《Sundown》 Prologue ¡°You will meet your end on this field, evil creature !¡± the armor-clad general bellowed, swinging his spiked staff down at her head. She rolled to the side to evade the deadly strike with a mirthful laugh, then nimbly sprung back to her feet. Her opponent launched a series of ferocious attacks that she dodged seemingly effortlessly while rearranging her hair and shaking the dirt off her dazzling white dress. ¡°You do realize you look a lot more like a monster than I do right now, Robert,¡± she retorted with an angelic smile. ¡°Wait what ?! Are you confusing me with- ARRGHH¡±, the general yelled as she took advantage or his distraction to throw a corrosive spell at his legs. He had instinctively dodged but his skin had melted where it had grazed him. He then had to fight through the pain and wasting a few precious seconds smashing the spell that had shifted into an ethereal snake and slithered back toward him. He looked back at the necromancer just in time to see flash of light headed straight for his heart. He gathered his Ki and mentally shouted ¡°break¡± to disperse the new curse. He struggled for a few terrifying instants before it sluggishly split in half and vanished a few millimeters from him. Damn that¡¯s hard. As much as he despised the necromancer for her rebellion, he grudgingly respected her skill at spell-craft. All the more so because practically none of her spells were infused with any of the Elements. They were all pure, weak, unstable mana. And yet, they had a devastating power, an unstoppable strength the like of which he had never encountered before. Coupled with her creativity and the natural versatility of raw magic, it felt as if each flick of her wrist produced a work of art. A heretic work of art, he corrected mentally, admonishing himself for his blasphemous thoughts. Unfortunately for her, that was precisely why General Orwell was not ordering a retreat. The previous spell had been death attuned. Which, coming from anyone else might have meant nothing but for this specific necromancer, gave him key information : she was running on fumes. Her uncaring demeanor was an act that she was keeping up at high cost in an attempt to scare him off. Her own reserves had to be practically empty, for her to settle with merely shaping the energy she siphoned from the ambient death. He glanced at the battlefield around them. The place was littered with dead soldiers, most wearing gray armor and red capes embroidered with the imperial Sun. The rest of them donned the same armor, but with the cape ripped off and replaced with a hastily scribbled setting sun. The remaining living fighters were only the Dread Legion, the Spell Guild, and Knight Airiel. And an enemy horde of undeads and golems, if you could call them living. The Dread Legion had managed to go through the fighting mostly unscathed, ganging up on individual opponents with overwhelming strength and viciousness. Cowards and maniacs, he sneered internally. But useful ones. They were currently on the verge of finally putting down the last survivor of the necromancer¡¯s inner circle, Knight Airiel, who was covered in wounds and holding her side with a desperate expression. With reason ! She was the last truly sentient enemy soldier, now. Only her master¡¯s affinity with necromancy and the Heretic arts brought some balance to the battle, as she raised a new undead minion for every man that fell ! Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The aptly named Spell Guild, some twenty mages standing behind the Dread Legion, the most famous group of spell casters this side of the desert, was completely unscathed. Not that their lack of involvement was their fault, Orwell had commanded them to stay safe and concealed in the background for this very moment. ¡°Mages, now !¡± he ordered them with a hand sign. Immediately, they spread out in a circle around the general and his opponent. A brief, undecipherable expression flashed on the necromancer¡¯s face as she noticed the move, and she sent a massive spell of dark light toward the Dread Legion a mere second before a golden translucent dome rose from the circle of mages. The very air seem to vibrate and screech in agony as the torrent of death energy submerged a full third of the Dread Legion, reducing them to dust and ashes, taking Knight Airiel down in passing. ¡°...¡± ¡°Did you just kill your friend?¡± The general asked incredulously. ¡°She was going to die anyways,¡± she shrugged in response, right hand sliding into her pocket. ¡°She would have been happy to bring a few murderous bastards with her.