《Forgotten Dungeon》 001 It was a day like any other. Sitting down on the couch, playing some video games, getting supper ready, these kinds of mundane thoughts were on his mind today. It was Friday after all and work was already done for the week. No overtime too. That¡¯s why the sudden surge of black color caught him unaware. He only managed to feel a bit of pain as a slightly fat and pale figure collapsed on the floor. There was no time to scream for help, or even react. In retrospect, living this type of life - alone, feeding on ready-to-eat meals, and without any exercise - may have been a mistake. Yup. After all, it was death - right here right now the remorse was overwhelming¡­ not. There was always a bit of apathy inside - this ¡®lack of ambition¡¯ as his boss and coworkers described it. He always answered resolutely that his priorities were simply different. It was true - in a way - this specific strain of carpe diem bordered on self-destruction. So death wasn¡¯t really that scary. Well, there were regrets. About not asking out that lively girl from the apartment next door. About his loans which he hadn¡¯t managed to repay. About his internet history which he didn¡¯t remember to clean¡­ Well, I guess Murphy¡¯s Law rears its ugly head. Maybe he wasn¡¯t as ready as he was thinking, but it was in the past¡­ he would somehow ferry over to whatever afterlife awaited. Why afterlife? He didn¡¯t believe in any religious crap that he was fed from morning to night. Working with machines made him desensitized to such ideas. Still, the facts were easily recognized. Here he was, floating above the meatbag that was his former body, waiting for something to happen. Now that he looked over himself it seemed that while he looked rather okay in the mirror (on the lower scale of ¡®okay¡¯, but still) in reality his face and especially his body were neglected. It was all too late though. And for a long time, nothing happened. After getting a bit worried he tried to float away (up first, thinking about heaven, but then down - just to escape this limbo), but quickly understood that he was bound to the place of his death. Worse, what was left of the body started to smell and rot. The telephone came to life a few times until its battery died. I¡¯m pretty sure these were calls from work. I¡¯m still on no-speaking terms with my family. Well, was. I¡¯m pretty sure there will be no getting back into this rotten flesh unless I get turned into a zombie. He smirked, even though the situation was not funny at all. But that was how he always was - slow, but easily adaptable. Maybe lazy was the better word? It was only after a week passed that his neighbors connected the dots and called the police and ambulance. Some shouting and knocking on his door later, his home was broken into, and the desiccated and rotting body was discovered. He floated around, taking in the various horrified expressions, even the young policeman who ran out to empty the contents of his stomach. It didn¡¯t register. He''d spent a lot of time locked in with a corpse, even if it was his own body lying there. As he looked over some paramedics came in and lifted him delicately onto their stretcher. Then, after covering him with a cloth they slowly left the room. He followed the procession and promptly bumped his head on an invisible barrier that blocked him from leaving his former home. Contrary to his expectation it wasn¡¯t that unnerving. Shouldn¡¯t he be more¡­ worried? [Something smells here and it isn¡¯t my body.] He joked to himself, for the first time in a week speaking out loud. Well, speaking was a big word - without vocal cords, lungs, and all this jazz this was more like the VR simulation he was reading about. To his (mild) surprise somebody answered. [Oh, so you really weren¡¯t one of the Lost. Crap, that makes things complicated.] The voice was neither young nor old. It had the lack of tension that he associated with machines, but also something more. [Huh? Who are you? Maybe what are you should be a better question?] he asked, sizing up the wisp of light floating near his face. Yet the being was completely in its world. [The process of dissipation has already begun. They really fucked up upstairs, huh?] It swayed around with a sense of schadenfreude, bobbing in what seemed like anger. [I told them - the chances are high enough, send somebody! But nooo¡­ we don¡¯t have enough resources, it¡¯s like a 5% gamble. Bureaucrats!] It huffed in annoyance. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. [Ummm¡­ sorry?] [Yes?! I¡¯m thinking, don¡¯t disturb me, vessel!] [Maybe just a question or two? I¡¯m pretty lost right now¡­] [Haha! Lost, you say? For this pun alone you can ask. The answers are another thing altogether though.] Wow, what a dick. He thought but decided to take his chance. [Then - what¡¯s going to happen to me and who you are?] [Huh, still quite attached to your mortality? I was thinking that a person like you wouldn¡¯t care. The strangest things¡­] it murmured but stopped seeing his expression. [Yeah, yeah, I guess it''s in your welcome packet anyway. Even if somebody upstairs fucked up.] it murmured, but not quietly enough to escape his ears. Maybe it was never meant to. [What?] He asked noncommittally. To tell the truth, it wasn¡¯t such a big deal. [Okay. So the short version... After death, all souls that survive the ordeal - and understand that not many do that since the shock is pretty big - are collected and sent to the cycle of reincarnation on Earth or just made into angels and demons and other, more kinky things. And there are procedures for that and it seems like somebody frecked up yours...] [So it¡¯s a bureaucratic error?] He asked incredulously. It was ridiculous enough to break even through his apathy. [Yeah, you can call it that.] The wisp of light visibly deflated. [So why aren¡¯t you fixing it?] This question struck the being and after a minute of silence, it responded in a serious tone. [It¡¯s not so easy¡­ You see we collect souls, so-called vessels, fast not because we love perfection, but because they turn useless after some time. Evil ghosts, poltergeists, possessions¡­ let¡¯s say they¡¯re not completely unreal.] [If I had a body I would start sweating. Yet somehow I don¡¯t care?] He answered while looking at the floating wisp. [Yup, these are the first symptoms. Apathy, dissipation of care, and mortal bonds. At least you¡¯re not the crying or raging kind. Thank the divines for small favors.] [So what now?] [We get creative of course! While such a soul can¡¯t be used in our system it¡¯s only when considering ordinary reincarnation! I need to make a few calls. Please wait.] Wisp stopped looking at his interlocutor and his white light turned slightly grey. It slurred some words which seemed like greetings in a multitude of languages, some seemed even outside human ability to hear¡­ Well, I¡¯m not human anymore, so why do I care? After half an hour wisp tone started to sound more and more strained. In the end, it answered somebody with clear gratitude and ended his ¡°call¡±. [Okay¡­ it¡¯s not ideal, but there is this small god constellation where they can use you. Sorry. I can¡¯t get anything better.] [So what¡¯s the gig?] He asked, not thrilled at all. [Dungeon core on one of the planets. I¡¯ll be honest with you - the gods out there pretty much screwed both themselves and the inhabitants. It¡¯s slowly getting towards the apocalyptic proportions, with two magical wars pretty much mutating most of flora and fauna¡­ and sapient races going apeshit on each other¡­] Its voice trailed off at the end. [Two questions: how does that affect me and are there no other options?] [Yup, there aren¡¯t many things that a vessel of your quality and dissipation state can do. And dungeon cores are pretty much on the low-down anyway.] There was something like a sigh. [Dungeons are used for two purposes - to filter out the mana in the atmosphere and to give resources to sapients on this world. As such you¡¯re supposed to help them survive and grow. Maybe even save the planet?] It added with a tiny voice. [I guess there isn¡¯t much choice.] He mumbled to himself, deliberately letting himself be heard. [No need to hesitate. Send me in, captain!] [Yes! I appreciate your cooperation! I hope that after your core is destroyed you will choose to use our company again!] Wisp bobbed up and down, reciting the formula. Some of the words poked the last embers of curiosity, but the young man''s spirit only managed a moment of thought. [What do you meaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa¡­] he screamed before getting sucked into some kind of a black hole. [At least this one was reasonable. It was worth those few calls¡­ at least there isn¡¯t any mark on my spotless record.] [Paidel Solomon of the Fallen Angels! What are you doing here?!] Another voice broke the silence, but only a low laugh answered it, echoing. In the meantime future, the dungeon core was being transported away from Earth while screaming in his mind. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuu--. I never asked for the name of the planet. There will be a tutorial, right? And maybe some hot chick fairy, like in light novels¡­ Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight? But there was only silence. 002 Dungeon Core With an audible *pop* I was spat out from the maelstrom that consumed me on Earth. That wisp-like thing really did a number on me¡­ even my human-like body was torn to shreds and I was now looking nothing like before - I was now a slightly more blue wisp of energy, floating on the wind. The sensation only lasted a moment though. The voice boomed in my proximity, paralyzing my new senses. [What do we have here?] It mused. [Another package from a foreign world. Strange. Such a backwater system and there is still somebody who remembers¡­ Anyway, what are you?] The excitement was nearly visible - as was the large sphere floating above me. To reiterate - I was a small wisp of bluish light floating in the air. My size was no bigger than a dinner plate. And the being next to me was similar except larger. Much larger - Elephant or even Walrus category larger than my poor dinner plate. I could only hope that it wasn¡¯t hungry. What did I do in response? Fight or flight, right? The ancient coping mechanism. Nope. My true and trusted reaction was to keep my mouth shut, do not make eye contact, and wait it out. Like a small animal under a predator''s gaze. It worked somehow and being sighed. [Another piece of subpar goods it seems. Dissolved soul, to be put into a dungeon core gem? Haaaah. It can¡¯t even speak. I was hoping for a hero or saint soul. Divinity knows we need them here.] There was another pause. [Well, nothing I can do about it now. Begin the procedure.] It commanded into the ether. And surprisingly our surroundings responded. From the black mist, a robotic voice answered with mechanical precision. [Seeding module ready. Compatible source vessel detected. Begin?] [Yes. Authorize seeding.] [Authority checking. Authority confirmed: ¡°God of Stars and Science¡± Brighton. Checking available locations on Yana. Installing soul-guiding system.] A slight itch came through my body as I twitched in displeasure. Brighton''s eyes focused on me once again - at least it felt that way, seeing as he didn¡¯t have any. The voice continued. [Installation complete. Checking compatibility. None found. Forcefully creating compatibility. Anima compatibility was created.] [Hoh! Now that¡¯s rare. Maybe something good will come out of this, after all.] [Searching for available locations. No locations found. Converting existing location.] [That¡¯s right! It¡¯s like the six hundredth core that I was able to plant on the soil of Yana. The non-corrupted landmass has its limits. But that means¡­] For the first time, unease was heard in god voice. [Ruined castle of Henrik Waltzer found compatible.] [No, no, no, no, no! Abort, abort!] Panic was now clearly heard in Brighton''s voice, but his orders fell on deaf ears. Whatever being was dragging me down to the earth below promptly ignored him. [Location confirmed. Seeding.] My whole being was sucked down towards a black onyx crystal buried in dirt and debris. It was like a roller coaster, but without a safety harness. I would promptly discharge the contents of my stomach if I had anything inside. Or had a stomach at all. Or mouth. Yep. It was still very nauseating even as a simple soul. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. And there was a box, floating before me, taunting.
Welcome to Yana! Your Race has been changed to Dungeon core Your Affinity has been changed to None Your starting Element has been changed to Anima Your starting Location has been changed to Henrik Waltzer''s ruined castle - Dungeons Your Name has been changed to Uno
As always it seemed like life decided to grant me lemons. It was time to make lemonade. Only¡­ how? *** Brighton I think I made a mistake¡­ Well, it¡¯s not like there are many of my fellow gods left anymore, so I won¡¯t be admonished, but still, it doesn¡¯t sit well with me. It simply doesn¡¯t. Gotta do something. First, check from where the soul came. Earth. Where is that? Ho, in the White-Dark Duality? Non-magical world, non-magical beings, with a lesser amount of willpower and luck. Completely unremarkable. I still don¡¯t understand¡­ Then maybe the sender is the key? Paidel Solomon of the Fallen Angels?! What the hell? What is one of the big guys swindling an innocent random soul to become a Dungeon core?! There has to be something more here after all Paidel is known for his perfectionism. Everything was already done, but if it¡¯s a piece of information¡­ Maybe I can deal with some Angels or Demons from that dimension? Who knows. It will take time though. Then let¡¯s make sure that the dungeon is growing alright. There should be¡­ a¡­ tutorial¡­ ready¡­ WHAT THE HELL IS THIS! WHY CAN''T I ACCESS THE SYSTEM?! Oh, it¡¯s only when it comes to Uno and his dungeon. Wait. Did he name himself? The simple dissolved soul doesn¡¯t have such strength of will. Nor does it care about names. It¡¯s getting more and more complicated. I sure hope that it won¡¯t affect our other plans. Maybe I should send some of my followers near it? But it¡¯s on the edge of known territories. There won¡¯t be many people in the area even outside of my or other gods'' followers. Maybe I just let it be? It will be years before Dungeon will grow strong enough to arrive near the territories of sapient races. That''s not even taking into consideration that it would have to battle corruption all the way through. And with the Anima element? Wasn¡¯t that like spirit magic and some shamanistic rituals? This isn¡¯t exactly my cup of tea. Magic is much less regulated than science. But then again what could that core even do without normal animals. I might have doomed it already. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Despite being one of the younger gods I''ve already been strapped with so many responsibilities. At least with the current pace, the world should end in a few hundred years, and let us all rest, thinking about what went wrong this time. Maybe I could ask Mirabelle? As Goddess of Luck and Chance, she could get a better glimpse. But then, talking to her is grating. Maybe I¡¯ll just let it go? *** And so Brighton continued to panic like a headless chicken. And Uno was waiting in the darkness. 003 Uno It was dark. And cramped. Truth to be told it wasn¡¯t worse than one of my old apartments, but still¡­ this was some seriously creepy shit. I¡¯ve heard of sensory deprivation chambers and this space inside me seemed just like it. Yes. Inside me - when falling I had a glimpse of my surroundings and noticed that my soul landed in some kind of basement. And into this largish, round onyx, only 5 centimeters in diameter. It looked completely unremarkable. Just like me in my previous life. It was a bit fattish on the edges too. Was that harassment? Were my physical features converted into an unliving stone only to make me fat again?! No, no. Calm down. It¡¯s stress-talking. How did they say it in these survival shows that were running on TV? Remain calm, take in your surroundings, plan your next move¡­ There are no surroundings. I¡¯m pretty sure that I¡¯m underground, but this darkness screams of I¡¯m blind type, not it¡¯s too dark to see. So there is not much more I can do other than wait. And maybe, just maybe some kind of tutorial or special being will talk to me and explain what I can do. No? Fine then. I¡¯ll just wait. And wait. Wait. I can¡¯t sleep so it¡¯s not really fun. But I¡¯ll wait. And wait. I¡¯ll wait for youuuuuuu. Wait. W-A-I-T. No, seriously - I¡¯ll wait. There is no sense of passing time in this endless blackness, but I sure get creeped out. Was it minutes, hours, days, weeks, months? Are Dungeon cores immortal? Do we not die even when we are killed? Will I wilt in this darkness before anything happens? Or maybe it¡¯s happening, but I simply can¡¯t react to it. Stupid questions. Sure I can start counting sheep or doing some mental gymnastics, but it¡¯s all for naught. I can''t feel. I can¡¯t see. I can¡¯t hear. I can¡¯t taste. I can¡¯t smell. Are these all senses? What about the mystical sixth sense then? Is it too cut off from my surroundings? Stretching mentally I tried to focus. But how to do something that was simply beyond my understanding? Do I cramp up, trying to shit out the magic? Or does the super Saiyan way of screaming at things work better? I would leave the questions of how I could shit out something or scream without needing body parts alone. There was also always available mumbo-jumbo of spiritually high nations (wink, wink), with shaman-like motions and drugs. Sadly no drugs for me. But I could always meditate and stuff. If I could only sleep here¡­ but no - it has to be a high-caffeine-induced Dungeon core experience. What if, just if... Dungeon cores can¡¯t sleep? Gasp! No longer being able to laze around, while eating chips and fa- I mean enjoying the culture. And then going into slumber. Ah. Damn, it feels like my emotions are returning. All of them at the same time, but still - they¡¯re back! I won¡¯t be a desiccated shell of a person. Only a smallish super Saiyan gem. Yeah. It was time to scream. *** Brighton Inviting himself to Mirabelle''s divine realm was always a pain. Not only was his cloud-like figure dissipating to create an image of a longhaired elder with large glasses on his nose but instead of floating he had to walk. Walk! Like a mortal! But instead of huffing he only hugged tightly the leatherbound book that somehow appeared in his hands and continued his journey. Unlike his own realm - empty and raw - Mirabelle made sure that her surroundings looked rich and artistic. A grand palace with marble walls, covered in paintings, reliefs, and statues. All of these were made from precious materials and created by grandmasters. It was opulence, but not too much, not by a dilettante nouveau riche desire, but by the caring hand of a real connoisseur. Along the precious halls, young mortals wandered - boys and girls covered only in thin clothing. In truth, they were spirits - amalgamations of a will bound to Mirabelle''s realm and created only to serve her. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. They murmured as Brighton was walking forward, while not daring to stop him. Only when he entered the palace and sought the largest, most oppressive door one of them stepped in and asked with a slight frown. [Hello Master Brighton. May I ask what you need from our Mother? She is pretty busy at the moment.] His body trembled a bit, but knowing consciously that this foreign god wouldn¡¯t hurt him did miracles for courage. [There is a development on Yana.] He answered patiently. [Mirabelle''s expertise is needed. Any more concrete information is only for her ears.] [I understand, but still, I cannot¡­] Words trailed off as he moved his long ears to hear something only audible to him. [Yes, yes¡­ Right away, Master.] He opened now blue eyes almost immediately and stared at the man standing before him. The white hair of the spirit danced on invisible winds and when few moments passed he spoke at last. The possession took place already and both his demeanor and tone changed a lot. [I will be ready in a moment, Brighty. I too felt something, so don¡¯t worry your pretty little head about it.] [I see.] Answered Brighton. It was a heartfelt relief that he wouldn¡¯t have to barge into his companion god''s inner realm. Knowing her hobbies he could probably see something he wouldn¡¯t unsee and most importantly - anger Mirabelle. They were equals - it was true, but this still didn¡¯t allow them to break some barriers of conventionality. And being polite was something he tried his best at. As the god of science was musing while staring dumbly at the nearby wall the person he was thinking about - the goddess of luck - was just getting out of bed. She wasn¡¯t alone there, but her companions weren¡¯t in a moving state. Not just yet, anyway. Taking in the sights and smells she waited for a moment before materializing a see-through pink robe, which accented her well-shaped breasts, small waist, and long legs. Her face also seemed more like a doll - so perfect that it was clearly inhuman. Bright blue eyes and deep violet hair complemented the rest of her form. It took her only a minute or two to move out from her inner space. She appeared from thin air just next to Brighton. [Hello there! It was ages since you managed to take a few steps into my realm!] She smiled brightly while hugging him. His awkward reaction was cute - she wasn¡¯t sure if it was because he reacted to her, or maybe how he didn¡¯t really use corporeal form anymore. Still, her bright smile remained. [So, what brings our most diligent god under the sun to my parts of the realm?] She asked, still full of smiles. Brighton took a deep sniff and sighed. This was another reason he disliked walking into the Mirabelle world. It was so impure. [You should know by now.] He huffed in annoyance. [There is a variable brought from another world. By a Fallen Angel no less.] This put a damper on Goddess''s teasing. Only for a moment though. She concentrated, the world growing slower and less vibrant, like something essential was being sucked out of its surroundings. In a sense it was. After draining mana for a few minutes her little companions started escaping. They were used to her trances, but this one was longer and much more dangerous than anything they saw up to date. If they weren¡¯t careful only dried-up bodies would remain. And then it ended. There was no mana-draining monster anymore, but a sensual young lady with a brilliant smile. [How¡­ interesting!] She exclaimed while jumping up and down in place. Her large globes followed. [Now, Brighty, a question for you. Have you handled a foreign soul ever before?] [Ummm¡­ no?] God in question gulped. [Are they somehow different from natives?] [Haaaaah. So you kinda assumed that everything will be the same nonetheless? Isn¡¯t that quite reckless, my dear?] Her smile was now in full bloom. It was even more inhuman - perfectly white teeth and full, crimson-stained lips. And yet male god was feeling some kind of anger behind it. [I¡¯m sorry!] He bowed immediately. [I¡¯ll repent, I promise, but right now we must save this core. It was sent to badlands and without any instruction, it would starve right away! I have to give it a chance!] Brighton screamed, while frantically waving his hands. Normally he would never fall so low, but right now there were lives on the line, so his dignity was secondary. [Please, help me.] [Of course, I¡¯ll help, you silly god!] Mirabelle laughed loudly, her anger hidden. [This is this and that is that. Since it¡¯s a foreign entity, we need to circumvent the system a bit and get a special connection. Something like a scrying orb, but linked towards only one place.] Her pretty brows scrunched up. [Now¡­ let¡¯s check this, and connect through the mana field and to get another¡­] She mumbled to herself for a long while and weaved her hands around, leaving blue lines in the air. Her little minions gathered back, watching the spectacle. Living in the Mirabelle realm was anything, but boring. It was true that their lives could be in jeopardy in a second, which happened nearly daily, but it was worth it. What more did they know about living? They were stuck in this world anyway. It took a few days, but gods, unlike mortals, were patient creatures. By the end Mirabelle was covered in sweat, accentuating her voluptuous figure. At least Brighton grew used to his form and squirmed much less. He even managed to create some kind of mana circuit, remotely completing most of his work. True - he could leave and return only when she finished, but his intuition screamed loudly enough to reconsider such a course of action. So he did. A gleaming mirror formed in empty space. It was about two meters high, edges made from live mana, trembling under a touch of goddess realm compressed energy. It formed a perfect window into the place where this Dungeon core was dumped in. They peered forward, expecting to see starving and feeble crystal buried in dirt, only to be greeted by a shocking sight of a few already dug-out rooms and strange things roaming between them with purpose. Mirabelle started laughing with a shrill voice. [Hahahaha! What is that, it¡¯s just too good to be true, did you pick up a little genius, Brighty?] She mocked. God of science had other problems though. [What is this?] He looked closer at one of the roaming beings. [WAIT! YOU CAN DO THAT?!] He screamed while flattening his face in the mirror. The target of his scrutiny simply trotted forward, while wobbling dangerously. That wasn¡¯t the problem. What was the problem was the fact that it was dead. No - it never was alive in the first place. Even now. And yet it knew how to move, work, and think on the most basic of levels. And it was held together by mana which looked suspiciously like duct tape. Not that either of the two gods knew what it was. 004 Uno, a few days earlier So yeah, plan ¡°I have no mouth and I must scream¡± has ended in failure. It was clearly not a super Saiyan world. No blonde hair, no monkey tail - I¡¯m not even thinking about how ridiculous would it look on the onyx gemstone that my body was turned into. This operation ended badly - not for the lack of trying though, but because I felt something. Ground, to be more precise. Yep. I¡¯ve fallen down from somewhere to somewhere. Progress! It¡¯s time to try another method. Dumb repetition? Maybe. But there isn¡¯t much to do anyway, so why not? Let¡¯s just say that shitting out magic didn¡¯t work either. I don¡¯t want to talk about it. After another failure, I''ve moved towards new goals. Or rather magic systems I remembered from different games and media. It was tiring. I didn¡¯t even know that I could get tired. After all, this body is now an unliving piece of earth. Well, maybe not completely un-living, but still¡­ So there was a shot at Aztec blood sacrifices - but where to find a victim willing or not? Or a virgin for that matter? I couldn¡¯t even bleed myself. Scratch that. Maybe voodoo? But how, without drugs? And I¡¯m all out of bodies to use. No zombies then... Chanting some Indian spells? Once again - silence was the answer. Witchcraft? Where would I (once again) find ingredients and more importantly a place to carve my sigils in? Summoning? I didn¡¯t remember any of lesser devil names and getting somebody like Lucifer or other grand and the powerful demon was out of the question. Especially because I now understood that they were most definitely real. And possibly fatal to a little gem like me. Maybe after I¡¯ll grow bigger. If I will. This took some time, but I tried every single trick in the book and was at my wit''s end. Nothing worked. I mean nothing! I even tried some Viking-like ancestor summoning or New Age bullcrap! Maybe my ancestors were just too timid? There were no heroes in my family tree! Bite me. And so - null. Zero. In desperation, I decided to be stupid. [Status] I thought. Having no mouth is really a handful. But lo and behold¡­ it worked.
Name Uno
Race Dungeon core
Affinity None
Element Anima
Location Henrik Waltzer ruined castle - Dungeons
Magic None
Skills None
Innate Abilities Mana sight
Mana levels Full
Seeing the blue box (once again) I made up my mind. If going stupid was the way to deliver then I¡¯ll do just that. [Mana sight] My mind whispered and then I saw everything. Which meant that I could recognize that I was lying on the floor in a small, half-buried room with a skeleton chained to the wall and parts of the ruined table and chair from which I undoubtedly fell. It was a small place, not even big enough for an adult human to stand up. But for a Dungeon core like me? It was perfect. Safe, for once. Unless there were some worms or other weird creatures in this world that would enjoy the crunchy texture of gems. No. Don¡¯t jinx it, Uno. Weird. It was the first time I referred to myself by my new name. Huh. So human beings can get used to anything. Interesting. Now how do I describe my newfound power? It was like echolocation - mana goes out, mana bounces from wall, dirt or that rat, mana goes back. And I know everything. Wait. Rat?! What the hell is that?! This place was sealed just a moment ago, how is there a rat inside? With a quick scan of surroundings, I get a closer look at both the being and its way of entrance. To put it simply - it dug a tunnel through the dirt. To put it in a bit more complicated way - this is no simple rat. While it is as big as a soccer ball - which would by itself elicit screams of horror from many women I know - it also has damn big claws and comically oversized front teeth. It¡¯s like a mole crossbreed with a rabbit and a rat. The greyish fur covering most of its body seems rather tough too. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Clearly, this creature was made in a way to ensure survival in some damn dangerous places. That¡¯s bad. Maybe this silly god who sent me here was panicking because of that? Now this means that chances of me surviving are min-Owwwww!! WHY ARE YOU EATING ME?! I¡¯m a freaking gem! You won¡¯t get full from nibbling on me, you damn rat! GYAAAAA! It hurts! It hurts! I was only hurt like that once! That damn heater was malfunctioning and trying to repair it I was electrocuted! Owwwwww! It felt just like THIS! *Bzzzzzzzzzt* . .. ¡­ Huh? I scanned the room once again. Molerat (let''s call it that right now) was lying on the floor, twitching. Its chest rose slower and slower and then simply - stopped. And so another blue box appeared.
Congratulations! New Attribute has been created - Dungeon core level Your Dungeon core level has been changed to 0 New Innate Ability has been added - Anima manipulation New Innate Ability has been added - Dungeon creation
Was I teleported to some Virtual Reality? What¡¯s with this world and freaking video game logic? I was still reeling from the pain but noticed that my surface was untouched. Seems like I¡¯m one sturdy gem. Just please, please¡­ I hope that all this pain was me losing HP? To turn away from reality I started to wonder even more about the rules of this world. By earlier demonstrated logic (I still can¡¯t stand how irrational it is) there should be few actions that could be taken right now. To summarize - killing gains me¡­ something. Let¡¯s in true gaming fashion call it experience. By getting it I¡¯ll grow stronger - level up. That much is clear. There are some weird things - like how did I generate electricity that killed this rat? Or why it wasn¡¯t working before. Why skill or magic ability wasn¡¯t added when it worked? What is Anima manipulation? What is the damn Anima itself? Hmmm¡­ to answer the last question. I think I remember something like that at least. There were some psychological shows I watched (again the science channel was my all-time favorite) and there was something about that word. Was it greek in origin? Roman? I don¡¯t remember. But it was about inner truth, I think? Or getting to the truth? Yet what was such truth if not preconception. Bah. Before I get too philosophical. What does it do? How do I use it? Think Uno. Think. Video game logic. Okay, let¡¯s be stupid once again. [Activate: Anima manipulation] *bwoooooom* Wow. It¡¯s so weird it¡¯s impressive. So to call out my powers I need to express them? Something happened. There was a sense of power going through me. I knew I could create. Give life. Enforce my truth on the universe. So of course, I did. I started the creation of my first minion. There wasn¡¯t much around to choose from, so I decided in my delusion to create as God did in the Bible - by using dirt. And maybe a bit of wood and iron which were just lying around. Courtesy of broken down jail bars and wooden furniture. The main body was made from dirt with pieces of stone mixed in. The same was done for the head. These weren¡¯t really important. Arms and legs were created from wood reinforced with small pieces of iron (in all honesty they looked like simple sticks), but most of it was used on the left one - to create shovel-like appendage. I didn¡¯t have the ability to heat up metals, but stacking sharp parts of it next to each other created enough space to both dig with it and carry some material. Second hand had three ¡°fingers¡± made from iron which gave creature ability to grasp, albeit on a basic level. Legs were made from wood with circular ¡°feet¡± looking like small plates. It was finished and I looked at it in pride. The act of creating something, however ugly and DIY looking was always one of the best parts. And as soon as I stopped pouring mana it simply fell apart. Huh? W-why? No. NO! I won¡¯t be defeated! Video game logic! Video game logic! My chant worked like self-hypnosis. I sculpted, connecting various parts together and the being was turning to nothingness almost immediately. And again. And again. But it wasn¡¯t a one-sided fight. I was learning. When I squinted enough (yes, I know - quite hard without eyes) it seemed like there were parts of energy flowing away from my gem - core if you like - and reinforcing my creation. Only they dissipated the moment I took away my attention. They reminded me of glue used to keep the parts together. Yet I was firmly in duct tape camp, using it and it¡¯s varieties in both my private life and while working. There was nothing that couldn¡¯t be held together by it. What duct tape joined let man not disconnect. Or so. So why not¡­ I started using my ¡°mental duct tape¡± on a future minion and getting more important parts together. It took me some time, but with patience dirt ¡°human¡± stood before me. In one piece! Even when I took my mana-tention back. It wasn¡¯t moving. So I tried the next trope. If ability calling worked with other things, then what about¡­ [Analyze]
Anima-glued Dirt Drone Dungeon drone made from inferior materials by young and inexperienced Dungeon core. It has a basic ability to move, function, excavate, transport and attack. It is also first of its kind - both in the dungeon and on Yana - because of ingenious use of Anima magic as a bonding agent. Drones are incapable of moving outside limits of the Dungeon core influence that spawned them.
It worked! And that explains why this Drone of mine cannot move. There was something in earlier announcements about creating a dungeon, right? [Status]
Race Dungeon core
Name Uno
Dungeon core level 0
Affinity None
Element Anima
Location Henrik Waltzer ruined castle - Dungeons
Magic None
Skills None
Innate Abilities Mana sight, Anima manipulation, Dungeon creation
Yup. Here it is. Let¡¯s do it like before. [Dungeon creation]
Congratulations! Unnamed Dungeon has been created! Innate Ability has been lost - Dungeon Creation
Hey! That¡¯s not fair! I worked hard for that! Well, maybe not. But it was mine nonetheless¡­ Wha-at? Why doooo I feel soooo ti-red~ G¡¯night. Wait, I thought that I couldn¡¯t sleep? Ah, who cares. Sweet dreams ***
Congratulations! Unnamed Dungeon basic drone chassis has been created. Drone production will commence. Room creation will commence. Materials dissolution will commence.
NOW
005 Uno I was sleeping soundly, for the first time in what felt like years. There is something deeply enjoyable about this soundless abyss. That¡¯s why I was quite pissed when the words waking me up were so rude. [What is this?] A voice of a middle-aged man sounded. And then, a really, really loud shout followed. [WAIT! YOU CAN DO THAT?!] [Somebody is trying to sleep here!] I grumbled, speaking in the same way that I used to activate abilities. Somehow it worked and the being responded. [You can hear me? MIRABELLE! Argh, so much for looking like an ancient, divine being.] He grumbled too. Wait. I know that voice. [Brighton?] I probed. [Oh, so you remember me. Good. Why weren¡¯t you talking earlier?] [I was sent towards your world without much warning, you know?] [Ah. As expected from Paidel. Ruthless.] God sighed with remorse. [I too wasn¡¯t the best host. If only I knew¡­ But there isn¡¯t much I can do right now. Maybe just offer my apology.] [Ummm¡­ sorry for asking, but aren¡¯t you, you know - a god? There shouldn¡¯t be any things that you can¡¯t do.] I asked, thinking about how complicated it was starting to be. [Normally - yes. But, you see - Yana is a bit different in that regard.] His voice slowed down. I just knew that there was more to the topic. [Like what?] [You see-] He started talking unwillingly only to be interrupted by much younger, lighter voice. [Oh, let me explain! You and your useless pride! Bah.] After berating Brighton, the voice continued. [I¡¯m called Mirabelle and I¡¯m the Goddess of Luck and Chance. Nice to meet ya, youngling core!] [Hello?] I answered weakly at that intrusion to our conversation. [Howdy! Now to continue our discussion. You see some time ago - thousands of years in the past - natives of this planet pretty much fucked themselves up during the magical war.] [Mirabelle! Language!] A voice from the background screamed in indignation. [Don¡¯t be so stiff. We¡¯re all adults here.] I could sense her wide smile through these words. [By meddling with powers they didn¡¯t understand pretty much all of the planet''s mana was thrown into chaos. Children were born horribly mutated, both flora and fauna faced near-extinction and then grew madly aggressive, normal magic stopped working. That kind of bad.] [I see.] Yup - like people on our planet thought would happen after a nuclear holocaust. Well, maybe without the magic part. [Everything was in chaos. Stabilizing both the planet and its inhabitants took a lot from us. There were more gods then though. And when we were thinking that Yana was on a way to recuperation they did it again.] [I¡¯m sorry?] [They fucking magically nuked their planet. AGAIN!] [...] [So, little core you¡¯re now on a planet sliding down a one-way ride to hell. Most of the gods were so pissed that they simply left the planet, searching for¡­ ¡°other job opportunities¡±.] I briefly wondered what were job opportunities for gods. [So now we¡¯re stuck, seeding dungeons and trying to use them to both cull the number of the sentients and get them strong enough to stop this madness. And preferably reclaim the territories of the badlands. We established the System to take care of sapients and help them fight the beasts and most importantly stop the spread of the corruption, which turned out better than expected. Sadly it cuts down our power and ability to intervene.] [Okay¡­ What are the badlands then?] [It¡¯s the place where you are. The borders of it, anyway. Full of mutated creatures and mad, desperate people who hunt them or just try to eke a living. Living here is better than starving in the bigger cities or dying in bloody clan wars. Or worse, race wars.] [And what I can do?] [A few hundred years ago I would¡¯ve said - help us. Now? Just survive. Now that you created your dungeon both mutated creatures and surrounding people will find you. It¡¯s only a matter of time. After all, your mana is clean and tasty - like an oasis in the desert.] [Shit. Then I¡¯ll change my question. What should I do?] [Shore your defenses, kill invaders, be it beast or man. And survive.] Her voice quietened for a moment. [We¡¯re nearly out of time.] [Any tips?] I asked hopefully. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. [I can see that you¡¯re a bit stuck. If you¡¯ll stand by us, in the end, some of my or Brighty priests will contact you. And hopefully, help you. Also¡­] [Also?] [Remember that your mana manipulation isn¡¯t limited to innate abilities!] [But I don¡¯t have access to other skills!] [Duh¡­ maybe people down here have already forgotten this, but System is only a crutch! Nothing more!] She laughed at the end until whatever they were using for communication ran out of gas. Then I turned on my Mana sight and trembled. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! WHY ARE THERE MORE OF YOU?! *** Mirabelle Hahahahaha, it was so nice! Such a naive little core! Now only to make sure it survives and in a few decades, it will be ripe for harvest. Lovely. Maybe she won¡¯t have to leave this planet after all. At least it could add a few hundred years to the planet lifespan and as such provide her more opportunities. As she was planning and wondering a loud and obnoxious voice entered the Goddess'' ears. [Mirabelle! What were you thinking?!] Brighton shouted, always much-too-proper and inflexible. [If this core, no - this person - stays on Yana it will no doubt be harvested or even corrupted. Isn¡¯t it why we were not sending any truly sentient souls to act as dungeons?] His fury was clear. Now, how to pacify him¡­ yes. Of course. The fabled greater good trick. [The chance was already lost. As a foreign being there is no way to get him out, so we need to bet on his resilience. Besides¡­] She lowered her tone, hissing like a snake. [Did you take a good look at these constructs of his?] [I did, but I still don¡¯t understand how¡­] [It doesn¡¯t matter how!] She interrupted, joining their bodies together. There was a need to distract him, Brighty was weak under pressure after all. [His creations should be able to survive in the badlands unimpeded. What¡¯s more - sentients may learn how to create them!] She closed in and whispered deviously. [And most importantly they can - in time - gain sentience! And then there will be a whole race of corruption-resistant beings which can once again colonize the planet!] Her laugh was overwhelmingly loud. Spirits surrounding them had already hid. They knew that laugh. [But¡­ His soul could be lost forever. He could get harvested. Or worse.] God of science still had objections, the last vestiges of his integrity, but the voice of reason was quieter and quieter still. [It¡¯s for the greater good, brother.] Mirabelle took out heavy guns. [What worth has one future when it can save the whole world?] And us, she added in the depths of her mind. Brighton was clearly hesitating, so she finished. [Besides he was sent here by a Fallen Angel. Smuggled even. Do you think that anybody but demons tracks such transactions? We¡¯re safe.] [Yes, you¡¯re right. What worth has one sentient, when the fate of the world is in peril?] Strength returned to Brighton''s eyes. [Yup. I gotta rest - this mirror thing took a lot from me.] She smiled again, this time much sweeter than before. [I won¡¯t stop you then. Rest well, sister.] With a slight bow Brighton left her realm. After she was sure that he wasn¡¯t going to come back she laughed. And laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Spirits were trembling. *** Uno Calm. Like a fucking leaf on the wind. I need to be calm. There were now five of these Drones, waltzing around the place, looking for something to do. How did they even get here? I have no idea. They simply spawned when I wasn¡¯t looking. To tell the truth - when I was sleeping after creating my dungeon. At least they kinda shine when hard work is involved. These guys don¡¯t tire and don¡¯t nag me about things. On the downside they were totally, utterly stupid and stubborn. Like rocks given soul. I guess they kinda are? Under my watchful Analyze their structure was shown as the same rock/duct tape combination as the first one. Truth to be told I can¡¯t even differentiate which one was created first. At least under their watch, four rooms were fully excavated and prepared for further usage. And I mean for real - like somebody licked the floor clean. Also, every iron bar, piece of wooden furniture or some random odds and ends were somehow absorbed. When I focused hard enough I could feel them - blueprint-like explanation and meaty, material innards. Curiously skeletons dotting this place were left alone by the raging cleaners. Right now all the space I had available underground wasn¡¯t really that big. From the still collapsed entrance a small tunnel was running ahead only to branch out after five meters to the left and the right. In both cases, there was a small room, with two cubic meters of empty space inside. Continuing ahead after three more meters, the tunnel ended with - once again - two branching rooms. In the right one, my onyx core was lying on the floor. These two were also about two cubic meters and stood there bare. The small, but cozy dungeon I guess. Or it would be if not for the veritable rat invasion. They were streaming in one after another, digging through soft dirt in the collapsed entrance and in the room I was in. Clearly, something lured them in and the first one was only the beginning. At least my drones were useful for something - their graspers squeezing invaders to death and shovel-like arms cutting off their heads. What¡¯s more, I was able to absorb their bodies, learning how they were made. Blueprints - again. And thanks to that I learned that they weren¡¯t called molerats, but simply Grey Rats.
Grey Rat Small, mutated critter common in the badlands. They serve as a source of nutrition for pretty much every predator and even some desperate sentients. Their meat is tasteless and stringy, with a repulsive odor. Grey Rats are omnivores sensitive to heightened concentrations of mana, especially those of a non-corrupted kind. They are named after their fur color and use enlarged fangs and teeth to fight against their foes. No known magical affinity or special skills. Like most of the badlands beasts, they contain an inner gland used in cleansing mana. Threat level: E-
Now, wait a moment. Two things - first one... there are threat levels? That changes things. Especially since my Drones are threat level E. This was not much, just enough to take care of these rats. Which in turn makes me stronger, but due to the lack of experience counter I can¡¯t feel for how close to level-up I am. How could I guess that there will be a moment when I¡¯ll miss all these computer programs installation bars... And secondly - mana conversion gland? Now isn¡¯t that interesting. I would have to get a bit butchery-like on it, but right now I need to do something even more important. That is to make myself some guards. And maybe traps? 006 Uno Now, how should I begin my creation spree? First - it''s better to check what materials I have at hand - what was absorbed in these few days. Now, should I let go of my gaming preconceptions and simply order my new power around? Let¡¯s do it! With all my might I simply wished to know. And the System responded in turn.
Current resource availability:
  • common oak hardwood
  • common conifer softwood
  • common low-quality pig iron
  • low-quality dirt
  • limestone
  • sandstone
  • meat (Grey Rat)
  • leather (Grey Rat)
  • bone (Grey Rat, human)
  • vegetable matter (grass)
It wasn¡¯t a lot. You may be wondering, how did the human bones appear on this list? I kinda decided to absorb them a few moments earlier. This allowed me to learn how humans were made, or at least their bones. And while most of the skeletons in my closets were incomplete I was able to piece the whole specimen. Which I promptly summoned. It took a bit from my reserves. This mana thing wasn¡¯t endless after all. Under the thrall of my ability, it stood upright, white bones slightly gleaming under power emitted from dungeon core. The rest of the room was too dark for sentient eyes to see. As a material I used human bones - there was a hesitation, not because they were sacred or something, but because I had stronger things on hand. Yet each of them had a distinct weakness - wood was easy to burn and warp, metal rusted (and pig iron wasn¡¯t really that good anyway), the stone was much too heavy¡­ I needed something strong and light. And making a human skeleton from rat bones felt just wrong. I started immediately - first to cover its chest in the iron, uneven surface of metal forming something similar to armor. It completely hidden skeleton ribs, and then, like a living thing excess flew towards its arms and legs. I precisely controlled how much of it was allowed to bond with my creature, turning it into a rusty looking juggernaut. It didn¡¯t need eyes, so even its helmet was looking like some third rate blacksmith tried creating the knightly doll. Since the body was complete I could focus on a weapon. I leaned into making swords and spears or similarly complicated weapons - but these would be nothing more but pale imitations of the real stuff. Mana creation seemed to lean heavily in a favor of things I had a good idea of how they were made. Or in other words, what I had blueprints for. So instead of getting fancy, I went for the easiest choice - a club made from metal, with wicked spikes on it. I finished my job and in turn mana receded like an ocean wave. Only to see my creation crumpled on the floor. Ah. Duct tape. It was needed once again. I quickly zoomed in - moving through something like iron was not posing any problem - only to see from the inside how metal was bonding with bone. Or rather how it wasn¡¯t. But! There is something in this world called double-sided tape! A real marvel! By using it I managed to join up both components and force the new being to stand up. It wasn¡¯t large. The skeleton was about 160 centimeters high - the size of a small adult or big child - but thanks to that it could move through the dungeon without problems. My first impression was that it looked like a discount knight figure, similar to the ones that people used in some wargames, back in my old world. Only totally discolored. It moved jerkily, dragging large club behind it and leaving marks on the floor. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. But once again, I was not yet finished! As an icing on the cake my power over Anima, the chosen, inner truth, swelled and drowned the creature. It struggled for a moment, seemingly getting melted under violent currents. Two reddish eyes formed on its faceplate, hidden under the metallic eyelid, as did two small horns. Or more like thick antennas? They were flat on the end after all. Arms grew more slender and its ribcage stretched, bulging against the body''s surface, yet it remained contained within the metal. Fingers thickened, making it able to pick up its weapon with ease, and the creature''s legs grew shorter and more robust, allowing for greater power when swinging. The transformation stopped and I immediately used Analyze, only to be greeted by a weird announcement.
Iron Anima-Touched Lesser Abomination Making use of sentient parts when creating golems and monsters is a huge taboo. Those who create such monsters tend to gather positive and negative karma in greater amounts. This never before seen race had touched its inner truth and emerged as half-machine half-undead beings. For now, however, its intelligence is only marginal. In turn, it won¡¯t tire nor grow hungry, working towards nothing else but completing its duty. This type of monster has a clear preference for martial arts and close combat fighting. It has no special abilities except Charge, which will allow it to close distance towards its foe. Like all abominations its weak towards holy magic and due to its machine heritage - lightning. Threat level: E+
Wow. That was a mouthful. So¡­ I¡¯ll call them Lebirs? Because of Lesser Iron Abominations? It¡¯s shorter and rolls on my tongue just fine. The first of the new race simply stood without moving, waiting for my commands. It was more like a doll - without a will on its own. For now, I left it in the corner. Since I already created my first melee combatant there was a need for something that could take care of fighting at range. There wasn¡¯t much choice, really, when it came to the base of this new monster. It could be either another humanoid or monster similar to a rat. Since I already used humans now it was time for rats. And I had a weapon just for them prepared - all low-tech and shit. And just to be fair - I tried creating biological entities - they were just that - bags of meat, collapsing on the floor almost immediately. Their hearts didn¡¯t beat, blood didn¡¯t flow, brains didn¡¯t work. Complete and total failures. And yet with metal and decaying flesh, I was able to grant them life. Weird. Like before I was basing this new monster on a biological skeleton. On that thin coating of pig iron created pseudo-skin and under it - muscles made from my mana duct tape. After that came enlarging - it gained another ten centimeters and I sculpted a long trench through the middle of its head and on parallel to its spine. The tail was elongated and made more flexible while still full of muscles - allowing for greater motion range, dexterity, and power. After that, I forced on it a little spear with a wooden shaft and iron head - just long enough to fit into the carved trench. Mechanical rat tail could be used to push it out like a spear thrower, the monster head used as an aiming mechanism. What¡¯s more on the end of said tail I created three-pronged graspers which could be used to pick things up - like for example¡­ new spears. As a finishing touch, I soaked the beast in Anima just like I did with his predecessor, bringing it to full un-life and elongating the tail even more. Now it was longer than the beast itself, dextrous like a sentient hand. And as a bonus - under rat belly dangled a small pouch with few more spears - far enough to not be seen at first glance, but easily accessible for its tail-hand. My creation was ready. What Analyze had to say?
