges, so vivid he could feel it on his tongue.


    Blue''s eyes fluttered open even as Bas'' own vision began to darken.


    Breathe. But it was just too difficult.


    Fascinating. Luneil''s voice haunted the edges of his mind like a distant echo.


    And all the world was black and electric gold.


    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    Luneil watched as Bas'' aura flickered and faltered, even as Blue''s surged outwards from her prone form. His momentary fascination by Bas'' actions was overcome by a flash of worry passing through his consciousness. The surge of euphoria from receiving Blue''s Lifeforce had turned sour. Bas was dying, his aura was waning, even as Blue''s rekindled.


    Luneil reprimanded himself, he had been too impulsive. He should have let the dwarves be, but he just didn''t know when to stop. Now, a potential asset to his cause was in danger. Even worse, Blue''s fears regarding Luneil would, in her mind, be vindicated. If she labelled him a rogue Dungeon and those in authority listened... he would have to leave, fly away somewhere safe and leave all of his work behind.


    Desperately, he forced Lifeforce past Blue''s weak aura and into Bas. The dwarves rushed forwards as they saw Bas collapse, their auras cancelling out Luneil''s efforts, mere seconds after he started.


    Cursing himself, Luneil thought back over the events.


    ***


    "Fuck, she should have been waiting with..." Kort trailed off, worry rising to his face. "Where''s Bas?"


    Luneil felt a flash of surprise. Where had the human gone?


    His consciousness homed in on Bas'' exact position. The stream was flowing peacefully, marred only by the sight of Bas'' final breath bursting against the surface.


    Lifeforce flowed into him in absurd quantities. So this was how much energy he could obtain from adventurers. It was immense, breathtaking... bitter. There was no joy or bliss in this, there was no euphoria to drown out what had just happened.


    No. This was a waste. All that knowledge. Gone. Bas'' tale of steam engines and of railways had captivated him, tantalized him. They were quite literally otherworldly. And now they were sitting at the bottom of a streambed, crushed by a Ropewood trap.


    He absorbed the body along with the hatchet, both sunken at the bottom of the shallow stream, there was no point in letting them go to waste. Drinking in Bas'' pattern and power, Luneil no longer marveled at the complexity of the information, nor at the sheer volume of Lifeforce he received. It was a dissatisfying death.


    With a spiteful feeling growing in his center he turned back to his Boss room.


    Kort was cursing by the entrance, seeing no sign of Bas in the first room. Luneil''s spite blossomed into rage, unfurling within him like a crimson flower.


    Dance.


    The Ropewood branches that lined the edges of the room began to writhe, flicking up and slamming down, sending all the adventurers in range flying through the air once again.


    Kort turned, words dying on his lips as he saw the chaos that had been unleashed. His body glowed blue and he powered through the thrashing Ropewood like a steel-plated juggernaut. Now that he''d built up momentum he was unstoppable, branches reached out to trip him, but Kort plowed through them, reducing the grasping limbs to splinters. "Get t'' the center," he roared, scooping up Blue in one hand and continuing on towards an off-balance Ola. Placing an arm behind her back he shoved her forwards, into the safe grassy area in the middle of the room.


    Except it should have been safe. After all, in the turmoil, none of the dwarves had noticed the vivid spots of yellow patterning the grass'' stems. Firecoil.


    Luneil watched as Kort dumped Blue unceremoniously on the ground. Nearby, Grimheld''s mana wrapped around Dirri and Gern. With a mighty rush of wind, the mana cloud pulsed and the three dwarves were sent tumbling through the air where they landed in an unceremonious heap in the middle of the Firecoil meadow.


    Luneil felt a resentful surge of satisfaction fill him. Perfect.


    Disoriented and harried as they were, it was no surprise they didn''t spot the first wisp of flame. Or the second.


    The dwarves all cast a worried look towards Blue.


    As if waiting for such a signal, the nearby blades of Firecoil lunged forwards, intent on making contact with their prey. They burst into flame, igniting themselves and neighboring stalks of flammable grass.


    In seconds, the small field of grass at the center of the room was ablaze, tongues of fire licking at the thrashing Ropewood branches.


    Smoke billowed outwards and the adventuring team began to realize their mistake.


    Scooping up Blue, Kort once again rushed towards the exit.


    But this time, his vision was clouded with smoke and, in his haste, he forgot to use his mana.


    With vituperative glee Luneil directed a branch of Ropewood to slam into his stomach, sending Kort staggering backwards and the gnome flying out of his hands, spinning through the air.


    Fortuitously, she landed in the center of the room. The Firecoil burned fiercely, but firewood it was not. And so, by the time she landed in a tangle of twitching limbs, there was little left but embers, ash and smoke.


    The smoke was what got her in the end. In her unconscious state, she took a breath, then another. A vein pulsed in her neck, faster and faster as her breathing became more and more frantic. Her eyes opened for a second, filled with terror at the sight before her dying gaze. Then, all too quickly, she stilled.


    Lifeforce filled Luneil, confirming the gnome''s death. But before he could absorb her body, Grimheld''s mana blasted outwards, driving away the smoke from the center of the room and impairing Luneil''s ability to affect her.


    Kort was moving slowly now, partly because of the large dent in his breastplate and partly because Grimheld had made the area more safe.


    With a sigh, Luneil ordered the branches to stop moving. It was over. There was no bringing Blue back to li...


    Zeph? You said intelligent beings are hard to control. Why is that?


    "It''s because they can sometimes retain memories from their previous life. A bit like you, in fact. If, for example..." Zeph''s form turned jagged, and she enunciated clearly, "Don''t you dare, Luneil."


    Uh... What do you mean? Can''t talk now. Busy.


    Zeph growled in frustration. Luneil ignored her, delving into the Lifeforce within his body, seeking out a specific pattern.


    He hurriedly created a framework of mana at the entrance of the Dungeon, absentmindedly adding Lifeforce into it until Bas'' body coalesced.


    Luneil''s mind was spinning. He needed a way to control Bas, to convince him that he was utterly dependent on Luneil for his existence.


    Luneil''s mind went to back to testing the limits of his gaseous mana, remembering how his influence extended five feet beyond it. If he played it right, he could make it seem that he could destroy Bas whenever and wherever he wanted to. Luneil would instill a healthy sense of fear into Bas'' very marrow.


    But that wasn''t enough. Fear was only a good motivator in the short term. What could he offer Bas in return for his compliance?


    Hmm. Eternal life?


    "What''s that?" Zeph had heard him muttering, she sounded alarmed.


    Oh, nothing you need to worry about. Luneil chuckled. Eternal life it was. That seemed like a decent motivator, and it would also have the added bonus of frustrating Zeph.


    ¡ªBas¡ª


    It was dark when Bas opened his eyes, although he could see the campfire flickering through the flap of the tent he was in. The firelight killed his night vision and he found himself shading his eyes with one hand as he looked around. His few possessions, his physics textbook and his borrowed hatchet, lay off by his side, barely visible by their outlines in the shadows of the tent.


    Where had the hatchet come from?


    Bas reached for it, bringing it closer and turning it over in his hands. He could have sworn that this was sitting at the bottom of the stream in Luneil''s Dungeon. He shivered at the memory, then screamed when a previously unnoticed ''something'' shifted in a darkened corner of his tent.


    "Ah, you left that by the packs. You should nae have done that, you''ve got t'' hold ont'' your weapon at all times. Though I do nae blame you, given the situation. You did well, all things considered."


    Bas looked at the hatchet one more time. He''d definitely not left it anywhere near where Kort claimed he did. Which meant that Luneil must have been covering for him, or more accurately, himself. With a snort, he tossed it lightly to one side and sat up, turning to face Kort.


    "Shit." His body ached in every imaginable place in every unimaginable way. He settled back down with a relieved groan.


    Kort chuckled, "That''s what you get for trying t'' do something without testing it out first."


    Bas shot a scathing look at him, but it was hidden in the darkness. Unable to come up with a suitably biting reply in time, his gaze fell to the small object that Kort seemed to be fidgeting with.


    Illuminated in golden tones by the flickers of firelight outside, it seemed a jumble of white gears and metal plates.


    "What''s that?"


    "Oh, you mean this?" Kort rested the device in a meaty hand and held it out, but even with the reflected firelight it was still too dark to make it out properly. "Ah, sorry, lad. Let me help with that."


    Kort''s hand glowed blue with mana, revealing an intricate clockwork mechanism fashioned out of a white metal in the shape of a dragon. Its gears were arranged in an exquisite fashion, each tiny cog forming a perfect tiny scale that overlapped along its body in interlocking ridges. Its wings were tucked along its body, yet they seemed to be made of the same white metal, beaten to an impossibly thin sheet.


    "Beautiful, isn''t it." Kort whispered, "It''s a Cogwork Dragon, created by the Anolin, though these Dragons are nae truly alive like them. They''re made for carrying messages t'' a recipient. They''re expensive, but it''s nae possible t'' lug a scrying-link out with you when you''re adventuring, so we make do with the added cost." Kort covered his hands, letting loose a wracking cough that sounded suspiciously like ''fuckers''.


    Bas reached out, but stopped his hand a fraction of an inch before he touched the magnificent device. "May I?"


    "Be my guest. Try nae t'' touch the wings."


    Bas picked it up, feeling the faint tickle of the gears beneath his hands. The Cogwork Dragon was extraordinarily light, like holding a hollow metal butterfly. With each motion of his hands, the gears shifted ever so slightly, giving the impression that he had a handful of fine powder instead of the strange contraption. "What''s it made of?"


    "White iron. Interesting metal, but useless for weapons and armor." Kort edged his hand forward, "Pass it back now, lad. I need t'' send this soon."


    Bas handed over the Cogwork Dragon. "Where''s it going?"


    "Dwarven Council in Ilae." Kort scratched his nose, "I wanted to notify them about the Dungeon right away, but it was more important t'' make sure you were alright first."


    "Uhh, thanks."


    Pinching the Cogwork Dragon between a thumb and forefinger, Kort pressed its tail. The Dragon''s tail swung down on a hidden hinge, revealing a small compartment within its body cavity. With untypical delicacy Kort carefully slotted a rolled up piece of parchment in and pushed the tail back up, nodding at the quiet clicking noise.


    From his pocket, the dwarf pulled out a series of small white keys, fastened on a metal ring. Taking a moment to select the right one, Kort inserted one in between the Dragon''s jaws and rotated it twice.


    With an whirring sneeze, the Cogwork Dragon came alive, coughing out the key as it flexed its graceful white neck. Sapphire blue eyes blinked open, fixing Kort with its gaze. Its wings trembled and unfolded, testing the air as its body twisted, tiny claw tipped legs scrabbling for purchase on Kort''s thumb.


    The Dragon twisted its body out of the dwarf''s loose grip, tottering up onto the back of his hand. It threw its head back, flaring its wings and let out a chirping metallic roar. With a final glance in Kort''s direction it launched itself into the air aiming towards the tent flap. It banked at the final moment, its extended wings turning almost vertical.


    And then it was gone.


    Bas lay there, staring at the tent flap, amazed by the uncanny realism of the clockwork creature. Miniaturized as it was, it had the feeling of a real living breathing creature. "How is it able to do that with only clockwork?"


    Kort laughed, "Anolin. They''re strange creatures. Really reclusive, but they have a knack for anything mechanized." The dwarf leaned closer, voice taking on a conspiratory whisper, "I''ve heard they don''t even have Lifeforce. Just gears, gears and more gears."


    The mention of Lifeforce brought back strange memories. "How''s Blue?"


    Kort wrung his hands, "Alive. The rest you ought t'' see for yourself. Uh... I was meaning t'' ask you about, uh... what you did." Kort''s fidgeting intensified, "Is it possible t'' do that for anyone? You know. Stop death. Come back from being stabbed"


    Bas paused, thinking hard on both the question and his own situation, "I don''t think so. I don''t know much about resuscitation apart from the basics, but it doesn''t work like that."


    Kort nodded, "Do you want t'' see Blue? If you''re feeling up t'' it."


    "Sure." Bas levered himself up on one arm, his aching body hating every moment of it. He glanced down, noticing that his clothes had been cleaned. He cast a quick look at Kort, who immediately held up his hands.


    "Don''t look at me like that, lad. It was Ola, not me." The dwarf then walked out of the tent, "You coming?"


    Bas scrambled after him, gasping at the especially sharp twinges of pain. Somehow, he made it out of his tent and over to Blue''s. His hand began to tingle as it neared the flap and pushed it to one side.


    Kort stood to one side, looking slightly unnerved. Meanwhile, Blue was sitting up, covered in a hole-ridden blanket, and generally looking better than Bas felt. As if guessing his thoughts, she answered, "Quick healing. Liquid mana eases recovery."


    Bas said nothing, wondering what Kort had meant by ''you ought t'' see for yourself''.


    Another strange tingling sensation crawled over his body, as Blue answered, "Ah. That. Let''s just say I gained some things and lost others." In a flash, her hand moved, driving a dagger into her left leg.


    Bas shouted in surprise, but Blue tutted, a smile on her lips. "No feeling down there anymore," her face took on a mix between a grin and a grimace. "Also, as I said," She pointed to her leg, where the wound was already closing up, "quick healing."


    "Oh." Bas was at odds over how to respond. He felt an irrational guilt over what had happened, but¡ª


    "No need to feel bad about it. Can''t change the past. If anything, I should thank you. I''m alive, and things are... different." She smiled, "You''re going to ask me if there''s anything you can do. The answer is no. Then you''re going to ask me if I''m reading your mind. Also no." She tilted her head in Kort''s direction, "And beardy over there is wondering whether I know that he sent a Cogwork Dragon out, just now."


    Kort swore, "Stop playing games, lass."


    Blue simply smiled, "Playing games is all I can do. No legs remember." She drove the dagger into her leg once again, adding another hole to her covering blanket.


    "And can you stop doing that. You''re going t'' ruin a good blanket."


    Blue tapped her chin, "Well... when you put it like that..." She pulled out the blade, casually flicking blood off the tip.


    Bas shuddered at Blue''s nonchalant attitude. He found the entire situation eerie. To his consternation Blue seemed to detect the motion, cocking an eyebrow in such a way that he found himself almost forced to respond. "H¡ªHow?"


    Blue frowned, her tone turning serious, "I don''t know. It''s like I''m constantly running liquid mana through my head at low levels, except without any side effects," she laughed darkly, "or legs."


    Kort took a step forward, but Blue silenced him with a glare. "Save it Kort, I know you just want to know if I''m going to report your precious Dungeon. No, I won''t. Mainly because the Dungeon hasn''t gone rogue, even if it is a freak." She glanced at Bas, "And thank you, once again, for my life. Even if Heaven''s Parapets themselves are ground to dust before I''ll ever walk again."


    Never. She meant never. Bas shook his head and silently departed, experiencing a guilty feeling of relief as the unsettling aura that pervaded Blue fell away.

 Chapter 14 - Undercover in a rabbits ass

    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    Luneil stared down at the figures moving around the campfire below, an odd feeling of trepidation filling him. He had no idea what the adventurers below had decided upon and his worry only increased when he saw a glistening white object flit out of Bas'' tent and into the night sky.


    He couldn''t bear waiting any longer. The fissure that surrounding his crystal body ground open. Instead of using his typical net of grass to carry him, he recreated an enlarged version of one of the black socks he had absorbed off Bas'' corpse and added four long strips of cloth to serve as claw-holds for his Dire Ravens.


    His body barely fit inside, but the sock was still significantly more sturdy than his former method of transportation. Also, since the sock had been stretched to its limit, the fabric was spread apart sufficiently to see through.


    With a command to his Ravens he was once again flying through the air. However, as he neared the mouth of his Dungeon he felt a tugging sensation, as if his Dungeon complex was connected to him and pulling him back.


    "Stop," Zeph was practically shouting, "not so quickly. Reabsorb your mana and disconnect your presence from the walls."


    Luneil ordered his Ravens to stop flying and set him down. He silently reprimanded himself for not paying sufficient attention to when Zeph had warned him about this before. If he had tried to force his way through that unpleasant feeling, he might have died. It was an uncomfortable reminder of his own mortality, however powerful he might be.


    Fortunately, it was easily rectifiable. He commanded his monsters to wait for him, then slowly withdrew his mana from the walls, noticing the large discrepancy in what he''d put in and what he''d gotten back out. Oh well. It hardly mattered. He had a practically limitless supply of mana with his current Lifeforce supply.


    When he''d absorbed Bas'' body, and subsequently remade it out of mana and Lifeforce, he had received a major windfall of power. It would only happen once, nevertheless the amount of Lifeforce he had gained was astonishing.


    Finally, after an hour, he had absorbed the last remnants of his mana and fully removed his consciousness from the walls. Luneil was once again satisfied that he had chosen to take his time and form his Dungeon in a shape that possessed a natural structural integrity, as opposed to shoring up weaknesses with mana. If he''d chosen the easier option then the entire thing would have collapsed the moment he withdrew his mana.


    A strange feeling of freedom overwhelmed him and he was forced to quash a small voice that urged him to cut and run, to disappear into the night and see everything the world had to offer.


    His wanderlust could wait. He was immortal. If he was careful, he had all the time in the world to see all of Era''s beauty, perhaps even recreate it.


    So, instead, he flew down towards the bottom of the valley, pondering what exactly he ought to do. He wanted to make the valley safe and habitable, to make it a prime location that any sane person would want to settle in.


    In a way, he suspected building a town was a bit like building a Dungeon. It needed to be accessible, but it also required defenses that would protect its inhabitants. The key difference was that no one would care if all of the invading force died. It was an amusing double standard. People... they wanted a monopoly on violence. Happy to maim and kill each other to their heart''s content, and accustomed to having their own people massacred. But the very second a Dungeon or a monster decided to engage in wholesale slaughter, leaving no survivors, they attempted to exterminate them.


    Luneil chuckled to himself as a dark plan began to form. It would take a long time and he didn''t have the resources at the moment, but perhaps it would be feasible.


    First, however, he had to rectify an oversight.


    He reached the first of his Mirages scattered along the valley floor. As much as he was loath to admit it, Blue was right, the flowers were too dangerous to be left out there. Especially if he wanted settlers to form a community here. Dungeon creatures were expected to be limited to their Dungeons, for whatever inane reason.


    Luneil replaced the Mirages with normal flowers, slowly sweeping across the valley until he was fairly certain that he had swapped out all of them. It was a dissatisfying job, undoing all of his hard work, but it was necessary. As much as he hated to admit it, being a Dungeon was political, in its own way. He had a reputation to maintain.


    It was still dark when he finished and Luneil found himself looking towards the campfire and the adventurers'' tents surrounding it. He was tempted to sneak closer and torment Bas a little, but there was still a dwarf on watch. It simply wasn''t worth the risk.