¡± Suddenly, the dome seemed to snap in place, and she felt her connection with the battlefield fizzle. Deprived of that vast well of death energy, the necromancer¡¯s spells automatically snapped back to feeding on her own reserves, and she was forced toindiscriminatelysever them all at once lest she be drained completely. Her illusions and enchantments collapsed into particles of light, revealing her actual appearance underneath. Her healthy skin turned overly pale, with dark marks of exhaustion under her eyes. Her pristine looking dress now sported numerous tears and bloodstains. Her left arm was bandaged and tied to her body, and she had bleeding cuts on her bare feet and legs. There were tears of pain and sadness spilling from her eyes, and her placid expression faded to reveal one of distress and angst. She was breathing laboriously. With no more magic to support her battered body, she barely managed to remain standing. Everyone on the battlefield froze. The survivors of the Legion, still stunned by their near death experience, stared with a mix of hatred, hunger, and fear. Some of the Guild mages looked at her with a paradoxical blend of contempt and awe, while others averted their eyes guiltily. In the sudden stillness of the fields, the cold wind was howling. She fell to her kneses and looked up at the Orwell who was walking toward her with a grim expression on his face. He unsheathed a dagger and grabbed her by her hair. He pulled her roughly against him, exposing her throat and held her head up with his blade, a trickle of blood sliding down her neck. He turned to the watching soldiers. He had to make an example of her. Those were his orders. It was not cruelty to the dying, it was mercy to those who might consider following in her footsteps. ¡°Finally the lie is exposed. There is the monster you are all afraid of ! Just a girl, starved, hopeless, powerless, and dying.¡± ¡°Remember this, burn it into your eyes, print this scene into your elemental gems, and spread the story. Let this be a lesson for all who betray the Empire ! This. Will. Be. Your. End.¡± He paused. The world was deathly quiet, his audience not daring to make a sound. Even the wind quieted down in anticipation. He slit her throat. He relaxed his grip and let her collapse to the ground with a gurgle. As she convulsed on the trampled grass, spurts of blood painting it red, the containment spell remained in place. That was standard procedure when killing a necromancer. The same spell that prevented their kind from using the surrounding death as fuel also cut off their connection to any soul container, thus ensuring they wouldn¡¯t have a way of clinging to life. The dying girl locked eyes with one of the mages, started in recognition, and managed to give a small, sad smile. The mage averted her gaze. The guild-master gave a silent prayer. The Dread Legion leader licked his lips with a smirk. The general grabbed his spiked mace and lifted it high above his enemy¡¯s head. A sickly crunch hailed the birth of a new era for the Empire.
As our opponent and former friend passed away, the rain abated and the sun finally pierced the dense canopy of the clouds. The moronic warmongers whom we were compelled to work for took it as the favor of the gods returning, some even calling it the hand of the sun-blessed Emperor saluting their success. Ignorance ! Even those of us who despised the magics Neira had dabbled in shivered at the definite proof, that, as we had theorized, she had indeed been capable of obscuring the eye of the Divine in daytime. We had won, but many of us already felt the loss of our former sister. Neira no-name, and Neira many-names. Neira the reckless, Neira the sundowner. Researcher, insurgent, artist, heretic, and airhead. May she rest in peace. Journal of Drake, Guild-master of the Revered Guild of spells and magics. Chapter 1 : Two ghosts and a rock Chapter 1 : A ghost, his sister, and a rock walk into a cave
¡°Hello ?¡± a small, shrill voice, queried. ... ¡°Hello ? Are you up, mister core ?¡± ¡­ ¡°Please, wake up ? I¡¯m scared and there¡¯s a lot to do¡± There¡¯s a lot to do. Those words reach an instinctive part of her. She had heard and hated those words so much that she couldn¡¯t ignore them. It needled her consciousness. She tried to ask a question. No words came out. ¡°Ah ! Hi ! You¡¯re awake. I¡¯m Tiremiod, and I¡¯m honored to work with a core as powerful and beautiful as you !¡± She felt sluggish. She tried to identify the speaker. Blatant flattery ? It had to be a sentient being with a relatively human-like thought process. Also, it was speaking. Why was she so scattered ? Her eyes didn¡¯t seem to be working any more than her voice. So she extended her soul to sense her surroundings, and observed the small ethereal entity floating next to a small rock. It looked like a stereotypical ghost. A cute one at that. Small, transparent with a blue hue, little more than a blob of air with big watery eyes. A boy ? Another similar entity was present a bit further in the cave, in a depression in the wall. Hiding, perhaps ? Before she could investigate her new companions further, it spoke again. ¡°Huh, what next. Oh ! I¡¯m not sure how to ask this. Can you make a goblin ? Make. Goblin. Goblin please ? Will you make a Goblin if you please ? Oh, thou great Core, might you deign to create-¡± ¡°SHUT UP !