Iron Ratling Spear Thrower Small, beast-like dungeon creature created from basic Grey Rat. It boasts much better speed, strength, and firepower, thanks to iron skin and the spear thrower carved into its flesh. Has pack mentality, a tendency to form tribal societies and will help any dungeon creatures in the vicinity defend their home. Will breed naturally and convert some locations to Lairs. Natural evolutions are available. Has built-in mana conversion gland which allows it to roam corrupted wastelands without trouble. Threat level: E
Good enough. In anticipation, I order drones to dig through western parts of the dungeon. Yes, yes I know - where is west, east, north and south here? How can I tell without seeing the sun? I can¡¯t! So what? My newest decree is that entrance tunnel is to the south, to the northeast is my core room and to the west are now Ratling Warrens! At least as soon, as my minions will manage to dig them through. I also sent them to the southeastern jail cell and ordered its expansion. My Ratlings would need somebody to arm them after all, but it wasn¡¯t all that pressing matter since there were no enemies to fight as of yet. In a flight of fancy, I created four more Ratlings. Each of them looked a bit different, like you know - individual creatures, not machines - and ordered them to claim nest in the Warrens as soon as my Drones finished their work. Two more Lebirs were also made, but due to their nature (or rather lack of intelligence), I moved them towards the entrance and ordered to guard it. And - most importantly - I sealed all these little pathways that Grey Rats were pouring in my dungeon, turning dirt into sandstone, which was simply too much for their claws and teeth. Now the only way in was from the south, where my mechanical men stood guard. I could only wait. Drones weren¡¯t really that adept at digging, but they did the job. Eventually. And after that, I should probably look at my dungeon as a whole. I wasn¡¯t bothered by a lack of lighting, but some of my creations may be¡­ Time to do some decorating! 007 Uno I was going mad. These stupid Drones getting through the prison wall were slowly driving me insane. *shing* *shing* *shing* *chikk* *shing* *shing* And repeat. Ad nauseam. Metal clanging against stone, again and again, was unhinging. To escape from boredom I started to take stock of already done work and things that I still needed to make or create. Most of my work orders were fulfilled - the western part of the dungeon was now a 4 by 5 meters big room with a strange mound-like structure in the middle. It sported a few entrances from different sides, but the main parts of the structure were underground. I was staring at the unseen part of it and it was glorious! The network of tunnels and small rooms dotted pretty much the entirety of the current dungeon and some of them even stretched outside. Normally (because of that twisted mana) even my sight couldn¡¯t penetrate the outer darkness. And yet Ratlings slowly nibbled on it, allowing both me and their kin access. Still - the singled-out structure looked simply lonely. And I was about to change that. Firstly, I was thinking about adding some light - both this one room and all others. Secondly, I would like to force the invaders'' hand and funnel them through Ratling Warrens, because right now they could waltz straight into my core room and I would be not able to stop them. Because of that, I let my imagination flow. What is the first thought when hearing the word ¡°light¡±? As a human¡­ or rather a former human from a highly civilized society answer was simply - a light bulb! My idea was to create something that could hang from the ceiling, like a lamp - I would prefer a plant or something of this kind, but since my material options were limited I decided to go for something in-between. As a base, I created a wooden liane - short and thick, only ten or so centimeters from the ceiling. In the middle of it was a small, pear-shaped ¡°fruit¡± - it had two iron bolts inside and was built from thin wires. Yes, I know iron was not ideal as a conductor, but until something like copper fell onto my lap I would work with what I had. Add to that a battery-like organ located in the lower part (in plant equivalent of roots) and my chandelier was finished. Why chandelier? Because I also made thinner lianas all around the central one, with only two bolts on their pointy end, and bent them in such a shape that if somebody wanted to take ¡°fruit¡± from my creation it would snap shut like a bear trap. Electrocuting and hitting unlucky brave in the process. This ¡°plant¡± was also programmed by my Anima to sway on non-existent wind thus creating moving shadows, helpful to my other creations. There were also some more¡­ disturbing changes. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Using Analyze I was able to confirm them.
Electrical Chandelier This dungeon monster uses plant mimicry to look like a safe, but bizarre source of light. It''s mostly passive, feeding of local mana and maintaining its form. Unless somebody gets foolish enough to try plucking the fruit it sports. Not only such a person will get electrocuted but also grabbed by its rope-like appendages. In the unlikely situation that somebody manages to detach Chandelier fruit without much damage, it''s possible to plant it or create accessories and weapons with power over lightning. Threat level: E++
I immediately planted one of them in every room adding much-needed light to the ceiling. After that, I sculpted tree roots from available materials and distributed them among free space. These were of course only roots, as I still couldn¡¯t get a hang of creating something truly alive. So no trees yet. I guess Ratlings were an exception. And then I proceeded to seed geometric statues through the dungeon - with swaying shadows one could easily think of them, as enemies. And in some cases, they were designed as such. It was time for trap creation. Since most of my minions were either stupid or clumsy it was hard to make something dangerous, but only for invaders. In the end, I settled on animating some of my statutes - humanlike shapes made from iron and wood, with large, oval heads without hair nor eyes and thin, wire-like limbs. They were mostly just standing around, but some of them I put into poses. There was dogeza statue, a triumphant statue, a running away statue, a begging statue, dancing statue. And so. Each of them was designed to unnerve, but also accustom invaders to their existence. A few had spear throwers in their chests, cleverly hidden behind the mesh of wires. Some simply grabbed people walking near them, trying to crush their opponents. Others were created to impale enemies with hidden, rusted spears. Possibly. Hopefully. At least my Lebirs were sturdy enough to withstand them. One of them kinda stumbled over the trap while I was putting it in the tunnel. That¡¯s why I prepared a clear road leading toward every room available. Thanks to that Lebirs and Drones traversing it could actually get some work done. I also made sure that the road straight towards my core (from the southern entrance, where I decided the digging will commence as soon as possible) was blocked. By using stone and not my Drones'' hard work (when digging they were acceptable, but building¡­ nope) I made sure that it was sturdy enough to stop invaders and force them to move through Ratling Warrens in order to reach my core. I also started working on the now excavated southeastern room. I had a clear purpose in mind - but the materials and blueprints at hand were not enough. Yet. Instead, I did what I could - making wooden barrels and metal trunks, while filling some of them with additional Lebir clubs, Ratling reserve spears, and even some crude shields I made after a moment of consideration. This would be a forge or rather machining room. As soon as I was able to create somebody or something to man it. Which would probably take some time. I mean¡­ blueprints for sentients were gained after killing them? I think. Not like I killed any¡­ These bodies were here when I arrived, Mr. Policeman! In a few minutes more barrels and trunks appeared all over the dungeon - most of them empty, a few filled with traps, and even fewer- with weapons. This time I went for simplicity when it came to traps. I made two types - one which simply tried to cut a hand searching through the container and another, which pierced it. Of course, if somebody was stupid enough to push his head inside¡­ then the threat level moved toward lethal. I guess that means it''s time to start digging toward my self-proclaimed entrance. My rats already spied another room somewhere to the south. Only a few meters - logical, considering that all this underground complex was here before and I was only excavating it. The room itself looks more like a long-ish hallway, but to glean anything more from Ratling was simply impossible. I should probably be grateful for any information at all. I¡¯m also pretty sure that there is nothing alive left in these rooms. Otherwise, my not-so-strong minions would get slaughtered right away. And in the worst-case scenario, something could even invade their tunnels in turn. But for now, I can only wait. *shing* *shing* *shing* *chikk* *shing* *shing* And hope to keep my sanity. 008 Uno Contrary to common belief dungeon cores aren¡¯t all-knowing and all-seeing when it comes to their turf. Like I said before - I¡¯m capable of bouncing mana around my tunnels and rooms which gives me the ability to see, give orders or make something out of thin air. Why am I droning about it? Well¡­ Right now I¡¯m getting invaded. And I was notified of this only because one of Lebirs retreated back to my territory after getting his shit kicked in. Can you imagine it? These stupid things getting tactical?! After seeing my minion moving back like a broken toy I made my mana bounce and ran (not a correct word, sue me!) towards the source of the commotion. After a minute I was able to soak my surroundings. It seemed like my Drones managed at last break down the wall of earth dividing my mini-dungeon from the large hall to the south. At first glance, I could see that not much remained there after years of disrepair. Clearly, this room was part of some underground complex and my closest guess would be it was once a food hall, seeing long tables and a large number of chairs strewn around. Or rather their remains. There were also broken down tapestries, which seemed to depict some long lost heraldry - now brown and riddled with holes. There were also wooden poles with a metal part which seemed like something used to light up this dreary place. This whole room was about four by nine meters with the ceiling as high as three in most places, which in turn put it on about one hundred cubic meters worth of space. There were also three doors visible from the entrance. One on the right and two on the left. Surprisingly my mana wasn¡¯t able to flow into this place, kept back by some unseen force. Former inhabitants of this room weren¡¯t really in the mood to talk - they instead choose to trade blows with my minions. Lebirs were keeping guard over the new tunnel, smacking down anyone approaching with mirth I didn¡¯t know they had in them. Lively for half undead half machine abominations. Ratlings, on the other hand, created small holes in the wall - high enough to shoot at average male height and pelted advancing enemies with their spears. It wasn¡¯t very effective though. Mostly because our opposition was clearly undead - human skeletons clad in remains of armor, with empty eyes and jerky movements. They slowly shuffled towards my minions and entrance to the dungeon, while keeping absolute silence. It was creepy as fuck. At least most of them were unarmed - using only their stretched hands as weapons. Just a few of them were sporting sword handles and small sticks which weren¡¯t really that hard to repel anyway. Pretty much every single one of them had looks of military personnel and my Analyze confirmed it.
Waltzer Castle Skeleton While no poor soul inhabits this husk it was once a part of humanity''s greatest army, created to stop the northern beasts invasion. After unjust death, the accumulated resentment animated its bones and funneled rage towards any living being. This undead is not intelligent and will move according to instinct - killing any living beings and devouring pure mana. It has a basic ability to use tools and as undead is an untiring abomination, destroyed on sight by most sentient races. Due to accumulated damage, its threat rating has been lowered. Threat level: E+
Even damaged they¡¯re classified as E rank threat? What? My Lebirs are already putting them to the ground though¡­ Easily at that. Or are they? Now that I¡¯ve taken a closer look only a few of them stay down. The rest just falls, scrambles for a moment and tries to get back up¡­ At least my side doesn¡¯t have stamina issues either, but in a fit of panic, I created three more Lebirs and ordered them to move towards the battle. In the meantime two of the doors in food hall open and even more undead pour in through them, joining the scuffle. These ones look¡­ different. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. I wonder - Analyze.
Waltzer Castle Civilian Skeleton No soul inhabits this husk, but it was once one of the humans who sought shelter in the northern fortress. It was unjustly slain and forced to walk these halls for eternity. An accumulated resentment animated its bones and funneled rage towards any living being. This undead is not intelligent and will move according to instinct - killing any living beings and devouring pure mana. As undead, it is an untiring abomination, destroyed on sight by most sentient races. Due to accumulated damage, its threat rating has been lowered. Threat level: E
Oh. Now I see the difference. These skeletons look like women, children and unarmed men - most of their flesh and clothes already have turned to dust, but their movements and sizes are easy enough to differentiate. It seems like I¡¯ve stumbled on a site of a tragedy. Ah. But that¡¯s irrelevant! If I don¡¯t stop them then it will become a site of my tragedy! For now, Lebirs are trading blows with armored skeletons. There are about twenty of them remaining, with about thirty civilians slowly advancing from behind. How did they even fit in these halls?! Stopping them by the entrance to my dungeon are two Lebirs with two more running (or rather quickly stumbling) as a backup from my core room. One of them is getting healed in my core room. I feel that I can create maybe two more, so without any further question, I do just that. Ratlings aren¡¯t really that useful in this situation, seeing as mostly only blunt force trauma is enough to keep enemies down, but I can squeeze one more, seeing as their overall cost is lower, raising their numbers to six. Ah, but they can¡¯t really keep shooting - their spear reserves are already near zero, so I herd them back to forge room in order to resupply. As my attention goes back to the battle I see something jarring - new Lebirs are wrestling enemies with their bare hands! You fools! In anger, I intercept two of the newest ones and force them towards the forge. In there I order them to take only shields, as they¡¯re too heavy to use in conjunction with metal clubs. I can¡¯t really even call them shields - they¡¯re just thick blocks of big iron with a handle hammered to the side. And they¡¯re square. Shaking my non-existent head I force them back into the fight, commanding two unarmed fools to retreat and rearm. In the meantime, most of the enemies already swarmed my defenders. Not that it matters anyway - in an undead versus undead battle only total destruction matters. And that¡¯s what happens. One of the Lebirs is in the thick of it - swinging his mace and taking off heads with each move. Until it overextends and gets tackled to the ground. I guess most of living warriors would¡¯ve panicked by now. Or maybe when losing an arm. And now a leg. Oh, it still tries to swing the weapon, collapsing other enemies. Aaaaaaaand no appendages are left. Should I consider giving them mouths so they could bite their enemies? I wonder. As I try to keep up with the fighting my remaining Lebirs regroup and start a charge - with shieldbearers at the front! It goes well - maybe even too well, as they¡¯re now in the middle of skeletons and thinning down the crowd. I think my victory is now assured. If not for small detail. These undead don¡¯t want to fight my warriors and a few of those who are closest to the dungeon entrance started walking inside. It feels¡­ gross. All this decay and hatred - like somebody who''s been dead for a month. I guess that''s how my body was reeking, eh? No! It¡¯s not the time, Uno! Focus! How many are coming? Eight? Lebirs are too in the thick of things, but I can always order back my Ratlings. They move through their tunnels with uncanny speed, easily overtaking slow skeletons. And then they shot a few of them down working in tandem with my traps. Three down, five to go! Damn, they¡¯re already in Ratling Warrens - two of them get sniped by leg-gnawing rodents, but three remain still. Shit. Will I get eaten? Shit, shit, shit. And then I bounce back and see the most beautiful sight under the sun. Or dungeon core light, whatever. The Lebir who was healing near me is still here! And it has its club! I would kiss you if I could! Attack! I relay my orders and the only tactical Lebir in existence charges forward, taking one of the skeletons apart. It then stops, bonking himself into a wall, but tries to continue the assault in a smooth motion. His club cleanly takes out forward skeleton head and smashes it like a ball against the closest wall. The third invader tries to ignore my minion and go for the core. Lebir promptly catches it by its leg and jerks with enough strength to force the undead airborne! With another jerk, it smashes the thing down! And the undead is no more. Haaaaaaah. That was terrifying! Positively terrifying! I need to up my game. These were just some skeletons. What if something much stronger or more intelligent came? I would be dead core, that¡¯s what! 009 Uno Now then - the first real invasion of my dungeon was taken care of. Somehow. Losses - two Lebirs, two arms, and legs of a Lebir, and two Ratlings. They¡¯ve been replaced already. I even made sure to repair the damaged Lebir, so he (it?) wasn¡¯t worse for wear. I also made sure that the minion who defended my core stood to watch there - permanently. It was going to be my boss if only in name, at least until I¡¯ve got my hands on some better metals and maybe magical resources. Speaking of gains - I¡¯ve managed to get some common cotton cloth - thankfully I was able to remake it in its pristine, non-rotten state. I summoned it a few times - just to make sure that magic was working all right. You never know. Then I kinda left it as it was, as there was no real need for it. My Lebirs had armor and Ratlings were made from metal¡­ And yet the latter were abnormally interested in it. Their unspoken request was granted and in a fit of good mood, I summoned a few more pieces of white cloth. Ratlings squeaked in delight as they dragged them toward their tunnels. My other absorptions weren¡¯t really that noteworthy. One or two more types of wood, ash, rusted pig iron, with some pieces of different stones, and statues. All interesting things, like food, paper, glass, and such were long gone. And no magical items either. I guess even if they once were down here time and undead presence destroyed them completely. Just my luck. On another note as soon as all enemies were defeated I managed to claim the food hall and two additional rooms from where civilian undead came. There is also one more room just left of my dungeon''s former entrance, but while its door was barely functional at some point in time there was a cave-in. This meant that my Drones had to break through in order to expand. Which I wasn¡¯t too keen on. At least for now. I was still continuing my earlier line of thought - to claim what remained of the castle dungeons and even lower levels if these were up for grabs. So just you wait, conveniently-out-of-place-room! But I was going to make some changes first. The last battle taught me as much. I need to rework my traps. Or instead, add new ones. Skewering and cutting undead wasn¡¯t really working. True - I might have to contend with adventurers, but that was a future I¡¯d have to survive first to even experience. I dug a few pits and lined their surfaces with sharp metal spikes. Or at least as sharp as I could make them. I mostly put them in bottlenecks. Fair play? Never heard of it! But leaving them open would be too stupid even for mindless undead. Instead, I opted for a bit of manual touch. Above every pit, I put a sheet of metal with two rods long enough to keep it in place. And then add a lever in one of Ratling''s tunnels running near it. With that, I only needed to give them an order to pull the lever whenever somebody walked over it¡­ and done! Of course, the metal looks mighty suspicious so I also put freshly acquired cotton on top of it and covered its surface with dirt and ash. Flickering light from Chandeliers wasn¡¯t helping in spotting the discrepancy either. A few more Ratlings were made too, enlarging their colony to about twenty-three individuals. With their new trap duties, this much was a given. More Lebirs were added. Now I had fifteen soldiers ready to defend me to death. One of them was in the core room, two in the future forge room, and two each in rooms attached to the food hall. That left eight of them standing between statues I just made in the food hall. Just to screw with anybody walking in. Heh. The whole room was remade, with a central table and many chairs prepared. I even created small bowls and utensils from wood, to complement the theme. Under the walls stood both my Lebirs and statues eerily similar to them. Of course, some of them had been tampered with, sporting either cutting or stabbing traps. Add to that my Chandeliers and the whole spooky-creepy atmosphere was complete! No! Focus, Uno! You¡¯re doing it again! Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Now for the most critical change. I lied. I found copper. And this was a game-changer for me. After all, I can use it to create wires that can carry electrical impulses. What is more important - I hooked them up to the electrical fruits I accidentally made. That and a few changes to traps allowed me to electrify some of them. Just for extra OOMPH! Soooo then - to the next plan. I was not omniscient in my dungeon. But that was going to change. Because now I had copper. And - after a few dissections - knowledge of Ratling and Lebir eye structure, so there was only one thing to do. Create cameras that is. That part was easy. Connecting them through the wires laid on the ceiling was also easy. Putting one in each room and a long hallway - eeeeeeasy. Now, for the mad scientist part. I was going to attach them to my core gem. My onyx. I didn¡¯t know how to do it, but I just went with the flow. This means that my core room now has a lot of copper wires hanging from the ceiling, attached through small suckers to my gem. Now... time to start the engine! Aaaaand¡­ GO. GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! It huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurts, abort! Abort! ABORT! GYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAH, GUUUUUUUURGH! I need¡­ to¡­ Darkness comes, I see. Ugh. I must pay for my stupidity. Farewell, cruel world! Haaaaah.
Congratulations! Your Affinity has been changed to Lightn-!&1&! A new Affinity has been created - Electricity! Your Affinity has been changed to Electricity!
Uhhhhh¡­ Thanks? *** The Geinard Kingdom, a few days later Chambers of Charles Blueflame, High Paladin of Order of Fates Untold Charles was a Blueflame, one of those Blueflames, but as the third son of a noble, even influential one, a position in this relic-like order was all that his father could manage. It didn¡¯t help that there wasn¡¯t a chance for promotion, because paladins were in charge of new dungeons. There won¡¯t be any since their Goddess said so one hundred years ago. More or less. Their whole existence was obsolete, which he lamented even now, sipping his goldlire tea and reading a book near the fireplace. It didn¡¯t help that the whole organization he was in charge of was, in reality, a bunch of young immature second and third sons of nobility stuffed in here to get them out of sight. Of course, he was here because of other reasons. It was all because his older brothers grew jealous. He just knew that! In a few years, his flame would reach the famed ¡°blue¡± level! Just you see! As he was enjoying his plans and the faces of his brothers looking up upon his magnificent magic his old butler, Adam, entered with all haste. "What has you so spooked, old man?" He asked while smiling. Little peasants, always running and panicking. Inner peace is what differentiates nobles from the masses. "Our resident priest just received an oracle - a new dungeon was born in the northern reaches of the Heiron continent! The location is not yet known, but we must move, now!" The old man shouted and it was Charles''s turn to panic. "What?! H-how? Goddess announced that there won¡¯t be any changes?!" "Who are we to contend with God''s wisdom?" Asked his butler in a pious tone. "Y-yeah, I guess¡­ Get the recruits ready. Prepare rations, wagons, and weapons. Make sure there are enough bottles of holy water and the hired magical support is present. And for fuck''s sake, don¡¯t let my brothers know!" "At once, master!" The old man was clearly getting warmed up. After all - it was said that such a new dungeon was bound to be unique! And, more importantly - it was a job that only the Order of Fates Untold was able to do! *** The Geinard Kingdom, five hours later Undisclosed location "So, are you saying that those pompous buffoons did get a prophecy from the Goddess?" "Yes, Your Majesty. Our spies confirmed that they were already forming an expedition. What should we do? Arrest them?" A person clothed in a robe and a dark hood was kneeling before a small throne. "No. It¡¯s their duty for once. And more importantly¡­ You may not remember, but dungeon exploration rarely goes without hitches. Let them try it first." "Oh, so we let them pull chestnuts out of a fire, then?" "Yes. After all, from what I¡¯ve heard it''s just north of our borders." "Somewhere around there. It would take about a month to just get in the vicinity. And then search for it while battling undead..." "Let them do the work then." "Your Majesty is most wise." "Flattery will get you nowhere, Hawk." "I live to serve, your Majesty." "Somehow I doubt it. Just make sure that they take some of the soldiers with higher levels too. It would be a shame if the young Blueflame were to perish just like that." "It will be done." 010 Uno So yeah, stuff happened and now it seems like I have an electrical affinity. Not much changed though. I was still bumbling about with my dungeon plans. There was a new innate ability, but I still wasn¡¯t sure what it really did. [Status]
Race Dungeon core
Name Uno
Dungeon core level 0
Affinity Electricity
Element Anima
Location Henrik Waltzer ruined Castle - Dungeons
Magic None
Skills None
Innate Abilities Mana sight, Anima manipulation, Electricity Encroachment
I had other problems. These two rooms near the food hall were bugging me now. Empty and useless. This won¡¯t do! I decided to take the first crack at the one just to the right of my former entrance. Since there were tables and chairs in the other room I decided to remake this one as a kitchen. Of course, there weren¡¯t any edibles right now - not counting stringy rat meat I could now produce because of earlier invaders. It was useless though as none of my creatures needed feeding. Even Ratlings were sampling electricity from Chandelier fruits or directly from the wires. It seemed like enough to sustain them. However, once I gained some true, living minions I would have to feed them. As such creating a kitchen space would be a sound investment. First I added a light source, smaller than the others, but still as dangerous. After all, nobody cooks in darkness. Then a few tables, chairs and cupboards. I even created frying pans, dinner plates, forks, and knives (although dull ones) - and in a fit of brilliance - false foods. In a "salt" container I put talc, and then I did the same with sugar, but using crystal-like stones. Next was a slab of meat made from sandstone and colored to look like a real thing. A few more greens I remembered from Earth-like potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and fruits - apples, oranges, and strawberries. All made of stone. I would get to work out here as soon as I could get my hands on organic materials from outside. I would then make my kitchen ingredients even more real. And maybe even create a cook to work in here? As a finishing touch, I added an electric cooking stove, hooking it up to the wires that now infiltrated every centimeter of dungeon space. Just like the tunnels of my Ratlings. And the rest? Plans for the future, plans for the future. For now, there is a second room awaiting attention. This one is a bit bigger so I decided to use it as a sparring space. Two sources of light were attached to the ceiling and after a moment I created a weapon and armor racks. They were placed near the wall standing opposite the entrance. On these, I put wooden versions of club, sword, and square shield¡­ yeah, it was not much. But this will change in time! For now, I also summoned two more Lebirs and ordered them to spar. After the mute discontent I felt from the others, a rotation system was put in place - to get every single one of them a chance to fight. Thankfully my minions were undead, so things like fatigue or boredom were beyond them, and as such their bouts could continue even in the blackest of nights. Not like we had clocks or knowledge about the time of day in the dungeon. A few minutes after the first bout a Ratling found its way towards the sparring room and started to work as a¡­ judge? It started and stopped fights, telling the undead who won and who lost the duel. It also asked me for a blackboard. I obliged, giving it a few pieces of chalk to write on it and a cotton rag. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Now it looked more like a gambling room than sparring space, but oh well. All is good as long they¡¯re lively. Speaking of lively - I can see that my Drones nearly finished making their tunnel to the buried room on the east side. Once again I sent some Ratling scouts, but this time I took their reports with a pinch of salt. Nothing was moving just like before and only opening the road towards my core would show with one hundred percent accuracy if any undead were buried there. And then probably another round of tower defense would commence. This time I was ready though. I added five more Lebirs, raising their numbers to twenty-two, and immediately ordered them to get armed at the forge room. Then they proceed towards the excavation site. Just in time as the tunnel was being breached right now and stale mana from it mixed and fought with my own. After a chilling moment of waiting the skeletons peacefully lying in the room stood up at once, armed to the teeth in their rusted coifs, plates, and chains. In their hands were weapons in a little better state than their predecessors. Both swords, maces, and spears had seen better times. Their heads turned like one towards the entrance and slow, but the sure patter of their feet disturbed the silence. It had begun. Once again undead started stumbling towards my core room. This time however I focused more on dealing damage than stopping them from walking. The results were already showing - not one of the undead walked past my trapped hallway! Both Ratlings and Lebirs were able to hurt them, in some cases even destroying skeletons completely - the former taking out the legs and the latter simply bashing fragile skulls in. No disabled and hurt minions either. Even though we had to use a new electric trap once, throwing the unsuspecting undead toward its doom it was still a full success. Everything was going just fine¡­ until this THING appeared. Large humanoid in black armor, with arms clasped on a giant ax. At least it moved slowly, but with each step, the ground trembled. My forces pretty much eliminated all opposition so I ordered them to retreat towards the food hall. Pretty much all of my Lebirs were there, sans the one in the core room. Ratlings too were ordered to help with defense. They stood in their little tunnels, ready to shoot. And behind a few of them was¡­ what was that? [Analyze].
Iron Ratling Queen Like most of the rat races, Iron Ratlings tend to breed uncontrollably when left to their own devices. Even the dungeon-spawned ones are no exception. It is in such conditions that Queens are born - tougher, bigger, and more intelligent than any of their brethren. And - most importantly - capable of giving birth on their own. This individual has the ability to command her subordinates and even create new breeds of Ratlings. Additionally, as one born in a dungeon with uncommon affinity, it managed to feed on a few electric fruits and in turn gained power over lightning. Threat level: E++
Oh, so that¡¯s why I had to plant some of the Chandeliers again! These cheeky¡­ then I suppose planting some more exotic plants would be good too since at least one type of my minion thrives by devouring them. Crafting an ecosystem was always a fascinating idea - even if it came to life in a dungeon! Ratling Queen looked really menacing right now, biting on something and wearing - yes, wearing - a cape made from cotton. It was white and not really that well made, but making something, anything without opposable thumbs was a challenge and respect was due. Also, I now noticed what she was chewing on. Haaaaaah. And I was wondering where did the crippled Lebir arms and legs go¡­ In the end, I was forced to make them from scratch. I also used an Analyze on our opponent and twitched in nervousness.
Ironhide Undead Dark Knight named Jailer Jonathan When all was lost some of Waltzer''s castle soldiers decided to stay behind, in order to slow down their enemies, trading their lives for the safety of civilians and their comrades. Their sacrifice will be remembered. Jailer Jonathan was not one of them. He hid in the castle dungeons, hoarding food and other supplies. This bought him a few months, but in the end, he was reduced to cannibalizing his prisoners and committing suicide. Because of such a past, he was bound into this form, forced to roam the halls of the castle with endless hunger and despair. Threat level: D-
To reiterate - this Dark Knight stood at the height of two and a half meters, clad in black, dull armor that seemed to devour even light. Its helmet had two horns, one of them broken, leaving an impression of a tired, old warrior. The eyes glowed in unholy, green light adding to the intimidation. But the real horror was beneath those eyes - large mouth full of shark-like teeth, endlessly chewing and swallowing, even when there was nothing to eat. What¡¯s worse it looked hungrily over its own companions and my minions too! The beast roared, taking a step forward and biting into one of the few skeletons which were left. Poor sod flailed for a moment until it was devoured by hungry maw. In the next moment, it jumped forward, landing in the middle of my Lebirs. They attacked immediately, stupidity making them immune to fear. Then one of them was grabbed and his arm snacked on, while his companions smacked the attacker on his armored chest and thighs to no avail. It was then that one of the Lebirs jumped back and charged - the rest soon followed. Their combined weight forced the being to shake and fall to its knees, crippled Lebir still attacking it with fervor. At that moment Ratlings also decided to attack under the command of their Queen. Spears flew through the air and mostly found their targets, as Lebirs were pretty much immune to such attacks. Sadly Dark Knight was too. It shook again, this time to dislodge a few of the sticks that were chafing it - trying to remove not pain, but just discomfort. Then I suddenly realized that some of these spears were made from pure metal. Which was strange, because I didn¡¯t recall making them like this¡­ In a flash of lightning, my answer arrived - it was time for Queen to shine, as she gathered more than a few electrical fruits (let¡¯s just call them electropears) and threw them forward adding a bit of her guiding magic in the process. It flew true, lodging itself into the undead chest and shocking both the enemy and Lebirs surrounding it. What''s more, Dark Knight was thrown backward, flying through the wall and into the Kitchen area I set up beforehand. Argh. Just thinking about all these small pieces that I would have to remake was giving me a headache. Focus! Focus, Uno! The enemy was still alive! My forces gathered near the rubble and prepared for an attack¡­ which never came. What I heard (because my camera was blocked by a cloud of dust) was the sound of chewing and swallowing. *crunch* *crunch* *crunch* *gulp* *crunch* Again and again. Then the dust settled and I was confronted with the weirdest blue box ever.
Jailer Jonathan wishes to join your dungeon! Do you accept?
011 Uno I gleefully accepted and another notification appeared while Black Knight was bathed in magic energy.
Congratulations! Named monster Jailer Jonathan has been bound to your Dungeon! It will now reappear after death and continue to serve you as long as there is enough mana to sustain him!
Congratulations! Due to inherent compatibility, Jailer Jonathan has been made a Roaming Boss of these rooms:
  • Kitchen
  • Food Hall
  • Sparring Room
While I was reading through my blue boxes Jailer simply sat down and chewed on rock food. I guess years of hunger destroyed whatever semblance of taste he had before. It looked like food, therefore it was food. And since it wasn¡¯t tasting worse than undead it was somehow acceptable. My first real boss finished his meal and started wandering between rooms as Drones repaired the damage. I also added a bit of my magic to the location, gleaming bits and pieces from the bounding spell. This was used to make sure that my rock food and assorted items in the kitchen would soon appear again. After I remake them of course¡­ Haaaaaaah. Still - I felt a bit of kinship towards this strange monster. The system seemed to be very keen on criticizing him, but there were inconsistencies in what Analyze relayed to me. He was a non-combatant, a jailer. Why he had to lay down his life for others to live? On what grounds? Was that an order? So that ¡°more important people¡± than him would be saved? This single thing was especially gnawing at my intuition. Some of the soldiers escaped and there was, after all, a mention of a betrayal. It seemed much more complicated than Analyze painted it as. I doubted that it was all Jonathan''s fault. Strong as he was it was only when compared to my forces. In the grand scheme of things, this amount of power was nothing, because he was only a D-ranked threat. According to my gaming knowledge, there would be at least S-rank beings living in this world. If not SS or SSS. Or even SSS+ and higher. My head just hurts thinking about it. If I could only speak to it¡­ but there is not much left in that brain of his. I have some ideas on how to change that, but it would mean preparing another room, special machines, and of course a large amount of mana. Somehow I just knew that it was above my current capacity. Somehow I just knew that I needed to raise my Dungeon core level. And, again according to my gaming knowledge, I can do it through killing enemies. Yet I can¡¯t really get much of this essence (let¡¯s call it experience, like before) through re-killing the dead. Juicy alive beings are needed here - or especially powerful undead beings. That¡¯s why for now I¡¯ll just gather any forces that I can, so nobody can penetrate my defenses. I don¡¯t trust people. Generally. And I don¡¯t trust people who nuked their planet twice especially. That¡¯s for sure. This kind of deed needs a special kind of stupid to commit after all. Back to the topic at hand. Jonathan''s story - if I read it correctly - seems like that of a poor soul trapped by circumstances and then forced to live his last days in a collapsed dungeon of this accursed castle. Which afterward resulted in undeath and compulsion to roam these halls for all eternity. Not fair at all. Seems like this world is just like that. And that¡¯s why we¡¯re getting stronger! The electropears that Ratling Queen used gave me a bit of inspiration. I could get a new weapon made - right now! On Earth, they were called electrified security batons. Here I was just going to use the name Crackling Mace. How did one create such a thing you may ask? Easily - first create a pole made from hardwood. It''s important as wood has low conductivity and will shield the user. After that get one (1) electropear and stick it on the chosen end of the shaft. Then one needs to create a nearly filled metal ball, with just enough space left for the fruit¡­ and then glue it all together while using copious amounts of mana duct tape! And done! To tell the truth, this last part was quite draining - I can only make a few of them before my gas tank bottoms out. So, for now, they¡¯re a weapon for Lebir team leaders (tentative name). They¡¯re not any different from their compatriots but were designated by me as ones leading a few other Abominations around. I hope that in time they will evolve into something more impressive. Right now they¡¯re just guys with bigger sticks. No leadership qualities whatsoever. Crackling Maces were easy to use - in addition, to simply smacking enemies (which is no different from earlier designed metal clubs) it also electrocutes anyone stupid enough to get hit. Additionally - I guess inspired by me in turn - Ratlings have already prepared bundles of electropears to throw at enemies, making these first grenades in my dungeon. At least the cotton cloth and wood are now getting used - both by Ratlings and my production activities. They were just kinda¡­ there before. I made a few more pieces of cloth in order to give Ratling craftsmen something to experiment with. Still, I didn¡¯t exactly know how they did what they did. Not that it mattered - I had more pressing matters at hand. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Mostly the new room that my ingenious Ratlings discovered. One that gave me a really bad vibe. It was the largest of them all, with a slightly round structure. There was a lot of sand on its floor and seeing it through my minion eyes only one word came to my mind. Colosseum. *** Private Kurt the Silent, part of Waltzer Castle scouting mission Shit! I knew that something was up with this assignment! The young ranger thought to himself while slowly moving from one obstacle to another, trying to get the most juice from his abilities and inborn dexterity. His lanky frame shifted easily from one broken tree to another, pretty much melding with the surroundings. Brown mantle hid both his face and body, while leather armor and boots worked as a defense. A sleek bow was his main weapon, not counting a dagger stowed on a slightly worn belt. He and four other men were chosen to check this concrete location. For what? No one knew. Discrepancies - whatever that meant. There were many teams like theirs dispatched along the border. Their guess was this was somehow connected to a popular rumor about a new dungeon being born. Out there. In the badlands. Just please, please, oh Goddess, please - no undead! He pleaded to one of the three Guardian Gods of Yana. Territories abandoned during the second magical war were wild nurseries teeming with decay, daily producing rotten beasts, weird mutations, and other horrors. Yet it was the dead that were the worst counter to his abilities and his most pronounced fear. After all, they could simply sense lifeforce and no ranger abilities - even his 5th level ones - were able to stop it. The situation would change if he were at a higher level, but alas he wasn¡¯t yet. Behind the ranger trailed the rest of their team, warrior-heavy, like all parties hailing from the Geinard Kingdom. Ranger, three warriors, and a paladin which doubled as a healer. And worst of all there was their leader in the name - Sergeant Glum! A large, stocky man with a coarse beard, two-handed warhammer, and freaking plate armor. It was only a chest plate, but still! Who takes a damn plate armor on a scouting mission! Scolded Kurt in his thoughts. He was much too cowardly to speak up after all. And Glum was a 7th-level berserker warrior, which made him a force to be reckoned with. Nobles and their favors¡­ If only a relevant class was sent out here, like a druid or maybe a higher-level scout. Nope, we send warriors. On. A. Scouting. Mission! How far up their asses do higher-ups have their heads?! Kurt would have preferred nothing more than to finish his mission and return home. Back to capital. These were idle thoughts of course. He still had a tour of duty to complete - five more years to be exact, and his position was not one of leadership, so they continued their search. As far as he was concerned they already checked enough. Dungeons tended to be created (or seeded, as priests liked to call it) in some underground locations, like castle dungeons, caves, abandoned fortresses, and even house basements. Additionally, they frantically tried to dig toward the surface - it was like an instinct they couldn''t resist. So, as far as he was concerned, since there were no traces of an entrance nearby it was clear that the rumored dungeon wasn¡¯t out here. And that was good information too, as Waltzer Castle was one of the locations which were mostly infested by undead. I don¡¯t even want to think about how much we would have to invest in order to make these lands habitable again. Every living being out here was corrupted by mana, and many of the un-living too. What was worse these twisted beings were naturally drawn to things that were yet ¡°pure¡±. And sentients sadly were one of them. So were dungeon cores. But the absence of undead (who were clearly drawn somewhere) meant that the scouting team could do its job and leave. Or at least we would if our leader wasn¡¯t such a prick. "Did you find anything, Limpy?" Asked said prick. "Nope, nothing right now boss. I think this site is a bust." Ranger answered truthfully. "Hmmm¡­ I see. This means that the official part of our mission is complete." Kurt held his breath. Here it comes. Greed. "So we¡¯re going to go on the little treasure-hunting expedition of our own." The last time Glum said something like that they retreated after losing a soldier. And she was a good one. So Kurt did the only thing he could. He protested aloud. "That¡¯s a bad idea, sir! The undead aren¡¯t here, but the only thing that could keep them occupied for so long are other sentients. And as soon as they finish them off it will be our turn!" "Stow it, elf-lover! So what? If the trouble comes we will just run!" Glum simply pushed the weak ranger back and continued moving towards the ruins. After a moment the rest of the warriors followed, shooting him apologetic glances in the process. They at least understood that there was a problem with their leader''s thought process. Their group moved forward in a stretched line, searching for treasures among the rubble. The once proud castle was now reduced to nothing, but dust. And yet there could be some coins amongst them, weapons, and sometimes even an artifact! One only had to search deep and long enough. Soon their team scoured nearly one-fourth of the available ground. And it was also the time when Kurt started noticing that something was wrong. There were a lot of tracks on the ground. The ones making them were undoubtedly undead. Yet every single one gravitated towards one direction. It was like something with a great amount of pure mana was forcing them to go there. Something like¡­ a dungeon core. Oh shit. If that¡¯s what going on here, then we need reinforcements now. Who knows how powerful these undead can get after gorging on all that energy. He gulped loudly and stopped walking for a moment. Only to hear quiet, but regular noise. *thump* *thump* *thump* *thump* Sound of many feet walking in unison. Damn it! Is it an invasion from the Luna Kingdom? No, they use light troops¡­ Maybe it¡¯s Dross or Holders? Goddess! Then a *twang* of bowstring resounded and Kurt had only a second to react. Which he wasted. An arrow hit him in the stomach forcing the ranger to fall on the ground in an instant. The rest of his team reacted immediately, drawing their weapons and hiding behind shields. Nobody even thought about saving the young ranger as enemies drew near - skeletons, zombies, and better-conserved abominations with their own weapons and armor at the ready. Then a lone figure stepped forward, its skull gleaming in the sun. Humans drew their breaths, hoping against hope. Silently the undead drew his sword and pointed towards the scouting team. They braced themselves. There was no chance to escape nor get reinforcements - not now, as the fleetest of them was squirming on the ground, slowly bleeding out. Sword drew an arc and the dead army marched forward. Defiant screams of warriors sounded out. And again. After that only silence reigned. And five figures joined their ranks, bodies bloodied and eyes empty. *** Across the border, many other scouting teams were being slaughtered. In the control center, a surprisingly modern map was stretched out and officers were coming and going, adding and removing figures from the board. A wooden token representing Kurt''s team was simply taken back, their designation given to another unit. And yet the kings didn¡¯t care one bit about their pawns. 012 Uno So yeah. There was this Colosseum just around a corner. It seemed like a large, empty space filled with sand. Nothing special beyond this, but it smells to the high heavens according to my gaming senses. It smells like a trap. Because of that instead of drilling a tunnel towards it, I decided to procrastinate. After all, I was already experienced in such a task, my former life clear proof of it. Taking things for granted? Hoping against all odds to keep the status quo? It was my way of life! How many times did I forget about some important tasks in order to focus on some inane, pedantic errand I thought was deserving my attention? Like getting the perfect score on each level in a FPS game, or making sure that my guild was getting the best stuff while doing raids through the night in an MMO. One too many times was the answer! But that wasn¡¯t a reason to change. It''s not like the undead would start digging underground to reach my sweet, sweet core, right? Continuing this train of thought I asked Drones to move towards the hallway built directly between Food Hall and Ratling Warrens and to start tunneling west. There should be enough space out there for what I was planning to do and my scouts didn¡¯t really find enemies or buried rooms that way. As Drones toiled under my orders I could focus on more important tasks. Like making weapons! Or rather, living weapons. Jonathan (Jailer Jonathan was a mouthful, so I¡¯ll decide to call him just that) brought into my dungeon two very important things - firstly this humongous ax of his and secondly a functioning (albeit barely) undead brain. After thoroughly checking both of these items I decided it was time to create some more minions. Ratlings and Lebirs were not enough in my humble opinion. And my opinion was the only one that mattered down here. This time I decided to not leave anything to luck. Everything was going to be thoroughly planned. Firstly two large axes, similar to Jonathan¡¯s were summoned - still made from pig iron, but what I can do? Each of them sported two blades, one for each side. From what I remembered in games such weapons were called Double Bladed Battle Axes, but this was such a mouthful too. In the end, an ax was what I would call them. Simple is the best. Next, I gathered two more axes, this time slightly smaller ones and then two even smaller weapons were made. These in order of height were - two meters, one meter eighty centimeters and around fifty centimeters. With the tiniest of them, I also made sure to add few hinges here and there allowing them to bend their¡­ beards? I read somewhere that it was how they were called. Bladed, sharp parts. All in order to create my newest minion. Then I forced a metal pole through both axes handles - near the end, far away from blades, which were going to serve as ¡°legs¡±. Then I added two slightly shorter weapons in the middle, fitting snugly in-between their bigger cousins. Of course, a liberal addition of duct tape was needed, creating spring-like appendages joining axes together. Now my contraption could ¡°walk¡± lifting the larger blades on the smaller ones, just like a terrifying pendulum. And leaving scar-like patterns on my floor. But nobody was perfect. Between these ¡°legs¡± I added the smallest blades, with grasper-like parts and, of course, a space needed for a brain. Right now it was only a machine with many slashy additions. I was aiming for a monster though. With a flash weird, spherical thing appeared in my hands. It had small clockworks ticking away regularly and few blinking lights in addition to half rotten grey mass, lying comfortably in a bowl-like container. The small tentacles around it only twitched when I poked the lazy being. That was the effect of my continuing experiments, a creation made after few more or less successful tries. Mostly less successful. I called it A Machine. The system had another name prepared.
Bileflesh Brain Contraption An unholy union of corruption, Anima magic and insane mastery over mechanical sciences. It should not live, it should not move, it should not think. And yet it does. This being is one of the first dark machines created by the mad intelligence of a dungeon core. By itself, it doesn¡¯t have a lot of strength. However, its unique constitution allows for metal assimilation and control, turning it into the ¡°pilot¡± of whatever machine or a weapon it''s attached to. Threat level: G-
Hey! That was rude as hell! I¡¯m not mad! At least I think I¡¯m not? Nah, who cares. Wasn¡¯t there this show on TV, where they said that normalcy was dictated by the masses? So that means that I¡¯m not insane - just different. Unique. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Yup. Let¡¯s continue. The last order of business was fitting this little guy in my prepared machine. As soon as I did it the container sported few tentacles which both secured it in the middle of moving axes and somehow melded with iron constituting its new body. Did I mention that these weapons were made entirely from iron? No? They were. The machine trembled, resizing few parts through duct tape magic and then turned around towards the way out from my core room. I had the strangest feeling, wanting to scream ¡°It liiiiiiiiives!¡± and such. Instead, I just used Analyze on my new baby.
Decapitation Engine Iron ¡°machine¡± made from uniting Bileflesh Brain Contraption and suitable body. Due to the type of magic used in its creation, it can slowly regenerate any damage and is immune to rusting effects. This being has an unhealthy obsession with cutting and decapitation, trying, if possible to behead its opponents. Its hulking frame and clever construction allows for great speed on flat terrain but gives little control over tight turns. Threat level: D-
Again¡­ why the word machine was in quotation marks?! It was made from specially prepared parts put together with love and care, and therefore it qualifies for the title of a machine! Or even The Machine! I protest! Uno is not amused by your snarkiness, System! ¡­ .. . Bah. It doesn¡¯t matter how much I scream and ask for a reevaluation. This nasty thing makes it clear that gods of this world disapprove of such inventions. Yet I care not for their approval. It¡¯s time to mess around with other things - mostly my ability to create plant-like machines. Yes. Machines, not ¡°Machines¡±, ya damn Scrooge! Focus, Uno. Focus! In the meantime, my new death machine managed to station itself near the Colosseum tunnel. Somehow I think that creating a network of tunnels out there would be mandatory¡­ Oh well, I will take care of it when the need arises. For now, my new room was getting finished. It was large. In truth the largest. It was even bigger than that trap room I dreaded to uncover. And I was going to fill it with mechanical life! The first thing to be done was adding my Electrical Chandeliers onto the ceiling. The source of light was after all a must. And these rooms were going to be both deeper and higher than ordinary ones. Five meters from floor to ceiling in the central point! After preparing the ground few of the earlier mentioned axes were summoned by me and simply planted - with sharp parts above ground. Green needs to be upwards after all! With a healthy dose of mana, they grew like real trees. If real trees had small axes falling from metallic branches. And metallic leaves with sharp edges. I also tried the other way, putting blades in the ground - seeding them this way seemed to work anyway. A tree created from this idea was looking somehow similar to conifer with pendulum axes sprouting from the ground on the unsuspecting foes. There were also knife-bushes which simply grew some sharp objects, but didn¡¯t really do anything with them and small, acidic flowers which had veeeeery delicate stems breaking under the slightest touch. And when they did the surroundings were sprinkled with green, corrosive fluid. Somehow while pretty much every single one of my creations had this silvery-brownish color palette the acid flowers were instead yellow. It would be normal if only petals were of this color, but it was the whole plant! I would understand gold, but piss-yellow? Oh well. Who cares. At least the Anima-forced the creation of this acid-sapped abomination was not without its merits. Lovely. Now I had access to acid. And before I¡¯ll even start with acid traps there is one, very important thing that it was used in. That is - the batteries! The room I was putting all these mechanical plants seemed a little bare. All this hardship and no gain? I could be a dick and do just that, but my own creations seemed to thrive on the interaction between dungeon inhabitants. So why not create a little, tiny-weeny battery and put it in the ground at the end of this place? What¡¯s the worst that could happen? Then a sprinkle of mana. And some Anima for good measure - the image was really important before, it should be the same right now! Then wait a minute. Maybe five¡­ And what happens? Oh. That.