    So, instead, Luneil followed the river down to the end of the valley. It passed tightly between the juncture of two steep mountainsides and the water seemed to boil as it struggled to break free of the tight gap that it had plunged recklessly towards. However, the valley''s entrance was not completely secure and it would be a relatively easy feat to sneak up and around.


    That wouldn''t do.


    He moved towards a boulder-strewn bank and let his gaseous mana flow out of him and seep into the bordering mountainside. When he had invested enough mana into it to bring it under his control he began to flex it like a muscle, adding stone where he went. The slope steepened into the begins of a treacherous gorge covered in loose rocks and unstable outcrops of stone.


    He continued extending the cliff face upwards and repeated the procedure on the other side, wincing internally at the volume of mana he was burning through. He still had plenty, but the amounts he was using were simply exorbitant. As the gorge grew in height, the amount of rock he needed to create increased exponentially, since he needed to fill in the area behind it as well in order to ensure a stable formation. He looked at the towering mountaintops towering impossibly high above and immediately gave up on the idea of extending the cliffs all the way up there.


    He placed a few Mirages into little dirt filled alcoves in the rock face, their calming pollen and hypnotizing petals, coupled with the treacherous terrain, would be more than enough to make most people fall to their deaths if they tried to scale the cliffs. He doubt any defending settler would complain about that.


    Finally, he flattened out the land at the top of the formidable outcropping of stone, giving it a plateau-like shape that was perfect for adding additional fortifications to. Luneil itched to add more to the area, but he forced himself not to. The area was convenient, and so any settlers would likely overlook the improbability of finding something like it, which gave Luneil some leeway. Regardless, he had to be careful not to arouse suspicions too far.


    With that in mind he skirted around the edges of the the valley, looking for more ways to enter it. Fortuitously, the only one remaining was the pass that Kort''s team, and Luneil himself, had first entered the valley through.


    He could not do much with this, especially since the adventurers had traveled through it recently and would notice any large scale changes. Instead, he settled for reinforcing the stone beneath the thin covering of earth and subtly flattening the crest of the pass so that it was more conducive to having stable structures built upon it.


    While moving around the valley and altering the landscape he had been absorbing any interesting rocks that piqued his interest. Calling over to Zeph, who had been following him for the entire time, he quickly replicated them and questioned her over their natures. As expected from a creature that had spent a long time tending to Dungeons in underground locations she identified all of them without pausing.


    Well... She had taken a moment to imply that he was perhaps the result of an incestuous relationship between a certain chunk of galena and iron pyrite.


    But Luneil graciously ignored the jab, she was helping him after all. And it was admirable help indeed. Galena was a mineral that seemed to be comprised of shiny gray cubic structures and protruding octahedral nodes, Zeph pointed out that it contained high amounts of silver which was moderately valuable, even if it tended to be overproduced by other Dungeons in terms of coinage and ores.


    There were other ores as well, the copper-containing chalcopyrite, the iron heavy magnetite with its strange attractive and repulsive properties, and perhaps most importantly, lignite. Lignite was nothing special or particularly rare, it was simply a form of coal. According to Zeph, coal was crucial for achieving the temperatures needed in iron and steel-working. Not only that, but it also provided a fuel source with which to endure the long dark mountain winters. There were a small number of trees in the valley, but they was not enough to sustain a large population.


    That''s where the coal came in. The fact that his Dungeon existed would serve to attract those who wanted to try their luck and turn their lives around. The existence of coal, however, would force them to rely on him for their heating needs, and that was exactly what he wanted. The desperate, the weak, the hungry, and the cold.


    Luneil was acutely aware of his reliance on Lifeforce. If he lost more to adventurers killing his creatures than he gained through the deaths of others, then he would gradually be bled dry. However, if he was going to cause deaths, he would rather they be deaths that could be attributed to stupidity, inexperience, and desperation.


    He recognized that his attempts to kill Blue¡ªwhich, by the way, he considered to be successful, since she had technically died¡ªhad been imprudent. His actions had most likely been misconstrued as pure bad luck. But what if they hadn''t been? The situation could have gone far differently. He''d likely be fleeing the area at this very moment, assuming he would have survived the encounter. It was possible that the area inhibition of his powers emitted by the adventurers could prevent his escape.


    After a moment''s thought, he realized it would. He would have had to disentangle his mana from the his Dungeon complex''s walls, and that took time. He had no doubt that Kort would have been able to punch through the rock in order to reach him.


    Luneil berated himself, he needed to be more careful, and less impulsive. His rash actions had heaped a multitude of problems on his head from the very start. He had temporarily destroyed Zeph and risked her Lifeforce on a gamble. Then he had planted the Mirages in the valley without knowing their full effects. And that had prompted Blue''s wariness towards him, which caused him to attempt to kill her.


    Not that killing was bad, mind you. But you needed to kill the right people.


    Yes, that was it. Luneil hummed to himself contentedly. It was the same as with people''s double standard on violence. They might hate death, decry it as their ultimate enemy. But that wasn''t it, was it? If they hated death, Dungeons would have been wiped out. No. People hated it when people weren''t meant to die.


    A necromancer getting his comeuppance was justice. An old dwarf dying in bed was natural. But a young dwarf dying in a freak landslide? That was a tragedy. Even if landslides were natural.


    Luneil snorted, it was insane. They all believed they had a purpose, and freak accidents contradicted that. People would rather believe that there was some underlying reason behind the death of those who died, despite their potential.


    He shuddered to himself, only now realizing how close he might have come to his end. A kill on the first exploration; how many adventurers would attribute that to a mere accident? It was much easier to attribute to malevolence, and what greater malevolence could they imagine than a rogue Dungeon? How many innocent Dungeons had been branded as rogues due to a freak accident? It was an amusing irony, that they became victims of that freak accident themselves.


    Well, it would have been amusing. If the possibility of it didn''t feel so real. He still had no idea what Kort and his team thought about their disastrous Dungeon run. He wanted to get nearer, but he could still see that Grimheld was on the lookout.


    The light of the three moons was blocked by a thick bank of cloud, which had eased his mind while modifying the terrain, however, he was still not comfortable flying close enough to be able to eavesdrop on everyone in the camp.


    Of course, he didn''t need to fly.


    ***


    Luneil burrowed through the dirt. He''d absorbed his Ravens and his carrier sock a while ago, replacing them with a Blackshell Harvester; the oversized beetle was far better suited to pushing him through the cramped tunnel he''d created.


    Every now and then he would create a small hole above him, so that he could protrude a small sliver of gaseous mana, through which he could see his destination.


    It wasn''t optimal, but it was the best he could do. He had tried imbuing mana into the earth above him and letting it turn back into a gas once it reached the surface, but it didn''t want to comply. And while he could force small cracks to open up, allowing his mana to enter, it was far less effort to simply destroy a small area of dirt and fill it back in later.


    Grimheld had surrounded the camp with a thin shell of gaseous mana, using it to detect any abnormalities that crossed the perimeter. The dwarf evidently had exceptional control, since his mana formed a thin but stable shell covering the nearby area. Most surprisingly, despite the occasional strong gusts, the dome of mana only flexed minorly before rebounding back into its former position. It was an impressive creation, and a telling example that mastery of mana was more than the mindless application of brute force.


    Of course, the perimeter would do nothing to stop Luneil from tunneling underneath and reemerging on the other side. After all, what sort of suspicious bastard would suspect an intrusion from below ground.


    Grimheld, apparently. Inches away from breaking through to the surface, Luneil felt the telltale numbing effect of unfriendly mana on his senses. He immediately filled the small hole back in, only now realizing that he hadn''t seen a tether of mana connecting Grimheld to his dome. In hindsight, it was obvious that the dwarf had to be connected to it somehow, otherwise it would simply fly away. However, the revelation that Grimheld had anticipated the possibility of an attack from below, and spread a thin film of mana across the ground, was worrying.


    More worrying, however, was the feeling of mana seeping through the ground towards him as it slowly pushed aside dirt to reach him.


    He was still for a moment. This wasn''t good. He had no idea how he''d been detected. And yet, as the small tremors from the dwarf''s heavy footsteps sent down showers of loose dirt as he neared, Luneil realized he had to do something. Before the dwarf''s interfering aura stopped him from escaping.


    That could not be allowed to happen. Yet, he didn''t want to reveal the long, tunnel he had dug either. That would only arouse suspicions. He extended his mana as far away as he could manage, filling in the passage he''d created. That issue had been addressed, but now he was trapped.


    The dwarf was coming closer and Luneil could feel his presence growing, already beginning to interfere with his control. He had to do something quickly.


    Absorbing the Harvester that he''d used to push him along, Luneil spread out his mana and urgently began to dig. Not the neat subterranean corridor he had used to get here, but a messy winding system of tunnels, all connected to a central chamber with grass roots poking down from the ceiling.


    He rolled down into the chamber he had created, knowing full well that the short distance traveled would not save him if Grimheld examined the area properly. Whether the dwarf would do so, or not, was anyone''s guess¡ªpurely the luck of the draw.


    Luneil wasn''t interested in luck. With the remaining time available to him, he created a small family of six rabbits and issued a command.


    Act natural.


    Everything went dark.


    Grimheld''s feet still shook the ground overhead but Luneil was no longer able to manipulate his mana. In desperation, he cut his attachment to it, feeling a burning twinge as it dissipated. Despite the momentary pain, he was relieved. Any gaseous mana in the area would give away his nature in an instant.


    He shook with powerlessness as the full effects of Grimheld''s presence washed over him and the tremors of his footsteps stopped. He tried letting his mana seep out again, to no avail. He couldn''t even see where he was¡ªalthough, that had nothing to do with Grimheld. All Luneil could do was listen, a task complicated by the beating of the rabbit''s heart.


    The rabbit was dying, causing its heartrate to spike. Yet, it still followed its orders, behaving normally despite its situation. It was quite impressive, actually. Especially considering Luneil had removed most of its non-essential internal organs in order to fit inside it. Which explained the darkness. He was surrounded by rabbit muscle and a spiderweb of squished blood vessels.


    The rabbit was on the large side to begin with, but even then, Luneil''s presence inside would make the rabbit''s stomach appear monstrously bloated. He could only hope the rabbit he had created was female, since he currently had no way to check. He wondered what would happen if Grimheld saw a pregnant male rabbit and chuckled, despite the potentially dire circumstances he had found himself in.


    He could almost feel the dwarf''s mana thrust aside the loose covering of earth that concealed the warren, probing down the tunnels, searching for hidden threats.


    The sense of closeness intensified, agonizing in its own way as the foreign mana came within inches of him, and stopped.


    "Rabbits, eh?" Grimheld''s voice was soft, deadened by the earth between and punctuated by the throb of the rabbit''s heart.


    Luneil felt a thrill of triumph, his ruse had worked. Then, the animal''s heart began to stutter.


    Deprived of oxygen, the rabbit began to twitch and spasm, the violence of its death throes overcoming the compulsion of Luneil''s orders. But Grimheld was already walking away, taking his mana with him, no doubt satisfied that the rabbits weren''t a threat.


    Luneil gave a mental sigh of relief, letting himself relax. He reabsorbed the rabbit he was inside, as soon as Grimheld''s interfering aura faded away. Then, because he was feeling excessively lucky. He made another rabbit, this time modified to survive the strain of having a large crystal concealed in its belly.


    The resulting rabbit was large and slightly deformed, but there was no reason why it wouldn''t suit his purposes. It was dark outside which would conceal the creature''s abnormalities, as long as it didn''t stray too close to the fire. Then, since he wasn''t happy about going deeper into the camp completely blind, he sent a stream of mana up into the bunny''s mouth, through which he could see the main chamber of the facsimile warren.


    Ordering the other rabbits ahead, he followed them above ground, holding slightly back in case Grimheld was hungry and had his crossbow on hand.


    Luneil''s concerns were unfounded, the dwarf had eaten recently, and so spared only the briefest glance to look in the direction of the rabbits as they crossed the thin film of gaseous mana that clung to the darkened ground.


    It was almost too easy. He directed the five normal rabbits to nibble at the grass near the campfire, at the very edges of the firelight. Meanwhile, he moved towards one very specific tent, feeling the numbing sensation wash over him as his proximity to the dwarves interfered with his control of mana and Lifeforce.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Luneil was close enough to hear hushed voices emanating from Kort''s tent, where he was engaged in a conversation with Ola.


    "¡ªyou sure the Council will accept it?"


    "Well, they''re nae going t'' pass up a Dungeon. Bas will hold the deed t'' the land, in name at least. And if they want access t'' that land, well, they''ll have t'' play nice. That''ll start with them pardoning us. All of us." Kort sounded smug.


    "And if they don''t?"


    "They will, as long as Bas doesn''t try t'' f¡ª"


    "He won''t." Ola interjected, "But he''s not the one I''m worried about."


    "Then who, pray tell, are you worried about?"


    "I..." Ola trailed off, "I don''t know. But not Bas. He''s not ruthless enough."


    The two dwarves lapsed into a speculative silence.


    Luneil moved closer, also thinking about Bas. He needed the boy to toughen up. Ola was right about him being too gentle. He was far too squeamish at the moment. And while the way he had revived Blue was impressive, Luneil didn''t want a healer at his disposal. He wanted a killer and a leader.


    He instructed the rabbit to turn towards Bas'' tent, when he heard Ola cough behind him.


    "The Dungeon?" The question was extremely vague, yet it belied a deeper meaning.


    "What about it?" Kort, as usual, failed to grasp that meaning.


    "Don''t you think it''s a little strange?"


    "It''s nae gone rogue, I thought we''d already sorted this out." Kort sighed.


    "Not that. Doesn''t it seem a little too... advanced?"


    "How? Its creatures are weak, even that insect-headed deer was pretty fragile if you take those flailing roots out of the equa..." Kort paused, "You might be right. The Dungeon''s nae even old enough t'' be dropping loot yet; so why does it seem t'' have a basic grasp of strategy?"


    "How should I know?" Ola said, her shrug evident in her tone, "Only seen stuff like that in Dungeons that are at least a few decades old. Do you think w¡ª"


    "Nae need to be hasty." Kort interjected, "We''re all alive. Let''s nae leap t'' ascribing bad intentions. It''s probably just a fast learner."


    They were silent for a moment. Luneil tried to spot their individual silhouettes through the canvas of their tent, to limited success.


    "Now fuck off," Kort said, "I need my beauty sleep."


    Ola sniggered and partially stood up, brushing against the tent walls as she eased her way out. Luneil ordered his rabbit to back away, deeper into the shadows.


    He waited for a short amount of time, permitting his rabbit to nibble pointlessly at the grass. His creatures didn''t exactly need food, but...


    Did Bas need to eat? And if so where did the food go?


    Luneil thought back to his initial attempts at farming using grass. The small seedlings had grown over time, starting with a small amount of Lifeforce and generating more as they matured. Yet that hadn''t happened in his Dungeon complex. There were only two real differences in the conditions; one being that the plants were now surrounded by mana, and the second being that they were now underground.


    His gaseous mana shouldn''t have any detrimental impact on his plants, which meant that... Dungeon plants needed light to grow and generate Lifeforce. If he created Dungeon creatures that hadn''t achieved adulthood, they too required Lifeforce to mature¡ªwhether it be obtained from food or killing or just imparted by him.


    But what happened when the animal was already fully grown. His creatures normally didn''t need to eat. So where did the excess Lifeforce obtained from the food go? Did it accumulate, or did it dissipate into thin air?


    Luneil put the question to one side, directing the rabbit he was hiding within to hop over to Bas'' tent. As he drew away from Kort''s tent, the mana stifling aura eased, it didn''t have much of a real impact on Luneil''s current actions, but it was still reassuring. He spotted one of his other rabbits out of the edge of his vision, and directed it back to the warren, leaving the rest to nibble happily at the grass.


    There was no aura of suppression from Bas'' tent, a clear sign that there was no one else inside. Regardless, Luneil was wary as he let a thread of mana snake up and out of the rabbit''s mouth, probing lightly against the tent and annihilating a small portion.


    And Bas was there, fast asleep. Not for long, obviously.


    Wake up little human.


    Bas snorted and turned over in his sleep, otherwise refusing to awaken.


    This called for drastic action. Luneil created a small wasp and directed it to fly towards Bas'' sleeping form. Of course it wouldn''t be fair to just surprise him with a stinger to the face, so he directed his final caution in as quiet and unobtrusive a mental tone as possible.


    Last warning.


    As expected, the human didn''t even flinch. Oh well, Luneil had done all he could,


    The wasp landed on Bas'' nose and...


    "GAAHHH!"


    Bas'' hand flew towards his face, slapping himself with a brutal amount of force in order to dislodge the offending insect that had just jammed its stinger into his nose.


    "Are ya okay, kid?" Grimheld''s voice came from the other side of the camp.


    "No," Bas grumbled, "something just stung my nose."


    Grimheld chuckled.


    "Well fuck you too." Bas rubbed his nose, smearing green insect blood and guts across his face.


    Luneil savored the moment, laughing to himself at the sight of the reddening handprint blossoming on Bas'' face.


    Zeph zoomed in through the gap in the tent to examine the damage before turning to Luneil with a laugh, "You really are a twisted piece of shit, you know that? It''s one thing to have a human as a pet, it''s another thing to torture the poor thing."


    Luneil only laughed harder, watching as Bas buried his head in his bedroll and tried to get back to sleep. He almost did as well...


    Hey buddy.


    "FUCK." Bas shot up onto his feet, head pushing against the peak of the tent.


    Once again, Grimheld''s laughter could be heard from the other side of the camp, "The insects are really bothering ya tonight, aren''t they."


    "Yeah," Bas replied, a smug grin on his face as he looked around reflexively for the source of Luneil mental voice. The smug grin promptly vanished when a newly created insect did a noisy flyby in front his face, with a muffled yell he ducked back down.


    What''s with all the shrieking?


    "Maybe don''t fill a Dungeon with freakish insect monsters," Bas muttered. "What do you want?"


    "Oooh, he''s a sharp one, takes after you... Oh, wait..." Zeph''s voice piped up.


    Bas frowned, "Did you say something? I couldn''t quite hear that."


    Luneil''s imaginary eyebrows rose. Bas could hear Zeph? It must have something to do with them both being made out of his mana.


    Zeph hovered closer to Bas. Then she screamed in his ear, "Yes. My name is Zeph." She paused, her voice taking on an impish tone, "But you can call me Mistress."


    "Oh dear lord, there''s two of you." Bas cradled his head in his hands, speaking quietly to avoid alerting Grimheld.


    "Yes, Luneil works for me." She shot a pointed glare at the rabbit he was hiding in, "Don''t you?"


    Yes dear. Luneil sighed, at this moment he wished that he had hands to bury his face in.


    Bas glanced around, he squinted and looked closer as his gaze alighted on Zeph, "What do you want?"