¡± She snarled uncharacteristically. The small being immediately snapped its mouth shut and started trembling in fear, obviously not used to hearing shouting. Annoyed by its words and her own inability to communicate, she had established a telepathic link between them. It had been easy, the creature¡¯s mind was shamefully vulnerable. Did it think she was a primitive sapient, to address her like that ? Alright, chill. It was an innocent little thing. Not its fault she felt so¡­ beside herself. And, well, in its defense, it was speaking to a rock. No, wait, a dungeon core. ¡­ Holy shit, she had done it ! She let out a silent but ecstatic laugh as the realization set in, her intellectual faculties coming back to her along with her memories. It was rumored to be impossible to escape a containment field such as the one they had cast around her on the fields of Samsara, even Liche lords were cut off from their soul anchor, to say nothing of a mere necromancer like her.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. However, she had theorized that the containment field did not trap the soul, and the incapacity of making contact with an external soul anchor merely stemmed from the binding Necromancer¡¯s own power. But if the anchor were to be externally powered¡­ A smile stretched her inexistent face as she stared at the dungeon core that was slowly gathering mana by itself. It had taken her a few weeks to modify the spell pattern so as to allow her to turn it into her soul anchor, but it had been worth it. Without that, she would never have been able to survive the Guild turning on her. At that she mentally shook herself and switched her line of thought to avoid dwelling on grimmer musings. As¡­ what was his name ? Tir-something ? Tim- ? Tim would do. As Tim had said, there was a lot to do, and if she interpreted the presence of the spirits right, she had more options for her resurrection than a regular necromancer. She was incorporeal still, but it seemed she had an unusual opportunity for manifesting into the physical world. Another route than that of going full Liche and giving up her cherished ability to work with untainted mana. Thankfully, she had a convenient source of information not too far ! Slowly, quietly, trying to convey all of her patience and sympathy, she addressed the shivering bubble next to her. ¡°So, Tim, who are you, who am I, what¡¯s there to do, and why do you want a goblin ?¡± She couldn¡¯t help but phantom-smile in anticipation.
Tim was scared. Scratch that, Tim was terrified. Panicked. Drowning in fear. Petrified. How to answer those questions ? What was the protocol for that ? Why hadn¡¯t Mother told them about it ? He did remember her telling him that cores had their own thoughts sometimes, and that¡¯s why he had taken to complimenting it, but she had apparently omitted the part where they actually talked to you. And she had certainly not mentioned that presence. Well, she had also told him his Core would be awake when he was called to it, which had not been the case. He had waited for two weeks with growing anxiety, and when it had finally emerged from its slumber, he had believed everything would be going to be back on track. He had been wrong. It had been bad enough when he had been suddenly yelled at. Right now, though, hearing that soft and dangerous voice which was ostensibly eager for answers¡­ Brrr, he did not want to disappoint it. It took him less than an instant to decide that Tim would be his new name so as not to anger it. Also, perhaps he should call it a more distinguished name ? Its highness. No, to weird for a stone. Its Coreship ? Or perhaps- ¡°I have a feeling you¡¯re not really thinking about your answer...¡± the voice cut in his thoughts with a twinge of annoyance, startling him once again. He jumped. He wasn¡¯t sure how he had done it, seeing that he was still a spirit, but he reached at least a meter above ground. And then he fell back down. Floated back down. So. Very. Slowly. His aether got crimson from embarrassment. ¡°Hi hi hi !¡± he heard an amused chuckle in his mind. Is it laughing ? Really ? Perhaps he still had a chance at survival, then. Tim, dungeon clown. His aether got an even darker red. Chapter 2 -??-??- -??