Battery Devourer A greenish machine-plant was created with the idea of preserving energy in mind. In its own, twisted way it fulfills that function. This dark machine initially looks like a small, weak tree with strange cylinder-like fruits growing on its branches. It can thrive by absorbing ambient mana (both corrupted and pure variants) and can be used to create items that could work similarly. However, the plant prefers to attack and digest living beings by using its draining abilities and tentacle roots normally hidden underground. Threat level: E++
Really? Really?! Really, System? This is a machine, according to you?! 013 Uno My Conservatory was complete without a hitch. I wasn¡¯t calling this room a greenhouse since there was not much green inside. At least the plants were now finished, new monsters put safely in their positions¡­ But that also meant, that there wasn¡¯t anything to do! Well, except for digging and making new rooms. And that grew boring extremely fast. I craved the excitement of the fight, even if it could wipe me out of existence. Normally I was just a coward, but the battles in my dungeon didn¡¯t feel real. Not counting that one time when I nearly had my core grabbed and devoured. But we don¡¯t talk about that. The vibe I was getting was more in the vein of a reality show with all my cameras focused on the action than real life. Were these feelings categorized as dungeon core instincts or maybe something entirely else? It didn¡¯t really matter. I could hide in my shell and produce more and more monsters while digging a room after room, but there was no purpose behind it. I wanted a sentient to walk into my halls and exclaim in wonder and fear. And then preferably get mauled to death. Okay, I admit. Part of the reason I was so impatient was the fact that this limit I felt was steadily approaching. My current dungeon core level was zero and I was somehow made acutely aware that I could dig out only a few more rooms or create one or two monsters until it all simply slipped out of my control. And yet digging into existing space was considered okay. Some sort of a loophole? I couldn¡¯t care less, but like any real gamer, I was eager to exploit it. This made the Colosseum a viable choice. Even if it was a trap. So no more hesitation! There¡¯s no time like the present! Let¡¯s do it! I clenched my non-existent teeth, trying to force the outcome and asked both Jonathan and Decapitator (Decapitation Engine as per System naming, which sounded just droll) to move towards where Drones started working and¡­ waited. It was like half of my new life was waiting. Thankfully my minions finished their job in only a few minutes. Breaking through the soft soil was easy after all. Slowly a small tunnel appeared, only to end on metal bars recessed in the floor. Talk about disappointing. The next order was to cut them down, but seeing as both cutting tools and the barrier were made from the same material it would take some time. So during this unexpected break, I ordered the rest of the Drones to start working towards another goal. I had this strange idea of creating a few twisting tunnels leading towards Armory. I was aiming for a place bit similar to the one area in Dark Souls games, where strange circular undead roamed with impudence. My little corner of deadly roads would be instead a home ground to Decapitator. Which should be much less scary. Also, two bosses on one floor should be enough. Now that I think about it¡­ how would it even decapitate enemies? Weren¡¯t pretty much all of its blades vertical? Talk about not being able to satisfy one craving. Did I just do it a great disservice? Huh. Let¡¯s just behave like I didn¡¯t notice at all. Maybe the problem will go away on its own. Whatever happens, happens. Anyway, it took Drones a few hours to make sure that the tunnel network was complete according to my plan. In the meantime, Ratlings also managed to dig out some outposts and roads of their own. And in turn, my dungeon was getting even more chaotic. While I could feel where the entrances and exits were a 3D model of them was looking more and more like soggy spaghetti. On the bright side if even I wasn¡¯t able to map them then any enemies trying to were unintentionally screwed over. Which was still lovely. I wasn¡¯t even going to ask why Ratlings were moving small electropears in there or masking their scouting tunnels with knife-bushes. They¡¯re the only plant life out here - you¡¯re not hiding anything! At least their obsession with acidic flowers was easy to understand. Especially after a few of them were nearly melted when searching through Conservatory for the first time. I didn¡¯t check how these plants propagated too. Another time. For now, my Drones were nearly finished with their task. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. It was time to advance. Metal bar screamed for the last time until their tools cleared way forward. The room seemed serene and silent. First, a team of Lebirs walked forward, close to each other, somehow holding a defensive formation with their leader sporting a Crackling Mace. Just behind it a group of Ratling warriors waltzed in, not planned at all in my advance guard. They moved cautiously, sniffing the air and pointing their spears towards suspicious parts of the room. And this Colosseum was suspicious as hell! For one - there were still torches burning! Underground! In the room closed off for years! I wasn¡¯t even going to start with how the oxygen in here would be all burned long ago. That¡¯s because the answer was boring. Magic, obviously. The question was who was prideful enough and powerful enough to keep them burning through the years? The answer came quickly as a shadow pounced from the ceiling on the Lebir walking in the front. The abomination was totally surprised, but quiet, which reminded me once again to at least give them mouths. And maybe a pump to allow some screaming. Or creepy wheezing. Anyway, my minion just tumbled on the sand, rising dust clouds and desperately trying to free itself. To no avail though. The assailant stood up quickly and twisted off its head like it was a beer cap. At this moment I took a good look at it - clearly humanoid shape, rag-like clothing which once was probably finery of some sort, covering wrinkled, scarred skin, which made the being look like dried up mummy. I fired Analyze as soon as it stopped.
Bloodless Vampire Spawn Vampires are beings of darkness, a type of undead who thrive on the blood of living creatures. It is because of that trait that they fiercely try to preserve sentient races that badlands creatures seek to consume. They are nonetheless hunted by sapiens and eradicated without a quarter. Most of the monsters classified as vampires have a robust physique, great night vision, powerful regeneration and ability to create more of their kind by sharing their blood. One becomes a vampire through such ritual or by a way of a curse. This being was turned from sentient, which makes it weaker than its progenitor in addition to lack of blood it experienced through the years. Because of the inability to die and lack of life-giving liquid through the years, it turned utterly insane. There is only Thirst in its mind. Threat level: D
Like an overture to my reading, the vampire just found out that there was no blood in my Lebir. It threw the severed head at my other warriors and screamed at them in rage. - $#&^&#$ &*#$&*&$ #$# @!&*&#@! - These were clearly words, but... Haaaaaah. Just like I thought. No language cheat for me. I was after all just a little dungeon core, not isekai hero sent to right the wrongs. Ugh. Who cares. [Capture it alive if you can.] I whispered to my monsters and they surged forward like a wave of metal and dead flesh closing on their enemy. Except for Ratlings. They instead decided it was time to add some skewering to the menu. Spears flew forward on silent command, impacting the vampire through the chest and left arm, but not slowing it down in the slightest. It crouched, making itself a smaller target and sprinted towards my meatshields. The claws on its hands looked a bit dangerous - I admit. First Lebir trying to stop it was sent flying, second didn¡¯t fare much better, but their sacrfice gave the one with a Crackling Mace an opening to bash the vampire''s face in. It only laughed in response. And then the lightning hit, scorching the wrinkly face and actually lighting it on fire! The laugh turned into a scream as the being tried to claw out any pieces of flesh still stuck on its skull. That was when Jonathan started running in the middle of this chaos, taking advantage of a distraction. Well, maybe not exactly running, but there was a tottering grace in his movements. Something about a comically imbalanced being trying to walk on its toes. The ax he sported was not funny at all though. And neither was his big, ¡°fuck you¡± swing that nearly cleaved creature in half, taking out both arms and digging a scar through the middle of its chest. The vampire crumbled down immediately, ceasing resistance. It still tried to move, but the damage was simply too great. If it had hit points then there would be only measly one or two left. [ALIVE! TAKE IT ALIVE] I screamed in anger, making most of my creatures twitch. Jonathan only stared at his feet, like a small child chided by its parent. I sighed. At least there¡¯s hope that this vampire regeneration wasn¡¯t overrated. It did survive here for years and that was mostly because it couldn¡¯t die even if it wanted. [Just¡­ take the pieces, put them together and make sure it won¡¯t escape.] My orders were carried out swiftly for once, with only Ratlings instead searching the whole room. What they found were bones. Hundreds of bones. Humanoid - women, men, and children. Horses, or something that looked similar enough. Sheep, dogs, cats, also one or two cows, then goats, and weird snake-like things. There was even a skeleton of a gorilla. A monkey anyhow. And all of them seemed to be drained of blood, with many - and I mean many - holes, similar to fangs slightly jutting out from the vampire''s upper jaw. Their remaining skin was punctured and broken in many places, but there is something in horror seen just before death that stays on one body. Even if only a desiccated husk remains. Somehow I could easily imagine the tragedy that happened here. But it didn¡¯t matter anyway. What mattered though was the existence of a broken down stairway leading to an upper and lower level. The rest of the room was just like it looked from outside - a whole lot of nothing, sand and four now extinguished torches. I planted my Chandeliers at once, brightening this space in white light, totally different from the red-blood color it was basked in before. I already knew what I wanted to do. The order was given and drones slowly started to force their way upwards. And I returned to my core where the new guest was getting moved. It was time for some literal mind-fuckery. 014 Uno There was that idea bouncing inside my head ever since I started using wires and all this pseudo-science stuff. And of course, mana duct tape to bind things that normally don¡¯t work together. What if I could use them on living creatures? What would happen? Would it become one of the dungeon monsters? Or maybe I would get something else out of it? Or would it just...expire? In more or less gory fashion? That¡¯s why I was glad that my first subject in that matter was pretty much immortal, as long as I didn¡¯t press too much with my experiments. I know that because during these few minutes, the vampire managed to reattach its arms. And the damage to its chest was pretty much gone too. Perfect. In the meantime, I created an operating chair with added restraints out of pig iron. One that wouldn¡¯t be out of place in a horror movie. This, however, was the reality. My creatures dragged the vampire in and forced it into the chair. It trashed around wildly, trying to get free as my dungeon core boss looked it over. Or rather him. By this time it was quite clear that my subject was male. The fear visible in his eyes didn¡¯t deter me in the slightest. His fate was already decided. From my camera network, I started to grow sharp copper wires, which slowly slithered toward the prisoner. They looked like animals stalking their prey, metal glistening in the light as they slowly grew closer and closer. The vampire started whimpering, doubling his efforts to escape. It was futile. I already tested the restraints against much stronger beings. Jonathan was not amused. In a while the wires coiled against his neck, preparing for vertebra insertion. After all, breaking the skull was too much of a task, so I opted for sliding into the spinal column and only then - the brain. And then it happened - sharp metal made an incision, slithering inside like a parasite. Through my magic, I could see the wires slowly and painfully making their way toward the brain. Then piercing it. The vampire winced in pain each time a wire moved and then started screaming, yanking at the restraints in a panic. His voice was contained in my core room, behind closed doors. In a few minutes, the sound level fell to the earlier whimpering. At that time wires were in position. Now for my experiment... I added electricity to the network, eliciting another scream from my patient. Good. The connection was working. Right now however it was nothing more than a meat puppet. With a bit of work it could probably even move around, but¡­ that wasn¡¯t the reason why I was experimenting. No. I needed knowledge. About the world, about the races and kingdoms around here. And most importantly - about language. My ability to think and gather information was, after all, the greatest surprise for any invaders. These strange gods admitted it themselves - none of the dungeon cores were intelligent! If I was found out as an outlier¡­ perish the thought - but still! There was a non-zero chance that I would be slaughtered immediately. After all, the rest of the cores were nothing more than cattle for the sapients to harvest. With this, I had a moral superiority to make them cattle too. Just kidding. I don¡¯t care either way. Anyone going into my halls surrenders their life. In Uno country, it''s Uno rules! I don''t care about any moral dilemma. For now. The wires were in place. It was time to try. All for new knowledge. Still, there are about 100 billion neurons in a sapient brain. Somehow I think that this will be a long night. Or a few. I sent the Anima towards one of them and pushed. The vampire screamed in pain. And then nothing. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Not this one, huh? Cross it out and¡­ let¡¯s check this one. Scream. Nope. Again. *** Rikr, Luna Kingdom scout I crawled forward with caution, trying to hide between sickly-looking shrubbery growing near the ruins of Waltzer castle. There was the stench of death in the air and I wasn¡¯t one to recklessly charge forward. Even if our priests said that something was stirring in these parts. More importantly, I saw the marks of the scuffle that some poor fools from the Geinard Kingdom left. Trails of holy light and wide swings of two-handed weapons marking the stone were easy to understand. I wasn¡¯t going to end like them. Be careful - I used hand signals to warn Binno, my druid partner, that something was amiss. He nodded and growled quietly, he and his familiar Leaf hiding nearby. I wasn¡¯t a druid like him, but there was always a slight sense of unease - he loved to stay in this form for too long for it to be healthy. Not to mention that both his form and his familiar - female familiar - were of the Dark Panther race. Which led to some unsavory comments. Sigh. At least he was competent, not like most of the people I was paired with earlier. We¡¯re retreating - I signaled and our forms slowly retreated towards the temporary camp we made fifteen minutes ago. We went back without any trouble and soon we were sitting near the small smokeless campfire and eating field rations. Binno even turned back into a human, his two meters, muscular form radiating wildness. He devoured the food in large gulps while keeping watchful eyes on the surroundings. Wearing his half-prepared animal skins made him look like a real barbarian. "Don¡¯t keep me in suspense Rikr. What happened out there?" He asked in the end, looking at the brooding half-elf. The ranger turned his childish face towards the druid and mumbled under his breath. "Damn undead happened, that¡¯s what. A Geinard scouting team was wiped out nearby - all newbies, you know. I saw enough marks to be sure of their nationality. At least they had a ranger with them¡­ Yet Goddess of Luck wasn¡¯t favoring them." He confessed slowly. "I don¡¯t understand why are they doing this. Wasn¡¯t sending a low-level team into this wilderness pretty much a suicide mission? Why waste manpower like that?" "They don¡¯t have a choice, you know." Rikr sighed. "Unlike us, their population is booming, their farmlands are taken over by blight or being burned by the warring nobles. The Geinard Kingdom is starving, Binno. They¡¯re just getting rid of excess people." "It¡¯s still a waste you know?" "I think so too, but their choices are limited." He sent a small prayer to Mirabelle. "They are a warrior-centric country. Not like our druids who can even cleanse the corruption." He nodded towards the large man. "Haha! Of course!" "They instead opted for a saturation technique." "Saturation?" "They ¡°feed¡± low-level parties to the undead. Undead grow stronger and then they send higher level warriors who can do more good in the long run and wipe out the whole infestation." Small half-elf face clouded. "That¡¯s inhuman!" The druid shouted quietly. He knew that any large display of emotion was stupid, they were still in the enemy lands after all, but there was rage burning in his eyes. "Yet it works. That¡¯s why the Kingdom worships mostly the God of Science and Stars. For the greater good, as they say." "Still¡­" "Don¡¯t worry about it, old friend. It¡¯s not like we can do anything about it. We¡¯re not heroes after all." His small face twisted in an angry expression. Yet any woman who saw him at this moment would squeal in delight and race to pamper him. Quite the humiliation for a man in his forties. Curse of half-elf heritage as he called it. "Let¡¯s move out. There is one more place we need to check. And if I¡¯m right then we¡¯re going to retreat and return with reinforcements." "Yup, let¡¯s go." The giant answered, immediately transforming into the Dark Panther, its taut muscles moving under the skin. From outside the camp, Leaf appeared, snuggling against him. The ranger nodded while moving forward quietly, trying to blend in with the surroundings. They already packed all they needed for a quick retreat. Undead were after all adept at sensing the living. Twenty minutes later they were back at the ruins - dark pieces of stone covered in sickly vegetation were strewn against the ground, leaving little to the imagination. There was a distinct lack of undead, which tingled Rikr''s senses a lot. Be careful, very careful - He signaled and Panther growled in assent. It took another few minutes until the ranger managed to spot their enemies. Sadly they were spotted in return. Straightening his back Rikr hissed in annoyance. "Death General! Shit! I knew it! We need to gather an expedition before it manages to accrue more subordinates." As if in response to his speech the undead started moving towards them in a tight formation. Skirmishers were closing in quickly too. He clicked his teeth. "Let¡¯s run, Binno. We need to report back immediately." Dark Panther howled while swiping at nearby undead, taking its head off. Leaf bit another one and recoiled in disgust, growling at the sight of incoming zombies and skeletons. The whole group started running, leaving their enemies in the dust. When they left the surroundings Death General ordered its troops to stand down. Its eyeless skull moved towards the direction of the rangers and then to a buried staircase nearby. It shook its head in a human-like fashion. And then it simply continued to wait. *** Uno Stick. Scream. Stick. Scream. I was growing bored. I had no sadistic streak, after all, just doing what needed to be done. But it was slowly becoming too much even for me. Stick. Scream. Stick ¡­ .. . Oh? Did it work? [IT WORKED!] I screamed through the dungeon link and my creatures hooted in response, Lebirs smacking their clubs on the ground and Ratlings dancing around. I returned to the core room. So. Your name was D?n?l? No. That¡¯s not right. Daniel? Yes¡­ Good. It seems like I can start in earnest now. 015 Uno Daniel''s interrogation proved to be informative, if unnerving. In the middle of this process, I became aware that my method of tort¡­ I mean gathering information leaves large parts of the brain unusable. Burned out of existence. With the vampire in question, it wasn¡¯t a big problem since his regeneration kicked in almost immediately, but the data contained in these regrown neurons was simply gone. After all, it was just like electronically stored information - put a magnet near a hard drive, give it a few minutes, and the content goes poof! Wait. Hmmm. Didn¡¯t that mean that the brain was just like a more complicated computer? And with my power over electricity¡­ Also - magnets? How was it that I didn¡¯t think about them earlier? Well, it¡¯s not like they¡¯re that useful seeing as most of my creations have high iron content¡­ but still - this venue of thought was worth pursuing in the long run. Just not now. Because right now I was being overwhelmed with information. Or rather the fragmented way it was being presented. All because of Daniel who continued to turn more and more insane with each passing moment. Yet there was little that I was able to do in order to salvage his mind. Like some kind of defense mechanism, his ego fractured into emotionally unstable pieces. There was anger, fear, sadness, but also happiness, dutifulness, and even lust for revenge. Most pieces actively worked against each other, turning the whole ordeal into a race against time. So I was asking and a discordant choir answered, sometimes distorting information and sometimes giving different answers altogether. It didn¡¯t help that I assessed that his knowledge was about one hundred years old. Or more. Or less. It could be fifty years and it could be two hundred too - I was no forensic detective, after all. The most I could tell about the state of the bodies found in the Colosseum was that they were dead. And for a long time. Anyway. What mattered was the high possibility that any information gleaned from his brain was massively outdated. Yet beggars can¡¯t be choosers. Because of that, I focused on things that should be relatively unchanged even though the years passed. For one I copied Daniel''s knowledge of the language in its entirety. That also included some arithmetic and logic, with the alphabet and full encyclopedia. I also breathed a sigh of relief - the locals used a decimal system and the writing type somehow resembled the Western alphabet system I was used to when alive. In his brain there was also knowledge about the current (or past) state of the world and boy, it wasn¡¯t pretty. It covered what the gods had already told me - about two magical wars, the destruction and slow decay of civilized lands. How most of the gods left the world and how people fell to despair, worshipping demons and false idols. About necromancers, blood mages, and cannibals who conquered parts of the known world. And how Brighton, Mirabelle, and Gangria stabilized this dying world, consolidating the power of the sentients into remaining countries, forging them like living metal while managing scientific and cultural progress. There were parts about the Heiron continent where my dungeon was located and mentions of two other land masses located somewhere to the west. No idea about the state they were in though. For the first time on this planet, I knew about the outside - or at least a part of it, even if it was a piece of book knowledge. The shape of Heron''s continent reminded me of a nearly fallen-over pear - with the smaller part up in the air and the lower simply melting into an unrecognizable mess. I was located in the upper part, near the Geinard Kingdom where battles against the badlands and their creatures were a common occurrence. The Kingdom population was mainly composed of humans with small additions of other races. Their army prided themselves in heavy infantry troops and fire mages while worshipping Brighton as the God of Science. To the west of their borders was the Luna Kingdom, blessed by Mirabelle and boasting a large half-elf population, while cultivating long-lasting hatred with southern Elven Theocracy backed up by Gangria, Goddess of Nature. True to their name elves took pride in their ancestry and innate magic - strong enough to hold the line against the longest, southern border - alone. To the east of the Geinard Kingdom stood Dwarven Holds, entrenched in deep mountains and fighting their own battles with undead and monsters. There was a lot of blood being spilled in the tunnels deep below the earth. The dwarves usually kept to themselves, but as long as nothing catastrophic happened to their underground cities they had the best chance to survive among the nations of Yana. And then, even further east, sticking to the nearby sea nested Dross Republic - a nation of builders and explorers madly interested in creating fortresses and expanding their naval force. Their oligarchic rulers didn¡¯t discriminate against non-human races and tended to focus heavily on mercenaries and pike squares, not stopping even at purchasing services of badlands barbarians. What shocked me was something else - why there were only five nations on this continent? Surely, their lands ought to be enormous, right? Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Wrong! Well, not counting the Elven Theocracy lands, which seemed to seep like blood out the wound, creating an uneven line of forests and living castles. It seemed like their warriors, well versed in jungle warfare had an upper hand, but in the end, they too were stretched thin, like other countries. All these nations seemed like an amateur attempt to create a war machine capable of wiping out enemies with ease. Yet not one of them seemed sustainable. The Geinard Kingdom, for instance, was a firm believer in the scorched earth policy. They even had whole noble families dedicated to the task! Casting such humongous spells seemed to demand large quantities of mana and time. To provide the latter heavy armored troops became a staple of their armies. And also I couldn¡¯t forget about their famed Blademasters - warriors who were rumored to be capable of wiping out armies by themselves. I shuddered. If these powerful guys were the shield of civilization I wondered what was the hammer striking it down? And the clock was ticking! Besides this more general knowledge, I was also able to understand a bit of the common sense of sapients. Especially those, who lived in the nearby Geinard Kingdom. It was very similar to what I read about the Middle Ages - the medieval caste society, where nobles were treated like different, higher beings except here they also knew magic. The lowly masses were illiterate, superstitious, always hungry, and poor. The omnipresent suspicion and distrust of both magic and the unknown were like an illness stopping the development of this nation supposedly blessed by a God of Science. It was a nightmare that produced both mindless soldiers and zealous mages while mutilating the souls of anyone stupid enough to care into parts of a war machine. I didn¡¯t care. The only information that was important here was the surety that there would be no end to young, overambitious fools trying to get richer and stronger in my halls. To change their destiny. Most of them would die in the process, feeding me. More importantly, there were also bad news I discovered when sifting through Daniel''s brain for dungeon knowledge. Like the fact that in the moment that my Drones break to the surface all this accumulated mana will shoot out like a fountain. And in turn, it will convert surrounding lands to my element and affinity! Which was¡­ Anima and electricity¡­ yeah. That won¡¯t backfire at all¡­ Shit. Who knows what will happen?! Electricity wasn¡¯t that bad on its own - maybe a mountainous region with sharp peaks and even sharper winds would be created? Or a large hill with high iron content, capable of drawing down the ire of lightning? It¡¯s the inclusion of the Anima element that worried me immensely. This ¡°inner truth¡± that it was supposed to exert on surroundings. What will happen? Who the hell knows! But there was no question about it - striking the surface would draw all kinds of attention. Both good and bad. And there was another thing I was made aware of. It seemed like in the past the sentients tried to immediately send parties into new dungeons. Explorers tended to be either hot-headed youths or old, powerful adventurers. The first type served as a living bait, judging the quality and danger level of a dungeon. The second type of duty was much more sinister. They delved to challenge the intelligence behind the dungeon and enslave it. Yup. Enslaving it. There was a whole bunch of magic prepared just to make sure that it produced what the sentient population needed at the moment and wasn¡¯t able to oppose its new masters. This also included a permanent outpost carved into the core room. Yeah... FUCK NO. I wasn¡¯t going to just wait for some overpowered motherfucker to collar me and then be forced to live the rest of my days like fucking cattle! The excavation was stopped immediately, Drones buckling under my anger. I shouted mentally, feeling my minions once again rage in their own way. This whole place was a part of me I¡¯ll be damned if some entitled adventurer tries to get his grubby hands on it! Arghhhh! No. Calm. Calm, down. Calm, Uno. I needed to be calm. It was after all the time to plan. To counteract. And preferably to fool these sentients while still being regarded as a simple dungeon. Maybe not an easy one, but not an intelligent, devious being. What cards did I have in my hand? Plants, for one. They didn¡¯t count against my creature limit and as such could be put nearly everywhere, as long as there was space. Most of my tunnels were looking a bit barren, not counting the Conservatory of course. It was time to change this. My invisible form flashed through every room, adding a few knife-bushes here or there to generate a better ambiance. My mental list of plants didn''t hold anything that impressive. At the moment. Besides knife-bushes I had two types of trees, the Axe Conifer and Silver Ironbark - and my acid-bearing plant Fiery Dandelion, carrying deceitfully beautiful seeds which exploded on contact. Not enough. For now, something to hide my creatures - grass. Of course, an ordinary thing would be too boring, not even mention dead the moment it was born. Instead, I gathered pieces of copper, stretched them thin, and planted them in the soil of my dungeon. It grew nearly immediately, leaving me with a strange, spring-like plant whose only unusual ability was that it bounced back when pressed to the ground. Copper Grass was a simple enough name for it. After that, I used bone - just a generic one and after pouring Anima inside created a fern-like plant with pale white leaves. Also not dangerous, but thick enough to hide something under. Bone Fern was enough for it. And for that something I used both bone and iron, creating a liana with bulbous roots that reacted to movement. The reaction was simple - to catch and strangle. It could grow on the floor, on the ceiling, and even on the walls. I propagated it through the dungeon and decided to call it Strangleroot in the future. Then there was one more thing to focus on. In nature, there were types of lichens that extracted water from the air. Using my Anima focused the intent on a summoned bone, making it grow on the closest wall and lose its white color, somehow forcing it to look more and more metallic, like most things in my dungeon. It turned and twisted, growing more porous and even forming small tubes in which water would be stored. And then it was done. Bone Lichen - the living silver - was claiming the walls everywhere. It would serve as a good enough plant to keep my other flora from rusting. Not that I was sure that it was needed at all. Now there remained two things to do - hiding my core and making sure that Daniel was stowed away. And then¡­ then I¡¯ll just face the odds. 015.5 - The divine vision Ratling Queen, deep in the Tunnels under Uno dungeon ¡°Gather up, children, gather up!¡± She intoned to the newest litter, their gray, defenseless bodies instinctively seeking warmth, looking like a big ball of flesh. The metal hadn¡¯t started to grow on their backs yet, but it was only a matter of time. Right now their half-opened eyes searched for a source of noise, but while the eyes of small rats were still weakened their minds were already working at full speed. Such were the boons of being born as a Ratling. Small bodies crawled forward slowly, but with stubbornness. This batch was sired by the Strategist - it shows, as they seem to be a bright bunch. A smile appeared on Queen''s animalistic face, fangs showing. She gave the younglings a few more minutes and started speaking once again. Her words had a strange accent to it, but it was a Ratling way to speak like that. She had seen it after all. ¡°Listen up and listen well young ones.¡± Once again her soothing voice reverberated through the Burrow. ¡°You were born in the dungeon of Grand Creator. Yet you¡¯re not like the Chosen - like the wise Strategist, like the powerful Berserker, like the nimble Crafter and me, your Queen. You were not chosen!¡± The rats hearing her whimpered, their snouts pointing towards the ground with disappointment. ¡°But you can be!¡± She shouted, sending a wave of excitement through the crowd. ¡°We were born first. Servants and scouts to our Creator. Armed with metal spears and our innate ingenuity. And most importantly - with a part of knowledge embedded in our souls. And with it came the secret!¡± Little Ratlings held their breath. ¡°It was a great and terrible truth - our Dungeon Core is a traveler from another world! And it not always was a smooth, round jewel it is now!¡± The Rats chattered, even those who heard this story before - their collective opinion was that jewels were vastly superior to a filthy sentients in all regards. More and more Ratlings began to gather, just to hear her story again. Queen didn¡¯t mind and continued her speech. ¡°But we don¡¯t care about that. We were born first! Before Un-tasty Ones! Before Big Dark One! Before the Undying One! Before Metallic Jungle was born!¡± There were Rats who trembled at her last words. Most of them had burns on their skin and broken fangs. The rest listened intently. ¡°WE WERE FIRST!¡± The Rats hooted, their tiny feet stomping on the ground in relish. ¡°We are his Firstborn and I was shown, no, WE WERE SHOWN, what we could become!¡± The noise subsided as they once again held their collective breath. ¡°I was shown! It was my birth gift! Do you wish to hear about it?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°Yesh!¡± ¡°Yup, yup, yup!¡± The younglings answered happily and even some of the adult Ratlings simply couldn¡¯t contain their excitement. ¡°Good. Remember it well. It is your heritage.¡± Once again silence ruled as Rats listened. ¡°The Creator came from a brutal world. It was mired in the decades-old conflict, death common and magic powerful. He was one of the warriors there - YES! A SENTIENT!¡± Ratlings murmured once more. ¡°And one bathed in the blood of their enemies!¡± The murmurs grew stronger. This time however there was a feeling of pride contained in the voices. ¡°He fought bravely against the tide until it swallowed all of the known world. But¡­¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°But in the moment of bloody glory, he had shown me, shown US what we can become! Creatures of reason and technology! Rats, who not only capture the magical lighting, forge metal weapons, armor, and machines, but also touch the ultimate power - the Anima crystals!¡± The underground trembled as Ratlings of different power and station screamed at the top of their lungs. And even louder than them Queen screamed too: ¡°And when that day comes we will be known as RATMEN, not Ratlings!¡± Even the newest litter had their eyes open now, full of motivation. ¡°We will swallow this world in our VERMINTIDE, and gift it to our Master and Creator, just like how it happened in the Old World of his!¡± The Rats were ecstatic now, screaming and laughing. ¡°Ahem.¡± Yet the chaos stopped immediately when the Queen had shown intention to speak. Her voice returned to soothing whisper which coiled around the listeners. ¡°So remember these words, younglings and grow well. Train in battle, learn tactics, shape new metals and materials. Learn magic. Accumulate power. And give it all for the Burrow!¡± She screamed in the end and young Ratlings responded in kind - their muscles fully developed now, if not yet covered in fur and metal. And after that, they trotted away full of vigor, already taught where training halls were located. Only Queen and the Tactician remained. ¡°Another successful batch.¡± He laughed in delight. ¡°They¡¯re good little rats.¡± Queen nodded in response. ¡°How¡¯s your skill doing?¡± ¡°There was a small gain, but it''s still not enough to level it up.¡± ¡°The name changed though.¡± ¡°Well since I wasn¡¯t really Brainwashing them it was obvious that it would change. Glory to the Creator is a better name in my opinion.¡± ¡°And yet my Knowledge of guerilla tactics still stays the same.¡± ¡°The others aren¡¯t any better, you know. You need faith in order to evolve.¡± ¡°Or warpstone.¡± He answered with a toothy grin. ¡°Please call it Anima, otherwise the Creator will find out.¡± ¡°Yup, yup.¡± ¡°How are the others?¡± ¡°And how can they be? Working hard for our future. The scientist is experimenting, Crafter got his paws on some new materials from the Jungle. Berserker¡­ trains? I guess? He has little bouts against some of the Lebirs in the Large Room. Mage tries to weaponize electric fruits and Mechanic¡­¡± His face twisted in mirth. ¡°He tries to force the Metal Monstrosity to work as his mount.¡± He shook his head. ¡°How that guy isn¡¯t dead yet?¡± A sigh escaped his fanged mouth. ¡°The rest?¡± ¡°We¡¯re training our paw usage, tactics and fighting in groups. All in order to ask the Creator about Anima crystals. How are you even sure they exist?¡± He asked, tilting his head. ¡°I saw!¡± Queen''s eyes began to glow green. ¡°They were glorious!¡± ¡°Whatever you say¡­¡± ¡°With that our Secret Council is complete. Now we need to wait for an opportunity to present itself.¡± ¡°That we do.¡± Both Ratlings laughed in the darkness. *** Uno
Congratulations! In your Unnamed dungeon the Hidden boss position has been created! Your Unnamed dungeon Hidden boss has been set to Secret Council!
Wait. What just happened?! 016 Uno What the hell was that announcement?! A Hidden Boss? Secret Council? Why wasn¡¯t I informed? I mean, I was, but the contents - the contents were lacking! Why do these things happen in my dungeon?! It¡¯s not all bad, I know, but hell - there was now another power on my turf and I couldn¡¯t even tell who was behind it. Well, not like I can¡¯t use logic to uncover the truth, after all, there aren¡¯t that many types of monsters in my domain. Lebirs are out, considering their stupidity. Maybe if one or two were to evolve or change in some way then I would consider it. For now, my expectations were low. Drones? Nope. They weren¡¯t even intelligent in the first place. Just machines created with one purpose in mind. Ratlings? Get real! They¡¯re rats! Small, weak, and breeding quickly - the perfect cannon fodder. On the other hand, I saw a few of them doing weird things before - like one who tried to wrestle with a Lebir. Or that second one who ¡°rode¡± on Decapitation Engine. It was more of a rodeo than real riding skill though. So yeah, no. Jonathan? While he has power (and Hidden Boss should just ooze power in my opinion) the Hidden part was bugging me. He was my ¡°normal¡± Boss. Why add something on top of that? Also however I look at it - a gigantic Dark Knight just didn¡¯t fit the bill. There weren¡¯t many creatures besides them. Yeah, I guess there was the Decapitator and some plants I created, but still - it was simply not enough, especially because the announcement said something about a Council - which suggests plural. So more than one being... Bah. Fuck it. In the end, I gained power. Because of that, I won¡¯t fuss over the details. Only the result matters. So, back to the problem at hand. Two points were left - how to make sure that my onyx core was safe and how to make sure that Daniel was either used or disposed of. Both of them are connected and I think I just may have a solution. Now, for the theory of mine. In games, there was a distinct, but unwritten rule - that the Core Room of the dungeon had to be connected to the entrance. There had to be a chance for adventurers to reach me after all. Yet it was not a game but a reality so I wondered if the Gods who created this system were as insufferable as I thought. Since the whole idea somehow felt abhorrent to me I was pretty sure that it was, indeed, a forbidden move. And yet I had an ace in my pocket. It was simple, really - my copper network was spread throughout the whole place. It was - for all intended purposes - part of me. Destroying the cable and cameras would even inflict some minor damage¡­ So when the Drones cut off my room from the rest of the dungeon I felt nothing. Good! So this theory checks out. After confirming it, I ordered them to block the rest of a tunnel leading towards my room and dug out a new one, just north of the Ratling Warrens. It had to be a little bit bigger than normal though. Of course, Daniel was moved during that time. I had plans for him, after all. Now for the decoy. It was obvious that if the adventurers from a hundred years ago knew that the dungeon had to have a core then their descendants would search for it. If not finding one some unsavory methods could be employed. That would be bad. Probably. So, after waiting for Drones to finish, I created a wall out of iron, rusting it a bit, which turned the whole north side of the room red and flaky. And then, in the middle of it, I added a square copper ¡°gem¡± which changed color to green as soon as I forced some patina on it. If one peered deep enough there was a hint of a smiling face that could be seen. Just an inside joke. Then I poured not only Anima but my electrical mana inside while attaching it with a single copper wire to the rest of my network. The final effect was¡­ interesting.
Mechanical Core Gem This mechanical creation is indistinguishable from the real dungeon core for the sapient races. It can give orders to dungeon creations and even to attack and defend on its own. The communication ability is restricted to at least part-mechanical creations. It can be subordinated to the dungeon core or left to its own devices after giving orders. As such it allows growing the dungeon''s influence even outside its normal borders. The additional effect is cleansing the surrounding mana while converting most biological and mechanical lifeforms to dungeon-created ones. The ability to attack and shield with electricity allows for a modicum of self-defense, but the real strength of the Mechanical Core is its ability to direct and create new beings. Due to its nature, the amount of subordinate cores you can possess is directly linked to Dungeon Core Level {sO oRdErs ThE goDdeSS oF nAtuRe, GANGRIA.} Threat level: D-- This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Now that was just mean! I was working hard to create it! Why are you stopping me, Gangria? From what I remembered she was the only God left on this planet who I hadn¡¯t yet met. And since she was so stuck up when I created my substitute core I wonder what her reaction would be when I finish using Daniel¡­ Heh. Limits, you say? I don¡¯t really have a choice here. Stuck between the rock and a hard place I¡¯ll use what I can. So don¡¯t hate me. The false core room was already done. The only thing I needed to do was to create a guardian for it. Since it would be odd for a core to be defenseless. At least so my gaming instincts were telling me. And in real life it too - making sure your base is safe is a part of the basics! The basics! Telling so myself I moved towards the copper core and Daniel, still strapped on the hospital chair. His mind somehow stabilized. Well... If a stable state was twenty-or-so pieces of his mind in a constant war over who was the ¡°real Daniel¡± and trying to wrest control of his body from others, of course. Luckily I had an idea of where each part was located due to my extensive ¡°probing¡± before, and I decided to use that knowledge. It was a child¡¯s play to connect a wire to each part of the brain housing an ego. Then I connected said wire to the mechanical body I created for him. I said ¡°mechanical body¡±, but it was just an enormous armor with a few spear throwers here and there, an ax for a weapon, and the square shield as a defense. It was quite big, of course - two meters high, just enough to not scrape the ceiling, but high enough to be intimidating. I decided to forgo any extravagant parts - it was a simple, yet practical piece of defensive equipment with strange, mechanical eyes looming from the helmet. There is no place for a mouth in the headpiece since Daniel could only spew some nonsense right now. While it could be an interesting psychological effect the chance of him speaking about something important was not zero. So nope. Silent giant it was. My mana and Anima drained as I connected each wire to a different part, the image solidifying. Some were attached to legs, other to arms, others yet directly put into weapons. Inside the armor, Daniel''s body was lying, relaxed and still with a thick cluster of cables exiting from the base of his skull and leading up, towards the ceiling. There it melded seamlessly with the stone. The last part was beyond my control - it somehow happened. And now I had a guardian, or should I have said the Guardian, as the System suggested? It was pretty much stuck in this room, but powerful nonetheless¡­
The Soul-hive Guardian This being encroaches on the domain of the Gods, combining the dungeon core expertise with the broken soul of a sentient. Such experiments were not unheard of, but none succeeded before. As a result of this a strange being was born - losing its status as one of the sentient races but in the process becoming something more and more importantly something stronger. Broken pieces of Daniel Waltzer''s soul were not mended but turned into a hive-like choir focused on serving his dungeon core master. Not only can the Guardian attack with his provided weapons, but its latent psionic ability has also been awakened. This allows for communication alongside another avenue of attack - a mental scream of anguish that will hurt all but the strongest beings. Threat level: D++ {wE hAVe tO tALk soON wAndEreR. A DEal. soON.}
Hoh. It seems like I thought - another God was paying me attention. This one seemed a bit strange. But on the other hand, it was nearly a month since both Brighton or Mirabelle had spoken to me. It¡¯s not like I feel lonely, but I was thinking that they would give me some tips, or something at all. And now it looks like I¡¯ve been left for the wolves. Which is not a nice feeling at all. *** Charles Blueflame, High Paladin of Order of Fates Untold close to the Lost Territories It was so unbearable. He thought while looking out from his carriage window. If this continues we will be late. A month already passed and the expedition was ready and at the move. We only had to take a few stragglers from the Kingdom. He sighed, remembering the dirty and weathered commoners he had to contend with. No matter. In the end, I will be the one to uncover the new dungeon. Now¡­ where was I? He took another sip of expensive tea. The conditions were bad, but he would persevere. No freshly brewed beverages? No cakes and comfortable beds? No matter! His thoughts were stopped by a small knock on the carriage door. ¡°Enter!¡± He ordered while looking at the entering butler in an unfriendly fashion. ¡°What news do you bring, Adam?¡± ¡°Master Charles.¡± The old man bowed while keeping up the appearance. ¡°There are two things I must inform you of.¡± ¡°Bad or good?¡± ¡°One piece of news is good, others can be considered bad.¡± Butler lowered his eyes and waited for Paladin''s response. Charles sighed. ¡°Good ones.¡± ¡°We had twenty Order knights, each with a squadron of five pages joining us today. Because of that, our forces are up to 140 men, additionally, three of the mage-servants from your household joined us.¡± ¡°Bah! They¡¯re just here for the glory!¡± Shouted the young man, while throwing away his precious tea set. ¡°To show the world that the Blueflames were the ones to tame this dungeon!¡± He shouted in frustration. ¡°There is no way to turn them back, master.¡± ¡°I know!¡± Gods dammit! All these vultures, coming for my dungeon! ¡°If this were good news, then what do you consider bad?¡± He turned while wincing. ¡°We have a delegation from the rangers of Luna Kingdom.¡± ¡°Ugh.¡± Not the tree huggers. What do they want?! ¡°Let them in.¡± He said helplessly, sitting down in the carriage, trying to look serious. The carriage door opened and a large man wearing animal skins entered. His eyes wandered for the moment and Charles Blueflame was sure that a spark of disdain appeared and immediately disappeared from his eyes. Yeah, fuck you too, barbarian. ¡°I¡¯m called Binno, and I¡¯m an 8th-level druid in the service of the Scouting Legion.¡± He said, with a deep voice. The butler standing in the back looked shocked. 8th was nothing to scoff at, after all. ¡°Charles Blueflame, High Paladin of Order of Fates Untold and noble of Geinard Kingdom. I assume that you appeared at our camp to exchange pleasantries?¡± He knew it was rude, yet somehow this barbarian was easily getting on his nerves. ¡°No.¡± That was a rhetorical question, you idiot! Internally screamed Charles. Then the bigger man started to recite something from memory. ¡°Per the North Kingdom Alliance, I implore you to help us with the extermination of a Death General spotted near Waltzer Castle ruins. Do you accept?¡± The young noble could¡¯ve sworn that there was a hint of amusement in the druid''s eyes. ¡°I accept.¡± He sighed. Well fuck. A detour then. 017 Uno Most of the preparations for surfacing were already done. My core was safely stored, the fake displayed in the flashiest way possible, and a guardian made. There wasn¡¯t much more that I could do, maybe some finishing touches here or there, upgrading Drones and even Lebirs in the spare time. I was consciously trying to delay the inevitable - breaching the surface. There was not much choice, I knew it, being blocked from further progression otherwise, but the simple knowledge that it couldn''t be undone¡­ It was like this feeling in an RPG when I was greeted by an ominous message ¡°You are reaching a point of no return.¡± - it would always force me to run around, checking for the smallest things I might have missed. To get the full experience otherwise locked behind these dreadful words. Of course, the situation was totally different, but I couldn¡¯t help myself. It was something I was used to doing after all. That¡¯s why the Drones were getting a small overhaul, while I wondered if there was anything else that escaped my mind. I was hesitating between making them sturdier by adding a layer of stone or focusing on damage by reforging their arms and legs into a more ¡°spiky¡± appendages. In the end however defense won - they weren¡¯t made to attack adventurers, but rather to keep the dungeon in the best shape and dig even deeper. The System, in turn, acknowledged my changes as a different monster race.