    "Your fealty and eternal obe¡ª"


    Luneil cut her off, silently noting to himself that Bas seemed to be able to partially see Zeph as well. I want to talk. To learn. It took a great deal of Lifeforce to bring you back, so I need to recoup on my investment. That''s the only reason you''re alive.


    The line about the amount of Lifeforce required was a complete lie¡ªLuneil had in fact made a net gain by absorbing Bas'' original body and subsequently reconstituting it out of mana¡ªbut it had the desired effect. Bas'' face paled, even in the area of the self inflicted slap mark.


    Therefore, you''re going to tell me how to make a... what was it you called it? Train? That sounded interesting.


    Bas'' face brightened and he opened his mouth to speak, before realizing where he was and continuing in a quieter tone. "A train is a series of metal boxes with wheels that uses steam to power an engine that makes the wheels turn."


    What''s an... engine?


    "An engine is, ummm... An engine is something that, ummm... uses moving and expanding gases to create movement." Bas'' voice had faded to a mumble by the end as he stared at the floor.


    Luneil took a moment to process what Bas was saying. How?


    "It, uh, takes momentum or energy from a source and uses it to drive motion in the desired direction."


    But how does it do that? How do you make an engine?


    Bas was obviously fascinated with a small speck of grit on his bedroll. "I don''t know," he muttered, "I never learned about that in school for fuck''s sake."


    So you mean to say that you know about lots of useful stuff, just not how to make it


    "It''s not that, it''s ju¡ª"


    Do you how to make anything that I could use? Or do you just know of them. Book learning isn''t useful in a Dungeon, it''s not useful for one either.


    In truth, the information about how engines worked was enlightening and Luneil''s mind was already overflowing with ideas about how he could harness the momentum of objects to work for him. Not that he was going to tell Bas that...


    "What about acid? I know where that comes from."


    Fine. Although, I doubt your information will be that useful. None of it has been so far.


    Bas spluttered. "Fuck you. You can find acid in the stomach''s of animals. Hydrochloric acid, anyway. There are stronger acids, but hydrochloric acid is pretty strong. I knew a bulimic girl and the acid in her stomach ate away at her teeth whenever she made herself vomit."


    Is that it? Luneil asked, Stomach acid can dissolve teeth. You really are full of such... useful information.


    "Go to hell. I know how to make gunpowder."


    No you don''t.


    "Yes I do. All you need is saltpeter, charcoal, and sulf¡ª" Bas'' face took on a corpse-like pallor as he realized what he was talking to, "Actually, that''s wrong, I don''t know what the la¡ª"


    "Did you mean sulfur?" Zeph screamed in Bas'' ear.


    Bas squinted at the space that Zeph occupied, the whites of his eyes barely discernible from his face. "Don''t. Please. I''m begging you. Just don''t."


    Luneil directed a thought over to Zeph, What''s gunpowder?


    The Sylph flitted over to him, speaking softly so that Bas wouldn''t overhear, "I don''t know."


    Luneil addressed Bas once more, Why not? Give me a reason why I shouldn''t.


    "Because where I come from, gunpowder only made things worse, it killed a lot of people." Bas shook his head, looking around and trying to find something to glare at.


    So what? People die. But you and me, we''re immortal. Well, I am, anyway. The weak will always die, no matter what. Are you weak?


    Bas paused, "If you make it, I''ll never tell you anything. Ever."


    Sure, go for it. I''ll just make a replica of you and torture every last piece of knowledge out of you.


    Could he do that? Luneil wasn''t sure. The only reason he hadn''t thought of it before was because the idea of having multiple Zephs was downright alarming. All in all, given his current lack of information, it was a bluff.


    But Bas didn''t know that, and Luneil knew it.


    "Fine, take this." Bas reached over towards the hatchet in the corner.


    I''ve already encountered your little axe. It was... disappointing.


    "No, not that." Bas brushed the hatchet away, revealing a glossy book that had lain beneath it.


    I don''t want your bedtime stories. Luneil said dismissively. Deep down he felt the familiar stirrings of excitement. What did the book contain? The only way to truly know was to pump Bas for information, primarily by making him feel inadequate. Everyone wanted to feel as if they were unique, as if they had some intrinsic worth. Bas was no different.


    Bas tentatively held the book out, hands trembling, not quite sure who, or where, to offer it to. "It contains the building blocks of my world''s knowledge about how the universe operates."


    Luneil let a tendril of mana rush forward through the hole in the tent, letting it brush up against the book and annihilated it. He felt a thrill of satisfaction from obtaining the book''s pattern and chuckled as Bas stared at his now empty hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers.


    Time for the killing stroke.


    Not good enough.


    He recreated the book above Bas'' head and let it drop with a heavy and satisfying thunk. Then, he withdrew his mana, patching up the hole in the tent. He left Bas staring mournfully at the book in front of him, too stunned to speak.


    Luneil gathered the four rabbits that had remained above ground and the campfire, directing them back to the facsimile warren, laughing to himself as he went. He was making his way back to the warren himself, passing the second last tent, when something stopped him dead and filling him with cold dread.


    "Is someone there? Who''s laughing?" Blue''s voice came from the tent and Luneil bolted away as fast as the rabbit''s legs could carry him. "Grim? Who''s there?"


    "Just rabbits."


    "Rabbits are crepuscular." Blue''s voice became tinged with worry.


    "What?"


    "They''re not active in the middle of the night."


    Luneil''s rabbit dove towards the hole, as Grimheld pounded towards him. The thin film of mana around the entrance to the warren seemed to swell and thicken as he approached, clinging at him and impeding his progress through it.


    His momentum slowed to a crawl. Or a really retarded hop.


    And then he was through, the film of mana insufficient to stop him, even as a crossbow bolt buried itself to its feathers in the dirt where he had just been. Then he was racing through the tunnels, surreptitiously collapsing them as he went.


    He didn''t slow, even as the tunnels came crashing down behind him. This was not the time to get complacent.


    Luneil entered the main chamber where the rest of his rabbits were waiting. He ordered them to follow him, not out of any lingering attachment, but simply because he didn''t want his rabbit to be singled out for a bolt between the ears.


    He exited through another tunnel that opened out beyond Grimheld''s perimeter. Luneil was alarmed to see how much the dome of mana had enlarged, most likely in an attempt to trap his rabbits within the warren.


    He heard the deadly twang of the crossbow string, followed by a meaty thud as one of his rabbit meatshields was speared to the ground by one foot of iron, wood, and feathers. Then a hail of daggers descended on them in a rush of displaced wind. The majority buried themselves to the quillons in the soil, while two sheathed themselves in his rabbits'' spines.


    He chanced a glance behind him, regretting his decision to do so as he saw Grimheld drawing daggers from his belt and... dropping them.


    As they had started to fall that they spun in midair and reoriented themselves towards the fleeing rabbits, shooting forwards at high velocity.


    He ordered all the rabbits under his control to veer to the left and right as they ran. The movement threw off Grimheld''s aim as none of the subsequent daggers hit his rabbits. Looking backwards once more he saw the dwarf slumped on the ground, visibly exhausted while the rest of the bleary-eyed adventurers piled out of their tents, fumbling with their weapons. To one side stood one very confused human scratching his head and trying to look inconspicuous.


    Judging that he was now well out of sight he absorbed the remaining two rabbits, noticing a faint difference in their Lifeforce quantities. He faintly remembered that the one with less Lifeforce had been sent back to the warren early, even if the difference was marginal.


    Luneil was pleased with the confirmation of his theory. It did indeed seem that his Dungeon creatures would gain a minor amount of strength from consuming food.


    It wasn''t so much for getting them to mutate from too much Lifeforce, but rather them acting as Lifeforce collectors that he could send out to gather more power for him with minimal effort. Every little helped after all, and with Kort''s team skimming off a little Lifeforce every time they killed one of his creatures, he needed as much as he could get.


    So engrossed in his thought processes, he barely had time to register as his rabbit plunged headfirst into the river in the middle of the valley. Unfortunately the idiotic creature had followed his orders of ''Keep on running'' to the letter.


    Luneil panicked for a brief moment, before remembering that he didn''t need to breath and so wasn''t at any risk of drowning. On the other hand, the rabbit wasn''t waterproof, so he absorbed it and let the river current carry his spherical body to a gentle rolling stop on its rock strewn bed.


    Luneil relaxed there for a moment, watching fish drift above his head, barely visible against the sky. Come to think of it, this was the perfect opportunity to obtain some new creatures.


    He created an interwoven net of Ropewood branches, watching with interest as several fish and one eel attempted to slip through the holes, only to be crushed by the constricting branches.


    Used to the vast rushes of Lifeforce that came from larger creatures, Luneil barely even noticed the small amounts that he obtained from the fish. Regardless, the patterns were welcome.


    With his fishing out of the way, he reabsorbed the net of branches and created a chunk of wood around himself, which floated to surface. He just let the running water bear him downstream, watching the riverbanks flow past him.


    Eventually, however, he got bored of the ride and began to make his slow way back to the Dungeon complex. He wanted to try a few new things out.


    ***


    Luneil had finished painstakingly reintegrating himself with his Dungeon complex''s walls and reset the water reservoirs after the stream had run dry.


    However, with all this complete, he had the rest of the night to test out everything he wanted to try. With a small amount of trepidation and a good deal of excitement he watched as Bas'' form began to form out of thin air, coalescing into being.


    Zeph spoke up just then, "It''s not going to work, you know. Bas'' copy isn''t going to obey you just like that. You could always turn him into a skeleton by using Lifeforce to animate his bones, but that defeats the purpose of making an intelligent creature. He''s not even going to..."


    Luneil ignored her and watched as the Bas clone stretched and looked around.


    Touch your head.


    The copy of Bas paused, cocking his head to one side before shrugging and tapping his head lightly.


    Walk over there.


    The duplicate began to walk, then frowned and stopped in place.


    I said walk over there.


    He began to walk again, but this time towards the Dungeon''s exit¡ªthe exact opposite direction in which Luneil had indicated.


    Do as I s¡ª


    "Why?" The duplicate''s voice was a flat monotone. Luneil looked closer, his eyes were empty of their usual liveliness, devoid of even antipathy.


    Because I want to know what you know.


    The duplicate cocked his head, "Don''t. Won''t. Can''t."


    What do you mean?


    "Don''t know. Won''t say. Can''t remember." Bas'' voice never fluctuated, no sign of exasperation evident.


    But... you''re Bas. I know that yo¡ª


    "Who Bas?" For the first time, the duplicate''s tone changed. He sounded intrigued and his eyes seemed to light up. Then his gaze clouded over again, "Must go."


    Won''t you stay.


    "No." The duplicate was nearly at the entrance.


    Suit yourself.


    With that final exchange, Luneil absorbed the duplicate, feeling intensely irritated at the events. It was like it was an entirely different person inside of Bas'' body, an incredibly frustrating and obstructive person with none of Bas'' redeeming memories.


    He fixed his attention on Zeph, What happened there?


    "As I was trying to tell you, attempting to make a copy of an individual doesn''t work too well. Not if you want them to keep their memories and personality. Once you''ve created more than one... something gets... left behind." Zeph snorted, "The past Dungeons I observed were never so stupid as to do it with humans, but they all tried it out with kobolds or goblins at some point in time. The copies you create are, for all intents and purposes, new people."


    So how do I make intelligent creatures do what I want?


    "You need to incentivize it, and often simply promising immortality, as you did for Bas, just won''t cut it. These are new creatures, only beings that have lived are afraid of death."


    Hmmm.


    "Stop pretending to think, everyone knows your dirty little secret."


    Luneil ignored her, as usual. Even if the test hadn''t gone as he had hoped, it had still reached a reasonably solid conclusion. He moved onto the next thing he wanted to test out. Acid.


    A detached human stomach flopped onto the floor of his Dungeon, leaking liquid out of both ends onto the floor. In among the partially digested food, there was something that might have been acid, but he wasn''t certain. In brief, it was a disgusting churned mess.


    There had to be a better way of doing this.


    Luneil reabsorbed the stomach and the gastric juices pooling over the floor. Then he examined the pattern of the stomach, comparing a series of animals. He saw how a certain series of motifs controlled the release of acid, while others created a protective layer of slimy mucus to stop the stomach from dissolving itself in its own juices.


    Finally he felt confident enough to merge those motifs onto a plant, adding plentiful amounts of Lifeforce for good measure and mixing in the aspects of a few of his favorite plants. The result was a colorful gourd shaped flower with a delightfully scented reservoir of flesh-melting acid, which he name the Acid Lily.


    And when he said ''flesh-melting'' he had obviously tested it out, on multiple cute and fluffy creatures... just to be sure. The Lily had a wonderful habit of tracking the motion of nearby creatures before the acid reservoir contracted, sending a vicious jet of concentrated acid flying towards its target.


    The result was so enjoyable that he obtained the pattern of the acid itself. After all, it had too many enjoyable recreational uses for it to be squandered solely on a single plant, however entertaining that plant was.


    And so, in the spirit of the moment he might have altered the contents of the stream running through the center of his first room. Sure, it killed off all the Ropewood snare traps in an impressively short time, but in his opinion it was definitely worth the sacrifice. Especially since the acid was relatively clear and could be easily mistaken for water, which would be extremely amusing indeed.


    Inspired, Luneil put the mysteries of Bas'' book and gunpowder manufacture to one side. He began to plan out his second floor, pondering the meaning of life and the number of ways to melt a dwarf''s face off.

 Chapter 15 - How to tame your Dungeon

    ¡ªBas¡ª


    His confusion had quickly turned to rage as he stared out into the night, trying in vain to make out Luneil''s retreating form.


    His unkempt fingernails pierced deep into his palms, but he barely spared the pain a second thought. More precisely, he was out of fucks to give.


    From the very start he''d been left in the dark and his ignorance taken advantage of at every possible turn. He''d dreamed of making the world better for everyone in this backwards and primitive world. He might have overestimated the breadth and scope of his knowledge, but that didn''t make it useless, no matter what Luneil had claimed. And, in return, what had he gained?


    He''d been manipulated by Luneil, forced to dance to his sadistic tune. He''d been threatened, humiliated, and outright murdered. He''d been pressured into revealing dangerous information and outright harassed by a Dungeon. Worst of all, he didn''t even know if that was even possible.


    He knew next to nothing about Era and despite being accompanied by so-called ''friends'' he was still pretty much in the dark regarding anything that wasn''t an absolute necessity for him to know. Come to think of it, Kort and his team were just as bad as Luneil. They''d manipulated him and failed to inform him on vital matters. Vital matters that he still knew nothing about.


    They were in some backwater region of fuck-off nowhere and they had absolutely no good reason to be. He''d listened in to Kort''s conversations, the entire region was a sleepy backwater, lightly populated by the occasional city state and minor kingdom. What''s more, the journey here was certainly arduous. What it all amounted to was that they were here for important reasons that they had consistently failed to disclose, thus leaving him at the mercy of their silence and his ignorance.


    Kort had even forced him to murder a living, thinking being. It didn''t matter that the strong ruled the weak in this world. Kort had demanded that he kill a man... an elf, without a single prior explanation. And he had done it.


    It was partially his fault for not pressing Kort for details. What could he do? He was weak. He had tried to be helpful, to be a good person, and it had gotten him nowhere.


    He was done being manipulated and he was done relying solely on Kort for his strength. Luneil could do his worst. He didn''t exist solely for their sufferance and while he would repay any assistance in kind, he would do it on his accord and no one else''s.


    The more he thought about it, since he had arrived to this world he had been aimless. Directionless. He''d had dreams but no solid goals. That ended now. He wasn''t getting pushed around any more. Kort was wrong, Luneil was wrong, all of Era was wrong.


    There was no crime in being weak, only in choosing to remain that way. In the end he could only rely on himself. His companions had proven themselves to be unreliable. He needed power, not for powers sake, but simply to live a life in which he wasn''t a pawn in one person or another''s schemes.


    Even as Grimheld and Kort argued loudly by the campfire, Bas looked upwards towards the Dungeon high up on the valley''s slope. It was impossible to actually see, the faint luminescence of the Dungeon''s mist-like mana swallowed up by the darkness, but he knew it was there. He could feel it, an unbreakable bond between him and the Dungeon.


    If Luneil expected him to roll over, to bow down and abase himself, he had another thing coming.


    He would be treated as an equal and if Luneil didn''t want the secret of his sapience spread far and wide, he had better start doing so. As for Kort...


    The dwarf only respected power; even now, he was so certain and steadfast in the surety of his own.


    But it put Bas at a disadvantage, because he was indeed objectively weaker. And so, he quietly slipped back into his tent and let his mana billow out, filling every corner. He knew what he had to do.


    To say that he had only just figured it out would be a lie. He had known, he just hadn''t acted on it. After all, it was easier to dream than to do. And he''d been dreaming far too much lately,


    If he wanted power he had to take it. Kort understood that. Luneil understood that. They were each detestable in their own way, petty and selfish individuals. But it was a selfish world and Bas was done playing second fiddle to people who were only out for themselves. He wouldn''t be one of those people, screaming at the top of their voices about how unfair and unjust the world was, and doing nothing. There had been enough of people like that back on Earth, and good riddance to them. He''d been like that too, and he was only just realizing it.


    The world was unfair, the world was absolute shit, whether on Earth or on Era. He no longer wanted to change the world, he just wanted to make it a little better. Not by demanding that it change, but by forcing it to fit his vision of what it should be. He didn''t know everything, but he did know better.


    The sound of arguing from outside faded to silence as he concentrated. With painful slowness, his mana compacted into a sphere in front of him, tighter and tighter until he could feel it straining against his control, trying to break free from the prison of his will.


    A line of mana, as thin as spider silk, connected the miniature orb of compressed gaseous mana to him, feeding it energy to maintain its compressed state. Stealing its outward motion and redirecting it inwards.


    All the world was constant motion, and heat was no different. Decrease the motion of a particle and it cools, increase a particle''s motion and its temperature rises. Bas hoped that mana behaved in a similar way. He knew next to nothing of this world; regardless, he fervently hoped that some part of it at least made sense.


    Mana flowed down his connection to the pulsing sphere of energy, exacerbating its erratic rushes of motion. As his power continued to fuel the sphere of mana the throbbing palpitations of the orb stabilized and coalesced into a single continuous outward impulse, trying to escape in a sustained surge that taxed Bas'' mind to its breaking point.


    The orb flickered dangerously, seeming simultaneously solid and gaseous, eruptions of color surfacing like leviathans from the lightening orb of quicksilver blue. Its hues began to shift and shimmer, like oil viewed by candlelight, taking on a prismatic menace.


    Waves of distorting haze began to roll off the surface, staining the air around the sphere a dirty gray-blue. The orb of mana convulsed, the turbulent streams of color breaching from beneath in jolts and jerks. Its spherical form beginning to deteriorate, giving way to chaotic undulating waves of blue and a kaleidoscope of colors besides.