- - - Complete darkness. Bone crushing pressure. The immensity of the intangible presence around her. The ever increasing urgency to escape. She often compared it to being seated at the bottom of the ocean. Whether you were a merchant, a beggar, a soldier, or a king, the spirit world reminded you that you were nothing. Insignificant. Blind. Perhaps that explained while so few people ever reached the upper stages of meditation. The terror of their own irrelevance was too much to handle, the endless cold too much to bear. And even those who could had to back away after some time or risk being swallowed by the abyss. The compulsive need to leave was akin to the burning lungs of a man keeping his breath underwater : a ticking clock, a reminder that she didn¡¯t belong here, and that the consequences of staying could be dire. She took a metaphorical breath, and slowly let it out, outward. The darkness around herwaned with each passing instant, until finally the ghostly shape of the dungeon core appeared in front of her. It looked like a stone, but seemed to contain an entire world within itself, and pulse with a flash of life every now an then. Tightly knotted around it was a pearly white chain. Heranchor. In some places, it had sunk into the core and merged with it, which was highly atypical as well as somewhat expected. She was indeed very much aware of the fact that she had partially merged with the core and Tim had confirmed that she felt like the dungeon to him. She was only here to finish the job. She formed phantom hands, and started pushing the chain into the core as fast as possible. As soon as her will made contact with the core and the chain, she felt the faint presence of the Watcher, and another subtle kind of pressure set on her. The gods had forbidden soul manipulation, after all, therefore it wasevident that they kept an eye on it. She had waiteduntil sunset for this, the instant at which the divine laws momentarily relaxed, but she had still assumed she would be noticed, as even the most seasoned heretics wouldn¡¯t have dared to manipulate souls without the assistance of a spell. However the only spell she could perform in her state would make her a Liche, if it worked at all, given her circumstances, whereas she fully intended to become a freaking dungeon. It was reckless, and she loved it. It reminded her of the good old days : no war, no politics, no betrayal ! Just the elation of pushing back the frontiers of magic. Just a struggle of wills ! Entities pitting their utmost against each other ! Her against the souls, the divine against her, and the ocean trying to crush theiralienpresence. Fortunately, she hadn¡¯t drawn the full attention of the gods, merely triggered an instinctive response from them. She pushed for a few more second before the chain seemed to collapse into the outline of the dungeon core. She felt a sharp stab of pain and hastily left her meditative state. She was greeted by the floating window of her brand new status screen.
Status (Identity)
Name : Neira no-name Titles :Heretic
Species: Dungeon [error] Spirit :Tiremiod, [error]
Status (Ability)
Rank : 0 Affinities : Earth, Fire
Floors : 3
Mana : 10 Mana regen (/h) : 1
Mana density : E
Skill : create monster, make floor
Immediately followed by a notification.
Welcome to life, Neira no-name ! You are a dungeon ! Grow fast, grow strong and vast, conquer the depths of the Earth or the heights of the Heaven ! The limit is yourwill ! Be careful to listen to the spirit next to you, he will aid you in your path. Before we begin, you have three tasks to accomplish (rewards depend on completion) :
  • Know yourself ! Explore your starting floor, and make them yours !
  • Begin your family ! Populate your floors with at least three living defenders.
  • [hidden] (optional)
She waved them away and investigated the changes brought to her. She now felt a small connexion between herself and the two ethereal spirits. But more importantly, the dungeon core had become part of her. And merely thinking about it expanded her world drastically. Where she had previously struggled to even reach Tim, she could now effortlessly visualize every inch of her dungeon through mage-sight. It had previously been saturated with the unusable dungeon¡¯s mana, now it was all hers ! All three floors were imbued with power she could call hers !Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. It was glorious. Of course, it looked like nothing compared to her former fortress, the keep of Oaklehime. Merely three rough levels of a narrow maze of humid caves. It didn¡¯t matter. It was hers. She could behold all of it, in a way she had never seen anything before, and- Wait, was that the Divine ? What was it doing here ! In her dungeon ! She roared in rage and defiance, and she strained against it. It felt like stopping a river with her bare hands, and she didn¡¯t care. How did it dare ! Showing itself before her ! Taunting her ?! It had always hindered her before. Because of it, she had been branded a heretic. Because of it, she had never uncovered the mysteries that haunted her. Yet, it had never been so open with its influence.
Warning ! You are killing yourself ! Stop immediately, for your sake !