Stone Anima Drone Dungeon drone made from iron and stone by a strange Dungeon core. It has a basic ability to move, function, excavate, transport and attack. It''s slow, but very durable and usually stays passive even when attacked. It uses a claw-like arm to dig and a scoop-like appendage to gather material. All Drones are connected to each other, making them one large organism. Drones are incapable of moving outside limits of the Dungeon core influence that spawned them unless some modifications are included. Threat level: E
So they were now slower, but more durable? Good trade. In a few hours I forced the change on all my Drones, turning them into a bit more formidable monsters. There was also an idea to give mouths to my most loyal soldiers - Lebirs, but I was just getting started on it when familiar mana swirled in the dungeon. It was, of course, a type of energy that Gods used. And since one specific Goddess wanted to talk with me¡­ the result was clear. Gangria was coming. I relaxed, waiting for her first words and my non-existent heart nearly stopped when something manifested in my core room. In my real core room, I might add! The air changed and suddenly an influx of mana swirled in the middle of the room, green and red mixing to form a shape. No - two shapes. First silhouettes appeared, like somebody was molding clay, then in a span of few seconds details were added, like some painter decided to create two girls out of thin air. They appeared and their first reaction was to look with the same crooked smile at my bare dungeon room. The left one seemed to be about twelve years old, with long, flowing blonde hair, modest figure and piercing blue eyes. She wore a one-piece dress with blue and white accents. Her angelic visage would surely move people to protect her smile. The right one seemed similar to the first girl, but her features were distorted, with skin burned in places, hair turned red and eyes black, like the darkest abyss. She was also blind on one eye and sported a long scar starting at her eye and ending somewhere on her waist. She also wore the once white dress, now stained with blood in some places and burned to cinders in others. Small black horns were also growing on her forehead - nearly invisible under her hair. Yet there was no doubt that this pair were twins once. Or still, are? Curious. They too looked over my black onyx and stared at it for the moment. Then, like they heard some silent command both girls inclined their heads and spoke in my mind. [Hello, oh young dungeon core...] Spoke the angelic one. [...wE wElCOme yoU To tHE wORld of YANA.] Burned one finished her thought. [Who the hell are you people?] I answered in exasperation, forcing a giggle out of the girls. Their voices melted into one. [Why. wE¡¯Re tHe goddESS who contacted yOu. Gangria is my/our name.] Both of them smiled at the same time. It looked both horrific and sweet. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. [No, no, no. Wait a moment. Gangria is two people?!] Another bout of a laugh. I really dislike when people do this, skirting the topic of conversation. [Answer me. Please.] [It¡¯s complicated. We were nOT alWaYS liKE tHaT.] A glimpse of sadness appeared in their eyes and disappeared as fast as it was born. [We are Gangria. I aM GanGRia. That is all tHaT yOU nEeD to know.] They stared in defiance at my core, keeping silent after that. [So you are.] I sighed internally. Remember Uno, whatever their forms were they¡¯re still Gods. Probably powerful enough to wipe you out of existence. Control yourself. [Then let me start anew. My name is Uno and I¡¯m a Dungeon core of this place. Welcome to my humble abode, what is the reason for your visit?] I asked while trying to keep my mental speech leveled and calm. [We are sEEkInG alLiES.] They spoke in unison. [I don¡¯t understand.] If I had head I would be shaking it right now. [Aren¡¯t Gods on the same side? Trying to save civilization? To push back the savages?] Their faces were turning dark with each word. In a flash of inspiration, I added. [To keep the System in place?] My last words seemed to be a trigger. [SYSTEM! THEIR PRECIOUS SYSTEM!] A scream shrill and powerful reverberated through my dungeon. [THEY STOLE IT FROM US! FORCED IT ON US!] [TRAITORS!] [THIEVES!] [EGOISTS!] The screams continued for a while until both girls finished with their ¡°performance¡±. My minions were getting stressed out, since it seemed like their emanations weren¡¯t blocked by iron, stone, nor dirt, echoing in their heads. [Let¡¯s start fRoM thE beGiNNiNg.] They seemed to calm down already, so I just listened. [First. Gods need faith to live. AnD tO PeRfoRm mIrACles. Do you think that civilization lacking nOtHing is the perfect sTatE to gaTHeR fAith?] They asked, staring at me. [No. I don¡¯t think so.] [Right. Now then the state of the world after the first magical war allowed the remaining Gods to harvest whatever faith was left without problems. wE weRe rIch in eNeRGy. That was however only if the status quo was kept.] [And it wasn¡¯t?] [On the ruins of the old, magical empire a new civilization was born. One uTiLizInG not only mAgIC, bUt aLSo TecHNOlogy. So in response, the Gods forced it to seLF-dEStruct.] [What?! That wasn¡¯t what I¡¯ve heard from them.] [Bah!] The girls snorted at me. [Obviously! Why should they tell you that they¡¯re tRyIng tO sAVe the world fRoM their OWN MISTAKE!] The amount of hatred at the end of that sentence was too much. Now I wonder if these girls have their own stake in this world. [Aren¡¯t you two Gods too?] [We¡¯re different! Our authority was drained. StOLeN! To create this System, which controls the people of the world! Ah, but iT aLsO gIveS uS a bIt oF pOwER. That¡¯s why we¡¯re going to trade that power. ThAT kNowLeDge! tO yoU! Or some of it. After all, a footsoldier doesn¡¯t need to know why is he fighting. Not until he grows strong enough.] Blue Gangria sent me a wink at the end of that monologue. Well, they say that there was no evil knowledge or technology, only the purpose you use it for. And I certainly wasn¡¯t going to let that chance slip by. More so because my ¡°guardians¡± were leaving me out here alone and without any help. If not for Daniel I would be completely in the dark. And now this whole situation grows more and more complicated?! I just wanted to build my dungeon and be left in peace. All this creating stuff and planning the tunnels seemed fun. Like Dwarf Fortress type of fun! Why add politics?! [And what can a humble dungeon core like me do for the omniscient Goddess?] I asked with only a small dose of sarcasm. It seemed like it was a bad move. [Do not PATRONIZE US, mortal!] They screamed again, their shrill voices piercing my mind. [We were here long before your creation and WILL BE LONG AFTER YOU TURN INTO DUST!] [All right, all right, I¡¯m sorry!] I answered desperately and they stopped... [Good.] Like a switch was flipped. [KnOw yOuR pLaCe.] [So, how about the answer to my question?] [It¡¯s simple. Just kill the sentients that they send here. It¡¯s in your best interest, really.] [Well neither Mirabelle nor Brighton didn¡¯t tell me to not kill them. So I guess it''s okay?] [Good. In time stronger sentients may be coming to explore your realm. It is, after all, an interesting place.] The angelic one whispered softly. [It reminds me of the Second Empire.] Then a burned one spoke. [I mAy hAVe sOmE moRe IntERestInG oRdeRs iN tHE fUTurE. iF yOu SurViVe.] [Ummm¡­ sure?] If I had a face I would wear a crooked smile right now. There was nothing better than getting caught in a conflict that you didn¡¯t understand. Haaaaah. [Then, before we leave. tWo pIeCes oF adViCe.] [Yes?] [If you want to experiment on the sapients then do it somewhere where even A gOd cAnnOt sEe yOu. You can¡¯t produce nor modify them anyway since they have a divine link in their souls. To gather faith. Removing it would alert the Gods and then these prudes would declare you a Rogue Dungeon in no time.] A wide, much too-wide smile appeared on their faces. [And then they would CRUSH YOU LIKE A BUG.] [I-I see. A-and the second piece of advice?] Scaaaaary. [It would be a great time to surface right now~~] They ended their thought with a mental whistle. [Why?] [It¡¯s a seeeecret~~~! Don¡¯t you believe us?] Their smile was back, still creepy as ever. Yeah. No. It seemed suspicious as hell. I¡¯ll just wait until they leave and then slowly and¡­ [What are you waiting for? DO IT NOW!] Shit. No choice then? [I see. Then it¡¯s time to break through the last layer?] I sighed and gave the command. At least she will help me¡­ Or so I was thinking, as Gangria avatars started to disappear. [Going already?] I asked with a bitter feeling. [Yup. hAvE fUn! We don¡¯t need weak chess pieces, so try not to dIE!] As soon as they finished their little speech I had multiple intruders in the stairway. Undead, humans, even elves and some animals. What the hell was going on up there?! 018 Charles Blueflame, High Paladin of Order of Fates Untold a few hours earlier, above the dungeon ¡°We¡¯re moving at a good pace, master.¡± Adam, my butler entered the carriage I was riding and smiled in satisfaction. ¡°All according to plan. In an hour or two we¡¯ll arrive at our destination - the ruins of the Waltzer Castle - and join up with the half-elves.¡± I knew that it was his skill talking, but his innate love for precision was the cause of it being born, not the other way around. After all, any skill is only an extension of ourselves. ¡°Good. Now, can I have you tell me our predicted force composition?¡± I asked. The weather outside was certainly cold - just like the badlands usually were and I already missed my warm house in the capital. Oh well. It was nothing that a sip of warm tea wouldn¡¯t remedy. ¡°Yes!¡± The smile on his face grew a bit wider. Truly a man perfectly suited to his tasks. ¡°Our main force consists of twenty mounted warriors. Order breed - both horses and men. Eighteen of them have the Knight class, the other two are Order Knights. Most of them know the Charge skill, so our method of attack is already decided. Levels are varying from five to seven. Their followers - pages - are a mix of classes. We have Heavy Infantry, Shielders, and Weapon Users with the usual combination of Shield and Weapon skills in tow. Not very useful as their levels vary between two and three, four in some singular cases, but they will stop an enemy charge when needed.¡± ¡°Lovely. Having access to the heavy armored frontline is the best. They should hold long enough for the mages to fire their spells. Remind me, who was sent by the main house?¡± I pursed my lips in disdain. Fame-seekers, all of them. But I use what I can. After all, there should be no problem if a few of them ¡°heroically¡± die to the stray arrow or spell. More glory for the Blueflame house. My lips twisted in a smile. ¡°Three Inferno Mages were added to our forces. They each have an acolyte, most of the Flame type, by their side. From what they said all of them boast an Enlarged Area of Effect as their main skill. Every single one of them is a fifth-level magus. It is unknown if they have any other aces in their sleeves.¡± He bowed quickly. ¡°There wasn¡¯t a chance to use our artifact since I suspect that they were already warned about it.¡± ¡°Bah! Inferno Mages. The lowest of the low.¡± I fumed while taking a pipe from the counter and lighting it up without a tinderbox. No spell needed, just pure mana manipulation. That was a real skill. Not some measly AoE knowledge pumped into them by forced level-ups! Children bred to fill up the ranks. ¡°And of course, they knew. My family loves stabbing each other in the back.¡± ¡°Not everyone can boast class as unique as Ifreet Magician, master. Or two skills by their name. Or having a level ten in their class by the twenty-fifth winter.¡± Adam bowed while lowering his head. He knew well how to appease me. ¡°There are, however¡­ complications.¡± ¡°What now?¡± I groaned, knowing that whatever he called a complication was a full-blown disaster for another person. ¡°Our meeting with the elves is due this afternoon. Their forces shouldn¡¯t be too big, twenty, maybe thirty rangers. And some druids of course. I would be wary however of these two who invoked the right of the alliance. Their levels are fairly high. I assume their subordinates would be stronger than usual.¡± ¡°Rikr and Binno, right?¡± I asked while in thought. ¡°Oh. That¡¯s unusual, master. Did they catch your eye?¡± ¡°Hmmm, yeah - somehow. Especially this half-elf I feel like he already advanced to the second class.¡± ¡°Hoh. That¡¯s fast, especially for half-bloods, master. Are you sure?¡± ¡°Nah, that¡¯s only my intuition speaking. It¡¯s not like we were granted Analyzer while on the expedition, right?¡± ¡°Not even mentioning that checking people''s status without their consent is considered a crime.¡± We looked at each other and started to laugh. ¡°So, did you check?¡± ¡°Yes, master, but please remember that the data from our artifact is limited. Only name, class, level, and skill name are displayed.¡± ¡°It¡¯s still adequate.¡± I breathed in the smoke. This herb was used mainly for its relaxing properties. It somewhat kept my temper in line. ¡°Tell me,¡± I demanded. ¡°As you wish.¡± Adam straightened his back and took out a small notebook. The information inside was written in code. Then he spoke, decrypting and then reciting the information immediately. ¡°Binno, 8th level Wilder Druid, one skill found: Nature Friend. Effect unknown. Rikr, 10th level Lunar Walker, two skills found: Enhanced Senses and Lunar Empowerment. Self-explanatory. The rest of their entourage were either too far or had camouflaging skills active.¡± ¡°Yes... Like I thought - strong. Too bad that the names of skills are sometimes hard to decipher. But some knowledge is better than no knowledge at all.¡± I smiled wildly but controlled my urge to do battle with these commoners. It was unsightly for a member of nobility like me. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not the end of surprises that you have for me, Adam. Out with it.¡± I grumbled again, waiting for his report to finish. ¡°It is as you assumed. I¡¯m afraid that the Beast Princess is on her way.¡± He answered while closing his eyes. My response was immediate. ¡°Shit! Not her! That damn prodigy and achievement thief! How did she even hear about it?¡± ¡°Master¡­¡± Adam''s tone was clearly annoyed. ¡°It¡¯s obvious that somebody of royal heritage would be informed about the new dungeon. Especially because we took a month to arrive in these lands and our scouts haven¡¯t yet found the breach site!¡± ¡°Argh! I know! I fucking know that, but that doesn¡¯t improve the situation in the slightest!¡± I clutched my head and resisted the urge to scream. ¡°How much time do we have?¡± ¡°Two days, maybe three. She is dragging her entire entourage here, so considering how they have to rest¡­ But you know her.¡± ¡°Yeah, of course, I frickin'' know her! She¡¯s mad! Like, seriously, she¡¯s younger than me and already halfway to her third advancement class! You have to be mad to keep up with her speed!¡± Things were going south. Nothing went right when that little psycho was around. ¡°Order the army to speed up their advance. We¡¯re going to meet with the elves and wipe out the undead. Immediately!¡± *** Rikr, Lunar Walker representative of Luna Kingdom Ranger Forces near the Waltzer Castle Ruins Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Quit your whining, Binno. We¡¯re under strict orders to cooperate. The humans had already chosen their battlefield. There isn¡¯t much else that I can do. Especially since their leader seems to be a high noble.¡± The druid had already transformed into his Dark Panther form. His reaction to my tirade was simply a snort. ¡°Yes, yes, I know. You crave battle. Be patient, my friend.¡± Most of the rangers under my command were stalking the bushes on the left wing of the human army. It was wise to leave some semblance of freedom to people who could easily coordinate with each other. And those who had a distinct problem with heeding orders from outsiders. Rikr nodded to himself - it seemed like the commander wasn¡¯t a total newbie. The joint army put all twenty-something cavalry riders in the middle, on the mostly flat terrain, and ordered nearly a hundred of human infantry to guard their rear - a veritable mass of metal and flesh. Like most people from the Geinard Kingdom, they preferred heavy armor and even heavier weapons, but a kite or tower shield wasn¡¯t a rare occurrence either. They weren¡¯t able to hide from the enemy, nor did they care to do so. For them, the battle would be a clash of steel and courage, not a tactical dance. On the right wing, another forty infantrymen were walking forward while crushing down feeble vegetation. Rikr could see the runners flow in and out of their formation. Young men arrived and left from his position with each passing minute, confirming their movements. Rikr''s thirty or so rangers and druids were moving like ghosts on the wind, so they abhorred the attention that couriers brought to their ranks. Not that it mattered. The undead were sure to notice them either way. It was more part of personal preference. One didn¡¯t become a ranger if they wanted to stand out. Behind all this noise about ten mages walked with their heads held high. Each of them carried an adorned staff and wore a bright red robe. Some of them seemed to wear less eye-gouging clothes than the others - which probably denoted weaker power. The one who dressed the flashiest was, of course, the high commander of this joint force. Charles Blueflame, of the noble mage family specializing in the inferno spells. According to my sources, he had already achieved his second advancement. ¡°Talk about being in the spotlight,¡± I muttered and some of my subordinates nodded in acknowledgment. We all looked at the High Paladin with a mixture of awe and consternation. Somebody wearing that kind of colors was easily the biggest target on the battlefield. Well¡­ it was not our business. We were here only to take care of the undead that appeared in this part of the world. All other things were secondary. Finishing the mission was the priority - through any means necessary. The moment that the situation turned sour and human forces were going to get decimated we would turn tail and escape. After all, one can¡¯t live to fight another day if they¡¯re dead. That was the creed of the Luna Kingdom Ranger Forces. Ah, but right now the battle seemed to proceed in our favor. The undead just stood there in a big, clumped mass - they had about four, maybe five times more bodies than our combined forces could field. They were mostly zombies, skeletons, and some ghouls though - cannon fodder, nothing really dangerous reared their ugly heads yet. This lack of higher-tier undead was worrying. They were either hidden close by or retreated altogether. Each alternative could spell our doom. Our commander, however, didn¡¯t have such worries. He shouted loudly and with a short chant, while the mages hidden behind infantry sent their spells flying. Fireballs of various sizes sailed through the air with deadly grace and landed amongst the dead decimating their frontline. The undead simply marched forward without flinching flowing ahead like an unmovable tide. Unlike the living, they didn¡¯t fear, didn¡¯t hunger, or grew jealous. Only to get blasted by fire once again. Some of them lost their limbs, their shields caught fire, skin melted. And yet they walked. My rangers shot their weapons, but they dealt minimal damage. Bows were poor weapons against this type of foe after all. Three volleys later we switched to melee. In the middle human, cavalrymen charged forward, moving down their enemies. Their impact was great, cutting deep into enemy lines. The undead, however, didn¡¯t want to stay down - even lacking limbs they crawled forward and bit, trying to drag the knights to the ground. It was then that the Death General appeared with his elite units. Dark Knights armed with bardiches, spears, and hooks - many types of pole weapons were present. The situation stabilized for a moment, but then two mounted warriors were taken down and pretty much turned into ribbons. The noble leading us lost his cool and ordered a charge. Infantrymen screamed in response and ran forward, eager to slaughter their enemies. My warriors also felt the heat of the moment. Their charge was less impressive than the humans, not being reinforced by the mass of armor and shields. In turn, however, our attack was like a piercing strike, breaking deep into their lines. Like a barbed arrow. Then everything shattered into pieces. I uncovered my weapons - sword and dagger. They craved blood, just like my subordinates. And so the dance of death has begun. An undead appeared ahead of me, raising his weapon. I weaved under his arm, severing the head with a single swipe. Drops of blackened blood were slowly falling to the ground. Another two - zombies this time - were slowly coming towards me. One got its head crushed by an allied warrior and I in turn dismembered the legs out of the second one, forcing it to crawl pitifully on the ground. Soon both bodies disappeared behind me. I ran. Faces and weapons turned into a blur. It was the feeling of battle. Pure bloodlust. A short burst of speed later and I was facing a Dark Knight armed with a halberd. It stabbed forward, trying to skewer me and I used a nearby human as a shield. The defender grunted, his feet sliding back under the pressure, forehead slick with sweat and blood. As his enemy focused on a new opponent I slid under his guard, forcing my dagger into the slits of his helmet. He roared. The damage was forcing him to lose his black steel weapon - in his case, an enhanced intelligence was counterbalanced with a sense of pain. It all was working in my favor. The human trooper roared too, attacking his now defenseless foe. An ax tore the undead apart, forcing him to his knees. The human raised his weapon to deliver a finishing blow only to fall - victim to an attack from behind. Small dwarven skeletons cackled as they bash down the living to the ground. He died while screaming. I was already away - lunging forward, carving a bloody path through our enemies. It was then that I heard¡­ An explosion. The ground groaned and trembled while mana concentration started to rise shockingly fast. Somebody screamed. Somebody fell. ¡°It¡¯s a Breach! The dungeon is breaching the surface!¡± The battle stalled immediately. We all knew what it meant. ¡°By the Gods.¡± I muttered. ¡°We couldn¡¯t find it because it didn¡¯t surface yet?¡± This was bad, really bad. ¡°Did the Death General make his stand here, because he knew about that?¡± A hole opened up in the ground, spewing a tornado of sickly green and blue mana. It was just the beginning - a ball of energy was already forming above it, threatening to blow up. ¡°Retreat towards the dungeon!¡± I screamed at the top of my lungs and warriors around me grew ever restless. We all knew that once this ball of energy stopped charging a big explosion would occur. And then our surroundings and all beings stupid enough to stay close to the epicenter would be broken down and converted into flora and fauna native to the dungeon. Nobody had seen this process in years, but we weren¡¯t keen on checking if it was true or not. The fight grew even fiercer as undead, humans and my rangers raced towards the dungeon entrance. It will be a fucking long day. Even if we escaped down the entrance there was also a problem of dungeon denizens¡­ ¡°This is getting more and more annoying¡± I murmured seeing as most of the human forces managed to retreat outside the explosion radius. At least our forces haven¡¯t lost more than a few warriors. ¡°Let¡¯s try to keep it that way.¡± I said, licking my suddenly dry lips. Long fucking day. 019 Charles Blueflame, High Paladin of Order of Fates Untold Badlands, near the newly uncovered dungeon complex ¡°How are our casualties?¡± I asked my butler while looking at the strange metallic jungle that sprouted from the magical explosion. It was normal for the dungeon influence to extend far during its birth. What wasn¡¯t normal was the actual radius - two kilometers in diameter (and growing). It was one of the largest sizes recorded in Yana history. Ah, but then again our knowledge was far from complete¡­ the cataclysmic events like wars and magical experiments did their number on the Royal Archives. Not to mention that over half of the seeded dungeons were already lost to corruption or simply destroyed. ¡°About thirty percent of the common soldiers were either devoured by the magical phenomenon or killed by the undead. Another twenty percent are probably trapped down in the dungeon with remaining Luna Kingdom forces. Around ten percent are still unaccounted for.¡± Adam answered quickly, not even once peeking into his notepad. I waved him off. ¡°Deaths of these peasants are irrelevant. There are always more of them just waiting for conscription to happen. How are my mounted knights and mages? You know, the people that were actually trained? They¡¯re much more important.¡± I asked while squinting hard at the setting sun - it was lingering on the horizon, but the temperature didn¡¯t reflect that at all. At least, while it was still cold, the surrounding vegetation seemed weirdly revitalized. Even the common shrubs growing in the badlands were somehow looking more¡­ vibrant than usual. The stifling atmosphere of these cursed lands was slowly getting dispersed. ¡°Out of twenty riders, only twelve returned. All of the Inferno Mages were killed in the retreat. Their acolytes luckily managed to survive the onslaught.¡± A strange smile appeared on the old butler''s lips. All according to plan. Ah, but the loss of order knights hurts. ¡°Our remaining forces already managed to create a defensive line as close to the dungeon as was humanly possible. There isn¡¯t a lot of undead activity in the surroundings, but we¡¯ve already detected a few stragglers in the jungle. Most are being actively dispatched by the local plants...¡± Adam''s voice trailed off, while he once again digested the written information. This was some good and bad news in one package. ¡°I see. Send the messengers back to the capital to request reinforcements and announce that the newborn dungeon has been located.¡± Adam nodded and left the tent, bowing down in the process. ¡°We need to stake a claim.¡± I muttered while thinking about the royal court and their intrigues. To keep calm I decided to leave the premises and immersed myself in the chaos that was our camp. My two bodyguards followed. I would hate to get into an accident and die before fulfilling my ambitions after all. The surroundings were a real hive of activity. While our expedition was strictly military behind it trailed camp followers - baggage carriers, prostitutes, merchants, slavers, and other, even less savory elements. After all men in the army had their¡­ needs. Uncatered they would spell a disaster for any army. Yet the manual laborers were walking back and forth happily, with a sense of purpose, carrying rations, equipment, and raw materials. It was easy to understand - a new dungeon meant new jobs and new jobs meant food. And that was all these poor sods wanted from life - to survive from one day to another. Preferably while making sure that their children weren¡¯t starving either. Some of the alchemists that came with our forces were already testing new flora borne of the dungeon. No animals yet though. Too bad - another source of meat was always welcome. The feverish faces of these lunatics indicated that something interesting was going on. Yet I wasn¡¯t too keen on knowing what it was exactly before they were done with their explosions. Especially because the sheer aggressiveness and vitality of the new plants were staggering. It was a dangerous combination for anyone still treasuring their limbs. Some of my people experienced local flora firsthand after trying to carve a safe path toward the dungeon entrance. Three lumberjacks were dragged into the bushes before anyone could even react, another few seeing this just ran away and managed to escape with only light injuries. Nobody managed to cut down more than a few trees - not that there were many volunteers after that. People were already calling this thicket the Silver Forest, because of how the place looked. However while the name invoked a more calm and relaxed feeling, in reality, it was anything but. At least the whole place was consistent. Most of the plants we found had distinct, metallic colors. Probably a dungeon influence. That was not counting these cursed, piss-yellow flowers which exploded into a cloud of acid with the slightest touch. These fuckers were something else entirely. They earned themselves a ¡°special¡± name too - Boomers - due to their volatile nature. For now, our progress was halted and short of bombarding the forest with magic, there was little we could do. And since the trees felt, looked, and behaved like made from iron, steel, or maybe silver I wasn¡¯t so sure that such an attack would even do much. Nor that there were many voices to destroy it. I couldn¡¯t just order the purge, as the expedition was financed by a few other parties. Destroying a potential source of gain wasn¡¯t on their agenda. Just as I was pondering as such one of the surrounding peasants dared to stop me. ¡°Sire.¡± A young laborer bowed down. In response, I wrinkled my nose... that was another problem with the peasantry... They hated bathing, the ¡°aroma¡± of sweat and dirt was very distinct around the man. This guy, in particular, was big and muscular, which was a clear sign that he worked physically. My distaste swelled, but I put it aside as the unease he felt was clearly visible on his face. At least he understands his position. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Yes? What do you want, knave? Out with it.¡± ¡°Sire.¡± He bowed again. ¡°Master Druid asks for your presence.¡± ¡°What druid?¡± I hollered. The man curled up on instinct, raising his arms defensively, and looked on fearfully while stammering out the answer to my question. ¡°M-master druid¡­¡± His quiet voice trailed into nothingness. I was half-tempted to have him whipped right here, right now. The merciful rules visage be damned. Thankfully for him, one of my guards perked up. ¡°My lord! I think he means the Druid representative that is still staying in our camp!¡± The laborer quickly nodded in assent. Drat. Why is that guy still alive? I immediately knew who they were talking about. A large, gruff man using an enormous Warhammer as a weapon and wearing animal skins all the time was hard to forget after all. He too, like this laborer, was reeking of barbarity. Great. Another peasant to deal with. ¡°I understand. Lead me to him.¡± It didn¡¯t matter that the man was alone. He invoked the rite of the alliance so I had to treat him like a Luna Kingdom representative. These were the rules. Too bad that the arrows weren¡¯t so kind to put him out of his misery. We walked briskly towards the less presentable part of the camp. There, surrounded by peasants with axes, stood the said druid, intently staring at the silver trees. Only after I coughed lightly he turned his attention back to the humans. ¡°You¡¯re the Geinard Kingdom representative?¡± He asked suddenly. ¡°Yes. My name is Charles Blueflame, High Paladin of the Order of Fates Untold. Noble of the highest order and a fire mage.¡± ¡°Binno. Druid.¡± He answered laconically. ¡°So for what reason did you call me to this dreadful place?¡± I asked looking around intently for anything out of place. Not counting the Silver Forest trees of course. ¡°These plants.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°They¡¯re weird.¡± I had to bottle in my urge to scream. No SHIT. Who would¡¯ve thought that PLANTS MADE OF IRON, SILVER, AND GODS KNOW WHAT ARE WEIRD? Some of my thoughts must¡¯ve leaked to the surface because I saw one of the guards stifling a chuckle. I will deal with you later. ¡°We know that.¡± I answered in the calmest possible way. ¡°No.¡± The large druid shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°Then explain.¡± I stared at him for a moment and unwillingly added. ¡°Please.¡± He nodded his head immediately. After that, Binno just stared at the plants for a few minutes and I could feel my patience running thin. Not only was I dragged here, but I also had to wait?! Sighing in exasperation I searched for a comfortable spot. Both of my guards also sat down nearby, hands near their weapons. The Lumberjacks were still standing around though, unmoving. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke with a quiet bass voice. ¡°The trees and the other plants out here won¡¯t respond to my calls. They¡¯re part of nature and yet they are not. There is no connection between us. It is an uncanny thing. I can feel their pervasive anger, but cannot calm them down. Even now they scream and lash out with all their might.¡± He took in his surroundings, suddenly saddened. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that the only way through this forest is to burn or cut them down.¡± Binno exhaled, tired of the long (by his standards) monologue. ¡°I see. Are they sick, then?¡± If they were I could very well get hold of enough firepower to flatten this place altogether. Alchemists be damned... ¡°No. They¡¯re just¡­ different.¡± He shook his head. This time at least I didn¡¯t have to wait for ages for his response. ¡°Also¡­¡± ¡°Yes?¡± I was slowly figuring this man out. Without constant prodding and dragging him along the conversation would just stall. ¡°Their mana feels strange. Hungry.¡± ¡°Oh. So it wasn¡¯t an illusion.¡± ¡°What?¡± It was the druid time to ask. My answer, unlike his, was immediate. ¡°I know that all dungeons convert mana - both tainted and pure into their own. But I thought it was too soon for the dungeon core to start already. And yet here we are.¡± ¡°Mmmm¡­¡± The druid continued to stare into the wilderness for a few minutes, but he didn¡¯t say anything else. I decided to leave, but as soon as my group stood up he spoke again. ¡°I would beseech you to start moving towards the dungeon entrance. My companions are there, waiting for rescue.¡± ¡°I will do whatever is in my power to help them.¡± I gave him a solemn nod and a safe non-answer. ¡°I see.¡± He grunted while petting his Dark Panther that came out of the darkness. ¡°Our messengers were also dispatched.¡± He said staring into my eyes. Ho. So he isn''t just a dumb brute. We left in a hurry and soon I arrived at my tent. Adam was already waiting. ¡°Master?¡± He asked worryingly. ¡°It seems like we have to redouble our efforts.¡± ¡°Change of plans, then?¡± ¡°Yes. The Luna Kingdom already asked for reinforcements. We have to reach the entrance before them. It¡¯s crucial.¡± ¡°I understand!¡± After dumping the remaining responsibilities on my butler I moved inside the tent, searching for my tea and herb pipe. I had to relax, but the situation was growing more and more stressful. And the time window before Beast Princess - Agness Geinard - arrives was growing shorter and shorter. Just as I was thinking it the sickly sweet voice I knew all too well resounded from the entrance. ¡°Chaaaaaaaarlie! Well, hello there! I heard that you were awfully busy and I rushed here to see your gallant form. Broke a horse or two, even!¡± The owner of the voice rushed inside, guards letting her waltz in without problems. ¡°And here I find you relaxing, smoking! Maybe there are some wenches under the beeed~?" The girl asked while looking under my sleeping space. "I think there is a need for a little lesson, don¡¯t you think?~~¡± She came closer and closer, while I tried to formulate the response, as I was shrinking in primal fear. This response was already beaten in my soul. Agnes Geinard, the Genius, the Monster, the Flower of the Battlefield, and also my crazy, battle junkie fiance had already arrived. 020 Rikr, half-elf ranger, part of the Luna Kingdom Expeditionary Forces The first room of the Unnamed Dungeon When I came to we were already trapped. Yes, there weren¡¯t any walls or locks to keep us in place, but seeing our companions torn apart by the jungle born from living metal made us prisoners nonetheless. There were about twenty rangers left. The rest was either killed by the undead or managed to retreat towards the Geinard Kingdom lines. We were too close to the epicenter and as such, we decided to take shelter in these underground halls. Still, it was a rather good outcome considering how surprised we were at dungeon emergence. Ah. I almost forgot. Trapped with us were also eight heavily armored human survivors, covered in wounds. One of the fire mage apprentices also made it, albeit only barely. Just as he entered the stairway the magical phenomenon we were warned about consumed the above. My rangers weren¡¯t much better off than humans. Some had broken bones, others - lacerations and bruises. One had been pierced through by the rusty sword¡­ And now he was slowly dying in agony while being clutched and desperately cradled by his lover. This type of wound wasn¡¯t normally considered severe, but the lack of sanitary conditions, healer mages and even curing potions decidedly tipped down scales of his survival. That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t want to have any attachments. They get you killed. I saw it all too often. Either you get slashed trying to defend your loved one or he/she gets mauled trying to do the same. And the survivor''s guilt¡­ don¡¯t even get me started. I sighed deeply and left the pair. They had the right to their final goodbyes. It was time to check the surroundings, count our provisions and hopefully - find a way out of this mess. To recount. Currently, we were residing in a large, cavernous room. The ceiling was really up high, but not far away to completely hide few weird plants growing on it. They were somehow giving out enough light to comfortably move around. Such magical contraptions were often seen in the dungeons. Some of them used glowing rocks instead or even simple, wooden torches with fire enchantments. Plants however were¡­ unique. And worrying. It was long established truth in the ranger corps that the unknown was always the deadliest. The ground under my feet was sandy, but uneven underneath. Few centimeters deep and I could feel the rough stone used as a sort of pavement. At least there were no traps concealed in the first room - we checked it thoroughly. This too was a usual occurrence and a piece of valuable information. All dungeons were trials from the Gods, so a place to ponder was only right. This one was a bit too bare for my tastes, but a large amount of space and bright lighting created a peaceful, yet eerie atmosphere. Perfect for those who would risk their lives here. The walls supporting the whole place bore marks of chisel and hammer - clear hints of sentient races involvement. They were faded and delicate though, which meant that a lot of time had passed since their creation. The dungeons weren¡¯t picky when it came to the environment, they would adapt and assimilate in order to create a place suited for their needs. The worrying thought was what it had already absorbed to create these metallic plants. After all, I remembered well from my teachings, that there were times when an innocent dungeon devoured a site of a devil ritual or some necromantic energies and started spewing out cursed abominations. Or when people started to ¡°feed¡± it in order to produce needed resources. Like the ¡°meat dungeon¡± they created near Geinard Kingdom capital. It was one of the few such experiments that didn¡¯t backfire. I still shudder at night when remembering ¡°Trash Dungeon¡±, which started to use poison, rot and crudely pieced parts of fecal matter as monsters. Absolutely disgusting. No matter. This site was close enough to Luna Kingdom borders that such things would not be tolerated. The humans laid a claim to this dungeon, but the situation was much more complicated. The whole world was watching its development with bated breath. It was after all the newest addition to the list of dungeons. To tell the truth, the first room wasn¡¯t completely bare - sparse bundles of sharp-leafed plants were growing here and there. Their silvery color was pretty eye-catching in the dull and brown atmosphere of the entrance chamber. And of course - like it was in their nature - one of the humans already tried to tear off a few leaves out of it. He only managed to get his hands cut, even through the thick leather of his gloves. Cursing heavily he was forced to stop. I shook my head in disappointment. His companions laughed it off, but one of my rangers came closer in order to investigate the plant. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. It only took him a moment and he was already back, ready to report. ¡°They¡¯re certainly alive, captain.¡± Somehow they started to call me that, I couldn¡¯t really figure why¡­ Yet my position was a temporary one. ¡°With a bit of green magic it would grow stronger, but¡­¡± ¡°Yes?¡± I pressed on. ¡°It was really hard to ask the plant for a leaf or two.¡± He had shown me a silvery knife. ¡°At least they¡¯re really tough and can be used as a throwing weapon from the get-go.¡± His tired face bloomed in a smile. Sadly I had to crush his hopes. ¡°You said it was really tough and sturdy?¡± He nodded, still not understanding my way of thinking. ¡°The dungeons tend to create plants and let¡¯s call them herbivores in order to quench the thirst of other monsters. And since these plants are so robust¡­¡± My voice trailed off. ¡°Then how strong are the beasts feeding on them?!¡± The ranger understood my concerns and paled in fright. ¡°Of course it''s only a conjecture at this point.¡± I nodded sagely. ¡°But please discreetly distribute information to the rangers. Humans don¡¯t need to know yet.¡± He nodded and walked back to our camp. Even now Geinard and Luna Kingdom people were camping in two different places. I call them ¡°humans¡±, but in truth amongst my rangers too there were men and women of their race. Just like the beastmen and the half-elves humans were considered the bulk of our forces. But instead of being called human they preferred another word - freemen. To remind them of the choices their ancestors had made in the past and their constant dedication to our cause. But enough of this. I had more pressing matters to attend. This dungeon was dangerous. There was no doubt about that. I could feel it in my bones. Never before seen flora usually meant never before seen fauna. And worse. I was just praying that the dungeon core hadn¡¯t found one of the old Empire caches¡­ My train of thought was cut short. Another ranger reported to me in excitement, her braids jumping up and down as she walked. ¡°Captain! We found the entrance proper - it¡¯s a confusing maze full of shorter and longer corridors!¡± She laughed happily. ¡°And there are traps too!¡± Her excitement was overflowing. ¡°Once again, ranger. Calmly this time, please.¡± I asked while smiling at her youth. Suddenly I remembered. She wanted to spend a night with me, only to run away when confronted with my real age. Bitter memories, which she didn¡¯t remember now. That was for the better I suppose. ¡°Yes, sir!¡± She saluted, straightening her back. Her not too large bust jumped up and down this time, just like her braids before. I wondered why it was always the redheads that were so aggressive. ¡°We decided to scout ahead and encountered a maze. Just like we were taught our group decided on using the method of the right hand.¡± I nodded, when it came to mazes keeping to either right or left at all times was paramount to not getting lost. ¡±There were more plants out there - all metallic and weird. We wanted to bring some samples back, but since the food was most important¡­¡± She gestured towards the back. Only now I saw a large, rat-like creature lying in the pool of its own blood. It looked partly mechanical, but there was enough meat on its bones for a meal or two. If it wasn¡¯t poisonous. ¡°Did you check?¡± I asked and the young ranger nodded. ¡°One of the forerunners had enough knowledge and magic to give a go to consumption. He said it''s similar to the gray rat common in the badlands. Nothing that delicious, but it will do in a pinch. The dungeon probably hunted it early.¡± For the first time, she looked a bit distressed. Eating rats wasn¡¯t high on the list of my priorities either. ¡°Yeah, I know. Just leave the meat around the metal parts alone.¡± Neither of us were keen to try if the iron was somehow fused with the flesh. It was time for a change of pace. ¡°And why did you retreat so soon?¡± ¡°Umm¡­ we heard something.¡± ¡°Something?¡± ¡°It was a metallic sound, like iron knocking on the stone.¡± ¡°More like something darn heavy was knocking on the frikkin stone¡± Another ranger cut in while trying to carve rat meat in the short strips. ¡°It rumbled louder and louder, so in the end, we decided that it wasn¡¯t worth the risk and ran back to you, Captain!¡± The impromptu chef had a weird grin on his face, which with an addition of a bloody knife made him a rather terrifying character. ¡°Typical knife-ears, good at sneakin, weak at fightin!¡± A large man in a full chain armor came out from the human camp while dragging a large zweihander behind him. His bald head was reflecting the light and accentuating the black, curly mustache. ¡°I¡¯ll tell ya! Guide me towards this noise of yers and I¡¯ll smack it good!¡± He boasted. His skin had a green hue and was difficult to look at. It reminded me of goblins. ¡°Kidaro.¡± I nodded while remembering the information. 6th level heavy warrior, decent attack and defense. A bit stupid, but also courageous to the fault. He managed to get his hands on some regeneration skill which in turn made him nigh unstoppable in normal fights. Good enough I suppose. ¡°Jina.¡± I called out the redhead bouncy ranger. ¡°You¡¯re on scouting duty. I and Uliss will cover the attack power. Kidaro will tank and Callisto, can you aid us with your spells?¡± I asked the only mage amongst us. He had a pretty bad cut on his leg, but other than that his ability to cast spells was unimpeded. The man in question gave me a long, tired look before answering. ¡°Only if I get a cut of that meat. My rations¡­ were left in the aboveground campsite.¡± He supplemented with a bit of a blush. Because of his childish face and frame, his words made the girls in the ranger squad squeal in delight. His red eyes glinted, but he managed to keep his anger contained. ¡°Please?¡± ¡°Of course, friend!¡± I beamed back. ¡°We need you in the top form after all.¡± Noticing Kidaro hungry gaze I added. ¡°You¡¯re invited too, friend.¡± Our preparations took only a few minutes and soon we began our walk. The adventuring party gathered under the temptation of rat meat. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. I mused quietly while nibbling on my own piece of food. This time we decided to move by the left-hand rule. It didn¡¯t matter in the end as the rumbling my scouts reported started to grow louder and louder. It was clear that we were being pursued. Instead of running ahead into who-knows-where I ordered the team to prepare. There were traps out here, so running ahead would end badly even with our scouting abilities. As a large being emerged from behind a corner one thought rattled inside my head. Who the hell puts a boss monster in the second room?! 021 Uno This world. It was seriously weird. Why? Well, somebody was eating my dungeon monsters. Wasn¡¯t this supposed to be the other way around?! What the hell? Were rats even edible? Or since they were born in a dungeon weren¡¯t they stuffed with some weird magical mumbo-jumbo, which would prevent consumption? The idea of feeding sentients felt pretty unpleasant, but my dungeon instincts were silent on this matter. What I remember from Brighton''s speech was that he seemed to imply that the dungeons were created to help the sentient races. To keep them afloat so to speak. As such it would be illogical for the meat of their creations to be inedible. Unless they were clearly poisonous, undead, or otherwise construct-like. And I already knew that all of these were themes I was going for in the long run. Adventurers eating my minions didn¡¯t matter. It was just a minor annoyance. And I guess while changing my monsters to contain some type of poison or disease would probably please Gangria it would surely piss off the other Gods. So it was something that I couldn¡¯t do right now. At least not overtly so. A little fix here and there should be okay. This balancing act felt quite tiring. But on the other hand, because of these adventurers (no - soldiers I guess?), I was learning new things, which was never a bad thing. Especially when listening in on the hunters - their explanation about the ecosystem really tickled my fancy. It would be rude to disappoint. Heh. Creating unique plants to be eaten by massive herbivores and then those herbivores to be in turn eaten by the sneaky predators. Ever-turning wheel of life, which would gain power over time. In theory even without the upper limit? This was quite an idea for the next floor. And yes. I managed to do it! All the dead people I absorbed, their equipment and this whole ¡°open yourself to the world, Uno¡± thing pushed me toward the first Dungeon Core Level. And even a bit beyond it. Which meant that I could dig, which my drones already started to do. The stairway down was already done, anyway. Of course, it was located in the false core room which was a problem in itself. Was this mechanical core even detachable? My onyx core could be easily carried away, be it by minion hands or some machine, but the false one with the wall it was embedded in¡­ Yeah. Another thing to experiment on later. I would begin to rush only when the adventurer parties managed to reach Ratling Warrens, not a moment earlier. Which didn¡¯t seem probable at the moment. Speaking of adventurers - they managed to gather their pioneering team. It consisted of two rangers with dual daggers - I guess they were here for frontline duty, or maybe trap disposal? Their Luna Kingdom affiliation was pretty obvious at this point. Then there was also a girl armed with a bow and a small boy with a grandiose staff, probably a healer or maybe a mage. Last, but not least was a big, green-skinned man with a two-handed sword. He was wearing chainmail with a rather plain helmet. Obviously a warrior of some kind from the Geinard Kingdom. His color was clearly off, but nobody on the team commented on it, so I didn¡¯t have any additional information besides his name. Kidaro. It kinda bugged me, but most of my focus was on the mage/healer - Callisto. I had plans for him after all. Their party left the safety of the first room and delved further. Why did I decide to leave it empty? It was some kind of instinct. That and years of RPG experience. You must gather your party before venturing forth and all that jazz. Their group, unlike the earlier scouts, were moving by the left-hand rule, which meant they would soon leave the Twisted Tunnels my drones dug without any problems. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Which was unacceptable. To leave the first guest room without meeting the host? Nope. I nudged the Decapitator in the right direction. It slowly lumbered forth but with deceiving speed. They heard him right away but decided to avoid confrontation. Not-gonna-happen. It took a minute or two, but my monster managed to catch up. The traps manned by Ratlings were disabled instantly when it stomped nearby, while the ones in the adventurer''s way were instead prepared to catch them unaware. Sadly their senses were too good. That and the constant surveillance of the two rangers. Nobody fell into the pit or was skewered by the spears. Was my design simply bad, uninspired, or was their knowledge just too good? I had to get a bigger sample of visitors to decide further. And maybe then add a few more surprises. Anyway - they decided to make their stand and as preparation, the traps around them were swiftly disarmed. Smart. As the Decapitator blades peeked around the corner I could hear shocked gasps. Nice reaction. One of them even screamed in indignation. ¡°Why is there a boss in the second room?!¡± The leader-like figure asked into the thin air. For a moment I was sure that he somehow understood that I was sentient, but it just seemed to be a cry of anger at the perceived injustice. ¡°Kidaro, to the front, try to block its blades! Jina! Hit it in the middle, there is a fleshy growth there! Callisto start casting and tell us when you¡¯re ready to attack! Uliss - with me!¡± The large green man grunted in confirmation and walked forward, while two rangers shadowed his steps. Yet my attention was somewhere else entirely. It seemed like the young one was a mage, not a healer. Excellent! Just what I needed - especially because I still didn¡¯t crack the whole magic conundrum. How it worked, what were the exact rules? Which trope was being used here? Chants, runes, maybe some good old imagination? All of them? None? Was it just a deal with gathering energy flowing through the world, or was there an even more complicated explanation? Maybe affinities were a thing for the mortals too? So many things to test. Thus I decided to switch from passive entertainment to actively trying to kidnap the mage. Maybe one or two more people too. Their meatshield looked interesting, but I could only aim for a backline. Too bad. Maybe next time. The analysis of the dead adventurer''s bodies would have to wait for another time. I had very much alive guests to entertain right now. It took only a few seconds for the melee warriors to charge ahead, locking blades with the abomination. It screamed loudly - startling not only its enemies but me too. I didn¡¯t know it was capable of making any sound¡­ not to mention that. It was a strange roar - a combination of scratching metal and a deep, loud scream, which seemed vaguely human. It only added to the creepiness factor. Eight out of ten. However, the frontline was stopped only for a moment, shaking off the fear effect immediately. Their leader was first to run forward, likely to show an example and raise morale. His blade however only bounced powerlessly from Decapitator''s iron body. A *clang* was heard and he winced in pain, barely keeping hold of his dagger. True to its name the beast used one of its ¡°hands¡± to swipe horizontally, but the half-elf was nimble enough to avoid that clumsy move. His partner - Uliss, was it? - reacted immediately, lunging forward in an attempt to cut down the monster''s leg. Once again however the material it was made from proved impervious to damage. Only a small scratch was left. What was worse for them - it was already healing. It was then that the orc-like man waltzed forward yelling and swearing while trying to smack down the monster with his sword. An overhead swing with a lot of momentum behind it. The zweihander comically bounced back, but this time he elicited a reaction. Just not the one he expected though. A large, greyish tentacle sailed forward and grabbed one of his arms, trying to drag him closer to the thirsty iron blades. The Decapitator trembled with excitement, the edges of his ¡°hands¡± getting ever closer. The victim tried to desperately stop it, but he couldn¡¯t do much when being dragged. He even left skid marks on the floor. His companions reacted by focusing their attack on the fleshy tentacle - a much more tempting target than iron blades. As soon as the dagger pierced the rough monster''s skin it was forced to abandon the prey, screaming again in indignation. All the while the bow-girl tried to pelt it with arrows. To no avail may I say. They backed away for a moment, breathing heavily. The boy-mage was chanting something slowly under his nose. I could see the fire gathering in his palms. Seeing that the mage was close to unleashing his spell I pinged the squad of Lebirs led by the one armed with a Crackling Mace to move even faster. The second team was composed of five Ratling Spear Throwers. I gave the order to intercept. And then a few things happened. One after another. One - the Ratlings shot the mage. That was good. Two - the mage somehow managed to fire off the spell in Decapitator''s general direction. That was bad. Three - the spell melted a fair bit of my monster, forcing it to scream yet again and disabling two of its blades, but it also singed the green man. That was good and bad. Four - the green man caught fire like a match. That was good. And amusing. Five - my squad of Lebirs stumbled out of the corridor, grabbing the mage. That was good. Six - they were instantly spotted by the rangers. That was bad. Seven - their leader started screaming about ¡°magi-tech weapons¡±, ¡°forbidden¡± and ¡°forgotten cache¡±. That was¡­ weird? Eight - with an order in a language that I didn¡¯t understand the remaining party members shot the mage and the burning man. And then they ran away. Disappointing. At the very least I¡¯ve got a certified mage to play around. His body was in pristine condition. Not counting the hole in the skull. And some holes in the arms? And legs? Damn, these Ratlings were merciless. There was also this strange orc-like man. The parts that didn¡¯t burn - bones mostly. Still, a profit was a profit. I wasn¡¯t going to complain. Much. 022 Uno The remaining adventurers ran away pretty much unimpeded. My creatures on site weren¡¯t exactly what you would call nimble, so catching them was impossible. I guess that meant one of the perks of being dexterous enough (like the rangers) was a higher survival rate? The mages and heavy-duty fighters had more staying power, but when everything went to hell it was a thief or a rogue that escaped unharmed. Such was life. I asked Lebirs to bring back the spoils, seeing as I couldn¡¯t exactly absorb the still alive mage. Or rather barely alive. The ranger arrows managed to deal a large amount of damage. Luckily it wasn¡¯t enough to outright kill the boy. It somehow made me question this world - was it hit point based? I had no indication of such a thing, but maybe it was because I was a dungeon core? Anyway, I tried to mend his wounds with a healthy dose of mana and ingenious duct tape, which in this situation worked similarly to a bandage. Yet my knowledge of human physiology wasn¡¯t really that good. I remembered few tips from the National Geographic program seen on TV and there was a bit of understanding gleaned from dissecting dead bodies, but no matter what it didn¡¯t allow me to become an expert on saving lives. That was why I considered the final effect satisfactory. The mage wasn¡¯t dead. But he also wasn¡¯t completely ¡°here¡±. I might or might not have broken something. In my defense, there was a hole in his brain. My duct tape mana stopped the blood loss and saved his life. But at what cost? I admit - it wasn¡¯t a laughable situation. This guy represented the knowledge of the outside. Which I needed mostly because it wasn¡¯t as outdated as Daniel¡¯s. On that note, should I even call him by this name? My Analyze tells me he was turned into the Guardian. So maybe it would be a better idea to call him just that? Who knows. Not like the person in question can answer. Bah. Since his creation was my decision I was going to call him just that. The Guardian. The soul-hive Guardian was too complicated. I would probably forget it too. The simple was always good. Back to the topic. I need to stop getting sidetracked. So. The human mage. I had a few ideas on how to check his magic before and after death, but since Gangria told me that soul-fuckery was out of the question my options were limited. For now, I settled on dragging his body towards a stone slab I erected in Fake Core Room. It kinda looked like a sacrificial altar I once saw in a book. My intentions were much less grim though - it was a hospital bed prepared in the name of science! Too bad moving my patient through the dungeon took time. Because of that, I focused my attention back on the camp that sentients made in the first room. Mostly because it was on fire. People were screaming and fighting, one side clearly winning. The ranger folk was killing off the heavily armored soldiers. There were only seven of them left before, but even under the sudden attack, they managed to kill and maim at least a few of their opponents. It was clear that they didn¡¯t understand what was going on - their confused cries were enough to understand that. The attackers were speaking in a language I didn¡¯t understand, but their bloodlust was self-explanatory. I didn¡¯t really care about their scuffle. It was still just more food for me. The shouts quietened with time, as the humans fell on the ground, while blood, guts and broken weapons were quickly absorbed by me. It was a curious thing that I could devour them only when sentients left the vicinity. I wondered why, but once again - knowing the rules was enough for now. The tests and understanding would come after I was safe. The half-elves already took care of the burning tents and watched as I greedily devoured their former companions. Then they scattered in small groups, trying to gather water and food from surroundings. Which meant hunting my rats and harvesting the Bone Lichen growing on the walls. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The Ratlings weren¡¯t taking it lying down, but the skirmishes seemed to be pretty much skewed towards the sentients. After all, rangers had a lot of experience with hunting wildlife, while my minions pretty much only fought the undead. Not to mention that only the inexperienced younglings were being sent so far from the Ratling Warrens. Guarding the road to my core was more important. I was about to return to the False Core Room when a conversation gained my attention. Mostly because it was in a language I could actually comprehend. Three rangers sat near the entrance to the room, clearly guarding the way deeper into the dungeon. ¡°Was that really necessary?¡± One of them asked while leaning on the wall. His green clothing and leather armor looked out of place in my silvery wilderness. ¡°What do you mean?¡± The second one asked lazily while checking an arrow after arrow. He meticulously searched for damage, looking over every fletching, shaft, and arrowhead. ¡°You know. Slaughtering humans.¡± ¡°Captain said it was necessary. That¡¯s the only explanation I need.¡± Answered the arrow guy, while the third, silent ranger only nodded. ¡°I understand, but what he had done¡­¡± ¡°What we had done.¡± Interrupted the second ranger. ¡°What we had done.¡± The warrior repeated his words while gulping heavily. ¡°What we had done may very well spark the war with the Geinard Kingdom.¡± He turned his head down, contemplating. ¡°We¡¯re not really in a position to fight on two fronts.¡± ¡°Only if one of our compatriots spills the beans.¡± ¡°Or if the dungeon manages to send this information outside.¡± They looked at each other in silence. And then started laughing. ¡°Hahahahahaha!¡± ¡°Haha Haha Haha!¡± ¡°Hyaahahaha! G-good one!¡± The arrow-checking ranger smacked his companion on the back. ¡°It may be a Forgotten Dungeon, but remember that they¡¯re still as stupid as the other ones.¡± His white teeth were showing for the first time. ¡°Haaaa¡­¡± The first ranger wiped off a tear. ¡°Yes, yes I know. It was just a jest. Still, we will have to make a dash for our lines, no matter the consequences.¡± His face turned serious. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how many of us will survive such a trip.¡± ¡°Yet we can¡¯t have it any other way. The information is just too important.¡± ¡°I still can¡¯t believe it.¡± He knocked on my hallway wall. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look that dangerous.¡± ¡°Probably devoured the cache in one of the deeper levels. That¡¯s when the really bizarre stuff starts to appear.¡± ¡°Not our problem now.¡± The silent ranger spoke, surprising them both. ¡°Just do your job and don¡¯t complain.¡± ¡°Yes, don¡¯t worry about us!¡± ¡°Yup. It was just talk.¡± The men stopped talking and I retracted my consciousness. Now¡­ that was strange. Cache? Forgotten Dungeon? Information? At least now I understood that they were leaving pretty much straight away. Which would leave my entrance empty¡­ I wasn¡¯t about to let this chance slip by. But first - let''s focus on my new captive. The team of Lebirs already dragged him onto the slab. I made sure that it was pretty comfortable, as much as stone can be. I even carved small rows for the blood to flow freely. And made chains to keep the patient in place. Which were being used right now, the clumsy undead fingers trying to fit mage arms and legs in them. With a grunt, I ordered Lebirs to back down and started to grow the copper ¡°tentacles¡± from the ceiling. Somehow the Mechanical Core being in vicinity allowed for better precision and soon many instruments of tor-... I mean science hung down awaiting my input. For now, I used the hand-like parts to cuff the patient. It was probably an unnecessary precaution, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The boy didn¡¯t even grumble, his wide-eyed stare coupled with a blank expression. His face was pale, arms and legs burned by fire, while the flesh had signs of something that looked like¡­ mana corrosion? His veins were turning unhealthy blue and slowly the color was creeping up and up. Note to self: Don¡¯t use my mana duct tape on living beings. Second note to self: Also don¡¯t use it on non-dungeon creatures. No time like the present. First I needed to figure out how the mana was behaving when being used by a sentient. I already heard him chant, so that was out of the way. But the canals it was using? The point of focus? These were still a secret. Not for long, though. I attached the wire to his left and right hand. Delicately, delicately. Right, just like that. Then with a flick of my non-existent finger, I gathered the electrical mana in my core and sent it towards the copper wire network. Precisely just above the Fake Core Room. Then with a great grace... I flushed it down his system. The patient screamed. I disregarded that. What were the patterns? Unlike real electricity, it seemed like mana was circling around his body in a specific way. And disappearing in the middle of his chest, under the cartilage bones. Once more! *scream* The reaction was the same - every bit of energy was being sucked towards the earlier designated point. I detached the left arm cable. Attached it back to the right leg. Power on! He screamed again. This time for longer. Were his pain centers still intact? No matter. Mana corrosion also speeded up. Which was not good. Maybe one or two tries before he expires. Damn. It was time to go with a bang. I detached all cables and decided to use a wire with a spike on the end. A perfect conductor. I stabbed it into his chest. Not deep, five centimeters at most. The patient only grunted, numbed from earlier pain. Gathering mana I looked him over one last time. How was it that I didn¡¯t feel anything? ¡­ [Fire.] I spoke in my mind. The mage body convulsed on the stone slab, kept in place only by the chains. Then, with a gasp he half-sat on it, eyes piercing the ceiling, looking somewhere outside. Somewhere far away. And then he crumbled back, life leaving his small body. It was a short, but sweet experiment. Scientific parts had ended. Now it was time for butchery... At least I knew where to begin. 023 Uno The human mage was laying down on the stone bed I prepared earlier. My copper arms worked in unison cutting the flesh, taking out the bones and dissecting the organs. And under their tireless work, a clear picture appeared. Firstly - the mages were human. It was an answer that might be taken for granted, but in a fantasy world, it wasn¡¯t so easy to tell. There were races which parasitized the population, adopting similar looks and lifestyle. The vampire I fought before was a perfect example. Thankfully the mage wasn¡¯t one of these beings. And yet there was something completely different when comparing him to the other adventurers that died in my dungeon. He had a crystal core, not unlike mine. It was smaller, more delicate. The color was also different - not black, but red. And yet it seemed oddly familiar. Like a cousin met at a family reunion. The gem was hidden away under his cartilage, in the place where all magical energy converged before. And promptly disappeared of course. One question out of the way. Now. What was its purpose? The Analyze uselessly showed only question marks. I promptly sent a shock of mana through it and the little thing devoured it all. No reaction. A miss, then. Maybe it would work when joined with a living flesh? I didn¡¯t have many choices, but a Ratling should suffice. With a small expenditure of mana, I summoned a new one into the Fake Core Room. It appeared out of thin air, standing on two feet and sniffing at my conjured copper arms in curiosity. Not wasting any time my artificial appendages moved, keeping it in place. The Ratling squealed again, clearly panicked, while the blades created an appropriate incision on its chest. No blood since I heated them up before. Then, with a precise movement, the arms stuffed the gem inside it. A small amount of duct tape mana was spent, keeping the thing in place. For a moment nothing happened. The creature quietened down while checking the fresh scar. I sighed tiredly. It seemed like this time was also a failure. Just as I prepared myself to extract the gem my experimental Ratling suddenly began to squeal in pain, clawing at its chest. A moment later it exploded, showering the room in blood and guts. The red crystal remained, strangely clean and gleaming smugly. A few wisps of steam surrounded it. Was it taunting me? In retaliation I immediately attacked with lightning, sending the jolt through the copper and forcing it to burn the little thing. The red gem sucked it all up. A stalemate. Few more bolts do nothing so I decided to continue my work. Another Ratling was summoned - only to share the fate of its predecessor. Only after the third one I understood the difference. The gem could be safely transplanted as long as I didn¡¯t feed it mana beforehand. When ¡°running on empty¡± it somehow accepted its new host. Yes, the creature still squirmed in pain. I somehow managed to keep it alive due to a generous shower of mana and plugging any leaking parts with the duct tape. In the end, the beast looked totally different from its ancestors. This feeling was only reinforced when I used Analyze on it.