    The dirty fog continued to flow off the deteriorating globe, resembling the shimmer and stream of heat haze off tarmac. Slowly, it began to accumulate around the ball of mana, thickening and making the polychrome surface appear in a thousand shades of muted gray.


    It became harder and harder for Bas to maintain the shape of his mana and to provide a consistent flow of energy to maintain its state. The haze was disruptive, interfering with his attempts at control.


    It was then that he realized that he had seen the haze before. Depleted mana. Which meant that...


    Bas looked at the thousands of colors roiling across the surface of his mana. Were they all of the different mana subtypes? Was this what plasma mana was?


    He reached out to touch the pulsating sphere and his focus slipped. A thin shell of mana was ejected from it as it contracted, forming a bristling ball, comprised of an uncountable number of needle-like spikes that jutted out in every direction.


    Then it exploded, sending out spears of blue and prismatic color that rapidly fizzled out and faded away, drowned in the depleted mana that surged out with it.


    Desperately Bas erected a shield of mana with the last of his depleted reserves, trying to impede the progress of the lethal-looking shards.


    It was a fruitless endeavor, the spikes of plasma mana, stained with every mana subtype imaginable, pierced straight through his shield and impacted his hand. Like a poisonous growth it began to branch and spread, even as its roots seemed to fade and dissipate. It wove its way up his arm like the tendrils of a parasite, consuming and corrupting his mana as it went, painful waves of dirty blue-gray haze erupted to the surface of his skin and fell to the ground below.


    The tendrils elongated further and Bas pushed back against with all the mana he had. The smallest trickle of regenerate mana met its advance, but in the parasitic plasma mana''s weakened state it was enough. Its spread was halted for only a moment, just long enough for the natural decay of the mana subtypes to play their part. The menacing filaments eroded, drifting away, denied of the mana they needed to fuel their growth.


    With a sigh of relief he leaned back, one aching arm cradled to his chest and the other resting against his forehead, mopping fruitlessly at his sweaty forehead. Despite the past pain of the plasma and the current pain of mana exhaustion, he felt a small surge of exhilaration, a manic grin breaking out over his face. He''d done it!


    That''s when the shouting started. Bas sat bolt upright, looking down at the strands of plasma mana crawling along the thin film of the mana perimeter that Grimheld maintained on the floor.


    "There''s something in my mana, something''s stopping me from cutting it free." Grimheld sounded panicked.


    Bas watched in horrified fascination as the mana spread like poisonous fire along the mana perimeter that covered the floor of his tent.


    He was broken out of his daze by the next shout, "It''s consuming my mana. I can''t get rid of it."


    Bas pushed his way out of the tent, carefully avoiding the tendrils of plasma mana. He wouldn''t be able to deal with any more in his current state.


    "You need to push mana into it." he said.


    "What do ya mean?" Grimheld shouted, "It eats mana and ya want me to feed it?"


    "Just do it." Bas screamed back.


    Grimheld''s hands loosened for a second as he was about to reply, then the dwarf hesitated, his jaw tightening and a wave of mana seemed to pulse around the tent, converging from all sides, driving the infection of plasma mana back.


    But this one was more entrenched and more persistent, coupled with the disruptive effects of the depleted mana constantly being produced it took several more attempts before the last of the parasitic mana was extinguished.


    Grimheld turned to him, seeming more weary than angry. "What did ya do?"


    Kort muscled up behind him, "Aye, you''ve got some explaining t'' do, lad. What was that?"


    Anger dampened by the shock, the near disaster, and the joy of his recent discovery flared back to life like a blood-soaked phoenix, "I''ve got explaining to do? Me?" His fists clenched, "Stop pretending you don''t have any secrets. You''ve been holding things back from me for as long as I''ve known you."


    Kort''s jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed red, with a visible effort he relaxed before heaving out a long sigh, "I suppose you''re right. I''ve nae ever lied t'' you, but," he scratched his head, fingers still half-balled into fists, "you''re correct t'' think we''ve nae told you everything. Maybe omission is just as bad as lying, but it''s difficult to know how to even begin." Kort''s face fell and he looked older than Bas had ever seen him. Guilt lined the dwarf''s features as the firelight sent shadows dancing across his face. All traces of anger had drained out of Kort''s stout form, replaced by an abiding weariness.


    Grimheld moved closer to his friend and leader, laying a hand on his shoulder, "That''s good enough Kort. I''ll tell him the rest."


    Bas opened his mouth to protest as Kort nodded and turned away. That bastard had put him through hell, he deserved answers.


    Grimheld cut it off, "Leave it be."


    "But¡ª"


    "If yer out for blood, then get yer answers from him. I won''t stop ya. If ya want the full story, though, just let me speak." All of Grimheld''s typical levity was gone, replaced with a shadow of guilt, similar to that which had haunted Kort''s face only moments ago.


    Bas'' mouth opened and closed silently. With only a sliver of regret, he watched Kort slip into his tent and out of sight.


    Grimheld''s head bobbed once, then, with a sigh, he began, "We weren''t always adventurers. We were retainers to a noble dwarven house. Not nobility ourselves, but close enough that it didn''t really matter. It was a cushy life, we had access to the best Dungeons, even if the training we did in them was minimal. After all, there''s not been a war for centuries. The biggest danger to a noble isn''t a dagger in the dark, it''s themselves after a few too many rounds of mana-fortified mead." He shook his head and grimaced. "At least, that''s how it normally is."


    "Ironically, it was diplomacy that set this whole shit show in motion. We were escorting a noble, Geigel Irontear, to a duergar stronghold for ''discussions''." Grimheld put the last word in air quotes with his fingers. "Our kinds have never really gotten along together, even at the best of times, but Tyl''s been adamant about improving relations between all of Era''s races." His voice sunk to a mutter, "Even races of lying, thieving, backstabbing traitors, like the duergar."


    He took a breath, "We arrived at their cavern easily enough, although it''s a long journey to get that deep. Us normal dwarves live pretty far down, but those animals have nothing beneath them but the Underhollow. Still, if they want to stem the tide of monsters from below, better them than us."


    "The first day was peachy. Just fucking peachy. The air down there wafts up from the upper reaches of the Underhollow, so the whole area always reeks of monster shit. That was an unpleasant night. The second day it all went downhill, straight into the monster shit I just mentioned. Neck deep. Out of the forge and into the foundry.


    "The duergar chief was found dead in the meeting chamber. Some rival leader probably exploited our arrival in order to seize power while laying the blame at our feet. Well, it worked. The guards killed Geigel, who we were meant to have been protecting, and we fled the stronghold with the duergar hot on our heels. We could only rest after Kort collapsed a tunnel behind us."


    Grimheld shook his head, "It wasn''t much better when we got back to civilization, either. We got blamed by Tyl for breaking the peace, and by the Irontear family for the death of Geigel. And that was it. We were turned away at the gates of our own city, banished from dwarven lands." The dwarf clenched his fists, "The Council made an example of us, they had to, and given the circumstances, it was the most lenient sentence they could manage. The Irontear family weren''t so pleased with the verdict and we''ve had mercenaries on our tail ever since, hounding us across the continent."


    He gestured expansively, "Which is why we''re here, in this shitty backwater. It''ll take some time for the Irontear mercenaries to find us here and start stirring up trouble for us. I hope this whole farce will be over by then, it''s not even that we want to go home, we just want to be able to do so; and without having to keep an eye out for troublemakers and worse on the horizon."


    Grimheld pointed towards the Dungeon on the slope, hidden in shadow, "Which is where we come to now. We''ve been adventuring for years but there is one common theme, no matter what. Dungeons mean money, lots of it, even after the exto¡ªtaxes levied by the land owners and the various guild. Not only that, but they supply an almost endless stream of materials used in all professions. No kingdom would ever pass up an offer to bring one under its belt, so Kort sent a message to the Dwarven Council, exchanging access to this Dungeon for revocation of the terms of the banishment and pardon for our crimes."


    "Access?" Bas asked, "Don''t you mean control?"


    "No, they won''t own the land, we will. Or, more precisely, you will." Grimheld held his gaze, then continued speaking, "None of us who were banished can pass it on to our families, and, as an employee, Blue''s claim to the land could be contested by the Adventurer''s Guild. She might have run off, but she''s still working on Guild time. What ya need to remember is that Kort has difficulty trusting people at the best of times. The duergar fucked him over and ruined his life, killing the man we''d all sworn to protect. Then the Council exiled him, exiled all of us, from setting foot in dwarven lands again in an effort to appease Tyl. You have no idea how that weighs on a person. But despite all of that he does trust ya, we all do, strange as it may seem. That''s why we want ya to have the lands around the Dungeon. Yer a good kid and know ya have our best interests at heart, just as we have yours in ours.


    Bas stared at Grimheld, conflicted at the thought of becoming a landowner, especially land that Luneil inhabited. More than that, it seemed a little too lavish an offer to be true. "What''s the catch?" he asked cautiously.


    Grimheld fidgeted, "You''re now the proud possessor of two hundred thousand gold pieces worth of land."


    "And...?"


    "You''re also in debt for two hundred thousand gold pieces, plus administrative fees and interest."


    "How?" Bas''s hands had fallen limply to his sides, "Just, how?"


    Grimheld threw up his hands, "Please hear me out. Claiming territory is horrendously expensive, if ya want to ensure that no foreign power steals it from ya. Tyl''s Land Registry puts an exorbitant price on land, which only gets worse if it''s been built on or previously inhabited. It costs a dragon''s hoard but it''s worth it, since her Pardoners will protect yer claim to the land as long as yer associated with a kingdom. This way ya own the land in its entirety, and no one but Tyl herself can take it from ya." Grimheld''s shoulders slumped as he took in Bas'' expression, "Look, we dwarves have got an old score to settle with Tyl, she betrayed our god, Gnur, and then she killed him. Still, I cannot deny that the Registry''s system works. Sure it''s costly, but Tyl is as good as her word, in this at least. Not a single nation has lost Registry safeguard land for more than a single week, Tyl''s Pardoners, bastards that they are, are everywhere."


    Bas nodded, eyebrows scrunched together as he thought the situation through. The idea of owning the land was admittedly attractive, even with the albatross of Luneil''s presence hanging around his neck. Also, the ability to have it protected by a goddess, even a tyrannical one, stopped a target from being painted on his forehead.


    Still, he had more questions to ask. "Where''s the money coming from?" He didn''t want to own the land only for some unscrupulous creditors to reclaim it on account of outstanding debt.


    Grimheld nodded, visibly relieved that the uncomfortable part of the conversation was out of the way. "The Bankers Guild. They''ll front ya the money without batting an eyelid. Dungeons are immensely profitable and they''ll be happy to get such an easy return on their investment, plus interest. A temporary claim under yer name will be put in with the Land Registry, and once the Bankers Guild confirms there''s a Dungeon here, they''ll pay the necessary fees. And if the Dungeon doesn''t exist they never have to pay a single copper piece."


    "How much even is two hundred thousand gold?"


    "A lot, but not as much as ya think. Gold''s pretty common, what with all the Dungeons pumping it out. Yer gonna make it back it no time."


    "Look, stop with the hard sell, I just want to k¡ª," Bas shook his head. "Nevermind, how many gold pieces do all of you have?"


    "Eleven?" Grimheld winced.


    "Elev¡ªI thought you said gold was pretty common?"


    "Did I say that? Perhaps it would be better to say that gold''s less rare."


    "And you didn''t think to ask me? You know, before you signed me up for a two hundred thousand gold pieces."


    "Don''t forget the interest and administration fees." Grimheld supplied.


    "Great." Bas threw his hands up in the air. "How long will it take to pay that off?"


    "About fifty years."


    "Fifty? That''s worse than tuition." He waved away Grimheld''s questioning look, "Why so long?"


    "Interest. Twenty percent per year. Which is pretty steep, but the Bankers Guild know how to charge just enough interest to bleed ya for as long as possible. Neither the Dungeon nor the land around it will be very profitable at the beginning, so most of what yer gonna pay back is interest."


    "You''re hardly filling me with confidence. What''s to stop them from keeping me in debt forever." Bas remember stories of people who''d been trapped in a whirlpool of debt and compound interest back on Earth, he didn''t want that happening to him, should worst come to worst.


    "There are regulations in place that forgive any further debt once forty times the original amount has been paid off."


    Bas ran the numbers. Eight million. "That''s not reassuring at all. You do know that, right?"


    Grimheld leaned over and clapped him on the back, "It''s fine, I have faith in ya. Yer forgetting that time won''t mean anything once ya increase yer Rank a few times. Yer only Rank I after all. Just focus on living forever and yer land will become profitable on its own time."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Bas ground his teeth but said nothing.


    The dwarf raised an eyebrow. "Ya don''t understand, people would kill for this opportunity. Many have. If ya don''t want it, when this whole farce is resolved ya can transfer the land and the debt to me or one of the team. But before ya do, understand this, a new Dungeon hasn''t been found for half a century at least. Ya will likely never find an unclaimed Dungeon again, no matter how long ya live. A Dungeon is more than a hole in the ground, it is wealth, power, fame, and influence. Any city that''s worth the ink on the map its drawn on has a Dungeon."


    Bas waved him off, "I know, I know. But couldn''t you have at least consulted me?"


    "Aye, we should have, and it was our mistake. We took ya for granted, assumed that ya would just follow along. So consider this advice as our way of apologizing. Keep the Dungeon, and the debt along with it. I can understand why yer balking at it, I''d be concerned too if I was in yer boots. But please recognize this for the blessing that it is."


    Bas closed his eyes, massaging his forehead with one hand and running his fingers along the grip of Grimheld''s old dagger. He thought through the situation. Sure, he had just been saddled with a huge amount of debt, however, there was something that could be salvaged from the situation. Luneil was obviously able to create anything he wanted. Which, no doubt, included two hundred thousand gold pieces.


    "Fine," he groaned. The issue would be in wringing every last ounce of gold out of him. He just needed a reasonable incentive. Or a credible threat.


    Bas tapped his fingers against his leg, "Grim, the mist in the Dungeon is made of mana, right?"


    "Yes, why are y¡ª" Grimheld cut himself off, leaning towards him and fixing him with an intent look. "Don''t ya even try it. I have a fairly good idea of what yer thinking, but it''s not a good idea. We don''t even know how that thing you created works, it could permanently damage a Dungeon. No, it''s far too dangerous to use in a Dungeon without testing it properly."


    Bas coughed, hiding his smirk behind one cupped hand. Perfect. "You''re right, it''s a dumb idea."


    Grimheld inclined his head, clasping his hands in front of him, "Would ya mind telling us what that was. I mean, yer not obliged to tell us everything about it, but if yer going to be adventuring with us, it''s best we have some understanding of yer capabilities."


    Bas paused. Did he actually know how his plasma mana, if that was what it even was, worked? It was best to start from what he was aware of. "I believe that the properties of mana are determined by the states of matter. Solid, liquid, gas," he paused deliberately, "and plasma. There are likely others, but I''m not aware of them. Plasma is a gas that''s been heated to a high enough temperature." Bas stopped himself before he blurted out the secret to turning mana into a plasma, but ultimately decided against it. Yes, he was ecstatic that it had worked, but that wasn''t a reason to broadcast it to the world. Not yet anyway.


    Grimheld seized upon his hesitation, a frown creasing his brow, "And why does this... plasma consume mana? And if so, why does flooding it with more mana stop it? That''s like putting out a fire with oil-soaked wood."


    "I don''t think the mana does stop it. The plasma mana needs a trigger to start it, but after that it becomes self perpetuating and requires more energy to contain it, as opposed to sustaining in." Bas was making the explanation up on the spot, but it just felt right, "From what I saw, plasma mana rapidly converts into many of the mana-subtypes, perhaps all of them. And that changes into depleted mana shortly afterwards. When I add more mana, more depleted mana is created. After being flooded with more mana, it burns so quickly in a single place that a large amount of depleted mana is created, which hinders its ability to expand outward, leaving the rest to burn itself out."


    Grimheld cleared his throat and raised a hand in an absent gesture, "So ya don''t have to fully remove it? Once it''s been halted it''ll just burn out on its own?"


    "I think so, but it''ll take longer. I''m honestly not entirely sure." Bas shrugged.


    Grimheld clapped his hands, "Well, if that''s it, I think I''ll be getting some sleep. Dirri can take over from me. Tonight''s been too eventful by half. That scare yer mana..." Grimheld corrected himself, "Yer plasma mana gave me almost had me forgetting about those strange rabbits. Still, I don''t think they''ll be coming back any time soon. I''ll check them in the morning, and get my knives back. No point fumbling around in the dark."


    Bas held up a hand, "Could you wait a moment. I wanted to ask you something."


    "Sure thing. Ya listened to me and were honest with me, how could I do anything other than reciprocate."


    "Could we go back to the Dungeon tomorrow, and could I by any chance get one of those gold pieces you mentioned?"


    "So soon? Are ya su¡ª," Grimheld began. "You know what? Sure, we can. Just don''t use yer newfound mana until we''re certain it''s safe."


    "I won''t." Bas smiled sweetly.


    "And I suppose ya want the gold coin for salting the Dungeon?"


    "Salting?"


    "Giving it expensive items and materials in the hope that it begins producing them."


    "Yeah, that."


    "I don''t see why not. Most people wait until the Dungeon starts producing loot before salting the Dungeon, to try and teach it to exchange the bodies of its creatures for rewards. Then again, new Dungeons are found so rarely that there''s no real precedent for dealing with them other than snapping up the land before anyone else does."


    Bas nodded, "Goodnight, then."


    "You too."


    They each trudged back to their tents. The next day was going to be exhausting.


    ***


    Bas and Grimheld ascended the final few paces to the Dungeon. They had planned on arriving earlier, but the way the flowers with the mind-altering pollen had simply disappeared from the valley unnerved all the dwarves, prompting a discussion and a futile search for any of the dangerous flowers. They were happy to be rid of the damn things, but still, their continued presence would at least be proof that they weren''t going crazy.


    Bas was less worried, if Luneil wanted to kill them all in their sleep, he would have.


    <Oh, great, it''s you. You''re back awfully soon, what do you want?>


    Bas began thinking of ways to strangle a Dungeon but reigned in his irritation. It would just make him look like an idiot in front of Grimheld. He had a plan for dealing with Luneil, but he couldn''t put it into effect yet.


    <Are you ignoring me?>


    Grimheld turned to Bas, unaware of Luneil''s mental voice, "So, what do ya want to do? I thought we might try to get ya to be self-sufficient in a Dungeon. Teach ya about how to go about surviving in a Dungeon, rather than just hitting stuff."


    Bas stared down the sloping tunnel that led into the Dungeon, peering past the roiling mist to try and make out the first room beyond to see if anything had changed. He nodded slowly, "Good plan."


    "Great. And remember what we talked about, don''t try anything new with the Dungeon, ya might damage it."