Lies ! She spat. She could feel it here, cheating the System itself. Did it think its blatant deception would work ? Suddenly, the earth quaked, the air seemed to scream and reached scorching temperatures for a single second. Then everything went quiet. ... She checked that the spirits had survived the ordeal, then let out a sigh of satisfaction. Her dungeon was clean, now. She smirked, and confirmed she could not feel the divine in any of her caves. Only after a full minute of smug glee did she realize the enormity of what she had just done. She stilled, and tentatively spread out her soul as she had done a few hours earlier. It effortlessly covered the entire area, only encountering resistance at the edges of the dungeon. That heretical magic had been performed with an ease she had only felt at the sunset during the winter solstice, where the gods¡¯ dominion was at its weakest. Realization set in : the divine had not been anymore visible than usual. She had only seen what usually was an invisible stress because of her transformation. That had also been the reason why she had managed to suppress it. Had the gods noticed the newly formed blackspot in their influence ? She supposed she would have already been dead if that had been the case. Or at least the divine at the edge of her boundaries should have felt more hostile than usual. Did she actually get away with that ?! She started chuckling. She had her own domain ! A place where the laws of the divine could not hamper her research ! The phantasm of every mage out there ! A domain of perpetual sunset. Oh, the things she would do with that ! He he he ! What would she start with ? Space ? Time ? Death ? Souls ? She let out a final, manic cackle, then try to calm herself down. First things first ! She had a quest to complete, a dungeon to improve, and an inner circle to resurrect and put to work ! One final of her hypothesis to check, though : status !
Status (Identity)
Name : NeiraSundowner Titles : Spell crafter, High witch, Necromancer
Species: Dungeon (chimera) Human Spirits :Tiremiod, Tireniade
Status (Ability)
Rank : 0 (~19) Affinities : Earth, Fire, Water (1%), Light (1%), Death (40%)
Floors : 3 [hidden]
Mana : 1 / 3 Mana regen (/h) : 0.5
Mana density : 0.05 Mana purity : 80 % (formerly 0.1%)
Skills : create monster, make floor, manage domain
Oh, she was going to have So. Much. Fun ! The divine had indeed been obscuring some key information from the system. That was a huge relief to her, as it eliminated the possibility that it was at the origin of the system, hereby irrevocably chaining all mortals. There was apparently one downside to her actions, however : her mana stats seemed to have shrunk. It was largely offset by the newfound purity of her mana though, probably brought on by her previous struggle. Obviously, that particular stat had been hidden before ! Although she had reached a high rank in the Guild and been privy to many secrets, she had never even heard of such a thing. Perhaps if it hadn¡¯t been so carefully concealed, mages would have been outrage at the heavens undeniably stunting their potential. Perhaps then she might have had enough followers to win the war¡­ ¡°It does no good to dwell on the past, sister.¡± She shook her intangible head. Still, she had assumed the gods shackled their growth, but she had never beheld such a firm confirmation of it ! Which ones of the dead ends she had encountered in her research had been actually caused by her own limitations ? She couldn¡¯t wait to find out ! Now, how to fix that mana drop ? That she hadn¡¯t really lost much over all was not the question here ! She knew she could do better, and she would ! She expanded her senses to encompass her entire domain. Hmmm, so that¡¯s what it was ! The subtle pressure of the divine on her walls made the mana unstable. The strain went past the actual boundaries of the dungeon and into the floor themselves. Perhaps shrinking them would work ? She would not lower herself to reducing the number of floors, obviously. Also, that seemed innately connected to the flow of mana she gathered. But making them overall narrower might allow her to better withstand the stress of the divine. That could help her mana stabilize and her reserves grow back somewhat. Even better, it was probably the same pressure that hindered her metabolism, easing it should therefore significantly boost her mana regeneration. Probably. However there was a huge downside to this ! Smaller floors made for an easier dungeon to conquer. Such a transformation would make her drastically more vulnerable ! If her friends had been present, they would have chided her for her reckless thoughts. Yes, all in all, that was a pretty bad idea. ¡­ meh¡­ She got to work
¡°Noooo ! Seriously ?¡± Tim mourned internally, seeing the floors shrink, but not daring to say anything. The terrifying core was but a newborn, after all. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t aware ? Dungeons were supposed to grow ! Like, more floors, bigger floors ! How was it possible to get this wrong ?! Hehadn''t evenknownshuch a thing was possible ! ¡°One way or another, I¡¯m so going to die¡±, he lamented with a heavy sigh.