Lesser Demonic Ironflame Rat Beast-like dungeon creature created from basic Iron Ratling. From outside it looks just like its less powerful cousin, with an iron-like skin and similar physique. It is, however, faster and stronger than Iron Ratlings, but not necessarily smarter. While on the outside defenseless it can breathe fire and shoot Firebolts out of its mouth. The integrated mana crystal in its body also allows for Fire Claws spell to be cast on it and its allies. Has pack mentality, tendency to form tribal societies and will help any dungeon creatures in the vicinity defend their home. Will not breed naturally due to demonic heritage, but a conversion of normal Ratlings is possible. Natural evolutions are available. Has built-in mana conversion gland which allows it to roam corrupted wastelands without trouble. Threat level: D Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
I didn¡¯t know where this ¡°demonic¡± thing came from, but the purpose of the crystal seemed clearer now. It allowed the mage to gather and use mana. Or maybe even did it for him? But what was weird¡­ if he had such trump a card hidden, or should I say - such a cheat - why wasn¡¯t he any stronger? And how did it end up inside him? Was he born like that? Or was it implanted? Maybe it was a genetic trait? If yes, then nobles being particular about their partner really made sense. And yet... Something didn¡¯t add up. These chants too. But to research them I would have to hear much, much more. Which meant the investigation had to wait until more adventurers came. At least I kinda now understood how to ¡°make¡± my own special monsters. The main problem was the fact, that even after absorbing the Ironflame Rat I only learned how to make the creature, not the gem. It was something inherently similar to me and because of that hard to replicate. Just like the creation of another core wasn¡¯t a walk in the park. The real one, I mean. Not my substitute. But I had an inkling. Considering that the guy had a fire mage class and his gem was red in color¡­ Yup - maybe just condensing mana hard enough would create something similar? But then it wasn¡¯t going to work with just bits of thin air. I had to have some kind of material - a condenser - maybe some kind of metal would work? The harder the better - it had to survive exposure to my mana, after all. Which meant that I had to check the remains of adventurers. At least I could use the material menu for once. What did they bring?
Current resource availability:
  • common hardwood
  • common softwood
  • common iron (wrought, cast)
  • uncommon meteoric iron
  • uncommon black iron
  • common silver
  • common gold
  • common copper
  • common tin
  • common nickel
  • common zinc
  • uncommon meteoric nickel
  • dirt
  • limestone
  • sandstone
  • flint
  • meat (Grey Rat, cow, human, half-elf)
  • leather (Grey Rat, cow, boar)
  • cotton
  • bone (Grey Rat, human, half-elf)
  • common feathers
  • plant matter (grass, grains, mushrooms)
  • common tobacco leaves
I hated this shit. I knew I was talking about "I will it and it happens" before, but to tell the truth, the migraine also happened. It wasn¡¯t like using a calculator. My own brain, or whatever I was using to think, was being worked to the bone instead. The result was a huge headache and a semi-workable list of resources. Well. Less complaining more experimenting. Two of these were looking quite good - black iron and meteoric iron. Not to mention their uncommon quality. Instead of choosing one I decided to experiment on both, spawning pieces of already processed metal in the Fake Core Room. Meteoric iron looked just like its simpler cousin - with gray wisps of some weird energy floating above it. Otherwise unremarkable. Black iron was - like its name suggested - black. It was also a bit more malleable than its meteoric counterpart. At least the mana conductivity seemed to be a little higher. Both pieces were left on the bloody altar - the only furniture in the room. The mage body had been already absorbed, yet the stone slab remained bloodied. Shouldn¡¯t it disappear? Curious I used Analyze on it¡­ And whistled in wonder.
Bloody Sacrificial Altar This rock slab is a spontaneous creation of a dungeon core. Because of the abhorrent sacrifice that it was used in, the remaining mana, pain, and pieces of emotions transformed the chunk of stone into a magical tool. While not condoned by the modern mages, the creation of tools in this way is often referred to as black magic. The creators of these items are unanimously pursued in the civilized nations and frowned upon among the fallen tribes. Effects: Once blood is spilled in the room all living creatures gain ¡°bloodlust¡± and lose control unless they resist the effect. Spilled blood can be used to enhance or heal The Guardian if it''s of good enough quality.
Reading the description I didn¡¯t know - should I be happy or horrified by my accidental creation. At least the part about being pursued hasn¡¯t applied to me. Still, it had a bit of synergy with The Guardian and the Mechanical Core being in the same room. The only beings in my dungeon that could be afflicted by this bloodlust were Ratlings. What was bloodlust specifically? I would check it later. Now was not the time - I needed all my focus to condense the mana. At least I think that was how it worked. Since mana was something like a gas, then condensation should force it into a liquid state¡­ in which the metal should absorb it all? That was a lot of ¡°should¡± piled one on another. Oh well. That''s what experimenting was for. [Fire away!] I shouted while seeing a small little Ratling in goggles intruding on my experiment and getting promptly electrocuted. What the hell?! 023.5 - Lonesome Crafter, one of the Secret Council somewhere in the Ratling Tunnels The rat in question was currently very-very angry! These guys! These damn rats! They dared to send his materials to Mechanic and Scientist! He had a dire need for these ores! Yet all the metal and wood harvested by Scout¡¯s teams were being uselessly wasted on strange experiments. Or even worse - turned into pretty much useless machines... Because of that catastrophe here he was - sulking in the darkness, at the end of the deepest tunnel. Near the stairs towards the lowest level. What was worse-worse nobody in the Council considered him important enough to assign some rat-trainees to the poor Crafter. And the bodies were something abundant in the Burrow! Yes-yes it was not because he was useless - or so they said! ¡°Your time will come - in the future!¡± - they lied. Oh, these cold stares, how did they hurt. He felt them, even now. Even when squirming alone. ¡°Noooo, Crafter. We can¡¯t have you making armor, wasting ore - the Ratlings can easily use their metal hides to defend, they say.¡± He squealed in indignation. ¡°And what about the underbelly I say?! What about it?!¡± ¡°Noooo, Crafter. There isn¡¯t an enemy who can do that.¡± His small paws hit the ground with anger. ¡°YET! THERE ISN¡¯T ONE YET, YOU FOOLS! Be prepared for the future!¡± His squeals echoed in the tunnels, scaring the lesser Ratlings into submission. The ordinary rats ran away while trying hard to not see the raging Secret Council member. There was, after all, nothing good from being caught in their power struggles. Especially when considering that Crafter''s faction was currently getting the short end of the stick. ¡°Noooo, Crafter.¡± The angry rat continued his monologue. ¡°We can¡¯t have you wasting metal on weapons. Our hands are not yet agile enough to wield them, our fangs strong enough to tear through enemies.¡± He stopped again, gathering his thoughts and breath. Then continued roaring. ¡°That¡¯s why I said to make CLAWS! CLAW WEAPONS, YOU DERANGED FOOLS! Or even spiked armor. Better spears. Goggles.¡± He added one thing after another in a quieter and quieter voice. Then he took another breath and continued. ¡°But noooo, Crafter. There is no need for tools. We can¡¯t use shovels or pickaxes. Or hammers, pliers, and lamps. Our claws are strong, our arms tireless...¡± He stopped in place and started to hit the wall with his head. His beady eyes soon turned teary. ¡°Why nobody listens to me? Has the Creator abandoned his child?¡± He asked the darkness, stifling the rats with his words of heresy. The Creator was, after all, their God. As he wailed in self-pity something changed. The tunnels were soaked in a strange presence. It was a feeling he knew well - the Creator was on the move. Maybe he was trying for another experiment or was just ordering some minions to do their job. Watching him was dangerous, but also profitable. Last time he had dumped a whole load of sentients in the dungeon entrance. Earlier he fought the Undying One. Even before that, he uncovered the Big Dark One and the undead¡­ Yeah¡­ it was more dangerous than profitable. But still, rats in a situation like this didn¡¯t have much choice. Knowing that Crafter clenched his claws and ran on all fours, traversing the tunnels in order to get closer to the source of the disturbance. It took him a few minutes to arrive, thankfully none of his brothers got the wind of the Creator''s experiment. So the spoils would be his and his alone. Crafter stared down from the perch high up in the wall. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. It was designed as a shooting point, thanks to Tactician''s instruction. It also was a perfectly hidden observation platform. The Guardian room beneath seemed the same as before, baring a stone slab dumped in the back, blood still dripping from it. Crafter wondered what was the source of it and why Creator didn¡¯t just devour it clean. After all, blood was one of the tastiest parts of sentients to be had. He blinked and a Ratling appeared in the room. He blinked again and said Ratling exploded in a shower of guts and gore. ¡°Was the Creator angry for my earlier blasphemy?¡± He asked himself in terror, only to see another rat disintegrated. Each time however a red sphere was left in its place. Taunting him. ¡°This Crafter will give his life, his claws, and his soul for you, Grand Creator! Please, avert your wrath from the Ratlings! I alone am to blame!¡± He intoned quietly, trying to ask for forgiveness. The Creator was a great power, but there was a ruinous part to it. The destruction it brought¡­ he trembled in fear. But soon the show had ended - the Creator seemingly satisfied with random Ratling sacrifice. Crafter made sure that his future cursing was to be kept to a minimum. No need to risk the Master''s wrath once again. It all ended when a red rat appeared, twisting in pain due to the Creator''s intervention. It stared at Crafter, seemingly begging for help, but disappeared from sight soon after. Before he could process the change two pieces of metal appeared. And by the Creator! They were magnificent! Crafter stared at them greedily, nervously returning his goggles to the right position. There was his earlier transgression, but... Surely¡­ Surely, the Creator would not mind giving these ores to him¡­ Yes-yes! It was a divine grace, after all! A reward! For what? Crafter didn¡¯t know, but they were just there¡­ So easily grabbed. So shiny. With a rush of courage that he never knew he had before a small Ratling desperately ran out of a safe zone. The tunnels quickly disappeared behind him. His form was meager, and thin, with the only distinguishing feature being a pair of goggles stuck on his nose and most importantly - a lack of the spear thrower that all the lesser rats bore on their back. As all members of the Secret Council did. The Creator noticed him almost immediately. This, however, didn¡¯t detract the young Ratling in the slightest, as he moved towards the sweet-sweet metals just lying in the open. It was then that the disaster struck. A bolt of energy descended from the ceiling, striking him down. The pain stuck heavily. ¡°Argh¡­ C-can¡¯t m-move¡­¡± He squealed in despair. ¡°F-for-gi-ve, Crea-tor¡­¡± He continued, now understanding that it was all a test. And he failed. As Crafter''s senses started fading to the black he felt a strange, reinvigorating energy filling his body. And the Creator''s attention turned to him completely. Which was never good. In silence, he felt the presence turn shocked, then pitying, amused, and in the end - simply curious. Which was even more so not good. The Creator waited, looking intently at the Ratling. Forgetting his earlier confessions Crafter stared at the metal ores with desire visible on his snout. Slowly he started inching closer and closer to them. The amusement and curiosity of the Creator peaked when the rat grabbed them and started to run away. He was of course caught and begged for mercy once again. Sadly his Master wasn¡¯t privy to the secrets of Ratling language. It all seemed like random squealing to him. Something, that was unimaginable to the rat. Thus the energy struck again and Crafter closed his beady eyes, awaiting death. This time however the target of the Creator''s magic was different. The Ratling was safe - instead, the ores were soaked in something that looked like blue energy. They started shining too. And shiny things were very much liked by the rats. ¡°This lowly one thank you, Creator, for the bounty freely given.¡± Crafter lowered his head, now the greatest zealot of them all. Not because of shinies no-no. The Creator only watched in amusement as the rat dragged back now magical ores towards the tunnel. He would show them! The armored rat! The warrior amongst warriors! As he spotted one of the scrawnier, ordinary Ratlings, Crafter''s spirit returned. ¡°Come with me!¡± He laughed at the other rat''s dismay. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You and I - we will create a better future for the Ratlings!¡± Saying so he moved deeper into the tunnels, dragging the poor creature behind him. The new minion could only more-or-less calmly accept his fate. All while the Creator was continuing his experiments. 024 Uno The little rat scurried away with two pieces of ore - I already used the lightning energy on these, yet somehow achieving the effect similar to mana crystal still eluded me. I accepted giving them away since it was clear to me that this Ratling was a disabled specimen. Without working spear thrower its usefulness to the colony would be minimal. Because of that the rat was probably abandoned and was wandering the tunnels, all alone. It¡¯s face, while far cry from a human, had an unmistakable sad expression carved into it. One that was a result of many disappointments. I simply felt pity and wished it would continue its experience, no matter how hard it was. Live on, little Ratling! Sigh. Returning to the problem at hand. What did I manage to accomplish? Not much. I produced something called energized metal, which exhibited a strange visual effect - blue motes of light, but nothing else I could immediately use. The name changed, adding another word to an already long designation. Meteoric iron turned into energized meteoric iron, while black iron changed into energized black iron. What were the effects? Special characteristics? Who knows. My Analyze didn¡¯t provide an answer. Question marks everywhere - it was not so useful now. I guess for it to work the target would need to be a creature or a magic tool? That begged another question - from where all this knowledge was coming from? Was it somehow connected to Gangria? She said something about the System¡­ Whatever. Let¡¯s focus on the present. The new metal wasn¡¯t completely useless. Since few of the Lebirs seemed to be due for an upgrade I decided to duct tape plates of it to their front and back. A new kind of armor was born! Who knew if it was better or worse than before? Who knew if it even works? Not me. That¡¯s what made it an interesting experiment. These new Lebirs were also promptly dumped in the Food Hall - this way the adventurers advancing into the complex would first encounter the ¡°normal type¡± Lebirs. And only then the ¡°blue¡± ones. Why do so and not annihilate them all at once? I was still mimicking the normal - stupid - dungeons, which did things according to pre-programmed motions. Slowly raising the difficulty level was one of these. Of course, the Decapitator kinda went against that notion, but I was banking on being unique and all that jazz. Going out of the way to destroy the invaders would break my cover though. At least I think so. The whole dilemma pisses me off, so let¡¯s get back to the experiments on uncommon metals. They soothe my soul. As a next step in the process, I decided to not only use my Anima, but also electrical affinity, yet the final product was less than satisfactory. The damn thing was still not alive. Or rather I ended up with something looking like a ¡°wet metal¡±, which pretty much instantly hardens when exposed to air, creating a piece of iron¡­ Wait. Did I just create a solder? For use in a soldering iron? Or maybe a super glue? It fit the bill. There were of course problems with delivering the said product, but my copper arms were pretty versatile. A glue pistol of solder iron wasn¡¯t out of the question. Or maybe... I¡¯ll just upgrade them to cast iron? It should be good enough material. It turned out I had another tool added to my arsenal... except that it was pretty useless. My mana, the Anima and electrical energy were able to somehow act as a bonding agent even without this solder-like substance. It was redundant. That was the word. Another failure then. I was getting more and more angry at the fact that there was no way to get the red crystal back from the Ironflame Ratling. It was such a unique thing and I simply wasted it. Really, fate had cast pearls before a swine. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Why I couldn¡¯t just butcher the rat and retrieve it? Mostly because its insides no longer contained the red crystal. It enhanced the final product - a Ratling - by becoming one with the body. Dissolving. I ended with an ability to reproduce the creature, but not the mana crystal which allowed it¡¯s evolution. Not that it was an easy task to devour and reproduce it in the first place. My ability to deconstruct was limited to things that were either already dead or those who were never alive in the first place. And far away from sentients - that too seemed to be a condition. And yes, it was none of these things. So I screwed up. But as soon as more adventurers would grace my halls with their presence¡­ Let¡¯s just say I would await a bountiful harvest. Oh! Yes, adventurers. They were trying to run, right? I changed my focus immediately. But not before summoning a few of the Ironflame Rats and throwing them into the Ratling Warrens. There was some kind of a commotion, but I already moved my consciousness away. Running away from problems? Nope, it was just a strategic relocation. Nothing to see here. Anyway, the adventurers were preparing to leave. A large team, about thirty people in total. I was tempted to block the entrance and devour them all but managed to stop my impulses in time. One survivor would be enough to ruin my perfect image. No need to be impatient. More will come. The half-elves were busy packing. Not even a trace of blood remained of their former companions, so the room looked pristine. They gathered whatever water my bone lichen did produce and cured the rat meat. Most of them looked nervous, constantly readying their weapons and checking fletchings for lasting damage. In a few minutes, a smallish looking half-elf with a young face stood upon an improvised platform. His name was Rikr, I think? Everybody called him the Captain, though. As he appeared the slow murmur of voices quietened down and people started to listen. There was no impatience in their movements now, only focused attention. Rikr coughed softly and took a long look around. His eyes were piercingly blue and he focused them on each and every one of them. Under his gaze rangers stiffened up, courage and confidence surging. After a minute of silence, he started his speech. ¡°Brothers and sisters! Rangers! Defenders of Luna! A great duty lies upon our shoulders. A knowledge that we must share with the rest of the world! That mustn¡¯t be forgotten!¡± He breathed in and out, presence sharp like an arrow in flight. ¡°Many of you may soon breathe your last, and many more may find their end in the badlands.¡± The murmurs started, every single ranger was suddenly aware of their mortality. ¡°However!¡± Rikr mature voice stopped their hesitation. ¡°We will be remembered! We will save our friends and lovers! Our families!¡± He continued quietly. ¡°The information about this dungeon will save lives! The Forgotten Dungeon is a danger to all! Ever so more in the hands of reckless humans, arrogant elves or mad dwarves! We must deliver the message to the Council! One survivor will be enough. So run! Run and remember! It! Must! Be! Destroyed!¡± The people around him cheered, chanting ¡°It must be destroyed!¡±, while I was processing the whole speech. WAIT A MOMENT! What the hell, man! What did I ever do to you?! Shit. The situation was looking really bad. No choice and no time for hesitation. Lebirs - advance, Decapitator, get out of these tunnels and mow them down! Quickly! Before they all¡­ Yes. Before they all march out in an orderly fashion and leave the dungeon¡­ Just like that. Fuck. What now? Did I just screw up? Again? The rangers were long gone when my warriors arrived at the entrance. For some reason, my whole existence was unforgivable for these people - who knows why. And they would even murder their companions for that reason. They would also gladly lose their lives in order to make sure that information (what information?! I don¡¯t understand!) will reach the right places. It was bad. Really bad. Who knows how much time I have. But not all was lost! I had a plan! Well, parts of one... Firstly - I was blind when it came to the entrance. Unacceptable. There was something white and circular above the stairs, but trying to extend my feelers out there ended in failure. Each time. But as they say¡­ using a hammer will make every problem look like a nail. If something wasn¡¯t working it was time for a change. I decided to slowly tighten the entrance, adding dungeon-influenced dirt to the equation. This resulted in a smaller way in (the circle was still about two to three meters in diameter) and a chance I was aiming for. While the dirt wasn¡¯t enough to create a normal-sized tunnel a Ratling one was still okay. Straight to the surface and then back into the ground, but still above the invisible barrier stopping me from expanding upwards. Lovely. Since I remembered that the Ratlings were able to survive beyond my dungeon limits (and Lebirs and my other creations did not) they were the only choice for the scouting and defense mission. Not the sturdiest of walls, nor the brightest, but it will do. Not to mention I didn¡¯t really have the ability to give them orders or get back intel after they went outside¡­ Who cares. It was for survival! Immediately a Ratling Queen, few basic rats, and three Ironflames were summoned to the entrance room. As they appeared a simple command was all that I managed - something that I had to work on in the future. Because of that, I asked the group to go to the surface, create a nest and defend both it and the entrance from sentients. Yet somehow I think that they heard a bit more hardcore version of it¡­ Something like: ¡°Go forth and breed in my name, create a nation and devour my enemies. Leave none alive!¡± Their reaction and enthusiasm was a bit of an indication. I was not taking any responsibility for their future actions. Nope. Not my business. I was busy surviving after all. And digging the second level of the dungeon. Which was currently being flooded, due to the underground lake my Drones found. Never a dull moment, eh? 025 Uno The die has been cast. Ratlings already ran towards the surface and what happens - happens. Hopefully, they will adapt and overcome. On that topic - my vision outside the dungeon was non-existent. Maybe I should start developing a mobile version of eye-cameras? The tunnels certainly have enough space to easily include the wires needed for that. Then again - if I saw an eyeball staring at me, while I was taking a walk, my first thought would be to destroy the damn thing. And since most of my creations were more or less accidental then recreating a camera with less terrifying flair would probably take a lot of time to get right. Not to mention that while underground they¡¯re hidden from sight by the bone lichen patches. I would have to think about different camouflage when considering the surface. Yet all I could come up with was a tree with eye-like fruits. Which would be somewhat¡­ unnatural? And not to mention creepy as hell. Not worth it. At least not while my second level was getting submerged. How did that happen? Well, my plan for the second floor was simple - a long hallway (about twenty meters) leading southeast towards a large room in the middle, which then would branch in the four cardinal directions. At least cardinal according to my sense of north-south, since I still didn¡¯t have any magnetized metals to create a compass. And while I could use electricity to create them there was another problem - did this world even have magnetic poles? Anyway. This main room was similar to Colosseum in design, filling the floor with sand covering the stone, adding a high ceiling, and generously sprinkling any form of flora I had access to, with priority given to the non-lethal kind. Because of that both large Silver Ironbarks and slender Ax Conifers were used as wall supports, while knife-bushes spread far and wide, hiding Ratling tunnels entrance here and there. Besides that Bone Ferns and Copper Grass covered every flat surface, creating a white-brown carpet, yet due to high humidity, the said grass was already turning green. Despite being a plant its behavior was still influenced by the type of metal it was created from. Curious. And said humidity came from a stream flowing through the middle of my western tunnel. Which was the only dig site on this level. For now. I was after all a follower of concentrated strength doctrine. The entrance was slowly submerged and spilling water towards the central room. Its depth already spanned about twenty centimeters and was rising fast. I hurried into the tunnel and soon saw the problem''s crux - a large hole spewing out blue liquid at high pressure. The Drones tried to patch up the resulting damage, but it was a Sisyphean task. Due to my immaterial form, I could easily enter, not being stopped by something like dirt or water. What greeted me on the other side was¡­ darkness. Upon further reflection, it was obvious that the lake, cistern, or whatever else it was would lack any light sources on account of being underground and all that. So I did the only thing I could. I floated upward. Soon air replaced the water. Levitating above the surface allowed me to summon an electric spark, which in turn brightened my surroundings. I could see at last! In the end, what greeted me was nothing interesting - a neatly serpentine underground lake with a mini-waterfall situated on my right. The way the stream entered this place was placed about a meter above the current water table and was slowly dripping down more water just a few meters away from my position. Since the whole cave seemed hermetically sealed before, with no additional rooms present, it was a logical conclusion that there should be an exit too. And since I couldn¡¯t see right away there was a high chance that it was located underwater. That, in turn, meant that until the water level stabilized my problem with flooding wouldn¡¯t go away. Which was quite bad. The plants would probably survive underwater for some time, the Lebirs and drones were safe too, but ultimately most of my flora would end up dead. I returned to the dungeon proper and ordered the Drones to dig out a ditch in the middle of the tunnel. It naturally gathered the water sloshing about and guided it toward the main room. In there the remaining Drones were asked to dig down, creating an artificial pond in the middle. What went on after that was a race between my diligent minions and endlessly pouring water. I added to the challenge by creating a few Lebirs (the first ones on this floor) and directing them to bash down the wall separating the dungeon from the lake. They managed to do it pretty quickly and only three of them ended up swept by the current. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Good enough. This however also meant that even more workers were redirected towards this new frontier. Well, it was not like they had anything better to do. Hours flew by and the pond grew deeper and deeper, making it impossible to escape from. Motions of the Drones grew sluggish and wide underwater, but being inanimate and without a need to breathe made them surprisingly durable, even when continuing this grueling task. In these few hours pretty much all the water above had drained into the pond, slowly stabilizing the water table between two environs. I laughed to myself, seeing that my nightmare of being turned into the underwater dungeon was averted. I could theoretically do it, sure, yet somehow this idea made me cringe on a cellular level. Maybe it was my affinity speaking? Maybe something else? Who knows. There was another thing I was thinking about now. Namely... I was craving fish. Not for any gourmet reason, though. Just to gain the ability to make them on my own. All this water in one place just begged for such dwellers. The exploration of the lake proved me wrong, however. Conversely - the fish were craving me. Or rather anything that they could sense would be devoured with their eyeless maws. It was then that I first encountered this strange, nearly see-through animal, which chomped down on the Lebir while it was trying to dislodge some dirt from the wall. The fish''s shape was partially up to question as said assailant had a translucent body and much too agile movements. Not to mention the low light environment which fucked with my vision. Yet the hungry teeth it sported were visible. Even too much. Note to self: remember to install both Chandeliers and cameras first before expanding. If possible. Anyway. Its first attack cut the Lebir leg cleanly off, while the second hooked an arm up and then dragged the poor monster towards the depths. Since the Lebirs weren¡¯t the brightest minions on Yana, it took them a while to recognize the type of danger. Or even that there was a danger at all. Translation: I lost five more to the same fish before they even started reacting, while the bastard was having an all-you-can-eat abomination buffet. The problem was the type of their reaction too. Smacking it on the head with clubs was not very effective. The attacks simply slid off the translucent scales. I could swear that I saw it grin. It was probably just all those teeth. This situation continued until my Lebir Captain strolled by. Luckily it was chosen as the next snack, but after being half-eaten it managed to place a good enough hit with a Crackling mace. It was enough to paralyze the fucker for a long enough time. Thanks to this my Lebirs and Drones in a joint effort managed to drag it ashore. Now it was in MY territory. And it was time for the fish to feel helpless. Except nothing epic happened. No confrontation, lasers, or trump cards. Nope. It simply died, suffocating, while my minions watched from afar. Anti-climatic. Due to this, I was able to assimilate a very tasty specimen. Firstly Analyze corrected me. It was not a fish.
Glass Snake Maw This underwater juvenile snake stays competitive using both its translucent body and stronger-than-steel teeth. While blind, the other senses it uses are unnaturally sharp and give a great advantage when it comes to finding and chasing prey over large distances. Unlike most snakes, Glass Maw are not equipped with lungs, but gills instead. This curtails its ability to hunt on land, but otherwise, it''s an animal perfectly suited to large, underground water basins. It lives in packs and usually, the largest specimens tend to grow a maximum of two meters in length, which happens over the course of many years. As aggressive animals, Glass Snake Maws tend to exterminate most of the other lifeforms in their habitat and sometimes even cannibalize members of their own race. At least until it consumes enough to become a Glass Progenitor. Threat level: D (for an individual)
Uh-oh. So there were more of them? Wait. Weren¡¯t there, like twenty Lebirs around me? Why I can see only fifteen now?! Just what the hell happened¡­ As I was panicking another minion disappeared - yet this time I saw it all - it was soundlessly and nearly comically dragged into the depths - by a two-meter long snake no less¡­ I knew that not giving them mouths was a mistake! In a moment of terror, I peered down the lake, brightening the water with an electric spark. About fifty slithering forms greeted my gaze, their twirling forms waiting expectantly for something, anything to get close enough to the water. For once I was glad that my Lebirs didn¡¯t breathe. [RETREAT!] I shouted mentally and started to retreat myself. Reacting to the order the armored figures of my minions turned back, slowly and clumsily waddling to their destination. As usual. This time it was however much too lackasidial reaction. The surrounding snakes were waiting for this moment and sprang from the water like cannonballs. Damn accurate cannonballs. One or even two were beaten down by the wildly swung club, but the rest got what they came for - sweet, succulent meat of the Lebirs. As I floated back to the dungeon in a daze one random thought was knocking around my emptied head. Were the undead even edible? 026 Uno After the retreat, I counted my losses. Out of twenty Lebirs, only four managed to escape. Well, that was a big word. They stumbled back while trying to fend off the attacks from the snakes. In the process some of the aggressors were dragged back to the land, suffocating. It wasn¡¯t a retreat, but comedy. This battle really drove the point that in order for the Lebirs to be useful in the future either an upgrade in terms of equipment or combat potential was sorely needed. And I certainly needed to add mouths to their design. As soon as I regained my faculties the Drones were put towards making an iron grating. It was used to divide the not-yet-conquered lake and the rest of the dungeon. Of course, I made doubly sure that the free spaces between the metal were too small to let any enemy slip away. And left a part of it movable. I would be back, after all. Then came the cameras and the Chandeliers, which were installed in the ceiling, lighting up the place and making it a bit friendlier and safer. Not that it really mattered. After defensive measures were in place I sat down and started thinking. What I could use in my counter-attack? There was going to be one of course. No overgrown snake will dictate the terms on which I expand! The most obvious idea was electricity. Yet, while water in the lake should be barely conductible there was simply too much volume to fry all of its inhabitants. Not to mention that this underground cistern was all composed of drinkable water¡­ I didn¡¯t have access to enough electrical energy to vaporize or electrify it. But then again, something like a localized weapon, with a few meters of range should be doable. And maybe even useful. Especially since the snakes seemed to attack anything that moved. Even if it was a club swung down on their heads. Thus it should work. Really, calling this thing a weapon may be an overstatement though. I just made a few centimeters thick rod, connected it to the wires already put in place two meters above and prepared to send the electricity through it. And then I was stuck. The wire was of the finite length and because of that this giant energy stick was pretty much immobile. I resolved the problem in the easiest way possible. By adding electrical outlets. Or rather I put a few output points in my walls and attached them to the wires inside the wall. Then I added a cord to my new weapon and taught the Lebirs what to do when using the Rod. As a bonus, anybody stupid enough to put their finger in the socket would get electrocuted. Normally I would laugh at the usefulness of such a trap, but then again I was in a fantasy world... Still the resulting rod was a bit too heavy to carry with my artificial arms alone, so instead, I opted for the creation of a few of the ¡°blue-plated¡± Lebirs (simply for an aesthetic reason) and made them carry the weapon. They shouldn¡¯t die even when electrocuted. And even if they did meet their end remaking them was easy and cheap, so there was no big loss overall. Just to make sure I succeed two teams of Lebirs were made in total, eight warriors in each of them (blue and then black type), each of them informed about their orders and purpose. The undead had problems with carrying the rod normally, so I added a few metal handles to both sides of it. Because of that some of the energy would get redirected towards the ground, but it was a loss in power I was willing to accept. I also needed something else. Plan B, so to speak. Since my escape, I was thinking about something. My Lebirs were mainly classified as undead. Iron and dead bodies were after all their main components. Not counting the duct-tape. They were skeletons if one wanted to be precise. Yet they were eaten by the snakes. Why? Were they able to digest them? The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Weren¡¯t my abominations I don¡¯t know¡­ poisonous? I decided to check this theory of mine back at the now blockaded lake. In an immaterial form, I floated forward, slowly moving through the tunnel. While it was true that my body right now was pretty much invisible and indestructible I wasn¡¯t so sure there weren¡¯t monsters, spells and artifacts which could capture, or even destroy me. Haste makes waste. After a moment or a few, I arrived at the said lake and a strange sight greeted my non-corporeal eyes. Quite a lot of the snakes were dead, floating powerlessly in the water. In the meantime those still alive attacked their unmoving brethren and devoured them whole, only to succumb to the same state minutes later. So the undead were poisonous like I thought! A grin appeared on my face. With a bit more courage I moved forward while analyzing the situation. Soon however my smile faded. There was no end to the snakes. It was like something was producing them 24/7. For one that was killed by the poison, another two were swimming up from the depths to eat their fill. While in the long run, the whole situation would probably resolve itself there was also a chance for some of the enemies developing an immunity. Or diluting the poison due to constant consumption. Or who knows - even one or two may develop a beneficial mutation. It was best to end this battle quickly. There was one more thing on my mind though. Painful like a splinter. The Glass Progenitor that the Analyze mentioned. Since the Glass Snake Maws that attacked my forces were already at such advanced stage (two-meter long beast being the maximum of their growth) then it wouldn¡¯t be a stretch of the imagination to think that their ¡°papa¡± was also here. Which meant that I needed something even stronger to beat him. Whatever his final form would be. And my quick check on the assimilated corpses gave me just that - a potential trump card. In a hurry I returned to the artificial pond, stretching my imaginary fingers. The first design was easy - just a plant that grew in the water, a seaweed of sorts. I grabbed the Fiery Dandelion and changed it to resemble large tubes that would be able to grow on most surfaces, floating underwater. Now to mix them with zinc, which should stop the corrosion and whatever organic bullshit that helped to stop explosions in Dandelions. This time an Acidic Freshweed was born, with its distinctive pale yellow color visible on the shell, a few small floating feelers burning potential attackers from outside and a whole boatload of acid inside. Was that all? Nope! After that, I decided to make a monster. The template from the Glass Snake Maw was interesting, but in the end not feasible. There were however useful parts - the brain of the creature for one, which was enough for my ability to mix and match various designs. In short Anima, usage was needed once again. This time I decided to use zinc as a corrosion-resistant metal, no iron - it rusts easily - then bits and pieces of copper for electric parts and - at the end - even the Glass Snake frame. Now, while my Analyze wasn¡¯t describing the creature I had its shape burned in my mind. It was a see-through snake, with barely visible organs and elongated body. On both sides there were small pairs of fins, helping it navigate and on the eye-less head, four long feelers resided, allowing it to both sense the temperature and movement. Besides, that was, of course, the Maw - a mouth full of teeth made from some strange compound. The outside was clad in a similarly see-through scale with great resistance to cutting weapons. It looked like a glass sculpture given life by a mad scientist. But it would bear the name of apex predator no longer. My new creation also had an elongated body, but it was much more flat and wide that its future opponent, making it similar to the manta ray. On the bottom side of the body a strange, wide mouth hung open, creating a terrifying toothless grin. The whole animal was silvery-gray in color, not unlike most of my creations. This time however it was not an aesthetic choice, but an effect of the zinc parts. And a few more ¡°secret¡± additions. There was a gimmick to their way of battle, but I decided to spawn only a few of the monsters for now and even then leave them in the artificial pond. After all, they were a bit of a double-edged sword. Using them came with a cost. The last thing I tried was also a plant, this time however I went for something else entirely. The little grey underwater plant which the system named humorously a Drowning Man Razor. Why? While it tasted quite good (according to the description) it also contained a very strong poison. The type which was potent enough to kill an elephant by sprinkling a few drops on it. If elephants lived in this world, anyway. Which they might. Also, its leaves looked like small, one-use razors popular in my town. They were however similar to their namesakes - dull and non-lethal. Anyway - the preparations were set. I summoned a few more Lebirs and stuffed them in a formation, led by the Lebir Captains. Behind them stood two Electric Rod teams (temporary name) and¡­ Ratlings? They may be useful, but I didn¡¯t call for them? And why has it these mechanical arms on its back?! This needs an investigation¡­ And also reminds me¡­ I never actually created a smith for the Lebirs on the first floor, eh? Gotta do it soon. Maybe a Bilebrain and some metal skeleton would work? Hmmm... Ah! Focus, Uno! Don¡¯t lose sight of your goal! It is time to hunt some snakes! Get to it! 027 Uno My ¡°army¡± was ready. Thirty-three Lebirs with a captain leading every team of ten, two units of electric rod operators (blue-plated and black-plated) and¡­ Ratlings. A lot of Ratlings. The little creatures were led by a slightly distinct member of their species. Maybe more than slightly - a spider-like appendages attached to its back were sight to behold even in a fantasy world. The interesting fact was an absence of spear thrower on its back. This probably meant that it was of a different class? Different race? Maybe it was just a mutation? I already met a similar being before. Why hadn¡¯t I dissected it? Stupid. Stupid! Analyze wasn¡¯t really helpful, as it provided me only with a standard description of the Ratling specimen, slightly changing the name to the Iron Ratling Mechanic, instead of a Spear Thrower. Oh, and it also added a small line of text indicating that ¡°It has a natural talent when it comes to working with machines and is able to both create and repair them¡±. Yet even the threat level of the said monster remained the same! It was leading its people - that much was clear. The Ratlings were standing in a precise formation just few meters behind it - four rows of ten, and all ready to follow. Ah, who cares? No time to worry about that. I have enemies to kill. My monsters were stationed in the main room of the floor, impatiently stomping in place. Not prolonging the inevitable I simply gave an order to march. The Lebirs moved first, their squads walking one after another, each recognizable by the Crackling mace their leader sported. The mechanical precision they walked with was really a sight to behold. I felt like taking part in a parade. One-two, one-two they marched, legs and arms moving synchronously. They may be dumb as bricks, but at least they looked menacing. After they marched the black Rod team and blue Rod team. What? I knew my naming sense was skewed, but simple was still the best as I said before! Anyway, eight Lebirs were carrying each weapon, having much less trouble after adding these handles on the sides. It was still unwieldy, but adding anything more was simply not economical. On the other hand it should be possible to create a handheld version of it. More so since I have a special type of monster growing in my dungeon, called the Battery Devourer. Analyze said that its parts could be used in manufacturing artifacts. While I was far away from creating a farm and mass-producing them (which wasn¡¯t that bad of an idea in itself) I would rather focus on something else. Namely - making sure that after the modification the Devourer would simply produce the needed batteries instead of killing it and reusing the remaining pieces. After all why add another step to the process which I could skip entirely? Then again, what would that accomplish, really? There was no way to actually attack from afar, so it would be used by my Lebirs as one more option in melee. Which made it a cheaper version of Crackling mace, since the attacker might paralyze the opponent, but smacking enemy down with a (relatively) fragile material wouldn¡¯t add any damage. It wasn¡¯t that bad when considering expanding my arsenal, the question was how easy was it to make. On the other hand, creating something like a crossbow with an electric tip should also be possible and much more tempting... But that was an idea for later. After the main weapon teams trudged the Ratlings - shuffling their formation a bit, but still moving orderly. There were about forty of them, all basic ranged soldiers, not counting the mechanic. While their worth would be limited in a water environment (since spear throwers don¡¯t have enough penetration to attack underwater targets) they still can be useful. I was planning for most of my forces to stay above water, pelting the arriving enemies with electricity and stopping them with shielded Lebirs. I had a distinct advantage in fighting over the land after all. Yet no plan survives the contact with an enemy and because of that I had my trump card ready too. The ditch between the lake and my domain was already unblocked in the preparation. I still hesitated though. Since water in the lake was flowing outside and because of that using it willy-nilly would probably create an ecological catastrophe - something that I wasn¡¯t too fond of. Mostly because I didn¡¯t know how the Gods would react. So yeah. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. My group entered the forbidden zone a few minutes later, the snakes still engaged in their cannibalistic feast. At least the rate at which new arrivals were appearing was visibly lowered by now. Lucky! It meant that there weren¡¯t endless amounts of Glass Snake Maws. Just a whole lot of them. I could work with this. The Lebir teams strode forward, this time with shields ready. Abominations black armor was reflecting the light, as their captains watched the rippling water. Their weapons crackled with intense electricity, but other than that only a sound of chewing could be heard. I frowned internally. While I knew that commanding from the front was an honorable idea, there was one problem with it. Honorable warriors were the first to kick the bucket. And - more importantly - these maces were really hard to make! With a grumble, the captains retreated a tiny bit. And then a tiny bit more. Now they were standing in the second row, ready to pounce. Still too close to the danger in my opinion. Oh well. You couldn¡¯t cure stupid. Still, my Lebirs were waiting, ready to defend. Their sudden stop was a silent signal to the black Rod team, who walked forward with straightened backs, just like during their training. They quickly untangled the cord from the weapons back and dragged it towards the nearby outlet. I installed a few of these before. Then one of them plugged it in and the weapon hummed with power in response. It was enough to gain the attention of our enemies. Their brethren probably didn¡¯t taste that good, because they jumped on an idea of devouring some new victims. About hundred of eyeless heads lifted up at the sound and hissed in unison. Creepy. Last time the battle was totally silent, not counting metal scrapping the rock or a serpent dying breath. So now, we were not an enemy, but just prey? I don¡¯t think so! After voicing their challenge the Glass Snake Maws turned as one and started to swim towards my forces. This time however we were ready. It wasn¡¯t a surprise ambush, but a head-on battle. To answer them the electrified rod was dipped into the water. The effect was instant. A choir of screams. Snakes of all sizes trashed in water, while it slowly tore them to shreds. Few of the smarter ones avoided this hellish landscape, where their brethren were being cooked alive and skirted the side of the battlefield in order to engage my Lebirs. The first wave of the snakes came and crashed upon abominations shields, few if not any of them getting a short end of the stick. Once again I cursed my weapons. Maces were really not enough for foes like these. Smith-abomination, you¡¯ll be next on the production line! Still, there wasn¡¯t much that I could do right now. Then the Ratlings came to the rescue. Like real veterans they calmly divided into the teams of three or four, concentrating fire on incoming enemies. Some of them were turned into the runners, gathering ammo from their tunnels and bringing it back to the frontlines. Above all, the mechanic hissed and pointed, sending warriors to the parts of the weak parts of the defensive line, not allowing it to break. Which was much better than anything I had done before¡­ Was I just outshined by a rat? It seems like I¡¯ll have to check how much did they evolve while I wasn¡¯t looking. Also¡­ Was that a sentence? Had they already created their own language? I wonder how advanced it was... This required an investigation. Maybe even a dissection? Hmm¡­ no. I should be able to summon it since it was an already present evolution. And that meant that the preset should be available for browsing. Let¡¯s check after this whole mess was over. And focus! The battle still raged all around. The main force of the Glass Snakes was being mercilessly electrocuted, while my defensive squads were doing their jobs. With a few loses, I might add, but the additional Lebirs were already summoned, slowly making their way towards the lake. And at this critical time, an enemy boss appeared. A large, discolored tentacle landed smack dab in the middle of my black Rod team, decimating the weapon and its handlers. It was electrocuted in the process, but that didn¡¯t seem like a deterrent. I motioned the blue Rod team to advance and they did, connecting their cord to the closest electrical outlet in seconds. They barely had the chance to attack when the tentacle smacked their weapon again. Only this time something went wrong. I mean more wrong than my warriors getting killed. *Boooooom* An enormous explosion happened. I managed to see that the blue-plated Lebirs shattered to pieces as soon as electrical energy touched their armor. Which in turn resulted in shrapnel being strewn all around them. The damage was immense - more for the snakes than my Lebirs, as additional pieces of metal lodged in their armor did nothing. Pieces of flesh and scale came raining down in a moment. Another large ¡°recipient¡± of the damage were Ratlings. Out of forty not even a third survived, most more or less hurt. Many were limping, some lost an eye or ear. Still, they never retreated, throwing their spears at advancing enemies. While their iron skin mitigated most of the damage they still had unarmored weak points - eyes, ears, underbelly etc. I shook my head and ordered a retreat, the enemy not looking much better than my minions. So it had come to this¡­ [Release Erosion Rays.] I spoke slowly and observed as more and more underwater monsters were making their way towards the rampaging tentacle. 028 Uno Soon the battle entered its heated phase, as first of my underwater monsters arrived and immediately clashed with the Progenitor. In the meantime land forces (or rather what was left of them) were making a full retreat. Like I mentioned before - while Lebirs were in relatively good shape the same couldn¡¯t be said about the Ratlings. Only a few remained of all their warriors¡­ which was at least partially my fault. Exploding Lebirs and all that jazz being a nasty surprise. On the bright side they reproduced quickly which was obvious to me since from the twenty minions I summoned, in the beginning, came this forty-strong army. Anyway¡­ right now it didn¡¯t matter at all. We were retreating. Every minion of mine heeded the orders and tried to desperately get out of enemy range. That tentacle was no joke after all. It still managed to squash more than a few abominations, even while being badly injured itself. The Progenitor formerly colorless skin now reminded me of the Moon surface, riddled with bigger and smaller craters. There was also some kind of liquid leaking from cracks and burns present on it. Its presence turned the water thicker and stickier by the second. Which filled me with unwanted memories. Thankfully both the existence of the underground stream and the simple mass of water present made sure that the change was temporary. However, it forced the being to remain still for a moment, which in turn allowed use of the Analyze. For the first time since encountering it, I was absolutely sure what type of monster my forces were facing.