    <Not likely.> Luneil scoffed.


    "Are ya ready?" Grimheld fished out a bolt, placing it into the flight groove of his crossbow.


    Bas didn''t reply, instead raising his hatchet and setting his gaze ahead.


    <So, why does Grim think you could hurt me?> Luneil''s tone was conversational.


    Bas ignored him and, after a second''s deliberation, drew the dagger that Grimheld had given him from its sheath, holding it in his off hand. Finally he looked at Grimheld, "Ready."


    Grimheld strolled forward, into the maw of the Dungeon, letting his mana billow out to surround him. Bas imitated him, a seed of worry and anticipation sprouting in his gut.


    The Dungeon seemed so much larger and more threatening when it was just him and Grimheld. Luneil''s mana both illuminated and obscure the shapes that scuttled across the ground and jumped from stalagmite to stalagmite. The sound of the stream filled the cavern with the smell of damp stone and a wet echo that bounced strangely against the walls.


    <Are you going to answer me? I know you want something?> A shiver passed down Bas'' spine as Luneil spoke again. It was disturbing how easily Luneil had guessed his motive in coming here. He just had to hope that his interest had been sufficiently piqued.


    <You know what? If you don''t want to share, that''s fine.>


    Bas made sure Grimheld wasn''t looking his way, then shrugged. It probably wasn''t the best idea to get distracted anyway. Luneil might kill him. Again.


    As if responding to the thought a raven surged out of the darkness, its white wing-tips leaving ghostly blurs behind it. Bas waited for Grimheld to shoot it out of the air. But no bolt flashed towards the incoming threat.


    Instead the dwarf moved out of the way, as if to clear a path for the raven. Bas raised his hatchet and swung it forward in a frantic arc, edge whistling as it sought to cleave the bird in two.


    And missed.


    The raven banked at the last second, talons screeching again the flat of the axehead as it breezed on by. Desperate, Bas raised his knife, warding off the malevolent corvid with a shaky blade.


    Hot lines of pain seared themselves against the back of his hand as the bird raked it claws against him, tearing flesh and spattering small droplets of blood against the dusty stone floor. The bird continued on past him, up through the tunnel, unable to turn in its narrow confines.


    "Are ya going to use yer mana?" Grimheld asked.


    "No, I want to fight them the usual way." He didn''t want to have to rely on mana to solve all of his problems. If he only ever used his mana to fight, then he would only ever be as good as his ability to use mana.


    "Not the worst idea, I suppose." Grimheld said, surprisingly open to the idea, "Dire Ravens aren''t much of a threat when they''re all alone."


    Bas turned to face the Dire Raven winging its way towards him. He dropped the dagger in his off hand, shifting his hatchet to a two handed grip before the blade had time to clatter against the ground.


    The Raven cawed as it approached, razor sharp beak gaping wide. Its wings flared open, slowing its dive toward him, its body angling upward and talons grasping for his exposed face.


    Bas swung the hatchet like a baseball bat. With a strangled squawk the bird was slammed by the flat of the axehead into the floor, collapsing in a heap of twitching feathers. Bas stepped toward it and ground it into the stone with a dismissive twist of his foot.


    <Watch out behind you.>


    Bas dropped at the last second, the downdrafts of a second Dire Raven''s wingbeats ruffling his hair. Moving the hatchet to a single hand he surged upward, lunging out with the hatchet. The wooden haft struck the Raven on its white-tipped wing with a satisfying crunch, causing the bird to crash into the wall and drop to the ground, stunned.


    Bas retrieved the dagger from the the floor, driving it into the squawking mass, before wiping the blade on the feathers and returning it to its sheath.


    <I knew you were listening to me.>


    Bas rolled his eyes, more occupied with the ecstasy Lifeforce from the two Dire Ravens rushing through his veins. Once he''d regained his breath he turned to Grimheld, "Why didn''t you tell me about the other one? It almost got me."


    "But ya dodged it, I was actually quite surprised about that." Grimheld shrugged, raising both his palms, "I thought it would be a good lesson in situational awareness, but ya were obviously on guard for the other one. I don''t understand what yer complaining about."


    "What if it had gotten me?" "Gotten ya? Stop being so melodramatic, ya pansy. The most it would''ve done is given ya a few scars for the ladies."


    Bas glared at him.


    Grimheld threw up his hands, "Or guys, if that''s yer thing. We dwarves don''t judge."


    "I''m n¡ª"


    "No need to be bashful. It''s just who ya are. But none of that right now, we haven''t run out of beasties to fight yet." Grimheld smirked.


    "What about my hand?" Bas held up his injured hand, fat drops of blood still welling up from the lines the Raven''s talons had scored.


    "If ya want me to do for ya, sure." Grimheld let his mana brush against and sink into Bas'' hand, healing over the cuts in seconds. "I''m not kissing it better, though. I''m not interested in guys, or human''s, yer way too tall."


    Bas adopted an injured expression, "I''m not g¡ª"


    "Then why did ya get me to do it for ya?" Grimheld waggled an eyebrow at him before his face turned more serious, "Yer perfectly capable of healing minor scrapes with yer own mana. Not as efficient as someone using the liquid mana form, but it works. Gaseous mana is versatile like that. Using ye plasma mana to heal would probably kill someone though, either fill them up with depleted mana or exhaust every last drop of mana in their body."


    Bas struggled to keep from breaking out into a grin. If there was one thing he knew about Luneil, it was that his thirst for knowledge was insatiable. Now, all he had to do was wait for Luneil''s curiosity to boil over and th¡ª


    Grimheld whacked him on the head, "What are ya staring out into space for. Doing that too often will get you killed."


    The dwarf gestured to the bodies of the Ravens and to the cavern behind him, "Now come on. We haven''t got all day. Better let yer mana out as well, I''ll check for traps, but ya don''t want to breathe in too much of the pollen from those flowers. I still have no idea why they disappeared from the valley though, that was damn strange." Grimheld turned and started walking deeper into the cavern, carefully sweeping the ground and ceiling for any traps.


    Bas shrugged, moving to follow the dwarf, "Who knows, can''t complain that they''re gone, though."


    <They''re called Mirages, and they were too dangerous to have out there. I added them to the valley on whim, along with a lot of the plants and trees you see now. I thought all they did was attract hungry insects.>


    Bas faltered for a moment. Luneil had altered the valley? Why? Had he turned it into a death trap? Or... no, that didn''t make sense, not from Luneil''s perspective. As a Dungeon people would willingly jump straight into his jaws. Which meant that the valley had been changed for a different reason.


    "Grim, what''s the valley like?"


    "What do ya mean, kid?"


    "How suitable is it for creating a settlement?"


    Grimheld grunted, "I wouldn''t worry about that. People would build in a volcano if there was a Dungeon nearby."


    "Humor me. Is it good or bad?"


    "It''s a good location, got running water, there''s an abundance of edible plants, and it''s pretty defensible. Kort mentioned it all in his report to the Council, I wouldn''t worry, we''ll have plenty of new people coming here soon. The only issue will be wood for fuel and building, the valley hasn''t got much of that. Might be able to make do with coal, if there''s any of that nearby."


    Bas moved closer to Grimheld, feeling Luneil''s attention pressing in on him. The valley was a trap, but not in the typical sense. It was bait, and the Dungeon was the hook. That was why Luneil had removed the Mirages because they made the area less attractive to settlers.


    A worried frown creased his brow. He doubted that Kort had mentioned the Mirages in his report. Kort wouldn''t risk making the location seem anything less than perfect. He glanced around. "How dangerous is the Dungeon?"


    The pressure of Luneil''s attention increased. <Clever boy.>


    "Look, Bas, if ya want to ask questions, feel free to do so. But don''t ask them here. It doesn''t pay to be distracted." Grimheld snapped.


    "Please."


    "Fine. The first room''s easy, biggest danger is the critters distracting ya into a trap and swarming ya. The Boss room is nastier, that insect-headed deer isn''t that dangerous, but the shifting branches on the floor can make it easy to get knocked down." Grimheld said. "Are ya done asking questions now?"


    Bas grunted in reply, swinging his hatchet absently as he thought through the implications of Luneil''s decisions. They continued forward at a slow pace, becoming more and more on edge as no more monsters approached them.


    A patch of flowers rustled and Grimheld whirled, loosing a bolt right into the center of it. "Nothing there." Grimheld sounded taken aback.


    Bas peered closer, one of the flowers seemed to be facing them. The flower had a bulbous base, petals tapering into a narrow flute before flaring out once again into a delicate starburst. The flower twitched and he was filled with a sense of foreboding.


    The base contracted sharply, shooting out a thin stream of colorless liquid. Acting on instinct Bas thickened his mana cloud and repelled the oncoming jet. Sending it splashing impotently against the ground, covering the grass, dirt, and stone in beads of liquid.


    Grimheld''s hand blurred and in no time at all, a knife was sent flying towards the spitting flower, neatly severing it at the stem. He turned to Bas, looking him up and down, "Did it hit ya?"


    "No."


    "Good job. That wasn''t there last time." He gingerly picked up the plant and looked down the flute of petals. "Looks like it can only spit once." He motioned towards the puddle of liquid on the floor, "Acid, yes?"


    Bas knelt down, looking at the grass, small wisps of foul smelling smoke seemed to emanate from the area. The grass was liquefying wherever the acid hit, sending streams of green swirling and warping through the droplets, quickly turning brown. "Yeah, it looks like acid."


    Grimheld hummed, "Acid''s nasty. It''s like fire. Wounds you get from it don''t always heal properly and you end up with nasty scars that need expensive potions to heal."


    "Wait there are potions here? Why don''t you have any with you?"


    "They spoil pretty quickly, ya need to drink them within a week of brewing. Which means that they''re useless for long expeditions unless you have a way of preserving them, and that''s prohibitively expensive." Grimheld passed the flowerhead to Bas, "Here."


    Bas took the flower and looked quizzically at Grimheld.


    "The flower might be useful for an acid resistance potion, or an acidic potion, I''m not a potionmaker so I don''t know."


    Bas examined the flower for a few seconds more, then let it fall to the ground. "Anything else it could be useful for?"


    "Ya might be able to use it for an alchemically treated weapon, say a sword that poisons and corrodes, but generally ya need rarer reagents to create something like that." Grimheld shrugged, then retrieved his crossbow bolt, inspected it, and placed a new one in the flight groove. "Should we continue?"


    ***


    Bas stared at the Boss room, thinking back to the day before. The events seemed so long ago, drowned out by all that had recently occurred.


    Even though he yearned to go inside and test himself, he knew rationally that he wasn''t ready. He had improved significantly as he and Grimheld cleared the first room. But there was a difference between fighting a Boss and fighting oversized beetles, antlered squirrels, and Dire Ravens.


    Still, he had eked out the details of the previous ill-fated fight in the Boss room and there was something he wanted to try.


    Which was why he held the last living monster in the first room. The beetle struggled furiously, but Bas held it by its shell, keeping well clear of its clacking mandibles.


    "Are ya sure this is a good idea?" Grimheld asked?


    "Nope." Bas grinned, "This is definitely a really, really, bad idea. That''s what makes it so great!"


    "If ya say so."


    "I do." Bas trotted forward into the Boss room, resisting the urge to run as the deer''s insect-like head raised to glare at him with beady eyes. It shook its head, glossy black antlers standing proud above its many-mandibled maw. Like an irritated bull it scuffed at the branches on the floor with a carapace covered hoof, creating a clicking wooden rasp as it bounced over the rough knotted surface.


    Unwilling to get any closer, Bas tossed the beetle into the grassy center of the Boss room as the deer began it''s charge. With a laugh, he exited the room, picking his hatchet back up off the floor


    <What are you doing. This is not how it''s meant to work.>


    The beetle''s legs struggled in the air, waving from side to side as it attempted to right itself. The grass nearby flexed, closing in on the beetle, wrapping around each leg before burst into flames. Within moments the entire patch of volatile grass was ablaze, flames licking at the branches.


    Bas glanced behind him. The deer paused its charge once he''d left and was just standing on its walkway of branches as the flames encircled it.


    Bas turned to Grimheld, laughing, "Told you it would work."


    Grimheld''s face was impassive, then, like rock breaking he devolved in floods and gasps of laughter, slapping his knee with one hand.


    Smoke billowed out of the room, crackling flames clearly audible. They watched the monster, standing unfazed in the middle of the flames, mandibles clacking even as it collapsed.


    Bas'' eyes went wide as a large amount of Lifeforce rushed into him, send electric streams of bliss flowing through his limbs and out into his body. He flexed his fingers, able to feel every muscle relaxing and growing taut. He felt good. Better than good, every inch of his body thrummed with coiled strength and vigor, governed by a control and reaction that felt vastly expanded.


    "What was that?" He gasped.


    Grimheld grinned, "If I''m not mistaken, yer now Rank II. I didn''t actually expect ya to reach it so soon. It''s a good feeling, isn''t it. It gets exponentially harder to climb the ranks but it''s better every time ya do. Ya get healthier, ya feel better, and ya live longer. Accumulating Lifeforce changes ya in small ways until yer a thousand times what ya once were. Plus, it''s the best experience in all of Era."


    Bas nodded, breathless.


    The dwarf slapped him on the back, a companionable pat, not one of Kort''s rocket powered back snappers. "Shall we get going." He pulled a gold coin out of a pocket, "We can salt the Dungeon with this on the way out."


    <So that''s what you wanted. Money.> Luneil said. Bas was surprised that he didn''t sound as condescending or combative as usual. The strain of not knowing about his discovery of a new form of mana was probably weighing on the Dungeon more than it let on.


    Bas shook his head, "I think I''ll wait here for a while longer, I want to see how long it takes for everything in here to respawn."


    Grimheld held his gaze for a second, then shrugged, "Not the most sensible decision if ya ask me, but it''s yer life on the line, make sure ya check for traps and monsters spawning behind ya." He flipped the coin towards Bas, "Here ya go. Don''t spend it all at once."


    Bas chuckled, fumbling the coin as he tried to catch it. He bent down to pick it up, watching as Grimheld jogged back towards the entrance.


    <I''ll be taking that.>


    Bas'' fingers pressed together as the coin disappeared without a trace. He tried not to groan. Sure, he''d intended to give the coin to Luneil, but he hadn''t expected it to be snatched out of his fingers as soon as he picked it up. He glared at the walls of the cavern, unwilling to speak with Grimheld still somewhat nearby.


    <Fine, you can have it back.> Luneil sounded as he was almost rolling his eyes. The coin reappeared, balanced over Bas'' thumb and forefinger.


    <Now can you please tell me what this plasma mana is?>


    A blurring distortion appeared in the air in front of him. Bas reckoned it was Zeph, although she seemed easier to see as a result of his rank up. "You know he''s been going crazy this whole time. And now he''s yelling at me to stop undermining his bargaining position."


    Bas eyed the exit to make sure Grimheld had left.


    <The dwarf''s gone. Now what do you want?>


    "Gold, lots of it. I have a debt to pay off."


    <I can do that. It''ll take a lot of mana, since making gold seems to cost an absurdly large amount of energy. How much do you need?>


    "Two hundred thousand, maybe more. Preferably more." Bas was taken aback by Luneil''s sudden bout of helpfulness, and more than a little suspicious. Still, he wasn''t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.


    Luneil swore. <I might have to slow production on my second floor while I make your gold, but it''s doable.>


    Given Luneil''s sudden amicability, he decided to push his luck. "I also need a promise from you. Please don''t make the gunpowder. I know you don''t have the precise amounts required, but I''m sure you could figure it out given enough time. Something like that could get out of hand very quickly."


    <I''ll consider it, I won''t promise anything, but if I do create it I''ll only do so in limited quantities and in certain situations. What does gunpowder do, by the way.>


    Bas sighed, "It burns in open spaces, and explodes in confined ones." He firmed his jaw, "Why are you being so agreeable all of a sudden?"


    <Because I''m, uh, sorry. I might have been a little overenthusiastic when we first met. I understand that we can both benefit from each other more if we''re in agreement rather than opposition. I can offer you far more than gold. Weapons, materials, power. Structures and machines that would take months to build, I could assemble in the blink of an eye.> Luneil paused.


    Bas gaped, shocked at the turnaround in Luneil''s attitude. Zeph shouted in his ear, "The polite answer is yes."


    Bas stumbled over his own tongue, "Y-yes. T-that works." He wasn''t sure what he was getting himself into. It seemed like a good deal on the surface, but he could be missing something. He might very well have made a deal with the devil.


    ¡ªTyl¡ª


    Tyl gazed at the message that had just arrived in Valis by Cogwork Dragon, to be sent to Ilae by scry-link.


    A Dungeon. Especially now of all times.


    It was just what she needed. The arrival of the humans had thrown Era into uproar, she was still considering wiping out their race before they became a problem she couldn''t fix. This Dungeon, however, changed things.


    There was nothing quite like the sense of excitement they evoked to unify a divided populace. Especially now of all times.


    She knew full well how the other races held grudges. The dwarves especially. ''The dwarves remember'', Tyl laughed, of course they did, that was what they did best. She didn''t resent it, even if their refusal to pay Devotions was something she could ill-afford, she had earned their hatred. Yet their god''s death was necessary for her order at the time. Even if she had preferred Gnur more than most of the rest, he did not, as he used to put it ''fuck around''. The thought brought a bittersweet smile to her lips.


    Not that it mattered anymore. Her great plan was in ruins, all because of Luneil''s actions. Everything she had done to preserve and maintain order, invalidated by one man''s actions. Her sacrifice of her own brothers and sisters, rendered worthless by Luneil''s blind loathing. She sincerely hoped he was gone, it seemed likely. He would have found a way to taunt her by now if he were still alive.


    She fucking hated necromancers. It wasn''t just their disgusting practice, it also attracted a certain sort. The sort which Gnur might have once referred to as ''assholes''.


    Tyl smiled again, despite herself. He would have been excited to hear about a new Dungeon. Especially one that would be in his people''s territory. Still, it was interesting that the soon-to-be land was being claimed by, of all a races, a human. Not that she was complaining, harmony was always a good thing, even if the idea of a human in a position of power worried her slightly.


    She wanted a Pardoner, a non-disposable one, there to keep an eye out, and there was no better pretext for that than having one help escort prospective settlers into the mountains.


    Moving her attention to the temple she summoned the current highest ranking Pardoner, Prelate Amador, and explained what was to be done. She regretted High Pardoner Loa''s absence, she would have had everything ready in a heartbeat. As it was, she had to expound in detail the procedure for selecting adventurers and pioneers to the city in order to maintain a dwarven majority.


    Once they arrived, building materials and protection would also be a concern, so she had the Amador ensure extra adventurers would be hired to guard them until houses had been been created. There were all sorts of monsters hiding in the Parapets, it paid to be careful, especially when dealing with large groups.


    She doubt the Council would grouse too much at her intervention, if anything it would speed up the process. Not that they wouldn''t complain. The old goats needed to keep up appearances after all.


    Then there was the route. A small settlement of Jord-Elva outside of any kingdom''s territory had recently been ravaged by monster attacks, it might be worth making a small detour to collect them and prevent further loss of life.


    Tyl rolled her eyes, but said nothing more. It felt somewhat unnecessary to specify exactly what would happen and when, but she knew that if she didn''t someone would inevitably make a mistake, ending in someone else being killed.


    Dying in a Dungeon was one thing, the adventurers knew exactly what they were getting into. A civilian dying to hypothermia or hunger was a completely different matter. She didn''t want to see them die. There had been enough death already. But she had little doubt there would be plenty more.


    There was something hiding in the Parapets, something beyond her vision. Whether it was cloistered deep in the Underhollow, or stalking the surface, she was unsure. Perhaps the fae were once again stirring from behind their obsidian prisons. Or demons spewing out from the nether realms. Maybe even an intact phylactery,one of the final remnants of the old magic and a wilder age. Whatever it was, it filled her with foreboding and dreadful premonition. The centuries of peace would soon be over.

 Chapter 16 - New powers and acid showers

    <h1></h1>


    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    Luneil laughed as he manifested a cascade of small gold coins in front of Bas. The human''s jaw hung open at the sight, unable to comprehend the shower of wealth piling up at his feet.


    While he couldn''t truly understand the fascination with gold, Luneil couldn''t help but admit that the dull clink of gold coins clattering against each other was somewhat satisfying. Of course, there was nothing particularly special about it. In fact it seemed to be a borderline useless metal, heavier than steel and far softer. Gold wouldn''t stop a blade and Dungeons couldn''t be bribed... most Dungeons anyway.


    Still, he couldn''t shake the feeling that he had forgotten something about the metal, an echo from a past life. The fragment of memory didn''t feel particularly important though, so he set it aside for later. After all, he had a human to impress, and humans could certainly be bribed.


    He transmitted an exaggerated gasp of exhaustion down the shared connection between Bas and himself. It wasn''t strictly necessary but it lent credence to the small lie he had told Bas about the ''absurdly large amount'' of mana it took to create gold. In truth there was nothing difficult or strenuous about creating gold. It was simply another metal, albeit slightly heavier than normal with a minor associated increase in mana cost. His motive behind the lie was twofold. Firstly to prevent Bas from pestering him for favors too often, and secondly to make Bas feel more indebted to him for the service.


    The pile of gold was certainly making an impression. If Luneil had to guess it was easily over ten thousand of gold coins and weighed just under half a ton, if slightly smaller than expected. It was a fraction of what Bas needed but, from his wide-eyed stare, the young human evidently considered it the answer to all his problems. Which it very well might be.


    <I''ll need to rest before I can make more.>


    Bas jumped, looking around himself for a second before replying, "Thank you, but how am I meant to carry this, let alone explain why there''s suddenly a giant mound of gold."


    Luneil laughed <Because you learned to control me using your ''human magic''.>


    Seeing Bas'' questioning expression, he continued <Your kind is surrounded by rumor and hearsay. What''s more, you discovered an entirely new form of mana. It''s not a stretch to believe that this plasma mana of yours has the capability to subjugate Dungeons.>


    Bas'' brow unfurrowed as he nodded slowly. "How do you benefit from me allegedly controlling you."


    <If I expand out into the valley I would be given no quarter. It''s one of the reasons I removed the Mirages, their continued presence would have proven to be a costly mistake. Your ''control'' however provides me with a perfect pretext for outward expansion. It''s not a one-sided arrangement either...> Luneil trailed off.


    "What do you mean." Bas leaned forward.


    <You possess the knowledge of another world, yet you lack the expertise to create the things you have experienced. And even if you are able to, it would take time to perfect.> Luneil let the statement sink in, <However, with my help I can expedite that process. I can help you create a paradise, the one which you have always dreamed of creating in your secret heart. I can help you create a better world. All you need to do is accustom everyone to me going outside.>


    Bas frowned, "You''re not going to kill everyone are you?"


    <Why would I do that? It wouldn''t be in my interests. Slaughtering everyone would just mean that no one enters my Dungeon again, except to destroy it. Where''s the benefit in that?> He paused for effect <You come from a world that is far more advanced than here, why not create part of that world here. Not its gunpowder, not its wars, just its triumphs and glories.>


    Luneil laughed to himself, after all, you could only kill a small population once, but you could skim the top off a large city almost indefinitely, as long as they kept on having children. The luxuries of Bas'' world would serve as additional bait for his trap.


    Bas spoke again, "And I won''t have to murder anyone for you."


    <Of course not. I want you to create a paradise that will be the pride of all of Era. And yes, I will need to kill in order to help create the world you want, but only adventurers, only those who decide to take the risk for wealth and power. All for a better world, your world. Surely that''s worth a few deaths?>


    Bas hesitated, conflicting emotions warring openly on his face.


    Luneil pushed his advantage, <And the things I can do for you are beyond imagining. If you die within my mists I can bring you back, I can give you power, I can change you. What would you like? Bones of steel? Wings that would put an angel to shame? Eyes that can strip away the deepest darkness? Gold is the least of the gifts I can bestow on you. The world will remember your name by the time we are done.>


    Bas rubbed his forehead, then let his hand drop in a defeated sigh, "Only as many deaths as is absolutely necessary."


    <Only what is necessary.> Luneil agreed.


    Bas nodded, the corners of his lip curling upwards in an expression of acknowledgement and gratitude. He knelt down and ran a hand through the mound of gold coins, testing their weight as they scattered between his fingers.


    "How am I meant to get this down?"


    <I''ll move it closer to the entrance. You''ll probably need the dwarves to help you bring it down, which should provide you with the opportunity to tell them about your newfound ''control'' over me.>


    Bas'' hand paused, half buried in coin, an unreadable expression crossed his face before he nodded.


    "Well, to begin with..."


    ***


    Luneil struggled to suppress the worry gnawing at the center of his being as he watched Bas'' retreating form. Plasma mana was well-suited to destroying Dungeons, so much so that Luneil had considered obliterating Bas right then and and there. Fortunately for the unsuspecting human it soon became clear after careful questioning that the knowledge of plasma wasn''t something unique to him, while specialized it was hardly one of the universe''s greatest mysteries to one born and raised on Earth.


    Another human would figure out the secrets of plasma mana with enough time and resources. The cat was out of the bag regardless of whether Bas lived or died, so a strategy based around directly combating the threat as opposed to containing it was preferable. The biggest issue would be the aura of interference around most adventurers stopping him from immediately counteracting an infection of plasma mana, allowing it to grow out of control.


    Another concern was what would happen if the plasma mana was allowed to come in contact with his mana-rich core. On that front, he had no idea and no drive to find out. Which meant he needed countermeasures.


    He set to work creating a series of interconnected air vents between rooms, high up enough that the aura of interference emitted by living creatures wouldn''t effect the chambers. They would allow him to maintain his connection to other rooms, even if a plasma mana outbreak burnt his presence out of one chamber entirely. The narrow vents would also make it easier to stem the spread of the virulent mana. To finish he created a set of heavy slabs above the connections between rooms, reinforcing the stone with a weave of steel. If necessary, he could drop the slabs, putting each room into a state of lockdown.


    Luneil grumbled to himself, he was far from satisfied with his new defenses, given their passive nature. However, until he had the means to obliterate an offending party in one fell swoop, passive defenses would have to do.


    He switched his attention to outside his Dungeon, suspecting that the adventurers would be on their way. Sure enough, they were jogging up the hill, dragging Bas along behind them. He was somewhat reassured to see that they were carrying empty packs, presumably to transport the gold in, although, he didn''t fail to notice that they held their weapons in equally white-knuckled grips.


    He quickly shifted the pile of coins to the tunnel entrance, just out of sight of the approaching dwarves. Then, worried about the possible outcome, he burrowed his core further into the wall, deepening the fissure. If worse came to worst it would provide him with some additional time to reel in his mana and make good his escape.


    With that done he focused on the adventurers as they arrived outside.


    "The lad wasn''t joking, there is a pile of fucking gold right there. Ten thousand, at the very least."


    "You''ve got to be¡ªWell, fuck me with a fire iron." Grimheld broke off, swearing softly.


    "Told you." Bas shrugged.


    "What else can ya get the Dungeon to make?" Kort set aside his pack and picked up a coin.


    "I''m not sure, I only tried making gold."


    "How about a buxom dwarven lass?" Kort grinned, dark eyebrows dancing suggestively.


    Bas edged closer to the entrance of the Dungeon, moving within communication range.


    <Not unless one dies inside my territory.>


    Bas relayed the words to the adventurers.


    "Ack, that''s a pity." Kort''s jaw flickered blue as he bit into the gold coin he had been playing with. He held up the now-crescent-shaped coin and spat out the remainder, grinning all the while, "At least the gold''s real. Which means we''re all rich." He grinned.


    Grimheld coughed pointedly.


    "Ah. Once Bas'' debt is paid off, of course." Kort let out an awkward laugh. "How often can ya do this?"


    Bas paused.


    Luneil answered, <Once every few days, although if you provide me with Lifeforce I can do it far quicker.>


    Bas once again conveyed the information, paraphrasing slightly in order to avoid giving away the secret of Luneil''s existence.


    Luneil, let slip a snort of amusement as all eyes snapped toward Bas, staring at him in shock.


    "Ya want t'' feed people t'' the Dungeon for gold?"


    <Isn''t that how Dungeons usually operate? The weak die and their deaths pave the path of the strong with riches. What''s with the sudden sanctimony?> Luneil laughed at Bas'' non-plussed expression, then said with a sigh, <I meant provide me with deer. Not killing my creatures would also help, though.>


    The adventurers'' eyes softened as Bas explained. Eventually, Kort nodded, "That''s nae too big a task. Anyway there''s plenty t'' be done outside the Dungeon¡ªwe still need t'' scout up and downstream, make sure there aren''t any major threats lurking there. Also, waiting for merchants with some proper gear might nae be the worst of ideas. Grimheld told me about the acid spitting flowers, ya do nae want t'' play around with that stuff."


    In agreement, they began shoveling fistfuls of coins into their packs until the straining fabric could hold no more. A small pile of coins remained.


    "Lad, can ya get yer Dungeon to make a few more packs for the coins?"


    <Yes, but I''ll need to absorb one first. And they''ll need to stand back, it''s not possible with them nearby.>


    Once Bas had ordered the dwarves away, Luneil annihilated one of the packs, letting the coins spill out. A few seconds later three identical, slightly tattered backpacks lay stacked on each other.


    The coins were fully stowed away, bulging against the bottom of the bags as the dwarves traipsed cheerfully back to the camp. Luneil watched as Bas inclined his head toward him, a look of gratitude on his face, before the human followed Kort and his team back down the valley slope.


    Luneil took a moment to savor the warm glow of accomplishment that filled him, then, turning his gaze inward, he began tocreate his second floor.Ever since he¡¯d making his Acid Lilies, he¡¯d known how he wanted to proceed.


    Unlike his first floor, which was comprised of only two rooms¡ªthe main entrance room and the Boss room¡ªhis second floor was far more sprawling, a tangle of interconnecting tunnels that meandered in every direction rather than a linear arrangement of rooms. The passageways were by no means narrow, but the rough curved walls imparted a sense of oppressiveness and a reminder of the vast mass of stone perpetually suspended above the seemingly fragile ceiling.


    At the intersections of the tunnels, Luneil expanded the open space, creating nodes joining the tunnels together like raindrops beading on spider-silk. In these open nodes he sunk deep pits into the ground, taking up the majority of the floor space.


    He then began filling the pits up to the halfway mark¡ªsome with water, others with acid¡ªbefore placing the gold coins at the bottom as a glinting prize that was sure to catch the eyes of a greedy adventurer or two. There were only a handful of acid pools, but it was better that way. It made it more likely that an idiot adventurer would assume all the pools were safe and just dive in, after all, swan diving into acid wasn''tan experience a person could warn against once they''d already done it.


    Of course, he didn''t want the adventurers just scooping gold out from the bottom of his water pools either, so he began creating some monsters to ruin their day. He had obtained fish and even an eel on his last excursion into the valley outside, so he decided to put them to good use.


    As he funneled Lifeforce into the fish their scales took on a dark crimson tint and their teeth became razor sharp and elongated. However, their jaws didn''t enlarge significantly, making it seem as if their mouths were bristling with bony spikes. Their fins and tails likewise gained luminescent streaks that ran along their length, creating hypnotic blurs as they raced through the darkened water. After a moment''s deliberation, he called his newly created fish Red Snappers.


    Remembering how he could imbue his walls with mana, he attempted the same with the water and acid pools¡ªimmediately gratified to discover that it worked, bathing his consciousness in a cool and flowing sensation. With a minor flex of will, small waves appeared in the liquid, sloshing against the sides of the pits that contained them. He had no current use for it, but it was a good thing to be aware of.


    He hummed to himself as he manifested the pattern of the eel. As he worked on it, the creature''s tail lengthened and its slimy skin gained small bumps and grooves with an iridescent blue sheen that shifted subtly as it moved. However, nothing else changed. With a defeated sigh he named it a Blue Eel and dropped it into one of his pools.


    Only too late did he realize that the pool he had chosen for it to inhabit contained potent acid. As the eel hit the liquid a sharp crack echoed around the walls as a blinding discharge of lightning skittered across the water like an electric spider, grounding itself in the walls of the pit.


    Luneil watched as it slowly dissolved, body writhing and flailing desperately in a futile attempt to hold itself above the surface of the liquid. To his disappointment there was no subsequent burst of electricity, even if the occasional spark ran along its slimy skin. It seemed as if the Blue Eel needed time to build up a charge.


    As its flesh began to melt off its body, exposing a backbone of hundreds of tightly packed vertebrae he absorbed the monster, not wanting to risk the acid damaging its pattern too seriously. He recreated the Eels, in the correct pools this time, adding in a few schools of Red Snappers as well.


    Since he didn''t want the presence of life in the water-filled pools to give away their nature prematurely he added small underwater niches and hollows that would house them whenever adventurers were nearby. That way, at first glance, it was impossible to tell the pools apart.


    With his aquatic monsters created he decided to try something new for the tunnels. He created a small piece of stomach lining and channeled Lifeforce into it. The goal was to create an acidic floor trap that would enclose a victim''s leg.


    However, things didn''t go as planned. The stomach lining curled up into a shriveled ball resembling crumpled fabric and rapidly began secreting a thick sticky mucus around itself with the stomach tissue suspended inside.


    Luneil watched, intrigued, as the glob of mucus wobbled slightly then lurched forward like a surging wave of jelly. It globbed its way up a wall and onto the ceiling, dripping downward in slow motion and pulling itself back up before repeating the process.


    Hesitantly he added more Lifeforce to the gelatinous creature and was gratified to see it expand in size. It grew larger and larger until it hung from the ceiling like an upside-down mushroom. Then, unable to support its weight, it splattered against the ground, sending small globules of itself flying through the air as it impacted the dry stone floor. It shook itself stupidly, then rose up and began to gather up the shed droplets of itself with a series of rapid lunges.


    Luneil dropped a fish into his new creation and, on a whim, the steel dagger that Bas had had on his person when he died. As he suspected, his new monster had acidic properties and the fish was quickly digested by the blob of slime, leaving only bones behind. Likewise the dagger began to rapidly corrode, bits of itself flaking free and moving slowly through the creature''s translucent body.


    Happy with the result, Luneil beckoned Zeph over, <What should I call this?>


    "Oh. That? That''s a Slime, one of the Dungeons I used to be a companion to had lots of them. They can take on the properties of what they digest, which makes them really useful once you get some Arcane Foci, since your Slimes can sometimes gain elemental affinities."


    <Thank you.>


    "Sure."


    Without any further dithering, he absorbed the Slime for its pattern and then recreated it, filling it with small beads of iron and steel. A small tremor shook the Slime, its body becoming gray and opaque. With an audible screech of metal on stone, it squelched against the floor under its own weight, then, with the slow deliberacy of a mountain rising it drew itself up and rumbled slowly forward, leaving a trail of scratched and scarred rock behind it.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    He commanded it to hold still as he dropped a fish on it, to his surprise it bounced off. Disappointed, he released it from its immobility and watched as the fish was easily absorbed. He dropped another fish into it, then commanded it to stop moving. The fish was entombed within the monster''s metallic body, unable to sink any further. When it moved again, the fish slid smoothly in the rest of the way.


    Pleased with his new Slimes he populated his tunnels with them¡ªmostly regular Slimes of varying sizes, but some Iron Slimes as well. Finally, he created a few nooks and crannies for some of them to launch an ambush from.


    With his monsters sorted, he decided to work on traps. He created the obligatory Slime-filled pitfall; however, he was getting bored of simple traps and wanted to create something more complex.


    As such, he began to create a complex mechanism that connected a pitfall filled with one inch barbed-spikes to a large rock in the ceiling. He quickly tested the mechanism, laughing as the boulder came smashing down with several tons of force. It had worked even better that he''d anticipated. He couldn''t wait to see it in action on live test subjects.


    Next, he created a tall and narrow cylinder of acid, embedded in the wall, with a heavy weight above it. When a pressure plate was triggered, the stone would drop, pushing the acid down. Normally a U-bend would stop the acid from dribbling out prematurely, but the high pressure created by the falling stone would force it around the bend, causingacid to spray across the tunnel and, hopefully, the victim.


    After completing several more traps he began filling the tunnels with rich veins of ore, and even the occasional gold nugget. After all, exploring a Dungeon with no riches inside was, to an adventurer, just an elaborate form of suicide. The walls were soon a covered with glittering lodes of iron pyrite and galena, with the occasional glint of yellow gold. The faint light of his gaseous mana created ghostly reflections, looking like the spirits of the damned were trapped within the walls. Which, Luneil reflected, given his consciousness within them, might be more accurate than it first sounded.


    All that was left to do was to create some proper stairs and move his Core down to the second level. He hid his Core in an innocuous side-tunnel, when inspiration struck. He examined all the patterns he had at his disposal, finding the one for Dungeon Core crystal among them¡ªall that remained as proof of the repairs he had carried out on himself during his earliest days.


    After a few minutes of sculpting the crystal properly he had a convincing counterfeit Core that would serve as a passable decoy. Laughing at his own cleverness, he embedded it in the wall of an intersection, brazenly on display to the world. Then, because he felt like it, he surrounded it with a series of lethal traps that would trigger if the decoy Core was fiddled with.


    <Zeph, what do you think?>


    "Are you done? You''ve been working on the floor for days."


    <I have? Must have lost track of t¡ª>


    Luneil never finished the sentence. He felt the numb tingle of a living creature at his entrance and as he shifted his focus he heard the first voice.