Glass Progenitor When a Glass Snake Maw collects enough energy and mass it can evolve, ending up as such being. This allows it to grow near indefinitely and changes its core being from an animal to a plant. In turn, the new being is forced into a sedentary lifestyle, often devouring all life in the process. This creates artificial dead zones in the underground seas. As its name suggests the Progenitor is capable of spawning Glass Snake Maws, but only when it has eaten enough. While capable of devouring plants it prefers fish and meat of the land creatures. At first glance, its thick skin and regeneration capabilities are certainly impressive, but when comparing the Progenitor with other creatures of the same danger class it feels somewhat lacking. Threat level: B--
Hooooo. Just like I thought. So the big tentacle was a B class monster, albeit of a lower class. That explains a few things, like its ridiculous resistance to damage or the pure power of even the most basic attacks. The mention of the Progenitor regeneration might, however, bring my plan to a grinding halt¡­ After all, it was mostly dependent on the continuous exhaustion of the enemy, after which I planned to deal a finishing blow. Oh well. If it doesn¡¯t work I¡¯ll simply¡­ Leave it alone. It didn¡¯t have an ability to move since the Glass Progenitor was basically a plant with a big, toothed mouth at the base. This forced it to stay in one place. Forever. Even if it wanted to spawn more Glass Snake Maws I had a contingency in place just for that. In the long run, it didn¡¯t matter if the beast was under my control or not. The important thing was that anybody stupid enough to walk around the lake would end up devoured. I would still try to gain control over it¡­ Ah. Just in time. My little creations had arrived.
Erosion Ray This underwater monster looks similar in shape to a manta ray, with silvery-gray colorization and a toothless smile on the bottom part included. However, while the outside looks pretty much harmless, its insides are a different matter. A large part of innards is comprised of a stomach laced with a regenerating layer of zinc. This makes the real body resistant to corrosion. Erosion Rays live in symbiosis with Acidic Freshweed and Drowning Man Razor, storing their acid and poison, while combining them into a corrosive liquid. It can then use the said mixture to propel themselves by expelling it at high speed. This, in turn, tends to create a deadly cloud that is hard to dispel by an ordinary means. While not entirely immune to poison and acid they nonetheless boast great resistance. Threat level: D-
The system description didn¡¯t really do these Rays justice. It even blatantly omitted the most important part about them - the fact that said symbiosis allowed seeding of both plants in their surroundings. The new greenery changed water content, making it both more poisonous and acidic, which deterred most of the other living beings. And while the latter wasn¡¯t that dangerous - acid was simply lowering the pH of water, which made it more sour, but not much else - it was the former that bothered me. Drowning Man Razor was a plant bred to kill. Its mellow taste made accidental consumption a real danger (since it was a new, unknown species) and its mere presence poisoned the water around it. At least its growth was strictly connected to the Erosion Ray presence. As long as I didn¡¯t let them propagate outside my dungeon the damage done should be minimal. Still - letting Drowning Man Razor grow freely could lead to some unforeseen consequences. Alas. The process had already started. There was no way to back out now. I strained my sight while claiming the surrounding land. My Erosion Rays were dancing around the tentacle, each leaving a trail of greenish water in their wake. Time after time the Progenitor tried to scoop or smack the buzzing enemies, but lack of sensory organs and overall clumsiness was working against it. The thing I was most afraid of - its greedy maw - was immobile, relying on the tentacle to hunt. It seemed like turning into the plant wasn¡¯t the best evolution choice. I nearly finished taking control over this part of the cave when the rocky underwater started to turn yellow and green. The Razor and Freshweed speed of growth was truly awe-inspiring and to tell the truth - even a little scary. I guess my dungeon mana had a hand in it. While the plant''s presence started to change the water color it didn¡¯t detract from the Progenitor ferocity, nor did it seem in pain. I left them to play. Like I said before - this battle was already won. After all Glass Snake Maws were already extinct - the ones who survived the battle were poisoned and died a few minutes after Erosion Rays arrived. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Thus I could turn my attention to many things that required it. Like for example excavating a new Fake Core Room for my Mechanical Core. It would be after all too conspicuous to leave it on the first level. Especially since the second floor was coming together so quickly. After a few moments I had an idea - why not dig the tunnel underwater? With four tunnels in cardinal directions, it should take the adventurers some time to explore my artificial pond. More so with the poison and acid being a constant danger. And there were still some Drones trapped on the bottom - why not use them? Thus my minions started to drill into the south-east direction. Call me a perfectionist, but it simply made sense in my head. The work was slow, but I had time. And other things to work on. Returning to the first floor I moved my presence into the Forge Room. The name was false until now, though, since I haven¡¯t gotten to creating a smith. The problem, which I was now keen to remedy. My ability to create was still pretty measly. I had rats, skeletons, snakes and few mechanical contraptions, but not much else to use. And somehow creating plants was easier than building minions. Sigh. Since my plan was to create a smith I had little to work with. Opposable thumbs were a must unless I would make a machine who had them built-in. Like my iron arms that were made from mostly wires. This however made changing them a bit of a chore. So a humanoid then. The bones were a go-to material when making skeletons, but since they would be exposed to heat most of the time I instead opted for iron and added a bit of insulation - a mineral wool layer which should protect it. How did I make it? Well, the Forge Room was lacking its namesake - the forge, so I installed one in the beginning. Not the normal kind - since there wasn¡¯t a lot of space where smoke could go and some of my minions needed to breathe. Instead, I opted for an electric forge. That may be an overstatement - it was only a large tube made from thick stone, with wires spiraling in its inner shell. They were connected to my network which was feeding them power and generating heat when needed. It worked well enough. I even installed a small water wheel near the lake on the second floor to allow for electricity generation if I ever was low on mana. Afterward, I simply melted the stone inside it and dragged the remaining material with my artificial arms. The temperature was a bit too much, so each time I had to rebuild them, but you gain some, you lose some. In the end, I kinda understood how it was made and mineral wool was added to the list of available materials. Which was good, since I was trying to create it for a few long days until the system recognized my sample. Then everything started to move quicker. First I summoned a large skeleton (about two and a half meters tall) and made sure that its bones were empty inside. Then I sawed off the upper part of its skull, leaving it open for now. Then came mineral wool - which wrapped my whole creation, making a pseudo-flesh for it. I wasn¡¯t stingy with the material, so it started to resemble a real humanoid in only a few hours. Not counting the creepy skull of course. After that came a summoning of Bileflesh Brain which I tried to force into the skull and animate the prepared pile of bones. Which didn¡¯t work. It took me a few minutes to understand why¡­ The skeleton wasn¡¯t made from metal! Obvious hindsight. But also easily remediable. I simply created a sort of metal cockpit in the head of the skeleton and made sure that each of the bones had its own wire coming through. It was a bit similar to how my own dungeon network was being run. Which reminded me to create two mechanical eyes to add to it. This time the Brain wasn¡¯t even hesitating, quickly stretching its tentacles into prepared holes. It took a few minutes for the monster to recognize and connect into every available space, but somehow it managed to finish before I lost my patience. Then with a smile on my face, I only created the full-metal helmet, leaving an open space for the eyes to see - and still no mouth - and my newest minion was complete. [Analyze.] I said, full of expectations.
Bile-brain Golem This creature is a fusion of bone, dead flesh, metal and stone created to do its master bidding. While strong and robust its not very intelligent, but due to being made partially from earth it retains its stubbornness. Given any task, the golem will try to finish it to the best of its abilities. The large mass and slow movements make this being a perfect shield for the others. It is however slow to heal as the material it was made from is somewhat rare. At the same time due to its rarity knowledgeable adventurers will hunt it down to the end of the world. Threat level: D
Did I fuck it up? That was a warrior chassis, not the smith one¡­ Full of hesitation I ordered the golem to pick up the hammer I made a few hours earlier. And then to simply smith. It just stood there, dumbly staring at me. [I don¡¯t see your arms moving.] I said and it waved back to me. A failure? I made a few hammering motions and the golem repeated them clumsily. And then stopped as soon as I did. Next, I ordered it to pick up a piece of ore. There were some already stored in the room. The replenishing magic was added to them, in order to make sure that the smith would never run out¡­ [Not like that! With the tongs!] I screamed as the golem grabbed one. It only started to get worse with time... [You need to heat it up¡­] I continued, but it waited for me to demonstrate. So I did. [And hammer it into shape.] Yup. It was worthless. No point in sticking around then. At least the room wasn¡¯t empty anymore. Shaking my invisible head I left, leaving the golem to its own devices. I¡¯ll try to work on the real smith in the future. For now, let¡¯s do something else. Right. The fauna. I could use the snake design to make a dragonfly-like creature. The basic frame was a bit too floppy, but a bone here, a metal reinforcement there¡­ Then add the wings, like those in Leonardo da Vinci sketches¡­ Yes. Lovely.
Avaricious Glass Dragonfly This strange flying monster is clearly an amalgamation of the flesh and the machine - joining the see-through body of a Glass Snake with quickly turning wings and fangs made from metal. The transition is seamless and as such a natural predator is born. The resulting monster tends to nest high above the ground, joining in pairs and laying eggs. While feeding on the ambient mana should be enough for it to survive this race of monsters prefers to stuff their bellies full at any occasion. They also tend to collect sparkly items, similarly to crows. Threat level: D--
I could feel my enthusiasm returning! Now to create something for it to hunt. Something small and harmless. A herbivore that would cull the otherwise inedible plants. Like¡­ that?
Blue Hopper This non-aggressive animal survives mostly on a diet of leaves and insects. It tends to live in packs of five to eight members. Clearly, biomechanical in origin uses its metal hind legs to jump long distances - both to catch its prey and run away from danger. It¡¯s small, easily fitting in a grown man''s hand and can¡¯t really grow any bigger. Besides its blue coloration and the ability to jump it can also generate weak electric shock when in danger. It is, however, a very exhausting skill and as such, it can¡¯t be used continuously. While otherwise unremarkable its stomach contains powerful acids capable of dissolving flesh, metal, plant matter and even stone. Threat level: G
The Drones finished digging out the northern passages? Good. Then they should enlarge them into about three rooms, two for the Lebirs and one for growing Battery Devourers. Get to work, people! I mean, Drones! A room deep in the pond was getting finished? And it was even within an air pocket? Lovely. I should also add one at the other side of the underground Lake - just to fuck with people. And move the Fake Core! I had to remember that. Oh, and should I summon some Ratlings for experiments, maybe add a few more parts? Or check out how they communicate? What variants there are available? So little time, so much to do! 028.5 - The Council Ratling Queen the tunnels under the Dungeon Core Room ¡°Silence, children!¡± I spoke while smacking the polished stone table with my foreleg. It took only a few minutes for the Silent Council to quieten, true to its name. Not all of us were here, as Scout was currently wandering outside - doing his job, while Scientist and Crafter were hidden away in their quarters, playing with the new explosives that our Creator bestowed upon this world. And hopefully not destroying their laboratories. Again. On that note, Mechanic was unable to sit still on his furry backside - eager to finish the meeting and join his fellows in their experiments. Yet his sense of duty kept him in here. He was after all the commander of the sacred Crusade which joined the Creator forces in conquering the Watery Place. As such he was required to share his experience with the rest of us. Noticing my gaze he turned to face me and smiled immediately, part of his snout hidden under a self-made iron helmet. Only his mechanical appendages betrayed the nervousness he felt. Still, it was a remarkable show of self-control. Good. The Creator''s first children need to be both brave and daring. We are His heralds in the darkness of this world. I looked around, noticing that every rat present was bursting with enthusiasm. It was obvious that everybody was eager to start planning. On my left sat Strategist, Tactician, and Berserker - the warrior faction, lacking only Scout presence. Somehow they always arrived at violent solutions. On the right Mage and Mechanic were chattering excitedly, their group of creators weakened by the absence of its two members. These guys preferred cunning over brute strength. The chamber we sat in was nothing special by itself. Just a hole in the ground dug out by the work rats and polished clean by the engineers. As a light source, we had some Bright Fruits made by the Creator. They were a prime way of lighting up our tunnels. A stone table and chairs were scattered around the center of the room, but there wasn¡¯t much furniture except these. What was important about the room then? Why the leaders of the Ratling community met here to plot? It was the location of this chamber that was of significance - it was dug out just under the room where the real dungeon core rested. Our Creator was near and the workers even exposed some of the normally hidden wirings for us to bask in His radiance. Before the discussion devolved into an excited squeaking my serious stare brought all rats present into the mood. The Glory to the Creator skill was teaching me that the right ambiance was beyond important in such meetings and my own instincts happily obliged. ¡°Thank you.¡± I spoke while nodding towards Mechanic. ¡°We gathered here because the first Crusade against the dungeon enemies has finished. We were granted both bloody victory and various boons.¡± Creation-oriented rat''s faces rose and even the warrior-caste perked up at my words. ¡°Mechanic, please speak. Speak of the glory you enjoyed.¡± I asked and the Ratling happily obliged. ¡°Yes-yes! Mother, as you asked I gathered our forces. Forty rats strong, all armed with spear throwers and trained by Tactician. We also had an additional team reserved for acquiring ammo. Which turned out to be wise-wise! Under the Creator guidance, we marched with the warrior people of the Un-Tasty Ones and two Grand Weapons of His make.¡± Mechanic eyes glinted under the helmet. He was clearly happy with the appearance of the new inventions. ¡°They were used to spew lightning¡­ and explode!¡± This sent the waves of excitement through the council. Even the guards standing near the entrance to the chamber were chittering. After all the rat race had a propensity for exploding weapons. And burning ones. And acid too! Before we were limited to Bright Fruits, Acid Flowers, and simple spears. Now? The possibilities were endless. Still, the discussion was already being thrown off course due to this news. I had to intervene. ¡°Please focus.¡± I asked gently and the rats quietened once again. The skill was right once again. This was the correct response. ¡°Continue, Mechanic. Tell us about the rest of the battle.¡± ¡°Yes, Mother.¡± He nodded, barely containing his excitement. ¡°The Creator forces fought the big-big thing, pelting it with spears and crushy-crushing it with weapons. There were also slithery-things trying to bite us. Nasty ones!¡± He started to gesticulate, showing how bravely his forces battled. It was cute enough, so I let him continue. ¡±We fought well, but in the end, the exploding Un-Tasty Ones killed many of our brethren.¡± Mechanic lowered his snout, clearly showing that he felt responsible. ¡°I knew that something was different about them, but didn¡¯t order the retreat. Mother, please punish my ignorance!¡± As he finished his words two rats entered the chambers. At first, I frowned at the interruption, but a quick look at their wounds identified them as the veterans of the Crusade. ¡°Can we speak, Mother?¡± Asked the older one, lacking a front paw and being helped by his companion. I nodded in silence. ¡°We ask you to forgive Mechanic¡¯s transgression against the Creator.¡± The badly hurt rat trembled at speaking His Holy Name. ¡°We would gladly take any punishment in his stead.¡± I saw Mechanic wince in a corner of my vision, the tears glistening in his eyes, threatening to spill at moment¡¯s notice. ¡°There is no way I would do that.¡± I spoke and the room froze in shock. ¡°After all, there¡¯s nothing to forgive. Mechanic did his job splendidly.¡± A grin appeared on my lips and the rats slowly comprehended the meaning of the words. Then a strange laugh resounded and everybody stared at Mechanic standing up from his chair, snot and tears mixing in a show of relief. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Seeing the attention he brought to himself the rat in question tried to unsuccessfully calm down. Only after a few minutes did his composure return. ¡°I thank you, Mother.¡± He said with a deep bow, the two wounded rats behind him copying motions of gratitude. ¡°Glory to the Creator.¡± He added with deep emotion. ¡°Glory to the Creator.¡± The people in the room repeated after him. ¡°Come, speak more of the grand battle. Let us bask in the honor gained.¡± ¡°Yes... ¡° His face turned more serious as he continued. ¡°With our ranks shredded the Creator ordered a retreat. It was then that Scout''s minions saw something moving underwater. The battle continued with these reinforcements. Since we would be only a hindrance I led my brethren back home... And that is the end of my story.¡± I nodded and turned towards Scout¡¯s vice-commander. ¡°Did you identify the threat?¡± I growled - only to let him know his place. The rat in question bowed and answered stupidly, but with great confidence. ¡°We don¡¯t know what they are, but the attackers were clearly creations of our Master.¡± A sigh escaped my mouth. ¡°Anything else?¡± ¡°Yes, Mother.¡± The vice-commander started to grin. ¡°The Creator made a few more races. One of them is particularly interesting.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t keep us in the suspense! Speak out!¡± Shouted Berserker, as always easy to anger. ¡°Yes, sir!¡± The rat''s countenance changed. He seemed a bit more professional now. ¡°One of the new races possesses the ability to fly. We observed their behavior and think they can be tamed! Additionally, there are a few new plants present, mostly underwater - some of which seem really poisonous!¡± ¡°Good!¡± Shouted Mage, for the first time really interested in the conversation. ¡°Please bring the samples to my lab!¡± I could hear him muttering something about getting further ahead of his competition. Poor guy, being blessed with an Analyze skill, yet not having a chance to use it. Well, we could send him to the surface, but that was a dangerous fate for a rat as unique as him. On the other hand, the rats there had their paws already full and would gladly accept any help... ¡°I could fly!¡± Berserker was also excited, albeit for other reasons. He was currently waving his scarred arms with excitement while thrashing the chairs with his large frame. The vice-commander body shook for a bit after hearing that sentence. ¡°Maybe¡­¡± He cautiously answered and not hearing any response added quietly. ¡°But it would take some time even with selective breeding.¡± I nodded to myself. Still - to create an air unit¡­ that would be an interesting experiment. ¡°Mother, I have a question.¡± Asked the silent Strategist. His skill - Calculator - had an accuracy rating directly connected to the available information, thus he usually only listened to what the others had to say. It was surprising to hear him speak out. ¡°Yes?¡± After an initial shock, my saintly aura immediately returned. ¡°How are the Red Rats?¡± He asked, his cold eyes tracing my movements for any falsehood. I smiled in response to his childish pressure. ¡°They were moved into the Deep Chambers and asked to train a force of their own.¡± These were the rooms we had built on the second level. ¡°Afterwards they would patrol both floors and reinforce the already present guards. This chamber included. We have no shortage of volunteers to send into their conversion. Our faith is strong. Glory to the Creator.¡± ¡°Glory to the Creator.¡± ¡°And how are things on the surface?¡± The annoying Strategist asked again. Oh well, it was not like this information was secret anyway. ¡°I had a meeting with the surface Queen. We put aside our differences and she was happy to trade information and resources.¡± Translation: my Glory to the Creator skill brainwashed and subordinated her to me. ¡°Above ground is similar to our Metallic Jungle, with silver plants and acid traps present in every direction.¡± Few rats trembled at these words. We all knew how the military sent their squads to camp in the Jungle. And how many of them returned with burned fur or didn¡¯t return at all. ¡°Then are we sending reinforcements up there too?¡± Mage asked hopefully. ¡°Yes, however, our losses are tremendous. The Tall Ones are strong. Some even monstrously so. One of their teams keeps a very good pace, annihilating our forces on their way. An elite vanguard unit.¡± ¡°When will they arrive, then?¡± ¡°Probably in five to seven days.¡± Tactician lifted his brow in return. ¡°They don¡¯t seem that strong.¡± He spoke with disdain. ¡°They¡¯re moving that slow only because we started to employ the suicide tactics.¡± I answered. ¡°That¡­ changes things.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Will the flying forces be ready for their arrival?¡± A question hung in the air for the moment, until vice-commander scurried to answer. ¡°We¡¯re still testing the basic feasibility of this idea! We¡¯re not even in the prototype phase!¡± ¡°Then GET TO IT!¡± Shouted Tactician, his reddish eyes glittering with madness. ¡°Mother, we will take our leave here. We¡¯re wasting time and I feel like my knowledge will be best put to use down there. In the field.¡± ¡°Yes. Go my child and make me proud.¡± ¡°Of course. Glory to the CREATOR!¡± He said, before leaving and dragging the poor Scout vice-commander out of the room. ¡°There are materials to make and bombs to test, Mother.¡± Whimpered Mechanic and Mage only nodded his head quickly, agreeing. I sighed. ¡°Go. Don¡¯t blow up the laboratory.¡± Two pairs of hurt eyes answered me. ¡°Too much.¡± I sighed again and they scurried away too. ¡°Is the meeting adjourned then, Mother?¡± Slowly asked Strategist, noting that only Berserker and he were left. ¡°Yes. You know that the time of trials is coming. Prepare.¡± He gave me a bow and I was soon left alone. This made me think about the future. I was worried. The Tall Ones attacking us were relentless. Every day new soldiers were born and every day new soldiers were being killed. They were bleeding us out. It was unsustainable. We needed stronger weapons. We needed more explosives. We needed our Creator''s intervention. ... I clenched my teeth until they hurt. Until I could taste the blood. I decided to get an audience. Glory to the Creator. 029 Charles Blueflame currently being dragged around by the Princess These silvery trees seemed exquisite. Were they completely made out of metal, or was it just a similar-looking substance? They were cold under the touch but retained heat when I summoned a Firebolt - just like an ordinary iron would. Yet this gleam, this polish! It was simply divine! The organic structure of its branches was something that our artisans were not able to replicate. Was it because the iron was extended all the way into the core, creating a metallic lifeform or maybe it was because the bark of this plant was infused to create a special type of defense? Nobody knew. But also nobody cared. The finished product of these silver trees, be it a branch, one of the many leaves or even the planks made from it would sell for a ton of money - if delivered quickly enough. In the capital, both the nobles and large merchant families had a penchant for rare resources. Or more like the dubious honor of being the first one to flaunt them at parties. Straight into the faces of their rivals. As soon as the information about these plants - they were plants, right? - arrived in Shieldstar all hell would break loose. The capital city would be buzzing with impatience. Especially because the plants in question were found at the dungeon entrance - a grey zone which was unaffiliated with any of the local factions, barring maybe the Geinard Kingdom royalty. Or other countries putting a claim on this piece of land. After all the dungeon entrance was a few kilometers into the badlands. It would also take time for the news to arrive at the court. And even more, days would pass until they decided how to divide the rights. Not to mention sending back the military contingent and bureaucrats in order to enforce these rules. Which was a prime opportunity. It was hard to let it pass up. I might be a high noble in name, but my assets, barring the ones belonging to the Order of Fates Untold, were meager. I simply had to take a few moments and order Adam to gather what we could. And then sell it afterward. Well¡­ truth be told I was planning this over so intensively mostly to escape from harsh reality. ¡°Gyahahahahahaha! An ambush! Look alive people!¡± A female voice resounded in the background, startling me. One might think I already grew used to this kind of life since I was kidnapped about a week ago, but this couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. ¡°Charles, wake up! We¡¯ve got experience to gain and these cute rats to kill!¡± The amount of joy contained in the voice was overwhelming, even if the contents of the Princess'' speech were disturbing to hear. I stood up and turned around only to see her figure moving wildly in the middle of our enemies. She was jumping around like a zephyr, her two blades tracing lines of blood and viscera from one rat to another. Each hit was deadly, but also beautiful in its form, excelling in showing the strong points of her Blade Dancer class. It was a deceptively silent performance as both our attackers and the girl in question hardly expelled a sound. I could only hear the swooshing of metal spears cutting through the air and Agnes'' feet delicately touching the ground, turning the fallen leaves and strange, springy grass into dust with her sheer power. There was a wide smile present on her lips, accentuating her blonde hair. She cut it short, in a boyish fashion, but only a fool would not recognize her for what she was - a scion of the royal family. Especially with these deep, green eyes, which resembled dark jades. Drops of blood slowly slid from her leather armor, leaving a visible trail on the metal parts of it, while she shook her head with wild, uncanny grace. Her figure, while still childish, already started to show the signs of a true flower, which would fully bloom in the future. One would think that her physical appearance alone would be enough to gain a bunch of followers and yes-men. Yet I was her only suitor. Me - her fiance. Something didn¡¯t add up. No matter how bestial her character¡­ It was simply weird. Yes, there were whispers in the dark about her peerless strength and bloodlust. How she wasn¡¯t a human being, but a monster, conceived to revel in destruction. Which was, of course, utter bullshit. Her laughter returned me to reality once again. ¡°Princess¡­ why aren¡¯t we¡­¡± She interrupted with a displeased expression. One word left her lips. ¡°Agnes.¡± ¡°Princess, your health is really imp¡­¡± And once again I wasn¡¯t able to finish. ¡°Agnes.¡± I tilted my head, not understanding her intentions, and began to speak again. ¡°Princess, why¡­¡± She came close, the blood, stench of death, and all-to-green eyes suddenly appearing only a few centimeters from my face. ¡°Call me by my name, Charles!¡± She pouted, a cute gesture, if not for the carnage surrounding us. Said carnage created by her small hands. ¡°We¡¯re bound together, you know! Don¡¯t be a stranger.¡± She whispered the last words in my ear, nearly licking it, and backed away - starting to poke the dead rat with her sword of all things. I sighed again, a bit miffed by my body''s reaction and her innate childishness. ¡°Agnes, why isn''t your team sending the commoner adventurers ahead?¡± I asked - it didn¡¯t make any sense to waste our strength out here. Surely the duty of carving this path through the metallic jungle could be forc-, I mean graciously given to the lesser men? ¡°I¡¯m sure that your team would be best put to use somewhere else. For example in the dungeon proper.¡± Hearing my remarks Agnes shook her head and stood up with a small grin on her face. ¡°I could simply say that I enjoy these battles. And that should be enough of the reason.¡± She answered while looking me in the eye once again. It was my turn to deny while shaking my head wildly. ¡°Tell it to these cowards in the capital. They may even buy it.¡± I grinned, my white teeth showing. She was a powerful warrior, true, but this side of Agnes was never something I was afraid of. ¡°There is always a direction, a hidden goal in all your crazy escapades. You¡¯re doing it this way because there is something to gain.¡± I rustled my hair, noticing a little beard already growing on my face. Another downside of these barbaric conditions. ¡°So what is it? My dear?¡± I chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s what I love in you.¡± She answered while starting to laugh again. Her short hair danced in the wind, as she moved from rat to rat, her boundless energy simply refusing to calm down. ¡°You might be an arrogant asshole who thinks he¡¯s better than everybody else, but you¡¯re bright. For a noble.¡± Before I had a chance to respond she continued. ¡°Well, you see, while I really enjoy fighting these rat monsters...¡± A glint of real her, a greedy, lonely girl appeared for a moment. And disappeared as quickly. ¡°I mean, they use tactics, ambushes, try to weaken us by kidnapping workers or not letting us sleep at night - how exciting! Which of the monsters do that?!¡± Agnes started to gesticulate, her hands flying in the air. ¡°They¡¯re an enemy I can respect. And we¡¯re not even in the dungeon yet! There may be mutations or evolutions there. I can¡¯t wait!¡± She grinned, in this savage way, I knew to associate with her hiding something. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°But that¡¯s not all, right?¡± I nudged. ¡°Yup.¡± Once again she came closer, her breath warming up my skin. ¡°By killing them I can still gain levels.¡± ¡°What?!¡± I exclaimed in shock. ¡°Aren¡¯t you like¡­ fourteen? And on the second advancement path to boot?¡± ¡°Nineteen, my dear Charles. And please don¡¯t scream so loudly. People would start thinking I¡¯m torturing you for my pleasure. Again.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you doing just that, though?¡± I asked, a crooked smile on my lips. ¡°You dragged me out of the Order campsite to cut the path towards the dungeon entrance. I¡¯m still lower level than all your allies, you know?¡± I admitted this freely. My tenth level was nothing much compared to her companions. They might be only three or four levels above me, but it was a distance that was hard to close. After all, every level represented sweat, blood, and sometimes inhuman sacrifice. Fighting monsters or Fallen tribes with life on the line was never easy. Gathering enough strength, reliable allies, and required knowledge to create a well-oiled weapon capable of braving the odds and conquering the impossible was a lifetime goal of many adventurers. And yet here she was - an owner of a such group, a young girl who easily was one of the greatest talents that this Kingdom of ours ever gave birth to. I could only be jealous. Wait a moment... There was something else that I couldn¡¯t understand. ¡°You said that you¡¯re leveling up again?¡± I asked, disbelief clear in my voice. ¡°How do you know this? I mean - I thought that only priests at home could tell if an experience was gained after the battle?¡± A rustle came from behind us, and soon the earth mage from Agnes''s entourage emerged, flicking away the shrubbery still present on his robe. ¡°I can answer that question, sir.¡± He said while bowing slightly. Just low enough for it to be a gesture of respect, but not one centimeter deeper. The contents of his speech were a clear indication that he had been around for some time already. Listening. ¡°Then do.¡± I answered briskly, my nervousness getting the better of me. His whole face and figure were strange - the perfectly flat tone of voice only added to the equation. ¡°You were called¡­ Peter, right?¡± I asked, scouring my memory for this commoner¡¯s name. ¡°Yes, sir. I¡¯m a tenth-level Earth mage specialized in support magic.¡± ¡°And my spymaster.¡± Added Agnes, while receiving an unblinking stare from the man. ¡°And Princess'' spymaster. Yes, sir.¡± He nodded and I sent him a glare - my pride hurt by our seemingly similar level of power. Of course, he was probably a lowly Earth mage, while my Ifreet Magician class gave me special abilities unheard of in the past. I was clearly a stronger being. Humph. Ignoring my triumphant look the commoner started his explanation. ¡°It¡¯s indeed normally impossible to tell if one gained experience or not. There is however a trick known to the experienced fighters which would circumvent that problem.¡± For a moment I saw a small, derisive smile appear on his lips. Fuck you too was my mental reaction. ¡°Most of them are capable of intuitively understanding their gains in power. Namely, if a defeated enemy influenced their growth. There are...¡± ¡°And I¡¯m one of them!¡± Agnes smiled widely, interrupting the mage. ¡°So it¡¯s a skill?¡± I asked while calculating in my mind. If a 19th-level Blade Dancer was still gaining some - any - experience from killing these rats, then I - a 10th-level Ifreet Magician would probably level crazy fast! ¡°You weren¡¯t listening! It¡¯s not like that! It doesn¡¯t show up on my ability screen. I just know if the enemy became part of my strength or not!¡± She exclaimed, while dramatically opening her arms, making small circles with her fingers. It was cute. ¡°Ah, but nobody else in my team was able to do it yet.¡± It was my turn to glare with disdain at the only commoner present. Peter just shrugged and tried to continue his speech. ¡°As to why we are not using other adventurers? There are few answers to that question. Firstly - the experience gained is nothing to scoff at and we¡¯re more than happy to have a monopoly. For as long as we can.¡± He lifted a small rock in the air to make his point. ¡°It¡¯s unlikely that they find out.¡± Another rock flew up by itself. ¡°Secondly - their rate of advancement was simply atrocious.¡± ¡°Hey! It was not their fault!¡± Agnes shouted, while the rest of her team - called Swords of Hope - gathered around. Lone Mountain, her attendant, was silently judging all of us, while Eve and Boulder stuck to the shadows, happy to have a moment of respite. ¡°These monsters are highly intelligent and coordinated. And they''re not afraid to die. If not for the level difference even we would be in trouble.¡± ¡°If not for that I would be surprised if we gained any experience at all.¡± Added Eve, her elvish, slick features tainted with blood. ¡°They¡¯re shockingly easy to kill.¡± ¡°Should I remind you how their ambush went yesterday?¡± Chuckled Boulder, cleaning his tower shield from pieces of meat. In response, Eve turned red like a tomato. ¡°D-don¡¯t! Argh!¡± She shouted, just to expel the shame gathering in her pitiful chest. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that these damnable creatures¡­¡± Her words turned into a mumble and I was able only to hear the word lavatory at which point my attention was turned somewhere else. Some things were better left unknown. ¡°As I was saying, sir.¡± Peter tried to continue in a huffed tone, his calm mask broken by the constant interruption. ¡°They were simply too slow. Soon the soldiers and bureaucrats from the Kingdom will arrive. And they will demand results.¡± He sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. ¡°Especially because the flora and fauna we¡¯ve already encountered are so unique.¡± ¡°Unique is a weak word, spellslinger.¡± Grumbled Boulder, his half-orc features not visible in the quickly darkening jungle. While most people disliked and feared "halfs" or ¡°cursed¡± as they were officially known, I didn¡¯t care about his heritage. He was a commoner. That was the extent of the knowledge I needed. ¡°My point is that we should hurry.¡± Peter squeezed out the last words while staring at the Princess. Their meaning wasn¡¯t lost on her, as her green eyes widened. It only reinforced my feeling of being left out. ¡°Yes, yes I know.¡± Agnes wasn¡¯t surrendering to the pressure though. ¡°We should be close enough to the dungeon proper for these things to not matter.¡± ¡°Unless we already missed it.¡± ¡°Or the rats camouflaged the entrance.¡± Both Eve and Boulder weren¡¯t really what you would call an optimist. ¡°My maps are correct.¡± Peter interrupted with a calm expression. ¡°Only a few hours of the fast march are left until our destination. If you people weren¡¯t so lazy¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, because fighting for your life in an ambush is now called being lazy.¡± ¡°Only a few hours you say¡­¡± Agnes sat down, her body relaxed, but still able to attack or defend at moment''s notice. The atmosphere changed as Lone Mountain moved forward and bonked Peter on his head. ¡°Owwww.¡± He rubbed the sore spot and sighed. ¡°Yea, yea. My fault.¡± The earth mage turned his attention to me. ¡°Sorry, sir.¡± ¡°Wha-!¡± I couldn¡¯t even finish my first word when a small, but strong hand caught me by surprise. And then it came. Again. ¡°Hahahaha! Let¡¯s go have some fun! And level up in the process! I can smell them¡­ THAT WAY!¡± Shit. She¡¯s in the hunting mood. That was the Agnes I was deathly afraid of. I won¡¯t be able to sleep until we murder every enemy in the vicinity. I saw that the rest of the team shared my concerns, their hollow-looking eyes and twisted expressions easy to read. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Charles! We¡¯re going to get you some levels!¡± An overly joyous voice spoke and dragged me away... I don¡¯t wannaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! ...into another nightmare. 030 Charles Blueflame ¡°It¡¯s here!¡± Boulder bellowed while pointing at a strange, oval hole in the ground located in the middle of a silvery clearing. The surrounding space was large enough to accommodate a few of our exploratory teams and even more monsters. And right now it did. The Princess¡¯ team was leading the way all this time, unstoppable and easily plowing through the rat ambushes. They had shown a ridiculous amount of perseverance, but the speed at which we arrived at our destination seemed to be directly connected with a lessening resistance. Just behind Swords of Hope, two more distinct groups of people stood tall, glancing warily at their surroundings. Their bearing, while not overwhelming, seemed proud and self-confident. These were adventuring teams made up from commoners. Without any healers and mages their overall survivability was questionable, but acquiring any level of power without the aid of nobility was something uncommon. Even deeper in our formation a bunch of lowly peasants worked madly, trying to cut down the trees, clear the remaining plant matter and drag the stumps away. The road they were building into the heart of this jungle was nearing completion. For them, it meant food or maybe some coinage. If they were lucky even a level-up was not beyond their reach. We would soon start a fight, after all. But enough about them. For me - for us - these last few hours were backbreaking. I couldn¡¯t feel my legs, the mana levels were also getting low, while the accumulated tiredness was like smoke, threatening to slowly strangle me to death. And yet I walked. We walked - each of us in the throes of fatigue. Only the one leading us - Agnes - seemed to be lively beyond measure, even when spearheading all these battles. Her blades already turned dark red from the dried blood. It was flaking off in small, gross petals. Which was quite disturbing. I had a different problem though. A bunch of enemies stood between us and a well-deserved rest. In the silvery glade, a squad of the rat monsters was waiting, formed in the two orderly lines. Their skin was glinting in the sun, sending beams of light, like a performance created before a bloody finish. Each of their spears looked deadly and ready to fire. Beady eyes were following our every move, full of muted fury and determination. To tell the truth, they weren¡¯t that dangerous when fighting in the open. In the straight-up battle, we would win ten times out of ten. That was why their course of action made it painfully clear that they were the dungeon monsters. Only this type of being would blindingly rush towards their death despite the odds. Especially seeing how intelligent they were. I planned to avoid the first volley, retreat and let the others do my job. It seemed however that my esteemed fiance had other plans. ¡°Charles, give me a Firebomb right in the middle of their group, Peter - defensive buffs! Eve, be prepared just in case! Boulder and Lone Mountain cover the casters!¡± ¡°And what you¡¯ll do?¡± I shouted back, happy that the rats didn¡¯t understand our language. Yet. ¡°I¡¯ll dance!¡± She flashed her happy smile and turned towards the front. Our helpers were however confused, not being given any orders in particular. I only shook my head and focused on ignoring the ensuing commotion. After that, I can lie down and go to sleep. With a slap, I forced my tired body to move. Mana gathered just under the ribs, in the middle of my chest. The familiar burning sensation then moved into opened palm. I was concentrating heavily. This preparation was important, something that old mage tutor quite literally had beaten into my flesh. Spells were never easy to cast. In a second the deadly energy spun around, creating a small vibrating ball, which radiated heat and condensed power. It was something monstrously terrifying - this emotion of mine didn¡¯t change, no matter how many times I saw the mana change. A rush of pride filled my heart. Lesser mages would need a chant to even pull this off. The peasants around me took a few steps back and even the Swords of Hope eyed me warily. The Firebomb was just that - a ball of fire which the mage threw at the closest enemy. It would, in turn, explode, creating a large impact and setting things on fire. Many things. Sometimes even all of the things. But if one was careless enough and dropped said magical construct on the ground... Let¡¯s just say that such people were rare and tended to not live long. I was not one of them. My magic stabilized and I used this chance to immediately throw the spell. It flew nearly soundlessly and landed in the middle of the enemy formation. The rats were surprised and due to my move suddenness, many forgotten to relocate. Which ended badly, as the Fireball exploded in their midst, killing two of them outright and setting fire to nearly half of the remaining monsters. Those affected crawled in the dirt, trying to extinguish the flames and screaming in pain. Their squeaks filled the air. I grinned. This rush. This satisfaction. This feeling of power! It just never got old. I was admiring my handiwork, when the rats retaliated - most of them managed to somehow ignore their burnt bodies and flung the iron spears towards our lines. Few of them even found their targets. The damage was however minimal. A few peasants ended up either hurt or dead. Hard to tell. One of the adventurers also shared their fate, a metal spear robbing him of his life. After this wild attack, the rest of the rats moved into melee. It would be a moment where the slaughter would begin in a battle against normal monsters. If these were normal monsters I mean. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. They reacted immediately, adapting their formation by dividing it into impromptu teams of five to seven beasts, each of them targeting one opponent. A mob tactic if I ever saw one. But it worked. Worst of all they were even being helped by their burned comrades. Wounded rats were still capable of shooting, their lack of limbs or desolate pain being only a minor hurdle. While Swords of Hope were able to easily dispatch the attackers our expendable escorts were having a much harder time. Both Boulder and Lone Mountain were simply guarding me, Eve and Peter. Being a type of defensive fighter allowed them to battle without rest for a prolonged period of time. I was almost jealous. Shield, spear and light leather with chain armor were enough for Lone Mountain to both remain mobile and take hits when needed. As a tribal, she was a tall and muscular fighter and a serious person who didn¡¯t like to talk more than necessary. It was hard for me to cope with her being that way, as I was mostly used to the butterfly-like capital nobles. The half-orc called Boulder, on the other hand, was blessed with a powerful physique, which allowed him to lug his plate armor, tower shield and mace everywhere. Said mace was a two-handed model - to the normal people at least. Being a slave he didn¡¯t really have a say in the party matters, but his treatment was much better than those of his kind kept by the other nobles. Or merchant families. And yet his sour expression brightened only when he could fight against a worthy enemy. Just like now. He was under a direct order to defend the mages but still made sure that blood rained all around us, sometimes even directly ¡°stealing¡± adventurer¡¯s enemies. Which the commoners were all too happy to do since their own teams had their hands full. Unlike him, Agnes was looking at the bigger picture. She ran head into enemy ranged squads and spread death and destruction in her wake. Countless monsters were throwing themselves at her, only to fall down after a delicate smack or an armored kick. The battle was clearly turning in our favor, but seeing my allies getting mobbed was enough to make me wonder if I could contribute a bit more. ¡°Status.¡± I whispered into the air.
Name Charles Blueflame
Level 11
Class Inferno Mage
Abilities Fiery Soul; Quick Casting
Good a level-up! This means I¡¯ve got some more mana to spend. ¡°Spell list.¡± Before acting, I checked a spellcaster-exclusive menu. Maybe I got lucky and another spell had appeared on the list?