    ¡ªElai¡ª


    "You sure we made it in unseen?" Lodr grunted.


    "Relax. I''m a Rank IV Cloaker, remember. No one''s spotting us unless I want them to." Elai''s hands moved in a blur, constantly bending light around himself and the group within his mana cloud. The hand movements weren''t strictly necessary but they helped him visualize the process.


    "It''d better. One floor, two rooms, weak monsters, quick in and out. Take the Core, easy payday." Lodr cracked his knuckles, pulling his flail free from his belt. "You know the drill, no fighting unless necessary, save your strength in case we need to fight our way out."


    Elai watched Bala out of the corner of his eye, taking note ofher almost imperceptible nod. He didn''t trust the Arborling, not one bit. She had lost her hand long ago, but that was no reason for her to plant the symbiotic Arbor seeds in the still-raw stump. He understood it had been an act born of desperation¡ªit had to be, since Arbor majorly impacted the ability to manipulate mana¡ªbut she should have waited. Anything but having that blood-drinking plant integrate with her flesh. Regeneration potions were expensive, but he would have saved up to buy one for her. Anything for her. At least when she was still her.


    It was such a pity, he would be a liar if he were to say that he hadn''t been attracted to her. At least up until the moment she let the seeds burrow into her flesh. Now every time she waved that bark-covered hand around he couldn''t help but feel the revulsion writhing in his gut. The first time hesaw her feed he''d been audibly sick.


    He had thought the green sap flowing through her veins was disturbing, but nothing had prepared him for the sight of a monster''s blood filling her bulging vessels. And the sound was beyond comparison, the wet squelch of the Arbor tendrils as they threaded their way through cooling flesh to gorge on the creature''s¡ª


    He gagged, drawing concerned looks from the other eight members of the team, including Bala. He looked away quickly.


    "I''m fine." he choked out.


    "You''d better be. Keep your Cloak up. The Dungeon might not have noticed us." Lodr turned to face the rest of them. "Be ready for anything. The Dwarven ambassador and Pardoner Filias are not far behind us. Hopefully we''ll be gone by the time they arrive, but nothing''s certain."


    The Dungeon''s walls seemed to shudder for a second and Elai glanced around nervously. All of a sudden he felt a lot less certain about this Core robbery. The hair on the nape of his neck stood on end. Something had its eyes on him.


    He whirled, glaring at Bala, whose cheeks grew green as she looked away.


    "What now?" Lodr growled, swinging his flail in a lazy arc.


    "Nothing, just thought I sensed a monster." He shot another look at the Arborling''s back.


    "Get moving then, you Jord-elva bastard." Lodr gestured forward with his weapon. "No stopping. Slow us downand we leave you behind. That goes for all of you."


    The group''s two gnome Brawler sisters, Thimble and Gimbal, moved to the front of the team staying just behind the leading edge of Elai''s Cloak in case of a sudden halt. With a synchronization that could only come from many hours of long practice they stepped into the first room in perfect unison.


    Elai didn''t bother to take in the scenery, his frantic gesticulations accelerated as he molded his Cloak to conform the party as well as possible, leaving a minimal amount of wasted space. Absentmindedly he hopped over the small brook that ran through the middle of room. He began to turn to avoid running into an antlered squirrel clinging to a stalactite. The squirrel seemed to be staring straight at him, baring its teeth in an unnatural grin.


    He shook his head, clearing the absurd thoughts from his mind. When his gaze returned to the monster, the squirrel was once again minding its own business. He looked down, dodging a trap that even a blind tree could spot. His gaze wandered to a nearby bush and the eyeballs that hung from it like bloodstained berries.


    A raven with white-tipped rings gusted by, mere inches above his Cloak, sending minor ripples through the image he maintained. The raven didn''t notice, but Elai brought his Cloak down a little lower, just to be safe.


    Eyeballs!?


    His gaze darted back to the bush, but he saw nothing except ripe red berries and green lea¡ª


    There was a splash behind him as Bala waded through the water behind him. He shook his head. Unprofessional. She had probably done that on purpose to get back at h¡ª


    Then the screaming started. All his thoughts flew out the window, his Cloak dropping as he spotted Bala spasming in the water.


    Not water. Acid.


    Her bark-covered hand grew, hooking at the bank of the stream, clawing her melting flesh onto dry land as golden-green sap oozed out of her.


    Elai''s heart lurched in his chest. This couldn''t be happening. He took a step toward her before he was stopped by four feet of Dwarven fury.


    "Get your Cloak back up and turn back around, Jord-elva." Lodr growled.


    He tore his gaze away, burning with guilt. It was then that he noticed the monsters drifting toward the group, chittering and cawing in menacing tones. He could feel their eyes on him. His Cloak flashed back up and the monsters stopped advancing."


    "The rest of you, keep on moving. Acid takes too long to heal. We can save her on the way back if we have time." Lodr turned to Elai. "I hope your slip up doesn''t cost us."


    Elai barely heard the last part. ''We can save on the way back''. That was a death sentence if he had ever heard one. No one deserved that sort of death. Not even... But...


    He almost looked back at the whimpering Arborling, then shook his head and kept on walking. She had been so beautiful once upon a time. She still was, even with...


    Elai pinched himself, he wouldn''t let Lodr down. The dwarf had saved him more times than he could count.


    With leaden feet he made his way into what must be the Boss room. The entire party looked around for the Core, but to their surprise saw another set of stairs instead.


    Lodr cursed, "The bastard told me there was only one floor. So be it. Keep moving."


    They made their way over to the central circle of grass without the Boss¡ªan insect-jawed deer covered from tines to toes in a formidable looking carapace¡ªnoticing them. As they set foot on the grass it burst into flames, but the fire was quickly quenched as Var, one of their Mitigators, pulled all of the air away from their feet, preventing the grass from burning.


    They walked down the stairs, completely ignoring, and ignored by, the Boss.


    At last they reached the bottom of the stairs and Elai had just enough time to hear the click of a pressure plate depressing.


    Thimble, instinctively looked down at her foot, then up, as a trapdoor above her exploded open.


    Sei, their second Mitigator, strengthened a shield of mana above the gnome''s head. However, her mana was no match for the gray blob that descended like a gelatinous anvil from heaven.


    Elai gasped as he recognized the creature, just as it enveloped Thimble''s head¡ªan Iron Slime. The monster could harden while immobile, creating a rock hard casing around anything unfortunate enough to be caught inside it when it stilled. The creature would suffocate or starve its prey before it moved again, regaining its jelly-like structure and dissolving the corpse.


    The weight of the Slime drove the gnome to her knees, despite her mana-enhanced strength. The Slime was draped fully over her head and shoulders like a gluttonous blanket, oozing slowly to the ground, already starting to hardened. Gimbal rushed forward, hands glowing with the liquid mana rushing through them, tearing chunks out of the solidifying Slime. It was to no avail, the monster''s gelatinous mass filled in the gouges instantly.


    Sighing, Lodr spoke, "Leave her, it''s too late."


    "No. I almost have her." Gimbal''s hands plunged deeper and deeper, pulverizing the Iron Slime. The monster''s iron hard substance seemed to liquefy under the force of her blows.


    Elai felt his blood drain from his face. The only reason the Slime hadn''t hardened already was because it was still hunting its prey.


    Gimbal''s hands plunged in further. Elai could wait no longer.


    "Get her away." he shouted. "It''s goi¡ª"


    "I can feel her, just a m¡ª" Gimbal drew her hand back, straining with all her considerable might. It was futile. Her muscles glowed blue as she levered herself backward with her legs, grunting with the exertion.


    "Help." she gasped. But no help came, the group stood in silent shock at the unfolding events.


    Gimbal''s expression changed from hope and determination to one of dawning horror at her predicament. With a strangled scream she rocked her body backward, no longer trying to free her sister but herself.


    The solidified Slime teetered, one edge pivoting on the ground. Then, with a heavy thunk, it collapsed on top of her, sending her sprawling to the ground. Gimbal fell silent, her eyes widening as she realized what she''d done. There was a shluck as the Iron Slime once again turned gelatinous for long enough to engulf her, then hardened again.


    Elai turned away as Gimbal''s legs beat impotently against the dry stone floor. He spoke before Lodr had a chance to.


    "Let''s go."


    The dwarf stared at him, then nodded.


    Elai kept his Cloak up, there had been nine of them in total when they had first entered. Somehow, a Dungeon that wasn''t even meant to be aware of them had killed a third of their team. At least he thought it wasn''t aware of them.


    He cast his mind back to the grinning squirrels and the bleeding eyeballs on the bushes. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that the Dungeon was acutely aware of their exact location. But that made no sense. If that were the case they would have been swarmed by monsters, instead the only one they had encountered had been because of a trap. It felt almost as if the Dungeon was letting them proceed unimpeded drawing them farther in.


    It made sense, except for the fact that it was absurd. Everyone knew that Dungeons were incapable of thought, replicating and adapting only what they came into contact with. A Dungeon might create traps, but they did not set them¡ªa crucial difference.


    It felt like the Dungeon was playing mind games with them. Drawing them in deeper could be explained away by cunning¡ªwhich Dungeons had in abundance. Mind games, however, implied intelligence, forethought, perhaps even a degree of maliciousness.


    Elai tried to clear the fog in his brain, dispelling the errant thoughts. Nothing good would come of anthropomorphizing the Dungeon. Dungeons weren''t capable of thought. Period. The mind games were just an illusion, a product of his shocked and panicked thoughts.


    Unless that''s what the Dungeon wanted him to think.


    Elai swore. He didn''t know what to expect anymore. Dungeons weren''t meant to be sentient. Then again, new Dungeons weren''t meant to suddenly gain a whole new floor and kill three members of an experienced team with barely a single monster encounter.


    Lodr turned to him, "Dungeon getting to you too, eh?"


    He nodded, "It''s almost as if it''s mocking us."


    Lodr shared an understanding look with him, "Best not to think too deeply on it. Let''s just get this job over with."


    "But what if¡ª"


    "Best not to think too deeply. There''s time for examination later." Lodr trailed a finger against a crystal on the wall. "Losing focus will get us all killed."


    They continued down the tunnel, before they reached a small open space connecting another series of tunnels. Roots hung from the walls and a fluid-filled pit dominated the center, leaving precious little space to circumvent it. The faint flicker of gold at the bottom was barely visible in the gloom.


    Lodr spoke to him again, "Keep your Cloak clear of those roots, they might be part of a trap. There shouldn''t be roots that thick this deep. Not normal roots anyway."


    Elai drew his Cloak in closer, hands moving in complex patterns as he calculated how to bend the light. As they approached the final root, Elai saw it twitch. He braced himself, getting ready to move out of the way. However, the root only rotated slightly, revealing the words engraved in it.


    I see you.


    Elai''s eyes widened, as his eyes roved over the writing. He tried to stop, to verify that what he read was actually there. Var jostled him from behind and by the time he got a good glimpse of the root again it had twisted back around. The Dungeon. It was...


    He stumbled forward. He felt eyes on the back of his neck, cold breath tickling the soft flesh of his throat. Eyes. Written. Words. Watching. Sap and bark. Root and tree. Screaming. Stumbling. Shadows danced in the darkened corners, gesturing toward him, beckoning. He stumbled again, hands faltering in their motions. The roots twitched and writhed. Just like Bala had. Before...


    A strong hand grasped his shoulder, shaking him out of the grip of delirium, "Pull yourself together. You''re slipping." Lodr gazed into his eyes. "We can''t afford any more mistakes."


    Elai nodded, ignoring the coaxing shadows. They pulled at him like the lure of the Fae, inviting him to their eternal waltz. He shook his head, resisting the darkness'' call. He knew how that story ended. Legs worn down to stumps and the masquerade never-ending just as in the song.


    He hummed the familiar song under his breath, taking solace in the dark inevitability and familiar verses of The Dance Of The Fae.


    Lie fallow, six feet shallow,


    Dance barefoot on the storm.


    Your end is not ice bound,


    Death''s touch is warm.


    Suffer in silence,


    Lay aside your endeavour.


    Immortality your partner


    Dance now and forever.


    "Will you stop that damn racket." Lodr grumbled. "It''s making my teeth itch."


    Elai stopped humming and went back to watching shadows. Or being watched by them. He wasn''t sure. However, despite the feeling of being watched, there was a suspicious lack of monsters. And it put him even more on edge.


    He would have been relieved to encounter a single slime, anything to vent his frustration upon, a real, living enemy. Currently, he felt as if he was fighting a far more nebulous but far more dangerous enemy. The Dungeon itself. He hadn''t signed up to fight Dungeons, he had signed up to fight monsters. Still, the irony wasn''t lost on him, given his history as a Core robber. A Dungeon was finally fighting back.


    He heard a gasp behind him, followed by a yell and a screeching thump. He whirled, seeing the elf splayed out at the bottom of a pit filled with multiple short, barbed spikes. Fortunately, the spikes were relatively short and puncture wounds were easy to heal.


    Elai threw down a rope from his backpack, instructing Var to grab on. He heaved on the rope, the barbed spikes providing relatively little resistance. He gave another tug and heard a click at the bottom of the pit.


    The spikes were not fixed to the ground, instead they fit flush with small holes that allowed them to slide up and down. They had been tugged upward, still lodged in Var''s body. And now they had reached their maximum extension, activating a hidden mechanism. A grating rasp seemed to emanate from a nearby wall and, acting purely on instinct, Elai jerked his head back.


    A stone that must have weighed several tons slipped free from the ceiling, descending on Var''s body, still impaled on the spikes. The stone impacted with a sickening crunch, fortunately blocking the entire pit from sight. To add insult to injury, the stone fit perfectly into the hole, not even creating a small bump in the floor to mark where Var''s life had been suddenly cut short.


    Elai shuddered, if he hadn''t jerked his head backward would be dead. His Cloak had deteriorated during his attempt to rescue Var, so he brought it back into its proper configuration.


    Lodr spoke up, "This is why we need to tread carefully, we cannot get complacent simply because we''re not encountering any monsters. Do you all understand me? There''s only five of us now, which means a larger share of the profit, but it also means that we die if we don''t work together. We must move quickly, but that doesn''t mean we shouldn''t move sensibly."


    They continued around the next corner.


    And stopped dead.


    Inscribed on the wall were words. Unfamiliar to everyone except Elai. Written hundred of times in varying neatness and size.


    I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you.


    Elai pressed his head into his hands. How did the Dungeon know where they were?


    Lodr swore, "Forget the Core. We need to get out here."


    No sooner did he say the fateful words than a huge slab slammed down behind them.


    For the first time in the dive Lodr used his gaseous mana, imbuing his flail with power, increasing it''s durability and destructive power. He slammed it against the stone barrier, pulverizing it to rubble in several swift strikes. Then with a metallic clang, the flail hit steel, denting it but not breaking through.


    "This will take too long. We need to go forward. Be careful of traps." Lodr shouted.


    Elai stopped maintaining his Cloak, instead dedicating his energy to keeping up with the frantic pace that Lodr set.


    They rounded one corner then another, until they found themselves face to face with a crystal embedded in the wall. Lodr smashed the wall, wrenching out the crystal before resuming his run.


    And drew to a halt.


    Before them stood a sea of bleeding eyeballs and a single sentence on the wall.


    No more traps, no more monsters, no more games, just you and me.


    They had no choice but to wade through the eyeballs until they reached a clear tunnel. Barriers slammed down all around them forcing them in the Dungeon''s chosen direction until finally they reached the corridor to the the stairway, the Iron Slime was still there, the two gnomes'' lower bodies still protruding from it like some twisted sculpture.


    They ascended the stairs four at a time, climbing higher and higher. They barreled through the Boss room, barely even noticing that the Boss failed to follow them, even without Elai''s Cloak. They had just entered the first room, able to see the sunlight streaming in from outside when a barrier at the entrance slammed down, cutting off their window to hope. Burning suspended in the air were fiery letters.


    You came to steal my Core. You thought you could hide from me. But you broke the rules by coming here to kill me. It''s my turn now.


    Part of the ceiling disappeared letting loose a tidal wave of what Elai instinctively knew was acid. It frothed toward the team like an unstoppable liquid juggernaut, and not a single one of them mustered the strength to run or resist. Regrets about how he had treated Bala filled Elai''s mind as the wave bowled him over into blackness and burning noise. Several agonizing seconds later, his consciousness joined the Dungeon.


    ¡ªLuneil¡ª


    Luneil laughed. That had been the most fun he had had in ages. He was still slightly drunk on the euphoria of absorbing the Lifeforce and patterns of nine powerful adventurers. Not only had he killed them but he had driven one of them to the very edge of a mental breakdown.


    Not that it would stop him from making them suffer. For the past several hours he had been recycling the Core robbers in his acid pools or occasionally electrocuting them. All of them except the Arborling, he felt a strange kinship with her, a fellow monster. He left her to her death in peace.


    The rest, however, deserved everything coming to them. He laughed again as he created a Blue Eel inside Lodr''s intestines. Such was the fate of those who wished him dead.


    Taking a moment''s break from his entertainment he looked outside at the setting sun. The ones Lodr had described as the ambassador and the Pardoner would be arriving any day now. For some reason the idea filled him with foreboding and fire.


    His entire Dungeon shook at the thought of a Pardoner desecrating his valley, triggering a rockfall nearby. He didn''t know what a Pardoner was but for some reason the thought only amplified the fire within him.


    "Luneil? Are you okay?" Zeph asked.


    He collected himself, <Of course, why wouldn''t it be?>


    He had no idea who these Pardoners were, but of one thing he was certain. The fire he felt was rage.


    He turned his attention back to Lodr and resumed the punishment. This time, however, he wasn''t laughing.

 Chapter 17 - Soon (TM)

    ¡ªBas¡ª


    A heavy rumble from high up on the mountain slope stirred Bas from his dragon-like torpor¡ªnot that he had any experience with draconic sleeping arrangements, even if an overflowing pile of gold sat in the farthest, most lightless corner of the tent, glinting and spilling out onto his mattress. Absent-mindedly he brushed the encroaching coins back into the heap, clinking and clattering. Then, with painful slowness he levered himself out of the tent. It didn¡¯t seem like much to worry about. The sound wasn¡¯t particularly loud, closer to distant thunder, and he was surrounded by dwarves. If there was an issue, his vertically challenged friends would be swearing up a storm by now.


    Bas was, however, curious and after going through the effort of leaving his tent he might as well see what all the racket was about. Reality was rather disappointing. Just a minor rockslide kicking up dust and noise as rocks and small boulders bounced and bounded down the valley slope like a herd of stone goats. The most notable part of it was its proximity to Luneil¡¯s Dungeon, which, on second thought, might be significant after all. He caught Grimheld¡¯s eye and raised an eyebrow.