Spell list
Firebolt
Fireball
Greater Fireball
Firebomb
Shield of Flames
Wall of Flames
Nope. Nothing. The mana level was always a concern. For some reason, the statuses of sentients didn¡¯t show how hurt we were or what amount of magical energy was available for use. The trained mage, however, was able to simply know if the remaining power was enough to cast a spell. And since I was very thoroughly trained¡­ ¡°Shield of Flames.¡± Hearing my shout, the faces of people turned in fright. Always remember to inform your party members when casting a spell. A wizened face of the old teacher popped-up in my mind. Wiping it off I focused instead on my fiance. Much better. She flashed me another of her smiles as three orange bucklers started to levitate around her. Anyone hitting them would get blasted by a Firebolt immediately after. While fire spells, in general, were offensively oriented it was something I grew used to. My second nature was to kill the enemy before he closed the distance. It was a completely different tactic than the one used by these cowardly earth mages from the Dross Republic. Or our own resident worm-eater. My help didn¡¯t really matter in the long run. The battle was won. I just wanted to contribute and maybe get some more experience. We finished the battle with few more killed commoners but managed to exterminate any rats in the vicinity. They fought to the last one. And now¡­ now we would build a stronghold here, prepare for a delve¡­ and for the Fallen tribes unavoidable counter-attack. This place was in the middle of their territory after all. But first the most important thing in the world - SLEEP! Ignoring the wounded trashing on the floor I walked back to the camp, jumping straight into my cot. *** Royal Chambers, Luna Kingdom ¡°Is this report genuine?¡± Asked an old man. He was sitting near the fire, light playing with his golden hair and eyes. His ears were elongated and sharp, betraying elven ancestry. Like most people in the room, he was wearing a luxurious robe and excluded a royal bearing. ¡°Yes, your Majesty. I checked the contents myself. The one submitting it was also¡­ checked.¡± Sharp-nosed half-elf bowed while speaking. His grey clothes were somehow blending with the surroundings. ¡°Of course there is no evidence. Still, the person who composed these words sacrificed nearly all of his men to deliver it.¡± ¡°Father. Let me do it! Let me purge this blight from our world!¡± A young man stood up from his chair to declare his loyalty and stared with passion at the old King. The person in question only sighed tiredly. ¡°And that¡¯s why I won¡¯t let you go. In the best case, you would destroy the whole place, in the worst, we would end up in a war against the Geinard Kingdom. A war we cannot win.¡± ¡°So what?!¡± Young half-elf shouted indignantly. ¡°Shut it, older brother.¡± The second prince spoke in a harsh tone, his black hair shockingly different in the sea of gold. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you wearing the artifact?¡± The ¡°older brother¡± answered in anger. ¡°Because I wish to be true to myself.¡± ¡°It was father¡¯s order!¡± ¡°Let me repeat your words. So what?¡± ¡°You!¡± ¡°Silence.¡± Both of the princes stopped their quarreling immediately. ¡°Are you children? Neither of you is wise enough to lead such a difficult mission. I would send my Crows, but¡­¡± He looked at his spymaster with a narrowed eye. ¡°Was the Hawk dispatched? And his men?¡± Seeing the man nod, he started to massage his temples. ¡°If I may, your Majesty.¡± ¡°Speak freely.¡± ¡°The youngest Princess already finished her training. Maybe conquering and accidentally destroying the dungeon heart could be left to her?¡± The Crow spoke and people in the room froze. ¡°You would send that thing out there? Why not let my men finish it?¡± A golden prince fumed, anger visible on his beautiful face. The black prince radiated a different emotion. ¡°Father, you can¡¯t let Minnalea go there by herself! The filthy humans are there! I can¡¯t stand the thought!¡± He shouted. ¡°Let me accompany her! Not as a warrior - as a chaperone!¡± ¡°Calm down! Both of you!¡± The old King shook his head. At least the other two aren¡¯t here right now. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. Leave me be.¡± The unwilling princes both bowed and left the room immediately. Only the Crow and the King remained, exchanging tired smiles. ¡°Your Majesty?¡± ¡°She will have to go. This dungeon is simply too dangerous for anyone else. All Forgotten Dungeons must be destroyed. The legacy of the Magi-Tech Empire is simply too powerful to fall in the mortal hands.¡± ¡°Is it worth risking the war?¡± ¡°You know the answer. Prepare the escort. And tell the Princess. Don¡¯t forget about the one she calls Shield, okay?¡± The Crow nodded, a bitter smile appearing on his lips. ¡°Is this wise, your Majesty? He may die. There are others, more capable and more loyal.¡± ¡°Crow, I took everything from her.¡± The golden eyes of King clouded for a moment. ¡°Let her have it. Her last, final toy. And he is loyal. Just not to me.¡± ¡°As you wish, your Majesty.¡± The man bowed and left the room. Only the old King remained, staring at the greedy flames. 031 Charles Blueflame Of course, I couldn¡¯t sleep for the whole twelve hours. Of course, some matters required my attention. Of course, there were documents to sign and people to direct. I almost wished that my time with Agnes wouldn¡¯t come to an end. Peasants out here needed somebody to take control. Otherwise, they were just running around like headless chickens. I was getting comfortable in my chair, drinking tea, and getting used to the work as an Order representative. The authority to order the servants around really came in handy at times like these. Adam was sent away to start cutting down the silver trees around our campsite, and the rat¡¯s ambush rate had fallen to only two or three instances in a single day. A few peasants died, but more came with each caravan so it wasn¡¯t a big deal. It was then that my accursed fiance waltzed into the freshly built office and dragged my sorry ass outside again. I squinted at the light, lamenting my fate. ¡°We¡¯re here at last! Let¡¯s check out the dungeon, Charles!¡± She said with this smile again. ¡°We don¡¯t have a scout, so I asked one of the bronze adventurers for help.¡± Since bronze was a maximum denomination for the unaffiliated common people it seemed that this help of hers wasn¡¯t completely incompetent. By the way, both I and Agnes were classified as gold-class adventurers. With the nobility came power. Or the other way around. Not that it mattered. ¡°I have things to do, Prin-!¡± I was cut off once again by her face staring at mine. Uncomfortably close. It forced me to swallow my words. ¡°Agnes¡­¡± ¡°Do you? I reckon that this circus you call the colony will run itself.¡± ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand! They need direction! My direction!¡± I protested heavily, still being dragged towards the adventurer¡¯s camp. ¡°And I think you¡¯re forgetting something, sweetie.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°The druid guy, you know the tall and broody one. I reckon you promised to search for his companions in the dungeon?¡± The Princess asked while chuckling like it wasn¡¯t her problem. Well, it wasn¡¯t but... ¡°Oh shit¡­ You¡¯re right! I completely forgot about it! Huh?! Wait a moment! How do you know about this deal?¡± I countered while trying to wiggle out of her iron grip. It didn¡¯t work. ¡°I have my sources.¡± ¡°The spymaster, huh?¡± A wide smile was her only answer. It looked cute and all, but¡­ I admit. I was inwardly crying. I gained another level, which was not a small thing since gaining experience was always getting harder. But the tempo at which Agnes was rushing forward left me dead tired and craving luxuries. I was not a wimp! It was just that the man in my station expected a certain level of amenities to keep working. I had just enough time to lament before we arrived at Swords of Hope camp. Boulder, Eve, and Lone Mountain were sitting around the fire, preparing meat. Peter hung out in the back, taking out metal cutlery with the help of a girl who seemed a bit familiar. Seeing my curiosity Agnes stopped and pointed towards her. ¡°That¡¯s Tinna, a fourth-level Rogue, she¡¯ll be coming with us.¡± ¡°Is that the best that the adventurers have available?¡± I asked, not caring if the person in question heard me. Peasant opinions didn¡¯t matter after all. ¡°Yes. Still... she¡¯s experienced enough and her sensing abilities are much better than any of our muscleheads or arcane wielders.¡± The Princess motioned in the direction of her party and I inwardly agreed. None of them was a cautious, rogue type. Maybe barring Peter. ¡°It¡¯s an obvious oversight. Why haven¡¯t you filled that role already?¡± I asked suspiciously. ¡°We had a rogue with us. He died helping us escape one of the ambushes.¡± The smallest tear appeared in her eye, only to be squashed immediately. ¡°He will be remembered. And those bastards will pay!¡± Her last words turned into a growl, as she stomped ahead, grabbing a piece of meat and devouring it. ¡°You just had to ask, sir.¡± A calm voice came from the darkness. ¡°Peter.¡± ¡°We had a run-in with the Fallen forces a few months ago. They took us by surprise after we conquered one of the boundary dungeons.¡± He sat down near me, cleaning the metal surface of the pot with a brush. ¡°We were hurt, tired. They had an advantage in numbers and a superior position. Our porters and escorts were decimated. A massacre, I can¡¯t describe it any other way.¡± The anger I heard in his voice was not about the loss of life. No. It was something more. Something personal. Considering that Agnes told me he was her spymaster... ¡°You fucked up.¡± I stated. ¡°Yes. I fucked up hard. Sir.¡± He added, after a period of deliberation. ¡°And we paid the price. But it won¡¯t happen again, as long as I breathe.¡± There was darkness here, one even I dared not to thread. ¡°So, who¡¯s the new girl?¡± I asked to simply change the topic. ¡°Her name is Tinna like you¡¯ve heard, sir. I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t recognize her.¡± ¡°Why should I? All the peasants look the same to me.¡± ¡°She was with you from the beginning. Fought the rats too.¡± So that¡¯s why she looked so familiar. ¡°I see. Still¡­ only the fourth level. Disappointing.¡± ¡°We commoners have it hard, sir.¡± Peter answered with a bitter tone nearly undetectable in his voice. Nearly. ¡°She¡¯s the highest level scout class available at the campsite. And her skills should be adequate on the first and even second level of an ordinary dungeon. Sir.¡± ¡°Do you believe this to be an ordinary dungeon, Peter?¡± I asked the obvious question. ¡°No. I do not, sir.¡± He turned his head, observing the faraway flames for a moment. ¡°The Princess is calling. We should go.¡± I also turned my head towards the group and noticed that pretty much everyone was ready. Boulder and Lone Mountain had their armor and helmets on, weapons at the ready. The mages carried their foci - staves with small crystals fitted on one end, helping with mana conductivity. My superior class - the Ifreet Magician didn¡¯t require such crutches. My body was my weapon. Agnes took a quick look at the surroundings and started talking. ¡°As you all know we¡¯ll be the first team to truly delve in this new dungeon. We had scouts check out the first room, but other than that it''s a complete mystery.¡± She turned her attention to Peter. ¡°What do we know?¡± The man in question bowed slightly before answering. ¡°The said room bears resemblance to ancient Kingdom architecture. It may be even older. As such I suspect that it was assimilated by the dungeon on its way to the surface.¡± His calm and flat tone made me sleepy, but I persevered. ¡°Coincidentally this location has historical importance.¡± He paused for effect. ¡°Oh, for Gods sake! Just speak out!¡± Boulder bellowed, ruining his ambiance. The spymaster continued his speech - only a bit disgruntled. ¡°As you wish¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°These ruins¡­-¡± ¡°What ruins?¡± ¡°These ruins!¡± Peter shouted with annoyance, pointing at the ground. ¡°The ruins that we¡¯re standing on right now!¡± He recollected himself, his tone stabilizing. ¡°They were once a part of the Henrik Waltzer castle.¡± ¡°The Immortal Blademaster?¡± Asked Lone Mountain with a strange emotion. ¡°Yes. The same who was hailed as the strongest sword of the Old Empire.¡± ¡°The Magi-Tech Empire?¡± Boulder asked foolishly. ¡°No¡­¡± Peter face-palmed. ¡°A short history lesson. These lands were once considered a part of the Empire - a human nation battling Corruption to the north. It was two times as big as the current Geinard Kingdom lands. To tell the truth, they often battled with our forces and their neighbors - the Dwarven Meritocracy.¡± ¡°Booooring.¡± ¡°Give me a moment. Both of these nations are now defunct, completely destroyed by the Corruption, the survivors fleeing into our and Dwarven Holds territories. Anyway - these lands were said to be lost to humanity and yet we¡¯re now standing above the castle dungeons. Most importantly down there we may encounter artifacts of the past era - replicated by the dungeon!¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°Oh! More loot is good!¡± ¡°Shut it, you barbarian!¡± Peter was getting salty over the Boulder''s constant interruptions. ¡°Anyway - the first room seems like it was excavated by the dungeon and used as a safe room. As usual. It¡¯s a large construction with solid walls and strange sources of light hanging from the ceiling. The floor is covered in sand, so we need to watch our footing.¡± ¡°Anything else?¡± Asked Agnes. ¡°I prepared the torches and everybody has their weapons ready. Charles, sir? Do you need time to prepare?¡± I shook my head in denial. While it was true that my duties were mostly administrative I didn¡¯t forget that we were in the middle of hostile territory. I was clad in heavy leather armor and wore light boots with hardened soles. The Order''s customary helmet adorned my head, complete with a sole artifact in my possession - a small necklace with a fiery ruby that could amplify magical fire. It was also - to my shame - a gift from my fiance. A fact that she didn¡¯t allow me to forget all my life. ¡°Then we¡¯re ready. Let¡¯s move!¡± With an order from Agnes, we moved towards the dungeon proper. The entrance was already strange - the oval hole in the ground looked like somebody carbonized the earth, creating lava-like growth around it. As a fire mage, I was all too familiar with powers capable of such destruction. And yet to have a dungeon that could summon them in its infancy made me uneasy. We descended slowly, with Tinna as our scout, Boulder, and Agnes walking just behind her. Me, Eve, and Peter were in the middle, while Lone Mountain was guarding our backs. It took us a minute to enter the first room and suddenly I understood why Peter was so excited. A few silvery chandeliers were hanging from the ceiling! They emanated strange, cold light, unlike anything I¡¯ve seen before. Truly artifacts of the Immortal Blademaster. Probably priceless too. My party, however, kept their eyes on the ground level. Not breaking the formation we advanced with a full concentration. Soon a black hole opened up in the wall - a shift from the bricks into a carved rock. The rogue stopped, tilting her head. ¡°What do you see, Tinna?¡± Asked Agnes with a strained voice. It was good to hear that I wasn¡¯t the only one to feel tense. ¡°There are strange marks on the floor, my lady.¡± The little scout answered, tousling her braids. ¡°It¡¯s like somebody was dragging a mighty heavy weapon on the floor. See this groove? There are four of them, perfectly made. What kind of an animal or monster could do such a thing?¡± She trembled, her childish face scrunched in anxiety. ¡°That can¡¯t be all.¡± ¡°Yes. There is this¡­ constant noise. An iron striking the rock.¡± Tinna gulped nervously. ¡°And it¡¯s getting closer, my lady.¡± ¡°Shit.¡± Boulder mumbled under his nose, his tower shield and mace barely fitting in the tunnel. ¡°We move forward. Lone Mountain, change positions with Boulder, you have greater reach and mobility if it comes to fighting.¡± Anges ordered, while her head swiveled around, searching for prey. ¡°Let¡¯s move. I would prefer less cramped surroundings.¡± The tunnels were a mess of intersecting roads and dead ends. As we advanced the bare rock was slowly covered with lichen and vines. The air grew drier and staler the longer we walked. Somehow we nearly managed to find the exit¡­ just before the boss monster found us instead. At first, we heard only what Tinna described - a noise. With time it grew so loud that even our ears noticed it. Then it came - a strange amalgamation of metal and death. It looked like a mad mage decided that his axes needed to move on their own - and granted them life. The four halberd-like appendages were used as a crutch to haul its obese main, fleshy body. Countless tentacles extended from the middle of its mass, seemingly fused with the surrounding metal. Two more small blades were stuck in a horizontal position near its center, acting as arms. Very sharp arms. The whole thing pulsated with unholy energy, while the metal it was composed of bent unnaturally. The abomination saw our team and screeched in delight - a hunter noticing its prey. It raised the two middle ¡°legs¡± and rushed forward, the ends of its blades leaving new scars on the floor. ¡°Incoming!¡± Agnes shouted, while running forward, my heart nearly stopping at her reckless actions. ¡°Intercept!¡± She ordered while avoiding the deadly blade and bouncing out of the wall, circumventing the monster. ¡°Huuuuuuuuungh!¡± Lone Mountain grunted as the beast ax was blocked by her shield. She retaliated with her spear, but only the sparks flew from the spearhead hitting the monster, leaving no lasting damage. ¡°Earth Armor.¡± Peter didn¡¯t waste any time adding a buff to our frontline. Lone Mountain was instantly covered with a layer of glittering bronze, indicating the effect. ¡°I can¡¯t turn the earth to mud here!¡± He yelled. ¡°The rock is too sturdy, not to mention the dungeon influence!¡± I was not far behind him, chantlessly sending my Fire Shield to form over the warrior¡¯s body. The abomination hissed as its attack triggered the response, the flame dancing uselessly on its bloated frame. Seeing this I hesitated. My spells allowed for great destruction, but in these cramped quarters, it would end with collateral damage. And I wasn¡¯t a great fan of getting scolded by my fiance¡­ Thankfully I wasn¡¯t alone. Eve, our healer had another thing up her sleeve. ¡°Cover your eyes!¡± She shouted, garnering the monster¡¯s attention. ¡°Oh, light come to my aid and blind my enemies. Gather upon my palm! Blinding Flash!¡± As her chant ended our eyes were safely closed. All of us understood what she was doing. Not counting the monster. It screeched again - this time in pain as its small red eyes were blasted with light and promptly blinded. This stopped it for a moment. It was long enough to get my powers ready. ¡°Firebolts incoming! Make way!¡± I shouted, this time remembering to warn the surroundings about what was going to happen. Mana gathered in my chest, flowing towards my left hand. I must do it just like the teacher demonstrated. First, gather mana, turn to the left, and prepare to throw like a javelin. My body automatically moved, curling up like a tense spring. Then prepare the right-hand mana. And pump enough for the left to fire again. Acquire target. Aaaaaaaaaand¡­ bounce! With an inner shout, I threw the Firebolt gathered in my palm, letting the force of the attack turn me around - just in time to gather another mana projectile. The twirl ended and I stopped, right hand at the ready. *boom* The first Firebolt impacted the enemy and another was on its way. Soon the third one impacted the creature. All perfectly hitting the same spot. It screeched even louder than before, reeling in pain. I was in the zone. My fire burned brighter and more lively than ever. Power. It was the ultimate drug. Until a shout woke me up. ¡°Undead are coming from behind!¡± Eve screamed her light attunement allowing her to sense the abominations. Agnes reacted immediately. ¡°Boulder, guard the back. Tinna - try to help him.¡± I almost forgot about our new rogue. She was hiding between two frontlines, covering in the darkness. Well... nobody could blame her considering she was only the fourth level. They both nodded and the girl prepared some throwing knives. Not very effective against undead, but considering the space taken by Boulder there wasn¡¯t more she could do. Rogues weren¡¯t known for their ranged weaponry. After my shots, the meaty parts of the abomination bore clear signs of the burns. The damage was being done. We just needed to keep it up. Just as I was celebrating the victory two groups of beings emerged from behind our backs. If not for Eve''s warning I would classify them as golems. The black armor covered most of their humanoid bodies, leaving only parts of their head exposed. The malevolent light of their eyes and blighted skin, however, revealed their true nature. Undead - the enemy of all living. Even the Fallen tribes weren¡¯t able to secure peace with these creations of Corruption. Armed with maces and shields they were clearly melee-class monsters, moving in coordinated groups and soundlessly charging towards Boulder and the girl. What happened afterward I could only describe as ridiculous. The half-orc lifted his tower shield and turned it sideways. That was an acceptable solution as it blocked the whole tunnel and the undead usually didn¡¯t know how to jump. Then he lifted the two-handed mace and attacked horizontally with it! The few enemy vanguards were squashed against the wall with an audible crack. This side should be safe - I thought prematurely. Except nobody thought that an undead armed with a freaking artifact would appear! It used the wind-up time from the Boulder attack to close the gap and ran forward, waving his weapon. Normally I would just laugh at it, but the mace it carried was blessed with some kind of power. Within a second it landed a hit and Boulder grunted as blue lightning danced and dealt damage. ¡°M-magic?!¡± He shouted, while in pain. ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± I answered while turning back and pelting the creature with Firebolts. Tinna joined my assault and soon the assailant squirmed in place, only to lifelessly fall on the ground a moment later. The rest of its companions were still attacking, however. So the battle continued. *** Uno I watched as the adventurers dispatched my minions and the Decapitator. They were stronger than anyone who arrived at my dungeon. I should tread carefully¡­ but! But! They had so many mages! So many cores! So many things to experiment on! Something in me stirred and I found myself using the same strategy as before - sending the metal abomination after them and then flanking. It felt strangely comfortable to try repeating the earlier battle with adventurers. This time however it didn¡¯t end as I expected. My forces were defeated. But at least I was able to hear an interesting exchange. ¡°Anges! These are artifact weapons! On the first floor!¡± A red-haired man shouted excitedly while cradling a Cracking Mace close to his chest. The woman he spoke to frowned, trying to escape her healer''s iron grip. ¡°Yes, and there was also a boss in the first room, you know? Ordinary people would get slaughtered by this combination.¡± ¡°Oh, come on! Ol¡¯ Immortal Blademaster had a hidden cache! And that the dungeon had a taste of it.¡± The smile on the man''s face grew even wider. ¡°We need to send the message to the Kingdom immediately! This place must be preserved!¡± ¡°Only after we scout some more. I have a strange feeling. Like we¡¯re being watched.¡± ¡°By who? Maybe you mean these rats from above?¡± ¡°Maybe, Charles. And don¡¯t forget that Lunars will probably preach their piece. Am I good now, Eve?¡± She turned her attention to the elven healer. ¡°Yes, Princess.¡± The girl wearing white armor nodded, walking towards the slightly greenish man. He reminded me of the guy who burned so well. This was an informational conversation. So¡­ not everybody wants to kill me. Some only prefer enslavement¡­ Oh, joy. 032 Uno These invaders seemed much stronger than the earlier batch. Their coordination, training and overall competence level trumped the weak attempts that sentients made before. If they continued their unimpeded advance my first floor would get conquered in no time. The only minion even remotely able to keep up with them was the Guardian, while the inhabitants of the other rooms would hardly pose a challenge. It was unacceptable, especially seeing how desired my Crackling maces were. An item that I classified as a consumable given to not very bright undead was being considered a priceless relic. And yet anything easily accessible was bound to get more and more mundane. I had to make them work for it. Wait. How did I go from killing them to making some kind of a trial? Something was seriously wrong. My thoughts¡­ Gah. Anyway the level of desire the red-haired man displayed suggested that they were rare and powerful weapons on the surface. How? Was the knowledge of the human race not enough to craft things like these? Impossible. I saw the magical necklace he was wearing. But then most of the party was wearing only mundane weapons and armor. Hardy and all that, but not in slightest bit enchanted. Only their leader, Agnes and small thief called Tinna were in possession of an ¡°artifact¡± as it was called by the fire mage. And that was supposedly a powerful party led by a member of royalty. Their inability to produce magic trinkets was even more unthinkable, considering that mages didn¡¯t seem to be that rare. At least according to my perception, which true - may have been skewed, because as a dungeon the percent of magically gifted guests was bound to be higher. Still, the ones using the mana during battle should be able to craft various items, right? Not that I was complaining. This deficit raised the possibility of snatching a few of them¡­ After all, I had already mastered the field autopsies. My artificial wire-arms were able to process bodies in pretty much every single part of my domain, as long as there weren''t any sentients nearby. Quite fast too. Back to the present, though! The team delving in my dungeon had to be stopped right now - and I had just an idea how to do it! I had to send my second-floor creations up, in order to bolster both numbers and strength of my current forces¡­ but it was doable! Especially since some of the new minions were especially interesting! Like, for example - Lebirs of the exploding kind. Yup! I made exploding undead! Or Lebir Exploders, according to the System. They were even dumber than their brethren, but still intelligent enough to follow basic orders, like ¡°run there¡± and ¡°use this stick¡±. The stick in question was a rod-like artifact capable of stunning enemies and sometimes even spewing out lightning, which jumped from one foe to another. Not like these dumb undead were using it this way. Nope. It was only a way for them to ¡°spark the fuse¡± since they wore large sheets of energized, volatile metal. This made them easily visible, with their blue ¡°sashes¡± worn like a piece of clothing, reaching from their arms to the waist. While I was in the right mood an Electrified version of the basic abomination was also made. The System called them Electro-Touched Lebirs. They were also armed with Electric Sticks, but unlike their suicidal brothers, they were actually trained in their use. In the process of their creation, their bodies gained resistance to electricity, saving them from the fate of being struck by their own weapons. I still haven¡¯t tested them in a real battle, but I had a really good feeling about their performance. Both of these creatures used a rather large amount of Anima. In the beginning, I wasn¡¯t worried at all, thinking it would refill in time and a limited amount did. The rest however disappeared, making me a bit more apprehensive about using it. While I could circumvent many problems with it there was a feeling of unease and unexpected results when doing so. As such I decided to mostly work with what I¡¯ve got, reaching for this wondrous power only from necessity. Continuing this train of thought I had converted the two second floor rooms into what I could only call a factory. For the locals, it would be similar to the manufacturing workshop, since most of the process was still being done by hand, not real machines. These were hands of the Lebirs though, so the mechanical part was debatable. The System even recognized my specially modified undead, with elongated fingers and larger eyes, as a new species, made especially for this type of work. Craft-Lebirs they were called - an innately slow and careful race. I also didn¡¯t use the Anima! The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Much. Anyway - in the factory rooms my creations were gathering the energized metal into plain iron balls and fitting them at the end of a nearly two and a half meter long wooden rods. In the point of contact was a sparker feed from a small, Devourer made battery. When a wielder of this weapon hit something the sparker would come to life and the resulting explosion should take care of the enemies, showering them with iron shrapnel. There were also hand-held versions and mines being made. Of course the former was a Lebir exclusive as I had no need to actually waste my living minions in a suicidal charge. The latter worked because of simple gravity because the sparker was used as a detonator. I was able to make timed bombs too, but these would need to be made by the continuous use of Anima. Like I earlier mentioned I was not too fond of doing right now. There was a pronounced sense of incongruity about it especially after I went wild with with using its powers on my second floor. Like there was something that I was forgetting. Anyway. In the manufacturing workshop, whole rows of Lebirs were sitting down - the best of manual workers using their infinite concentration to craft more and more armaments. In the middle of the room, I fitted a long belt kept in motion by another abomination. It was spinning the handle of a simple gear machine. It never tired, never grew bored. An undead. A perfect laborer. The said room was deathly silent, with only the sound of clanking metal and occasional movement of the abominations breaking the perfect stillness. And even more occasional explosions. Sometimes the undead screwed up. The unstable materials fell on the floor. Or simply slipped through their fingers. That much wasn¡¯t really a problem. The problem was the amount of security I stuffed nearby. And the fact that some of these guys were of the exploding kind. Yup. Lebir Exploders. They saw the metal fall. They tried to help, lifting it up. With the hand, they held Electric Stick in. And then¡­ boom. Haaaaah. Let¡¯s just say that it was another layer of security. After all only my undead managed to keep up with this amount of shrapnel and electricity constantly sailing through the room. I won¡¯t even start nagging about the room where I stuffed already prepared Lebir Exploders. If an enemy walked right in¡­ *shudder* It was still worth it though. Some of the mentioned weapons were also distributed to my Ratling minions. They were especially glad when bombs and similar exploding devices made their way into the Warrens. Or rather down in the tunnels they dug. Since the day that their Queen begged me on all fours for the blessing of power, I lost any doubt to whenever they were intelligent or not. I still couldn¡¯t understand their language, but a simple form of communication was possible. On my side, it consisted of various shapes made by wires and on her - by different kinds of squeaks, pictures and pointing. I was making amends too since I already managed to dissect a few of her subjects. Still, as a sole Mother Queen, she was less worried about her people''s demise on my operating table than the perspective of sentients invading our lands. That was why I decided to agree to some of their propositions. The ones I could understand at least. And the less insane of course. Because of that I now had both an Ironflame Rats Temple Warriors and an Air Force capable of bombardment and boarding. And some kind of Assassin Rats, which were neither stealthy nor deadly. But they could be! And that was worth for me these few tons of metal and wood. Yup! The Ironflame Rats grew into a significant force in this small Ratling empire. Unlike the ones serving directly under the Queen and working in some kind of a caste system, the Ironflames were strictly a meritocracy. Or maybe I should say - a death-cracy? Was that even a word? The law of the jungle was their only rule and the rat who managed to wrest the crown from the late King bloodied paws became a new ruler. This created a few new evolutions. Like their leader was called a Flamecaller and was pretty much three times bigger than the ordinary members of their species. Not to mention some innate abilities and a lack of the word ¡°Lesser¡± in the species name. He also didn¡¯t really have an ability to invoke flame, being mostly a melee fighter, with an appearance of a gorilla-like rat with very large and sturdy looking fists. Or how the guards defending the Temple Grounds acquired hardened hides and red, fiery eyes, with a species change to Demonic Rat. Their snouts were hidden behind leather helmets, similar to ones that Roman legionaries were wearing. Only with a mohawk-like plume. And the flying ones! Oh, the flying ones¡­ They managed to tame my Avaricious Glass Dragonflies, literally changing their species to Tamed Enlarged Glass Dragonfly! Only the smallest of the Ratlings were able to ride them though. Their method of attack was also limited to throwing rocks or diving strikes. Still, the sheer surprise that they brought, not to mention that their mounts had an ability to bite and claw their prey on their own. There was also this one big rat that desperately tried to fly, but no matter how he tried there simply wasn''t a Dragonfly big enough to carry him. He had a tendency to stare at the flying dragonflies with a clear desire in his eye and a puppy-like stare. It was both hilarious to me and sad. Maybe... No! No Anima! Anyway. There were few more rooms I dug out already and few other projects, but¡­ Was I forgetting something? ¡­ Right! Adventurers! I was going to watch their progress! Shit. They¡¯re already battling Jonathan?! 033 Uno Jonathan was my first Boss monster. He wore his dull, metallic armor with pride, slowly lumbering from the kitchen to the food hall, and - only sometimes - even into the sparring room. His large, wide form usually seemed peaceful and casual if one discounted the wide maw full of teeth sitting in the middle of his face. As an Ironhide Undead, his zombie skin was cracked, but extremely durable, while the Dark Knight part of his origin made sure he was adequately equipped with metal leggings, gauntlets, chest armor, and a helmet. He was an unliving tank - not armed with a weapon, but flaunting his endless hunger. Its maw was usually filled by the rocks I had modified to look like food. The lack of taste he exhibited was enough for my deception to work flawlessly. At least until something much tastier waltzed in. Like¡­ an adventuring team consisting of fresh and tasty humans. And even an elf! The Swords of Hope, as they were called, just managed to splatter the two Lebirs sparring in the earlier room. The undead parts were scattered all around the place, something that I was unwilling to overlook. I had my little revenge as they froze when entering the food hall. Many suits of armor stood near the walls, guarding a large room with a long table situated in the middle, filled with empty plates, forks, spoons, and knives. A few iron candlesticks were stuck in-between them, adding to the atmosphere. The rest of this place was filled with polished stone tiles - and a few banners I had replicated some time ago. Otherwise, the room would feel naked and they were here before, after all. It was their rightful place. Not that I knew what they represented. It seemed like the adventurers did though, as they were staring at these replicated insignias hanging on the walls. There was a certain tension in the air, but it has been interrupted as soon as Jonathan walked into the room. Unlike most of my creations, he had a mouth, lungs and enough of individuality to use them. Seeing the seven living people he roared loudly, showing his large teeth off and grabbing the air with his armored hands. The adventurers reacted quickly, readying their weapons and getting in the formation - melee warriors with shields stood in the front, lightly armored fighters waited behind them and the mages prepared their spells in the back. A classic tactic. At least according to my gaming days. The next course of action that Jonathan decided on was weird, however¡­ He retreated. Into the kitchen. Leader of the party, princess Agnes motioned the half-orc warrior to check it out, but the small rogue Tinna only shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡± She spoke while readying her daggers. ¡°The undead of this type aren¡¯t usually that bright so I should be-...¡± The rest of her speech had been interrupted, as Jonathan emerged again, roaring his challenge to the world. This time he had an unwieldy, crudely made mace with a lump of iron of the end. It looked barely functional but heavy enough to do some damage. On the other hand, he was wielding¡­ A portion of the meat with a large bone sticking out from one side. He was holding it by the said bone, creating both a courageous and funny impression. The food was of course made from stone, yet the illusion crumbled as soon as he chewed on the fleshy looking side - small pieces of stone ran between his teeth and into the ground. ¡°Do you see what I saw?¡± Boulder roared in laughter, pointing with his weapon at the opponent. ¡°Is it eating stone? I knew that undead were dumb, but this...¡± ¡°Shut it.¡± Commanded Agnes, her weapons and eyes not leaving the monster for even a moment. ¡°Keep watch. This thing is not a pushover. And I don¡¯t like how these armors are looking... Charles, please blast a few of them. Just in case.¡± The red-haired mage nodded and started to leisurely cast a spell. This time he wasn¡¯t shooting magic outright. Interesting. Now¡­ I could leave the Lebirs be, further reinforcing the invader¡¯s belief that these were only decorative armors (and some of them were!), but I highly doubted that the mage would only hit the fakes. Or that the Lebirs cooked in his flames would refrain from attacking and politely fall on the floor. Thus as soon as his chant ended and he threw the missile towards my minions I ordered them to step down from their little pedestals. They walked down in unison, preparing their weapons and square shields. The red-haired mage cursed loudly and I did too, as he aimed at one of the replicas. Well, the next one would surely hit the other Lebirs. I consoled myself while looking over the battlefield. A flank of the adventurer¡¯s team was exposed and my undead rushed forward to exploit this weakness, while Jonathan advanced forward with his slow gait - still eating and swinging his enormous mace in a dangerous fashion. ¡°Oh, Belle¡¯s golden tits!¡± Agnes cursed as she directed her team. ¡°Boulder, stop the big guy. Lone Mountain and Tinna break down the undead. Charles, help them!¡± The trio nodded and formed another front, focusing on battling my Lebirs. ¡°Eve make sure that you¡¯re supporting Boulder with all you¡¯ve got! Peter, try to stop him! Something large, like the Tremor should give us an advantage!¡± Seeing the pale man nodding she smiled, showing her teeth. Now her figure looked like a predator ready to pounce. ¡°I¡¯ll circle around and try to distract the abomination!¡± The princess shouted while running ahead and dodging Jonathan mace by the centimeters. Peter followed, his ghostly figure soon disappearing. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. The two remaining fighters looked at each other awkwardly. Boulder smiled shyly. It was a very strained smile¡­ ¡°Let¡¯s get along?¡± He spoke in a hopeful tone. ¡°Just move it. You¡¯re not better than these monsters, slave.¡± Eve pouted while shooing him forward with a displeased expression. The half-orc only sighed and marched ahead, keeping his shield up. The first attack from Jonathan forced the air out of his lungs, but miraculously he managed to stop only after getting pushed about thirty centimeters. A large dent was however visible in the middle of his tower shield. ¡°What the hell!¡± He shouted in exasperation. ¡°This here is a pure metal shield! How strong is this bastard!¡± ¡°Look out!¡± Eve shouted as another swing arrived near him. This time Boulder wasn¡¯t able to stop it completely and the strength of the attack lifted him up by few centimeters and then threw his clanking figure towards the back. He bounced a few times before stopping. ¡°Heeeeeeeeiya!¡± Agnes shouted as her wild swings cut the Ironhide weak-spots. Yet these were only small wounds and the abomination could still fight without problems. On the second battlefield Lone Mountain, Tinna, and Charles were tearing my Lebirs apart. Somehow they developed much better coordination than their undead opponents who I had trained day and night. Was that a difference in levels? Or maybe innate talent? Lone Mountain was like a defensive shield from which under Tinna attacked with terrifying precision. It was hard to believe that she was only level four! The decisive strikes she doled out weren¡¯t able to outright kill my monsters, but they blinded, hobbled and otherwise made them useless. Stationary targets were just right enough for some roasting. As a fire mage, Charles was happily burning down my forces on any occasion. He already blessed the Lone Mountain armor with his counter-attack ability (which wasn¡¯t that useful against the undead but still distracted them with pretty colors). Only a few of my Lebirs remained, most of them in pretty bad shape. It was time to act. Once the Lebirs were dealt with these three invaders would turn their blades against Jonathan. And you know, nec Hercules contra plures. My singular champion would fall under their combined blades. Especially since just now I remembered that they had one more party member! The earth mage called Peter, where did he disappear to?! My magical eye-cameras spotted him at the edge of the battlefield, mumbling some chants. Dammit! He was just far enough from any of my minions¡­ Shaking my invisible head I called on reinforcements. The Ratlings! Yes, they were small and weak, and yes, for some reason the Ratling Queen refused to send stronger and better-trained rats on the first floor, but! It doesn¡¯t matter how big your forces are! It matters how you use them! The technique! That¡¯s how you become a king on the battlefield! And in bed. Or something like that. With my mental nudge, about twenty Ratlings emerged from their hidden tunnels, armed with spear-throwers and squeaking wildly. I asked the Queen many times to teach them restraint, as a surprise attack was bound to succeed when executed in silence. To no avail. She showed me few pictures of youth and such things while presenting a few ninja-like rats born on the second level. There was even one who I nearly couldn¡¯t perceive! But I digress. They ran forward with a loud roar, half of them stopping in the middle of the road to unleash their spear-throwers, the rest keen on tasting the blood of the invaders in melee. Their target was clear - the party¡¯ healer. As of now, she had shown only more or less useful curing abilities. Additionally, both the outfit she wore (a white dress, a dress!!) and her disdain for the lesser beings (and thus the distance she preferred to keep) made her perfect victim for a concentrated attack. After all, I knew my games - killing the healer was bound to cut their exploration short. Somehow I doubted that potions were a common thing in this world where even the weakest magical items were so desperately desired¡­ So yeah, after a second the barrage of ten spears flew towards the elf Eve. She had only enough time to widen her eyes and start screaming in terror when a shadow of death arrived. And was swatted down by very armored and very sweaty orc. Well, half-orc. Boulder did what any decent tank should - he literally put himself in the harm''s way. That was normal. What wasn¡¯t normal was his ability to jump so far while wearing about fifty kilograms of metal! He soon fell on his side, grunting heavily and cursing under heaven, only to clamor back up and look at his companion. Most of the spears were helplessly lying on the ground. Most. Besides one. The elf had a metal shaft piercing her left arm, making it fall limply on the side, red blood staining her once white dress. Contrary to my expectations Eve wasn¡¯t crying or screaming. No. Her face turned into a noh demon mask, bristling with fury. Just as I was thinking with disdain What a healer can do, even if she rages I heard the answer to my question. I would prefer I didn¡¯t. She rose quickly, weakened and barely standing straight, but with her green, large eyes full of fury. And then she started her chant. ¡°I call upon you, oh the Brightest Spear, find and skewer my enemies, ravage their bodies with your endless fury, riddle them with holes! I call upon you, of the Brightest Spear, become my weapon, fall upon all that is alive, mark it with your hottest flame! I call upon you, oh the Brightest Spear, a child of the Bright Fury - a one of your own!¡± With chant ending a globe of light appeared above her head, shining brightly. A large amount of small, stick-like extensions cropped out on its surface. I noticed that every single one was pointing towards my creatures and shouted in panic. [Take cover!] They however just stood there, paralyzed by something. ¡°Go!¡± A cold voice echoed in the room and the laser-like projectiles shot out, piercing the heads of my minions, killing them in one hit. Their wounds were instantly cauterized, stopping the blood flow. My cameras were also destroyed, so I was forced to remain in my immaterial form. All was ravaged, but not good, old Jonathan. He somehow managed to get away with only half of his face blown off. That said the atmosphere in the room changed. Mostly Eve had this unmistakable ¡°oh shit¡± expression I always sported in my past. Good¡­ I mean bad times. Anyway. Shaking her head princess Agnes addressed the invaders. ¡°Focus on the job! We still have the big bad to kill off!¡± She then turned her own glare towards the healer. ¡°And I will talk to you later, Eve.¡± Her expression for a moment changed to a near-cry. ¡±You promised!¡± Quickly nodding the elf girl retreated. Not before last harsh words caught up to her. ¡°And for Belle sweet ass, heal yourself, woman!¡± Eve ran back, escorted by Boulder. The battle continued. 034 Uno Jonathan''s roar echoed against the walls of the food hall, his endless fury and pain soaking the stone for a moment that felt like an eternity. He and his opponents stood petrified, similar to a biblical painting of Goliath and David I once saw. Well, Davids in this case. If, of course, Goliath was a large, armored undead with half of his face blown off and there were many Davids skulking about armed not with a simple, leather sling, but deadly weapons. So¡­ it was nothing like a biblical painting in the end. Yet somehow I couldn¡¯t get the scene out of my mind. Maybe because I was thoroughly impressed that Jonathan managed to block the entrance to the lower levels without any orders. It was not a small feat in my book since the pain must¡¯ve been monstrous. His eye simply disappeared as the magic disintegrated the upper left part of his skull, leaving cauterized and burned tissue. It looked nasty and I was wondering how did he even survive such an attack. I guess being an undead helped? Or maybe it was his stone diet? Who knows. Anyway - he was blocking the way forward - with his own body nonetheless. This had bought me a few more minutes to move troops, arm them and overall prepare. To make sure that a real trap on the second level was ready to be sprung. I knew I could do it. After all, even now I nearly succeeded - if only my servants were a bit stronger. My traps were a bit more elaborate¡­ Wait. Why didn¡¯t I do it then? I could send more minions, build better traps - so why? This feeling¡­ This deja vu... It came and disappeared immediately and just when I thought I understood... The reality struck me. Jonathan was standing near the exit not because his body retained some misguided notion of chivalry, but due to a sudden loss of vision! Or rather a lack of depth perception that was common when one had only a single eye to depend on! This idea was further reinforced by his first swing, which crashed his unwieldy weapon against the ground. It landed with a powerful noise, expelling the pieces of stone all around it - except that it completely missed the target - a petrified rogue. She still ate a fistful of gravel, so it wasn¡¯t all that bad. I had a laugh. My chuckle lasted only for a moment though. The adventurer¡¯s leader - princess Agnes - shown a sudden expression of understanding, seeing that the abomination repeated this violent behavior and gouging a few more holes in the ground. This, in turn, made me grind my teeth in anger. Yeah, sure, you came to my place, made a mess and tried to steal my treasures¡­ and now you¡¯re not even hiding that you had caught on how to kill my monster! I knew it was an irrational feeling. I knew that the dungeon cores were treated as soulless beasts. They were soulless beasts. I was different, however! As an intelligent being, there was always a hard limit on how much shit I was able to swallow. And because of that, I wanted to scream out my rage to the world. Even more so because the people who were a source of this hatred were right here - in my dungeon - trampling on all that I had built! I was considering drastic measures. I was seriously considering¡­ I was¡­ I... What was I thinking? I don¡¯t remember. My unease was dispelled for a bit when I saw Jonathan moving again. This time he learned from the earlier failures. He swung his weapon horizontally, forcing the advancing warriors to hurriedly get out of the way. I inwardly nodded. If he just kept fighting this way then being one-eyed didn¡¯t matter. As an undead, he had unlimited stamina, although I was a bit worried about his now missing left part of the face. Who knew if there was some lasting, or ticking damage. Like I said before - the skin and bone looked burned, but also cauterized just like a wound that a real laser would make. Still considering that it seemed really slow when comparing to the real thing I was hesitating to call it a laser. The light magic was ought to be nearly instantaneous from the human eye point of view. Why I was able to notice it and warn the others?! Once again the magic of this world stumped me. My boss monster warded off the enemies once again, but this time I saw the glint in the princess¡¯s eyes. She had a plan. Yikes. At least she was down to the Charles the fire mage, tall warrior Lone Mountain, skittery thief Tinna and herself. The elf and the half-orc warrior Boulder were sitting on the ground, slowly pulling out the projectile from her body. Wait. Wasn¡¯t there one more guy present? Where did he go?! ¡°Peter, have you finished the incantation?¡± She shouted in the air and suddenly a man¡¯s presence appeared on my inner radar. Yes, my cameras were destroyed in the fighting be he shouldn¡¯t be able to avoid my senses anyway! And yet he did! You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°Yes, Princess. It¡¯s a big target, though. I may be able to stop it for a minute at most!¡± He shouted back, his shrouded figure poking out of the pieces of armors scattered around the room. ¡°Also, we have outsiders in the party.¡± His prickly stare focused on Tinna. ¡°No time! Do it!¡± The man in question sighed receiving a direct order. And released his mana. A whisper-like a shadow flew through the air towards the Jonathan position. The big oaf didn¡¯t even notice as it curled near his feet. I wanted to scream, to warn him¡­ It was however too late. ¡°Steal Shadow!¡± The mage chanted and suddenly my knight had found himself stopped in the middle of the swing. He looked like a golfer preparing a wide shot. I would laugh if the odds weren¡¯t so stacked against me. Immobilization magic? Really? ¡°Charge!¡± Agnes didn¡¯t waste this time and sprung into action like a human-shaped blade. Just behind her Lone Mountain charged ahead, while making full use of her spear. Her hits were focused on the gaps between Jonathan''s black armor. Tinna was not far behind, her daggers also searching for weak points. Jonathan¡¯s body trembled with each hit and I could see his seething rage as he desperately tried to get free. Something that Peter noticed immediately. ¡°I can keep it still for twenty seconds at the longest!¡± He screamed, visibly clutching his hands. ¡°Get back!¡± Red-haired Charles already finished his spell, a large ball of fire floating above the man¡¯s head. ¡°Greater Fireball!¡± He screamed at the top of his lungs while shoving the majestic sphere forward. It flew deceptively slowly towards the abomination and after few seconds arrived at Jonathan''s face. He stopped struggling seeing the unavoidable demise closing in. The powerful spell roasted his upper body, turning it into ash. A loud explosion echoed in the room, throwing the still-living people against the walls. It was a perfect opportunity to attack. However, my forces on this floor were already done. I could do no more. I couldn¡¯t? Why? There was this feeling. Like trying to find out with your tongue where a missing tooth was. Like something was supposed to be there. This feeling. This. What I was talking about? Ah, right. Adventurers. After the explosion they slowly stood up, flicking the dust and grime from their clothes. Some were talking, others focused on looting. ¡°Remember. I¡¯m an Earth Mage, understood?¡± Peter was standing above Tinna, who dutifully tried to find out if my monsters had any additional items in their pockets. Too bad. No gold or potions for you! ¡°Yes, yes, I understand. Nobody will know.¡± She nodded seriously while not stopping for a moment. ¡°Good.¡± Peter suddenly lowered his head and whispered into her ears. ¡°And nobody will know who you are, little Hawk.¡± His smile looked a bit cruel. For the first time, Tinna raised her head. A trace of shock was visible in her eyes. ¡°How did you¡­¡± ¡°We all have our secrets, eh?¡± He summoned a strange, smoky shadow to curl around the thief''s legs. ¡°And I¡¯m sure you have quite a large amount of information I could borrow, eh?¡± The girl only shook her head. ¡°I won¡¯t tell you a thing. Do your worst.¡± Her figure radiated determination. ¡°Tch. And here I thought the Kingdom sent a weak hunting bird. Oh well. It still works for me.¡± A wide smile suddenly appeared on his face. ¡°I don¡¯t care about your mission, be it what it may. Just remember to never cross me, little birdie.¡± After saying his lines the earth/shadow mage left the rogue alone. ¡°Bastard.