    Grimheld met his gaze. ¡°Something big has been happening in the Dungeon,¡± the dwarf said, ¡°nothing to get yer head in a twist over though. Dungeon either hit a natural fissure in the mountainside while expanding, or a room it created was structurally unsound and had knock-on effects on the surface when it collapsed. It¡¯s far too small to be able to generate traps of any decent size, let alone to begin manifesting magical effects inside it.¡±


    Bas gave a small hum of agreement, even if he remained unconvinced. From what he knew of Luneil, the crazy entity that controlled the Dungeon, he wouldn¡¯t put creating a bullshit trap beyond him. ¡®Rocks fall and everybody dies¡¯ sort of bullshit. Although, that wouldn¡¯t explain the current rockslide, there was no one in the Dungeon to trigger any traps. Maybe Luneil was having a test run¡­


    ¡°Look, kid¡­ Bas,¡± Grimheld said, noticing his pensive expression, ¡°just be glad we weren¡¯t inside or nearby when it happened. As adventurers we rely on skill and teamwork to stay alive, there are very few people who can survive a Dungeon alone. Getting wiped out by a rockfall or a chasm that suddenly opens up isn''t avoidable, it''s just bad luck. Yer always able to fight a little harder or a little longer, kill one last enemy in order to stay alive and get out of the Dungeon with yer hands full of loot. But random disasters? I don''t need to be a dwarf to tell ya this, ya can''t fight the ground.¡±


    Bas nodded, meeting Grimheld¡¯s gaze before turning away. Privately, he wondered whether the random disasters Grimheld talked about were truly random. Luneil''s existence showed that Dungeon''s were capable of thought, and others might be as well. Perhaps not to the same extent¡ªBas had a hard time believing ever single Dungeon on Era was a manipulative asshole with a fetish for human suffering¡ªbut it was certainly worth considering that such ¡°accidental¡± cave-ins might be carefully orchestrated to wipe out the occasional threat, or as a way to kill extra adventurers for their power.


    Bas broke off the train of thought, looking around. The valley was still filled with a tenuous daylight, the sun teetering on far-off mountain peaks. He let his mana burst out from his hand, feeling his senses expand between his fingers as his power filled the space around him. The air was still and silent, a far cry from home, back on Earth. He missed his world, with its unsleeping cities and noisy skies. He missed his family, expecting at any moment to wake and see his parents standing nearby. Perhaps not expecting, but certainly hoping; but even he knew it was a vain hope, he¡¯d felt pain here, hunger, thirst, and the seductive hum of power beneath his skin. He was somewhere different now, and everything he knew was separated by an incomprehensible expanse that made distant stars pale in insignificance compared to the impossible gulf between him and his former life.


    A wave of loss struck him and he let the mana around him snuff out, his perception snapping back around his body like a rubber band. When he had arrived he had been na?ve, idealistic. In a way he still was. But he no longer clung to the notion that he had been brought to Era for a reason. There was no guiding hand behind his presence, nothing and no one to catch him if he fell. He no longer believed the universe revolved around himself. He was no one special, despite the minor measure of awe and apprehension that the residents of Era bore towards him. Or, rather, towards his species. The legend that surrounded him was not his own, but something inherited from his species, back when humans¡ªor Exiles, as they had once been known¡ªhad been a force on this world.


    Perhaps that sense of personal distinction, the delusion of exceptionality, had been beneficial, allowing him to continue, resolute in the knowledge that his decisions were correct. But it had also blinded him with the belief that everything was going to be okay. For all he knew, his family could be dying of hunger, thirst, or monster attacks in some forsaken wilderness, along with half the human race. In books and movies, the hero always returned home once the task had been completed, but he wasn¡¯t a hero, and neither was he a child. And yet, he had been acting like one, believing that the world worked towards some greater purpose, that every stroke of luck he experienced had been ordained. He had taken the world for granted, in both Earth and Era. That had to stop.


    It was fine to dream big, as long as he dreamed believably, but for that he needed understanding. Something he had precious little of. Just because there was a commonality between the two worlds didn¡¯t mean they were the same.


    The dwarves had told him how Tyl, the Goddess of Order, had presided over a centuries long peace. That would have been impossible on Earth, there was always a small-scale war going on somewhere. It should have been impossible here. Peace was prosperity and progress. And yet, Era had apparently been stuck in a late-medieval level of technology. Something was holding the world back¡­


    But perhaps ¡°peace¡± was a misnomer. Maybe there hadn¡¯t been a war between kingdoms, but there didn¡¯t need to be. Era had monsters that could tear through a village without batting an eye. It was like a war that never ended, requiring a steady stream of soldiers to stem the tide of claws and teeth.


    It was true that monsters seemed few and far between, at least outside of Dungeons, but all it took was a single monster to slip past a patrol and hundreds of defenseless farmers would die. And if the farmers died¡­


    ¡°What happens when the cities don¡¯t get enough food?¡±


    ¡°Prices go up, more people become adventurers and farmers, life goes on.¡±


    Bas frowned, why would people become adven¡­ oh. Oh. Dungeons. When people couldn¡¯t pay for food they turned to Dungeons in desperation, hoping to strike it rich. And then most of them died, and the ones who lived came out with enough money to feed themselves and their families.


    And what did it all mean? Farmers died to monsters, soldiers died to kill the monsters, food became more expensive, and people risked their lives in Dungeons to return with enough gold to afford a meal. It all amounted to a huge number of deaths, keeping the populations of kingdoms from growing. And with so much of the population devoted to farming and fighting, there was a major shortage of artisans and crafters. Not that crafters were in huge demand; Dungeons could easily plug any shortage in production, and spare bodies were hardly in short supply.


    Era had never advanced beyond medieval technology because it was unable to. At some point it had lost momentum and, unable to provide the conditions required to fuel progress, shifted gears toward survival and slow growth instead. The existence of multiple races with poor relations to each other didn¡®t help the situation, little knowledge shared between them. With the result being that no single race had the knowledge required to make any significant advancements, each race acting like a secret order, holding on to their treasured knowledge, for fear of becoming irrelevant without it.


    Grimheld rested a hand on his shoulder, breaking Bas out of his contemplation, ¡°What are ya thinking about?¡±


    Bas shook his head, ¡°Just differences between your world and mine. Nothing to worry about.¡± He had seen Grimheld''s attitudes toward the duergar and the Jord-Elva¡ªone of the elven subspecies. Being magnanimous was all well and good when it required no effort to do so. When it came to affecting actual change? Bas doubted anyone would be so willing as to let old enmities lie. Era was fundamentally broken and there was little he, or anyone else, could do to change it.


    The sky had turned a darker shade of blue while he''d been thinking, and so he decided to be proactive, sweeping away the remnants of the previous night''s fire and piling logs around fresh tinder and kindling before retrieving a flint and steel from a nearby pack. After a minute of striking flint down against steel, a spark caught, setting the small pyramid of wood and twigs ablaze.


    Half an hour, and several logs, later, the fire was truly roaring. It had taken Grimheld all of twenty minutes to bring back a brace of marmots that would be their evening meal. Slowly, everyone pulled themselves out of their tents¡ªliterally in Blue''s case¡ªand gathered around the fire for an evening meal under the stars. And for a while, Bas forgot his worries, eating and laughing with his friends; and, as the night wore on, one by one, they returned to their tents, with heavier stomachs and lighter hearts.


    It took less than a minute for Bas to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The sound of bells and booted feet woke him just before the dawn. Bas groggily rubbed sleep from his eyes and almost jumped out of his skin when a booming voice woke him up the rest of the way, ¡°Kortvalund? Is that you, ya fucker?¡±


    ¡°Buln Smallhammer, what demon have I pissed off t'' have you on my case? I didn''t know the embassy was so desperate that they were forced t'' employ wee babes in arms like you.¡± Bas heard Kort chuckle, followed by the sound of them clasping hands, ¡°How''ve you been, you damn incompetent?¡±


    ¡°Pretty well, ya murderous fuck. My wife had twins recently, two daughters, the brats won''t shut up.¡±


    Kort laughed, ¡°I see they''ll be following in their father''s footsteps then, I''m glad t'' hear your wife''s been treating you well, she''s certainly been feeding you too much. Is Ogja still waiting for me?¡±


    ¡°Same as always. I think she''ll be delighted to know your banishment has been repeale¡ª¡±


    ¡°Contingent on the truth of your claims.¡± A nasally voice interjected.


    ¡°Oh shut the fuck up for just one moment will ya Filias, we¡ª¡±


    ¡°That''s Pardoner Fi¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fine, shut the fuck up, your elven highness.¡± All was silent for a moment, ¡°Better?¡± Buln asked.


    There was an insulted sniff, ¡°You ought to show a representative of Tyl a little respect.¡±


    ¡°The only thing I''m showing Tyl is my big, hairy¡ª¡±


    ¡°Be careful, Buln, that''s heresy. I tolerated you on the way here, don''t test my patience further.¡±


    ¡°Bollocks.¡± Buln finished.


    ¡°Y-y-you...¡± Filias spluttered.


    ¡°M-m-me?¡± Buln mimicked the elf in a falsetto. ¡°What are ya gonna do about it. Attack an ambassador? Start a war? Tyl would be happy about that.¡±


    Kort burst out laughing, audibly clapping Buln on the back.


    ¡°Hilarious.¡± Filias drawled, elongating each syllable. ¡°Where''s the Dungeon. And where''s the Exile who allegedly,¡± the sneer was evident in the elf''s tone, ¡°found it.¡±


    Bas poked his head out of the tent, unable to resist stirring the pot, ¡°Yes Filias?¡±


    Buln and Kort guffawed.


    ¡°That''s Pardoner Filias to you.¡± The source of the voice was none other than a tall willowy elf. Unlike the Jord-Elva, however, this elf''s features had none of the offensive sharpness to them. If anything, Filias looked like an elf straight out of a movie, straight down to the arrogant twist of his upper lip. ¡°Where''s the Dungeon? My goddess has tasked me to verify your claims and protect the site from core-robbers.¡±


    Bas pointed up the slope on the opposite side of the small river, ¡°Up there.¡±


    Filias nodded and turned sharply, causing a cacophony of chimes to erupt from him, as he walked back to a small unit of soldiers waiting just outside the camp.


    Bas looked closer at the elf''s equipment. Filias was outfitted in a white robe with a hardened leather breastplate over the top of it. That, however, was not the source of the clamor. Tiny silver bells had been fastened to his pack, jangling each time he took a step.


    ¡°Why is his bag covered in bells?¡±


    An unfamiliar dwarf with red hair, an aquiline nose, and piercing blue eyes, sauntered over to him. ¡°Tyl requires all her Pardoners to place bells on their equipment, although some take the duty more seriously than others. They say it''s so that her servants can''t hide in the shadows, but personally, I think Tyl just wants to make the daft twats look stupid.¡± Filias stopped in place, sniffing audibly. The red-headed dwarf shouted at his back, ¡°Well, get moving. You''re doing the Goddess'' work, no dawdling.¡± Filias'' fists clenched and then stamped back to his men, bells ringing even louder.


    The dwarf grinned at Bas and stretched out his arm, ¡°Buln Smallhammer¡ªlarge in any other way that matters¡ªsecond ambassador of the Dwarven Council to Valis, at your service.¡± Buln gave a shallow bow, arm still outstretched.


    ¡°Bas.¡± He said, shaking the dwarf''s hand.


    ¡°I never thought I''d be shaking hands with a human.¡± Buln said. ¡°How times change, eh.¡± The dwarf looked over his shoulder toward Filias, his expression souring. ¡°That Sol-Elvan prick and his goddess have caused us no small amount of trouble.¡±


    Bas nodded in sympathy, ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Well, as ya know, the city of Ilae was meant to send settlers over here on the quiet. Would have taken about a month of travel. But someone asshole working the scry-link sold the information at his local tavern. Tyl caught wind of it and got her Pardoners to make a grand announcement about the discovery of a new Dungeon, looking for pioneers to what should have been a dwarven settlement. Things have been falling apart recently, so she''s trying to distract everyone with a big collaborative effort, but it was not her right to do so.¡± Buln growled, ¡°This was meant to be a dwarven city. But ya know what the worst part is?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°She could''ve covered it up, as she should have. But she didn¡¯t. The news made its way to a group of backstabbers, degenerates, and ne¡¯er-do-wells¡ªall suspected core robbers¡ªled by a nasty fuck called Lodr. So, Tyl sent a group in advance to deal with the robbers, us. Or, rather,¡± Buln gestured to Filias and his men, ¡°them. Of course, I wouldn''t trust Tyl''s cronies alone in a desert with a cup of poison, much less a Dungeon, so I had to chase after them rather than travel with the first wave of settlers from Valis. And guess what? That prick, Filias, is a Caster variant. He cast a Haste spell on everyone except me. Do ya have any idea how fucking hard it is to run after a Sol-elva who''s cast a fucking Haste spell?¡± Buln shook his head, ¡°No, I don''t think ya do. I''m a dwarf. I ain''t got long legs. I''m made for busting kneecaps, not bending them. But I got here in the end, before the pointy-eared bastard and his men could get up to any funny business.¡±


    ¡°And the core-robbers?¡±


    ¡°Ah. Them. Didn''t see them, so they''re probably still on their way. Don''t worry, Filias might be a prat, but I suspect Tyl gifted him and his men some extra power to deal with anyone who comes close. Just as well. A new Dungeon with a single floor wouldn''t stand a chance against a group of practiced core-robbers.¡± Buln rubbed his chin, ¡°Also, if he tells you that you ought to pay Devotions¡ªyou know, a tithe of Lifeforce¡ªto Tyl, just politely tell him to piss off.¡±


    Bas wasn''t sure how to respond to that, so he simply smiled in acknowledgement.


    Buln clapped his hands, ¡°Now, down to business. Would I be right to say that ya purchased two hundred thousand gold worth of land?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Well, if ya need any help paying off the debt, the Dwarven Council will be happy to help ya out. The Banker''s Guild can be a little...¡± Buln waved his hand, searching for the right word, ¡°difficult... sometimes.¡±


    Bas smiled. ¡°Thanks for the offer, but I don''t think that will be a problem.¡± Like a magician drawing back a curtain, he pulled aside the flap of his tent, revealing the pile of gold coins within.


    Buln swore, ¡°You got all that from the Dungeon?¡± The dwarf glanced over at Filias'' men and swatted Bas'' hands aside, letting the tent flap fall back in place, ¡°Show that to no one, and tell no one how you found it. Not until you get stronger. Wealth like that will solve your debt problem, but you need to be careful. There are those who''d kill you for a tenth of that.¡±


    Buln straightened, reaching into a small pouch at his side and easily withdrawing out a large scroll that shouldn''t have fit inside, ¡°Now, every inhabitant of the new settlement will be required to follow dwarven laws¡ªwhich amounts to ''pay taxes and don''t be a dick''. Additionally, should the population of your settlement reach a certain size, you will be required to provide land for buildings necessary for the maintenance, oversight, and administration of your lands. Finally, once the settlement is properly established, all goods entering and exiting the Dungeon will be evaluated for taxation purposes. In return you''ll receive supplies, builders, a small peacekeeping force, and you¡¯ll be able to pass any other laws you wish, as well as implement further taxes.¡±


    ¡°What''s the tax rate?¡± Bas asked, accepting the scroll and reading through it slowly. The contents, written in dry and officious language, conveyed information on various taxes and dwarven laws. He put the scroll away for later reading as he listened to Buln''s reply.


    ¡°For dwarves, zero percent for the first year, five percent for years two through five, then ten percent for every year after. Non-dwarves will be subject to an unchanging tax rate of fifteen percent. This tax rate is equal to that of neighboring kingdoms. For the purposes of taxation, any employees or members of an adventuring team which you are part of will be considered dwarves, within reason. Is that acceptable?¡±


    Kort cleared his throat from one side where he''d been silently observing.


    Buln smirked, ¡°Ah. Of course, your friends will no longer be banished from dwarven territory. Understand everything?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Bas replied.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Buln said, handing Bas a finely wrought golden band inset with a strange arrangement of gems and silver inlay, ¡°this is yours. Channel your mana into it.¡±


    Bas accepted the ring but made no motion to put it on. ¡°What is this?¡± If Lord of the Rings had taught him one thing it was ¡®don¡¯t put on mysterious rings given to you by strangers unless you want to end up married to the Dark Lord¡¯.


    ¡°It¡¯s a Ring of Rule, wearable magic that integrates with your mana. It¡¯s a symbol of the authority invested in you by the Dwarven Council and also serves as authentication for secret messages.¡±


    Bas shrugged and slipped the ring onto his finger, pushing a thread of mana into it. The golden band instantly tightened, not uncomfortably but enough to create a small degree of pressure. Bas looked at it curiously. The ring had morphed into an intricate weave of golden filaments, a small jewel set within, glowing with silver fire. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°It''s bonded to your mana.¡±


    Bas tugged at the Ring, not causing it to budge, ¡°Can I remove it?¡±


    ¡°It can be destroyed by draining it of mana, something only yourself or a representative of the Dwarven Council can do. I would not advise doing so.¡± Buln held up his hand to stave off Bas'' reply. ¡°Pulse mana into it again.¡±


    Bas did as instructed, then gasped in surprise as the Ring of Rule seemed to melt, lines of liquid gold flowing into his skin until nothing remained but a faint golden tattoo, encircling his finger. He looked at it suspiciously, it had transformed into flowing liquid gold and melded into his skin, and yet his finger remained miraculously unburnt. He flipped his palm over, examining the tattoo from the other side.


    ¡°Ya can wear gloves if ya really want no one to see it. When ya call your Ring back out, it''ll appear on top of whatever''s on your hand.¡± Buln smiled, ¡°Excellent. Now, where can I set up my tent. The first settlers should arrive from Valis in a few days, they''ve brought builders and supplies with them, so the first buildings will be going up soon. Will be good to have a solid roof over my head.¡±


    Bas looked at him, ¡°You''re staying here?¡±


    ¡°Well, of course. Someone needs to maintain the interests of the Dwarven Council here,¡± Buln said, casting a sideways glance in the direction of the Filias and his men. The Pardoners were slowly making their way over the river. ¡°I don''t trust those assholes. But it''s probably for the best they''re here.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Lodr and his gang, they''re likely on their way here right now, they snuck out of Valis when the news of the Dungeon broke. Killed a guard who''d been trying to keep tabs on them. They''ll attempt to steal the Dungeon''s core and sell it for a few million gold, so it''s good that we''ve got a bit of protection while the Dungeon''s still weak. Monsters tend to get a little aggressive when someone touches the core, but that doesn''t amount to much with a young Dungeon.¡±


    Bas nodded, looking at Filias'' group ascending the slope. Somehow he doubted Luneil would go down easily¡ªor fairly, come to think of it. He watched them as they climbed, a bad premonition stewing in his gut. He was only broken out of his trance by Buln clapping him on the shoulder.


    ¡°So, where can I pitch my tent?¡±