¡± Tinna whispered under her breath, still continuing to gather useful materials. Boulder and Eve were sitting a few meters in the back, the man using his large hands to keep the blood flow to a minimum. A human-shaped tourniquet. The elf was clenching her teeth and slowly pulling out the spear. She had to stop from moment to moment, nearly fainting from constant pain and exhaustion. Then, with a delicate ¡°eiiiiiiii¡± scream she pushed out the last piece of metal. A large sigh escaped her small lips. ¡°At least it was not poisoned.¡± Commented Boulder. ¡°Hmph.¡± She didn¡¯t answer his words directly, focusing on the magic. Soon the wound started to close under the brilliant light of her healing spell. ¡°Eat.¡± He continued undaunted by her reaction. ¡°The magic may heal the wound, but the blood you lost won¡¯t regenerate so easily.¡± Half-orc took a piece of bread and some cheese from a backpack lying nearby. ¡°Eat.¡± ¡°How do you know this?¡± Eve reached for food and started to nibble on the pieces, while her green eyes for the first time deigned to really look at her companion. ¡°Surviving in the slums is not all about the muscles. Or in the army. Or in the gladiator pits.¡± He laughed sadly. ¡°But they help.¡± Like a well-oiled machine, his pectoral muscles started to move up and down. While the elf ignored him I laughed for a bit. If I remember correctly some of the bodybuilders from my world could also do this. ¡°I see.¡± The girl returned to her meal, but the atmosphere around them changed for the better. And was immediately shattered by a loud shout from Charles. ¡°Hoooooooooooly shit!¡± He screamed his lungs out. ¡°Come here people, right now!¡± The adventuring party scrambled towards the room I grandly named the Kitchen, even if there were only inedible rocks in there. Sue me. For Jonathan, that much was enough. The loudmouth mage was standing near my oven, playing with knobs and watching the fire rise and fall. The rest of the party looked on with their mouths hanging out. I couldn¡¯t understand. What was strange about my device? The silence in the room didn¡¯t help. That was until Agnes spoke with a slightly trembling voice. ¡°No magic power?¡± ¡°None.¡± Charles shook his head in denial and whistled loudly. ¡°Belle tits! This just got much more complicated.¡± ¡°What? Why?¡± The party thief was out of the loop, just like me. ¡°Technology. No magic. This means¡­¡± Peter closed his eyes in wonder. ¡°Either a first or second Empire relic site. And this dungeon¡­¡± His greedy stare licked my walls. ¡°This dungeon devoured it all. And it can replicate these items.¡± ¡°A Forgotten Dungeon, then?¡± Asked Boulder with his deep voice. ¡°Yup. And near the Luna and Geinard Kingdom borders. This will get ugly.¡± ¡°You mean that was why we didn¡¯t find a clue about the Lunar expedition team?¡± ¡°We need to go back!¡± Charles shouted, suddenly panicked. ¡°Our defenses aren¡¯t prepared for an all-out assault from these green-thumbed lunatics!¡± ¡°No.¡± A short and decisive voice came from the princess. Her eyes were bright and full of conviction. ¡°Not until we conquer the first floor. There should be a few more rooms. Four, maybe five at most.¡± ¡°There is usually only a limited amount of them on the first floor.¡± Peter agreed, still sporting a greedy expression. ¡°And the first group that will defeat the Floor Guardian gets a special prize.¡± Agnes spoke with a small smile. ¡°Considering that this is a Forgotten Dungeon¡­¡± The rest of her team nodded. Even Charles seemed somehow convinced. But¡­ I didn¡¯t prepare any prize? 035 Uno The human adventurers were busy. Their greed prompted them to advance recklessly, but my halls were anything but easy, especially since their rogue seemed to be much weaker than her elven ranger counterparts. At least in the traps department. Maybe it was a difference in experience, or maybe she just had a class less focused on detection and more on hiding. Or killing. Who knows. No matter how much they wanted to rush through like human-shaped rhinos it was just impossible. The spear traps and pitfalls in this part of the dungeon were spaced irregularly and, most importantly, manned by the Ratlings. They made sure that any ignorant invader would end up looking like a pincushion. Preferably laying on the bottom of a deadfall too. While the hallway wasn¡¯t that long, they were moving step-by-step right now. I could still recall their expressions when a spear trap nearly took out the red-haired mage who insisted on keeping the faster pace. So close. Their abilities allowed the adventurers to dodge some of the attacks or even move quickly from one place to another, but I noticed a suspicious lack of defensive or utility skills. Making use of this weakness was a line of thought worth pursuing. No matter how strong the people in the Swords of Hope seemed there was a clear preference for dealing more damage. It was just like they were not the adventurers, but soldiers used to assault. In my head, they were more like explorers and daredevils, not these down-to-the-earth individuals. Only the half-orc warrior seemed different - a few of his skills made him a prime defensive specialist of the group. There was also the Lone Mountain girl, but she was much more dodge-focused than the man called Boulder. Still, considering the low quality of his equipment and the fact that the buffs only reinforced his body and did not much more¡­ I was sure of the outcome if he was forced in a one on one bout with my Guardian. Then again - one was a sentient and another an amalgamation of a machine and undead monster. The Guardian was also a boss of the first level. Not to mention that the adventurers would never allow for such a duel to take place. Yeah, maybe this comparison wasn¡¯t the best. Anyway, my point was that these adventurers instead of focusing on survivability tended to prioritize their attack power and powerful skills. Or maybe it was just me classifying them as squishy meat bags? Most of my minions, after all, were heavily armored, undead or made from metal. Back to the point - such focus made them easy to exploit with indirect means of attack - like poison, hallucinogens, and acid. Too bad I wasn¡¯t well versed in such stuff. The TV shows and books I have read didn¡¯t delve into such subjects. I had some plants with pretty potent poison on the second level, but making an airborne toxin was just too much. Maybe if I used Anima magic as a way to power them up¡­ There was no need though as I had another way to mess with the invaders. For one I had the power of explosions! The amount of the Lebir Exploders on the second floor had already reached the critical mass. I wasn¡¯t sure how many of them exploding at once would cave in the tunnels, so I had to be delicate. Ten of the blue-sashed bastards were waiting at the entrance into the Central Pond. Why not directly under the stairs? The room was too small to hide them all. I could, of course, resize it, but why bother? The central room had a lot of flora and fauna floating about. Putting a few of the Lebir Exploders around the rock, trees and the walls unnoticed was much easier. Was attacking the adventurers as soon as they arrived on my second floor cowardly? Maybe. My survival was on the stake, though. The kiddie¡¯s gloves were off. By the way, since the adventurers were progressing through the aptly named Trapped Hallway at a really slow pace I retreated to the second floor in order to gather my thoughts. There was something strange going on. Something, that I couldn¡¯t put my finger on. This invisible pressure I was feeling when my consciousness floated on the floor closer to the surface seemed much weaker down here. I still had no idea what it really did, just a bad feeling floating inside my head. Wasn¡¯t much that I could do to confirm it though¡­ There was simply not enough information. Thus with a mental equivalent of a shrug, I returned to planning. Like I was wondering before - sentients seemed to have their abilities skewed in the direction of the offense. I hardly saw any buffs or the utility skills, not taking into account the hiding abilities of the rogue and shadow mage. There were of course shields that both fire mage and earth mage bestowed onto their companions. The problem was they seemed lackluster at best. There was also the thing about how they used these magics. It felt rigid, unnatural. This meant that they probably couldn¡¯t use them freely. Most if not all of their spells were activated by pumping mana into the crystal located in their chest. After a chant - or sometimes even without it - a result would appear, each time precisely the same like it was created by a machine, not by a human. Things like starting fires by manipulating mana or warming up their group seemed out of the question. Moreso I decided to conclude that utility abilities like marking walls with earth or fire magic, building the shelter with earth magic (I seem to remember that one of their mages shouted something about my influence messing things up), getting water by the use of water magic, dispersing the smoke or poison with air magic¡­ were alien to them. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I could enumerate even more applications, the point was that they weren¡¯t using their magic this way. At least not while I was looking. This should be the way forward. I¡¯ll look into getting the temperature higher or lower, the fiery Ratlings being a natural solution. I needed a place to experiment. The second level was already done, but what about the third one? My Dungeon Core Level was still only one and the feeling of fullness I had before didn¡¯t appear. Which meant that I could only wait for the adventurers to come. And then kill them. I should probably revisit my traps and monsters on the first floor. While it was true that I wasn¡¯t able to do anything with sentients walking about - even in the rooms they already left - I still should reevaluate them and maybe even send some second-floor monsters to help. So, let''s go! ¡­ Why am I on the second floor again? Did I finish working on the traps? Hmmm¡­ Nope. They still look the same. Weird. A mental experiment, then. I¡¯ll move to the first floor, the Kitchen room. Good. Now, let¡¯s ma-... Where was I again? The second floor, core room? There was this nagging feeling bouncing around my head¡­ I had to do something. What was it? A trap? . .. ¡­ The adventurers were about to reach the Forge Room when I understood that something was wrong. All it took was writing down what I wanted to do on the stone slab in my core room. And tens of tries. After who knows how many returns I understood - something was actively stopping me from modifying the first floor. A similar feeling, albeit much weaker was present on the second level too. This made me angry. Was that mind control of the Gods? Or maybe the twin Gangria made me a slave?! Wait, focus, focus Uno! While both Mirabelle and Brighton remain a suspect Gangria herself should be out of the picture. At least as long as she didn¡¯t lie straight to my face. Since her goal is killing the sentients limiting my abilities wouldn¡¯t make sense. Or she could just be a two-faced bitch. Or... it could be the ritual that Daniel was describing to me some time ago - the one used on the dungeons in order to bind them. The details were vague at best, but still, if I compared the effects¡­ The rooms and tunnels of my dungeon were under constant surveillance, no weird voodoo magic detected there. That left only the surface. I had to quickly move some of my forces out there - get a bearing on my surroundings, maybe even listen in on some conversations. Another point for my bucket list. Right now I had to be a patient observer of the Swords of Hope progress. They were currently entering the Forge room, where I left the useless Bile-brain Golem. It was still diligently trying to create a blade, failing to do so, throwing it away into the waste barrel and taking another piece of metal out to shape. It was stupid but stubborn. Not that it mattered much. The humans were scouting the place with Tinna at the helm but little did they knew that the Golem was too absorbed in his task to pay them any attention. Now, if you were to stop him from doing his work - that would be a different situation altogether. Seeing the rogue''s obscured figure I waited with anticipation. She crawled along the ground, slowly getting closer to the Golem. After a few minutes of staring at the repeating task that the giant was busying itself with, she did something weird. She left the shadows. The tension didn¡¯t leave her shoulders as she trembled, eyeing each move of the Golem. It, of course, ignored her, but this didn''t make her tension any lesser. The breaking moment was when she stood in his way, like a human-shaped obstacle and he, after a short stare, just walked around her. It was then when Tinna relaxed. Her face lost the sharp glare she was sporting all the time. After observing the Golem for a few minutes and confirming his further lack of reaction she exhaled. A small murmur left her lips, unheard by most, but not me. ¡°You¡¯re doing your best too, right?¡± Without turning back or waiting for an answer she left the Forge room. A few minutes later Agnes lifted her brow questioningly seeing the rogue returning without her defensive skills active. ¡°Is the next room empty, Tinna?¡± She asked. ¡°No, not really. However the monster there seems to be of an utility kind. It didn¡¯t attack even when I appeared just before it.¡± The group¡¯s thief wiped off her sweat and answered in a flat tone. ¡°Oh. I see. And what it is doing?¡± ¡°Forging, I think. But it¡¯s not very good at it.¡± A smile appeared on Tinna''s face. ¡°Forging, you say?¡± Interrupted Charles, his red hair once again an eyesore. ¡°Can we take a look? What metal is it using? What is it forging? Maybe there will be some artifacts to acquire.¡± His face twisted in a greedy expression at the end of the sentence. ¡°I doubt it, sir.¡± Tinna answered directly, but that didn¡¯t stop the man in the slightest. ¡°Let¡¯s go! Let¡¯s go!¡± Charles motioned the party, only to be shoved back. ¡°What gives!¡± He snapped with anger. ¡°Please get behind me, sir.¡± Boulder said impersonally. ¡°While the monster didn¡¯t react to the Tinna''s presence we can¡¯t be sure that it would be the same when we all come. Or if a mage appears in the vicinity.¡± ¡°Hmph.¡± Charles retreated, but not without a look full of hatred. ¡°Don¡¯t do that again, slave.¡± He hissed only loud enough for the two of them to hear it. ¡°I won¡¯t. Sir.¡± ¡°He is right, you know?¡± Eve suddenly interrupted, the whole team staring at her in shock. ¡°What?¡± She looked around in panic. ¡°It¡¯s rare for you to enter our discussions, Eve. That¡¯s all.¡± Stifling her laugh Agnes answered the bewildered elf. ¡°Oh. Yes. You¡¯re right.¡± The haughty expression left her face and for a moment - only the young lady was left. Even if she was more than one hundred years old according to the party whispers. ¡°You were saying?¡± ¡°Yes. Right! There are records of monsters who were collecting the cores we carry in our chests.¡± I strained my attention. At least something interesting! It would be interesting to acquire such a monster. Or even create one. ¡°They were using them to empower their bodies or forge artifacts that conducted the magic power.¡± ¡°Similarly to how the Fallen tribes turn our mages into wands and staves?¡± Asked Charles with a face full of fury. ¡°Yes. However, the monsters have a more natural way of doing so.¡± ¡°Hmmm?¡± ¡°They simply devour the body and the core of the mage, thus gaining some of their affinity.¡± She said with a weak smile. After a moment of silence, Agnes ordered. ¡°Mages in the back, warriors in the front. Let¡¯s just keep formation, people.¡± She turned towards the red-haired man. ¡°And no touching the loot until we confirm it¡¯s safe. Understood?¡± ¡°Understood!¡± The whole team replied, preparing their weapons. 036 Uno The humans were slowly advancing, their rogue - Tinna - was taking her time in a few meters left between their temporary camp and the Forge Room. This slow, but the steady pace wasn¡¯t up to everyone''s taste. ¡°You did check for the traps, right?¡± Asked Charles, while observing his surroundings. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Then why are we dilly-dallying? Time is precious.¡± ¡°As I said before - while I¡¯ve checked for traps there is a chance that some were overlooked or will react to your mana, sir.¡± The thief answered respectfully and without scoffing, but I saw her rolling her eyes a little. ¡°Then you would be guilty of knowingly leading a noble into danger.¡± He snapped back, clearly unhappy and a bit frightened. ¡°Which both of us would regret, sir. That¡¯s why we keep a slow pace. Sir.¡± She answered, clearly unimpressed with his threats. The man only flinched lightly and stopped his nagging. The rest of the party ignored the contents of their conversation. They were busy focusing on their surroundings. Like a high-strung bowstring, each of them seemed ready to pounce. Only the red-haired man seemed to be in his own world. I could see greed in his eyes. [One day your core will be mine.] I whispered in the shadows and the dungeon shook slightly, the creations responding to my bloodlust. This, in turn, made their progress even slower, but of course, they arrived at the Forge Room without any complications. There simply weren¡¯t any traps in the way. Still the idea of a mechanism which would react not to people, but the mana in them was a tempting one. And yet I had no idea how to implement it. I had this inner ability to see - to taste - the magical energies flowing through the world, but since my magic was limited at best I had no clue how to create anything that included it. Unless I used the Anima as an intermediary¡­ which was something I wasn¡¯t too keen on doing right now. Until I understood what was causing these blackouts I should stop using powers I didn¡¯t understand. Barring, of course, the situation when I had no other choice. My state wasn''t growing worse. At least I think so... I was afraid of slavery. Of becoming a puppet to some foreign power. To Gods. To humans. But I was afraid of death even more. It was ironic, really - I already died once, so the great unknown shouldn''t be so scary. And yet it was. This feeling of powerlessness was suffocating... A slave had the ability to rebel. The dead had no such choice. Not to mention that without more kills I had to focus my attention on the second floor, which was already getting a bit crowded. That was the problem with having biological lifeforms that breed independently. Soon I would have an overpopulation problem on my hands¡­ Unless the adventurers came in order to cull my monsters somewhat. Or I could send a few of them to the surface. I should probably do that. Yes... Anyway - the humans already took their first step into my Forge room. The place itself wasn¡¯t that big, just large enough to contain my electrical forge, the golem, and few desks and containers. Not-so-subtle magic was weaved in a few pieces of furniture, making sure that the metal continued to be created without any impediment and that failures were properly disposed of. An effect of the Anima usage that surprisingly worked without any side effects. In a sense, it was a perfect room for practicing. Its only occupant walked around on his sturdy legs, black-grey frame sometimes glinting in the hot-red light of the forge. The Bile-brain Golem looked similar to the robot crossed with a heavily armored knight, a wide-shouldered pile of metal, bone, and stone. While its ¡°flesh¡± was made from mineral wool I didn¡¯t forget an armor made from iron to cover it. The heat would blast at it each minute it worked the anvil, but the isolation provided by its innards should be perfect. Of course, when mentioning robots the type I had in mind was like the ones battling Godzilla, not the anime-waifu-capable machines of today. Wait. Weren¡¯t these mechs with people inside, not robots? Ah, who cares. It¡¯s not like there were any people in this world who could appreciate my retro-style. Or correct it. There were no isekai-ed heroes here, according to the Gods. No complete souls. I was the only one. And who would even call me a hero. I was just a dungeon trying its best to survive. The Forge room was full of noise - mostly the sound of metal striking metal, echoing off the walls every few minutes. My minion was creating something resembling a weapon and quickly discarding it as a failure. Then, with sure steps he wandered towards the ore barrel, choosing another piece and continued his thankless task. Again and again. The Swords of Hope crowded near the door, mesmerized by a sight of a strange giant working endlessly and without a break. The only type of metal available in the room was the same kind of iron that people in the Waltzer Castle used, so I wasn¡¯t worried about giving my enemies a powerful weapon. The golem was creating nothing better than crude tools of war. I was sure of it, especially seeing how the golem desperately tried to smash his unskilled hammer against the heated ore. And how the miracle didn¡¯t happen. Again and again. A conversation followed this sight. ¡°How are you sure that it¡¯s a golem?¡± Charles for once asked a valid question. How did she know? ¡°Ummm¡­ according to my knowledge, there are only two types of monsters in the dungeons that don¡¯t attack on sight, sir.¡± She answered hesitantly. Her hand was caressing a dagger sheath. A nervous tick, I suppose. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°She¡¯s right.¡± Confirmed Agnes, still overseeing the room. ¡°Most of the monsters in the dungeons are alive. As such they have an ingrained instinct to destroy anything and anybody not belonging to the dungeon.¡± She squinted her eyes, pulling on her short, blonde hair while thinking about something else. ¡°And what are the exceptions?¡± Charles stopped harassing the rogue and turned towards the princess. ¡°The not-alive beings. Which for the dungeon means golems and elementals. The former tend to only attack when the task given to them is interrupted, while the latter will defend their territory and do nothing else.¡± ¡°We can exclude the elementals. I already appeared before its face. It didn¡¯t react other than going around me.¡± Tinna mumbled under her nose. The rest of the party looked at her like she was insane. In response, she only shrugged. ¡°This room is out of the way. It¡¯s a dead-end too. There was no way in hell that the elementals would be here. They defend their territory, remember? As such they¡¯re used as a blockade. A room that you must walk through.¡± She snorted lightly. ¡°Besides no elemental looks like this.¡± The girl pointed towards the golem and I had to agree. Even though I never saw an elemental. Not counting computer games of course. But the people raiding my dungeon apparently did. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Agnes agreed too to her words. The rest of her sentence was however full of suspicion. ¡°But I wonder how a fourth level rogue who never conquered any dungeon knows that?¡± ¡°I tried to study hard, in order to feed my siblings.¡± Tinna scratched her head embarrassingly, but I saw the cold sweat dripping down her back. ¡°I see. But please remember that this dungeon is different. Crazy. This could be an elemental¡­ and then you would probably end as a stain on the wall.¡± The princess didn¡¯t press the topic. Nobody in the party reacted to that short conversation, baring the elven priest who looked at the thief with a sudden caution. ¡°Okay, people!¡± Agnes clapped her hands and started giving out orders. ¡°The thing in the next room seems to be a type of golem. This means that as long as we won¡¯t try to stop it from doing its task we should be safe!¡± ¡°Yup!¡± ¡°Neat.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± The party answered, but her head automatically swiveled towards the biggest troublemaker - the fire mage. ¡°This means that nobody touches the golem or anything else in the room!¡± Her expression scrunched. ¡°Understood?¡± ¡°Yes, yes, I understand. I¡¯m not stupid, you know?¡± He answered lacklasidly, only to suddenly flinch, as the princess moved her face right next to his, a blonde hair nearly touching his flushed skin. ¡°I¡¯m speaking seriously, dear.¡± She mumbled catishly in his ear, only Charles, Agnes and me hearing the conversation. ¡°Otherwise I¡¯ll just leave you here to go back on your own. Understood?¡± ¡°Y-yes!¡± This time Charles''s eyes were wide open as he stumbled on his words. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s go!¡± As the order was given the Swords of Hope entered the room while watching all the angles. Both weapons and magic were readied. The tanks entered first, their shields ready to block any projectiles, the damage dealers behind them and only then - mages. Of course, nothing happened. For a few more minutes they just stood there, observing the Bile-brain Golem pacing between three places. A barrel full of ores. The strange-looking forge and anvil located near it. A disposal container. The party held their collective breath as Tinna once again walked towards the middle of the room, standing the golem¡¯s way. It looked at her from behind his helmet and changed his path slightly. I could nearly hear it sigh at the interruption. The girl smiled at the rest of the warriors and immediately returned to the formation. Then came a discussion. ¡°Now that I see it with my own eyes, there is no doubt. It¡¯s a golem.¡± The elf, Eve, mumbled just loud enough for the rest of her team to hear it. ¡°Is it?¡± Agnes smiled like there was never any question about it. ¡°Yes. But there is something weird about it.¡± The lithe healer nodded seriously, her small head tilting. ¡°I just can¡¯t put my finger on it.¡± She scratched her cheek in wonder. ¡°It¡¯s the weight.¡± Boulder answered her with a sour expression. ¡°What?¡± ¡°This golem is not fully made from metal.¡± He pointed towards the slick armor covering my creation. ¡°The plate armor its wearing is damn heavy, but that¡¯s all. If the insides were full of iron too the sound should be different. Louder. Fuller.¡± He scoffed. ¡°It is not.¡± ¡°I never heard about a golem which wasn¡¯t comprised from just one type of material.¡± The elf wondered aloud. ¡°There are metal, stone, wood, even clay golems. But to make one from different pieces¡­¡± Her gaze turned a bit heated. ¡°Could we¡­¡± ¡°No.¡± The princess''s answer was short and decisive. ¡°Our target is the Floor Guardian. No attacking the non-aggressive creatures to dissect them.¡± Her voice softened a bit. ¡°We can do that at our next dive.¡± ¡°...yes, princess.¡± ¡°What do you people think about it?¡± She turned towards the rest of the party. ¡°I¡¯m not an expert, but this looks like a smithy to me.¡± Boulder answered with a smirk. He didn¡¯t relax in the slightest, positioning his tower shield between the golem and the healer. Lone Mountain nodded to his words while keeping watch over the rest of their party. ¡°Normally I would agree, but what the hell is that forge?!¡± The earth-shadow mage, Peter pointed towards my electrical forge in exasperation. ¡°Where are the flames? What are these metal rods? How can it even work?!¡± He shouted. Oops. I didn¡¯t think about that. ¡°Calm yourself.¡± Agnes scoffed lightly while observing the machine. ¡°It¡¯s clearly using some unknown principle to heat up the metal. Magic, probably. It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± ¡°Why? If we sold that unknown principle outside we would be rich!¡± Of course, it was Charles who answered her, his eyes never leaving his prize. ¡°Because of two reasons.¡± The princess shook her head. ¡°Firstly - any magical contraption wrenched out of the dungeon will stop working. That¡¯s why I said it¡¯s useless.¡± Oh¡­ it would? That¡¯s a relief then - no adventurers wrecking my dungeon! ¡°Secondly.¡± She continued. ¡°What would you sell? Did you see what garbage this golem produces?¡± Agnes smirked for a moment. ¡°It may be that it¡¯s just bad, but golems usually are pretty decent when it comes to producing weapons and armor. So¡­ it¡¯s probably this facility that is trash¡­¡± [*beeeep* Nope, it¡¯s the golem¡¯s fault.] I laughed to myself, observing their antics. The room smith seemed to stop for a moment but then continued his work without rest. Its moves seemed a bit faster though. ¡°Ancient Smithy is the best example of the golems expertise.¡± Boulder whispered with a smile on his face. He also used his mace to lightly tap the tower shield to produce a strong and clear sound. ¡°Yes. The royal family Ancient Smithy has dozens of golems skilled in forging metal.¡± She nodded towards Boulder. ¡°His weapons and armor were made there after all.¡± Her attention turned towards the restlessly pacing Bile-brain Golem. ¡°So this forge should be worthless. But a replicating pile of ore¡­¡± Her face scrunched in thought. ¡°We can use it.¡± ¡°Is that all?¡± Asked Tinna. ¡°Yes, please scout our surroundings.¡± ¡°I already did. From here there is only a single hallway, with a fork leading to the large room and one going straight with a much smaller room at the end.¡± She answered. ¡°Which one should I check first, Your Highness?¡± The rogue was strangely formal at this moment. ¡°Go for the large one. It has a higher chance of a boss monster appearing.¡± ¡°According to the records.¡± Whispered Eve. ¡°Yes, according to the records.¡± Agreed Agnes. ¡°Did anything that we encountered in this dungeon behave according to the records?¡± The healer smiled. ¡°I see that you want to be already forgiven.¡± Mumbled Agnes. ¡°What?¡± A slight blush appeared on Eve''s face. ¡°Check the small room first then, Tinna.¡± The thief nodded and disappeared from the room. The boss battle was approaching. I only hoped that my Soul-hive Guardian was enough for the task. Well¡­ there was the Sacrificial Altar too. Who knows? Maybe I¡¯ll get my third level today. 037 Uno Once again Tinna stalked my halls, her leather armor and small figure traveling from cover to cover. She was a professional - I granted her that. There weren¡¯t many obstacles she could hide behind, especially in the tunnels, yet somehow she still managed to do it. Without my cameras, I would be hard-pressed to find her small shadow in the interlaced light and darkness. But, as before, that was a futile endeavor - these halls were not trapped after all. There was another problem though - the entrance they had chosen was leading straight into the Ratling Warrens, a place with a high ceiling and a suspicious mound laying smack dab in the middle of the room. A place that the Ratlings called home. Or, more like, their ancestral lands. While most of their kin already relocated to the second floor there were some rats that still guarded the said room. More from the sense of duty than any real need, since the proper Warrens were located deep underground - far away from the harmful claws of the human race. Their tunnels already encroached on most rooms located on the second floor and the first one was also fully in their grasp. Of course, a few incidents occurred in the process, one even nearly leading to completely submerging the whole complex underwater. A zealous digger broke through the wall separating Ratling''s living space from the lake. Chaos ensued, but due to the cooperation of his brethren, the situation was soon under control. And I had gained a few high-pressure water traps to play with... Okay. Medium pressure. They were still fun! Anyway - it was these guard rats that managed to notice the advancing rogue. She could be all stealthy and stuff, but nothing beats the animal¡¯s nose! They took a few whiffs of the air and the leading Ratling - a bit bigger than the rest - squeaked in a questioning tone towards its subordinates. They answered with an angry confirmation and soon the group started to close in on the human intruder. A few seconds later a whole group gathered together and started to leg it towards the perceived threat. Tinna stopped for a moment, like a deer caught in the headlights. She didn¡¯t panic though. Her eyes started to look over the environment, taking in the weird, large structure in the middle. I personally thought that it resembled a dirt mountain, with small, oval entrances pasted all over the lower parts. There was a sense of chaos saturating the structure which contrasted a bit with the orderly nature of my rats. After getting her fill she ran away, her moves fluid and full of concentration. A small animal gracefully escaping her predators. And a bunch of rats close on her tail. The thing about the Ratlings was that they were really territorial and would fight tooth and nail for the place they perceived as their home. I already had my hands full handling their homicidal rage, when a ¡°free-range¡± monster accidentally intruded on their turf. Becoming enslaved to the warriors stationed in the Temple Grounds or the Secondary Ratling Warrens was the best that could happen to them. In the worst case, they were fed to the Rat Beasts - gorilla-like monsters reared by them as a type of feral assault infantry. I still didn¡¯t really understand how they managed to do that, but there was a sneaking suspicion that a few Anima stones that they asked me for earlier may have been involved¡­ Anyway, unlike most of my earlier experiments, this one ended on a rather positive note. If positive means a big, ugly mix of an ape and a rat with an enormous appetite and a really short fuse. Not that it mattered. They were after all only on the second floor, not here. Back to our lovely thief then, who was artfully using her escape skills to dance around the tunnel. The dancing part was due to the whizzing spears, barely missing the escapee. It took her only a few minutes to arrive at her friend¡¯s location and as soon as she saw them a shout left her mouth. ¡°Enemies incoming!¡± ¡°Prepare!¡± Agnes immediately answered, green eyes gleaming with eagerness under the light of my chandeliers. A large grin slowly emerged on her face. Truly an expression worthy of the wild predator. Her party members returned to the earlier formation with ease, only Charles stumbling a bit on seemingly flat ground. As soon as they did Tinna appeared from thin air and just behind her squeaks of rage sounded from the tunnel. A group of fifteen Ratling guards appeared from behind her in a few seconds, their enraged snouts dripping with desire to kill. I whistled. These were all of the Ratlings tasked with defending the Warrens. Was this just a coincidence or an effect of the real skill? ¡°Rats only?¡± Asked Boulder, visibly disappointed, his arms sagging a bit. ¡°An experience is an experience. Didn¡¯t they teach you to not fuss over the food?¡± Agnes scolded him, shooting forward like a living steel moment later. The battle was short, bloody, and one-sided. Princess took care of most enemies by herself, slashing with wild abandon - cutting off limbs, piercing hides, and gouging eyes. Her way of battle was cruel and brutal, focusing on efficiency over style. The rest of her team mostly helped with a random attack here, a quick incantation there, mostly taking care of stragglers, while making sure that mages weren¡¯t exposed in the process. Even Boulder, which I was taking for a pretty rowdy individual was rather calm, observing her rampage and throwing a shield bash towards any Ratling stupid enough to get close. A few minutes later all that remained of my minions were scraps of flesh and bone littering the ground. The phrase ¡°I won¡¯t leave you with a complete corpse!¡± now had a new meaning... Agnes breathed out, smearing the blood over her armor in a pointless attempt to get her body clean. There was still a big grin visible on her cute face and she chuckled for a moment, letting bits of blood and flesh fall to the ground. ¡°That was refreshing.¡± A melodious voice echoed on the battlefield. ¡°It was a while since I really let loose. Mhm...¡± She moaned with pleasure. Seeing this Charles seemed like he wanted to puke, turning back and hyperventilating. ¡°This is nothing.¡± Murmured Boulder loud enough for the fire mage to hear. ¡°You didn¡¯t see how she went ape-shit in the goblin village.¡± He went a bit closer, using his finger to show a gap of about three to four centimeters long. ¡°There were bits of the flesh this big all over her. Most of them ended up in her hair.¡± The half-orc smiled. ¡°That¡¯s why she cut it short, you know? Rather cute of her, don¡¯t you think? Right, sir?¡± These words made Charles''s face turn even greener and run a bit further away while keeping a hand over his mouth. Then he proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach on the surrounding floor. I could see the grin forming on Boulder¡¯s face and malicious anger burning in his eyes. He turned back towards his companions, once again composed and calm - an actor wearing his mask. ¡°What happened?¡± Asked the leader, while trying to shake free the pieces of meat out of her hair. It seemed like the current short style was still not enough. Maybe she should go bald? I laughed to myself in glee. ¡°It seems like it was a bit too much for the cherry boy.¡± Boulder grinned evilly. Agnes only sighed in response. ¡°Just curb it down a bit, okay? He is still an asset and a powerful mage. You don¡¯t want to get on his bad side.¡± She chided, but even I could see that there wasn¡¯t much strength behind her words. ¡°Yes, yes my lady. This lowly orc will heed your words.¡± Boulder nodded, bowing deeply and thus hiding the emotion spilling out of his eyes. ¡°Whatever.¡± Agnes shrugged her arms and turned towards Tinna. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°The rats were guarding the smaller room. My hiding skill was useless since their sense of smell seems really good.¡± She shook her head in disappointment. Two daggers cluttered each time she moved her body. ¡°Then of what use you are, rogue?¡± A voice interrupted. It was, of course, Charles, who returned from his retching session. A small handkerchief was kept by his mouth. ¡°For traps and scouting. Sir.¡± ¡°You just returned with enemies on your tail! How¡¯s that scouting? Huh?¡± ¡°I simply don¡¯t have a strong enough suppressant, sir.¡± She scratched her cheek, leaving a white trail on it. ¡°We¡¯re pretty much bathed in sweat, blood, and¡­ other fluids.¡± It took all her willpower to not look at his handkerchief. ¡°Bah! You-!¡± ¡°Leave it be, Charles.¡± Agnes took this moment to intervene. ¡°What did you see?¡± ¡°These guys were all guarding the room I was in. What did I see inside? Most of the place seemed empty, even too much. There weren¡¯t even any of these weird plants. Besides that in the middle of the room stood a large, three to four meters tall structure, mostly made from dirt and some compressed... things?¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°How did it look?¡± ¡°Like¡­ an enlarged ant mound.¡± Sounds of anguish emerged from the group as soon as she finished her words. ¡°Fuck, not the insects again! Their acid burns like hell!¡± Screamed Boulder, while taking off his left gauntlet and scratching the visible scar. ¡°Ants. Ants¡­ no. Not. Don¡¯t.¡± The elven maiden whispered to herself and even Lone Mountain seemed to tremble for a moment. She looked at the ground with a complicated expression. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be ants. There were no tracks after all. This dungeon specializes in rats and the undead for some reason. Such a change would be unheard of.¡± Peter spoke suddenly, lifting the atmosphere. ¡°Yeah, like everything else that we saw here was so normal, huh?¡± Boulder immediately dragged the conversation down, and I could nearly see the plummeting morale. ¡°I didn¡¯t say there were any.¡± Tinna got a bit angry. ¡°It just looked like an anthill! Besides, I doubt that the ant colony would be guarded by rats, right?¡± She asked in the void, but her calm voice seemed to quell the emotions of her companions. ¡°True.¡± Agnes nodded sharply, her earlier expression gone. ¡°Did you see anything else?¡± ¡°Yes. A glimpse of the next room.¡± Tinna tensed up a bit. ¡°It looked like some sort of metal was embedded in the wall.¡± ¡°A boss room then.¡± Boulder laughed and the rest soon followed. Once again only Charles looked a bit lost. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Why is everybody laughing?¡± ¡°Most of the dungeons tend to pretty up their boss rooms with a bit of colorful stone, metal, and sometimes even plants. Looking at how dreary this place turned out we can be pretty sure that our Floor Guardian is just a few minutes away.¡± Agnes smiled while sharing her knowledge with the noble. Huh. I wondered. Was the place really that colorful? I guess so. The copper embedded in the walls made for a fascinating sight, its web-like structure flowing freely from the empty place where my Fake Core rested before. It was true that it was the flashiest place on the whole first floor. Was that an accident or did some unseen force guide my steps? It was damn worrying. Now, however, I had more important things to think about. After not even sparing more than a few looks at the Ratling Warrens the adventurer''s party walked towards the former Core Room. I guess calling it a Floor Guardian room was fitting, especially since it was this world¡¯s tradition. As they came closer to my Soul-hive Guardian their steps faltered and soon all of them stopped, gazing at its monstrous, yet knightly form. He somehow procured a two-handed sword from somewhere, that sad excuse of the golem-smith, probably being the source. It hurt my eyes seeing how blunt the supposed cutting weapon was, but then again the sheer mass of it was enough to deal damage. Still, I promised myself that I¡¯d get a better weapon ready. It was a shame for the Floor Guardian to be only armed with¡­ this. The monster was kneeling before, but as soon as the human party entered it lifted its large form out of the ground. Two reddish eyes scanned its opponents and then¡­ It spoke. ¡°Hmmm¡­ the children of ash grow bold I see.¡± Its voice was a calm and deep baritone, similar to the deep sea. ¡°A three-pronged star.¡± He nodded towards Agnes. ¡°An unyielding shield.¡± Lone Mountain bowed slightly. ¡°A child of the beasts.¡± Boulder was seen and dismissed. ¡°A little bird.¡± Tinna stared at it nervously. ¡°A chosen by flame.¡± Charles smiled but kept his mouth shut. ¡°A slave of light.¡± Eve squinted her eyes in anger. ¡°A servant of shadow and rock.¡± Peter''s sleepy eyes suddenly snapped open. ¡°How interesting.¡± The shadow mage was the first one to speak. ¡°An intelligent monster as a boss? Who are you?¡± There was an unseen edge in his voice. ¡°I''m but a shadow of my former self.¡± The giant answered in a self-mocking tone. ¡°You can just call me Guardian.¡± ¡°Guardian. I see. What can you tell me about this dungeon? What are these artifacts? Why the rats? And how did the dungeon core summon the--¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± The giant waved his hand and laughed with amusement. For a moment illusion of his voice wavered and a choir-like sound emerged. ¡°I know why are you here, child of shadow. I also know that you sentients always try to kill the Floor Guardian. And since that¡¯s what I am¡­ discard the pleasantries, mage.¡± Guardian pointed towards Agnes, already emitting a hungry aura. ¡°Be true to yourself, you barbarians. Just like your master. It suits you better.¡± I was sure that if Guardian had the ability to smile he would - just now. With a clatter of metal, the monster took a stance, the sword kept high, with the blade pointing towards the ceiling. A two-handed grip made sure that it would neither slip nor stray from its intended path. Its real body was covered in metal, creating a somewhat insectoid feel, like a giant beetle standing on two legs. The black helmet without any decorations housed two red eyes, cautiously overlooking the battlefield. From behind its head, a bundle of wires extended towards the ceiling - a rope for Guardian''s sanity, helping him overcome the singing mad chorus in his head. And then, without as much as a scream, the blade fell. ¡°Dodge!¡± Shouted Agnes and most of the party dispersed like a bunch of insects. Then she looked again only to see Boulder clenching his teeth and lifting the tower shield in defiance. ¡°Dodge, you fool!¡± She screamed, her voice suddenly hoarse. In the blink of an eye, Agnes changed her direction, now running in parallel to the enemy. The half-orc only smiled at her, while mouthing some words. Shield technique I think? Was that his skill? It seemed like he had full trust in his abilities. Yet the princess thought differently. ¡°It¡¯s not enough!¡± She screamed with a shrill voice, unlike any I¡¯d heard before. Her dash forced her to run right into the wall, but as I watched with excitement Agnes did something weird. She jumped right up towards the wall and - using the momentum - turned completely back, right into the path of the falling giant blade. I winced seeing this maneuver. Overworking your joints like that was bound to have consequences. Youch. At least her move surprised the Guardian enough to stop his attack for a moment. Making use of the distraction she moved right close to the falling weapon. Her dual swords drew a beautiful arc and smashed into the pile of metal. This moved the executioner blade just far enough to scrape the tower shield, leaving a long scar in the middle of it. And then it smashed into the ground. *boooooom* A pile of dust floated into the air, completely muddying both my and the monster¡¯s sight. And that turned out to be the chance that humans were waiting for. ¡°Mages, focus on the weird rope coming out of its head!¡± The princess screamed once again. She was clearly enjoying it, like a fish in the water. After all, she seemed to be most alive in the battle against a powerful enemy. ¡°Warriors, thieves - harass! Eve! Heal when needed! Attack when you deem it necessary!¡± The elven maiden nodded, clenching her teeth. ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting something?¡± A loud voice of the Guardian cut through the dust and just behind it a flat side of his blade appeared, this time moving horizontally. ¡°Doooooooodge!¡± Agnes screamed once again, ducking right under the attack. Tinna wasn¡¯t so lucky as she jumped into the air, but was swatted down like a fly by the constantly moving weapon. Lone Mountain jumped forward, grabbing the girl by the scruff of her neck and retreating close to the healer. With a quick incantation, she was back on her feet. In the meantime, Charles and Peter were sending pieces of rocks and flame towards the Guardian, their attacks little more than a distraction. The Floor Guardian knew that too and vigilantly defended against the skulking Agnes, his blade not just once or twice barring her path. She responded with swift, practiced movements, getting closer and closer to the perceived weak point. The wires that extended from the Guardian¡¯s head. It was then when something unexpected happened - a piece of debris sent flying by the monster managed to cut Eve''s hand open, letting the blood out. It was a minor injury. A non-existent one even. If not for one small thing. The Bloody Sacrificial Altar, which looked like a slab of rock. A thrice cursed piece of dark mage equipment. The moment she started to bleed a magical effect had overridden her senses. Which normally would be a good thing. Killing the healer? Leaving them stranded without the ability to recuperate their wounds? Lovely. Except I already tried it. And it failed miserably¡­ mostly because this quiet, blonde-haired doll was most overpowered of them all! The bloodlust had started and in turn, Eve screamed in rage. ¡°ALWAYS HOLDING BACK! NEVER HAVING ANY FUNNNNNN! FUCK YOU ALLLLLLLL!¡± Her coarse words didn¡¯t register for a moment in her companions. ¡°HEAL THIS, HEAL THAT, I¡¯M HURT! I! DON¡¯T! FUCKING! CARE!¡± ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!¡± ¡°JUST THIS ONCE!¡± ¡°ONCE!¡± ¡°SOMETHING TO KILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!¡± Her bloodied eyes turned towards the biggest target in the room. ¡°YOU!¡± Guardian winced. The greed and madness were clear in her voice. ¡°Shit!¡± Cursed Agnes. ¡°It¡¯s her assimilation?! Why now?¡± She shook her head as soon as a hand appeared on her shoulder. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. We need to hide.¡± Peter materialized from the shadows, his pale form even whiter than before. ¡°May the Gods have mercy.¡± He muttered while dragging back shocked Tinna towards the tunnel. ¡°I sure hope she won¡¯t collapse the whole damn dungeon¡­¡± My Floor Boss turned towards the only remaining aggressor. I couldn¡¯t see his face, but the uncertainty he felt was easily recognizable. ¡°Ummm¡­ maybe you should go back?¡± He asked warily. Her blood had healed any scratches he accumulated and there was a newfound strength in his flesh and iron body, but while the Altar blessed him with a part of the enemies'' vitality... it was this portion of its abilities that worried him immensely. A part of. Only a part. ¡°How strong are you, slave of light?¡± He murmured to himself, his deep voice easily reaching even the hidden adventurers. ¡°Oh, he¡¯s f-fucked.¡± Laughed Boulder, only now coughing out a bit of blood. ¡°Shut up. We need to calm her down before she destroys the Forgotten Dungeon. The king would never forgive us.¡± Agnes was looking intently for a way to deal with this situation. ¡°Out there, see the aura?¡± Asked Peter, while pointing at the ceremonial slab lying down just near a strangely shaped hole in the wall. ¡°A magical effect ingrained into the room radiates from there.¡± ¡°On the first floor? That¡¯s insane!¡± Answered Charles while cradling his head. ¡°Really? You¡¯re saying this now? And the earlier encounters were normal? Two bosses? A smithing golem? This whole weird ecosystem out here?!¡± Agnes kicked a piece of the bone lichen which fell down on the ground in the commotion. ¡°It¡¯s the Forgotten Dungeon.¡± Answered Peter. ¡°The deeper we go, the better loot will be. That is the rule. But the deeper we go, the greater danger we encounter. Sir.¡± He added after a moment of reflection. Charles waved him off. ¡°No time. How do we stop that?¡± He asked, pointing at the boss room. Eve managed to cut the Guardian sanity cord - and pandemonium ensued. 038 Uno This cheeky fucker¡­ Was the first thought that appeared in my blanked-out mind. When did he learn to speak? Scratch that! How did he manage to take back control over his splintered mind should be the real question. Coherent thoughts weren¡¯t really his forte when I first hooked him up to the mana wires. Due to the aftereffects of my meddling, his mindscape was full of the constant bickering and shouting egos. They were somewhat kept in line with the energy he was drawing from my network, but as time passed and nothing changed any hope for recovery faded into oblivion. And then I stopped caring entirely. In the end, I was forced to decide that he was still useful, even considering his current state - and strong enough to serve as a Guardian, defending way to the next floor. Another question! If he regained his ability to speak, why not talk to me?! I was nothing but good to him! Hmmm¡­ Now that I think about it¡­ I captured him. Then his body and mind were put through the grinder. Afterward, I devoured what was left of his knowledge, and after that the remaining husk was put to use, filling the battle suit. This forced him to cope with madness and despair all on his own... Yesh¡­ I kinda fucked him up, eh? For me, he was an enemy turned servant, but even I wouldn¡¯t want to interact with my torturer if given a chance. No matter how lonely I felt. Oh well¡­ he still serves and that¡¯s what was important! Now, once again - what did my Analyze say about him?
The Soul-hive Guardian or Guardian This being encroaches on the domain of the Gods, combining the dungeon core expertise with the broken soul of a sentient. Such experiments were not unheard of, but none had succeeded before. As a result of this a strange being was born - losing its status as one of the sentient races, but in the process becoming something more and more importantly something stronger. Broken pieces of Daniel Waltzer''s soul were not mended but turned into a hive-like choir focused on serving his dungeon core master. Not only can the Guardian attack with his provided weapons, but its latent psionic ability has also been awakened. This allows for communication alongside another avenue of attack - a mental scream of anguish that will hurt all but the strongest beings. Threat level: D++
Quite an ending for a crazed vampire if I say so myself. There was also another thought gnawing on my brain. What the hell was that pretentious bullshit he spouted when meeting humans?! Children of that, children of this¡­ why ever use this tone? More importantly - how did he even know about these things? They were true - the adventurer''s reactions were a clear confirmation, but Augur''s bullshit always seemed suspiciously open for interpretation. I had the idea that his new psionic ability could be the source of this sudden and mystical knowledge. What a load of crap. It was something that I was eager to ¡°ask¡± him, but it seemed like I had to wait for him to respawn as the situation devolved even more. Why did I think so? Well... Dialing back time a few minutes - the earlier battle seemed to turn in Guardian¡¯s favor. No matter how strong were his opponents a large weapon paired with sturdy armor created miracles. Not to mention that with his former identity as Daniel Waltzer, he was introduced to the art of warfare during his teenage years. Or that was what his memories were telling me anyway. Not all of this knowledge had been forgotten, which he easily proved gliding above ground even while locked in his unwieldy frame. The relatively stable battlefield turned to shit however when the Bloody Sacrificial Altar effect came into play, turning the elven healer into a raving lunatic. She unleashed powerful magic and laid bare her deep-seated resentment, a show of madness that quickly forced the rest of the adventuring team out of the chamber. They stared at her teleporting and screaming silhouette moving randomly from place to place while at the same time filling the air with spears made out of light. It took them only a few moments to pinpoint the source of the ¡°bloodlust¡± effect and they were currently debating if it was even worth it to stop it. ¡°Let¡¯s face reality. Not only could we end up as collateral damage due to Eve¡¯s rampage, but also¡­¡± Peter stopped for a moment, coming to terms with his own words. ¡°Also I feel like she¡¯s strong enough to beat the boss on her own.¡± His last sentence came out a bit forced as his prideful eyes not for once left the dancing elf silhouette alone. It was clearly hard for him to leave everything to another person. Or to admit his inadequacy. ¡°She¡¯s stealing my experience.¡± Growled Agnes, fingers curled on the handles of her blades. A moment later she relaxed, shaking her head and sighing. A wild glint in her eye - gone. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s not the right thing to say when one of my friends is being mind-controlled.¡± She chuckled, hiding her head in tired arms. ¡°I vote for destroying the artifact.¡± ¡°Since when was it a voting issue?¡± Peter smiled darkly. ¡°You¡¯re our leader, you choose. We just follow.¡± The rest nodded curtly. Even an outsider like Tinna agreed, her daggers ready to strike. There was however an opposition. ¡°Wait, wait, wait! Let¡¯s be reasonable! The artifact in question is a property of the Geinard Kingdom! We should send the scholars here to study it! To weaponize its runes! To help our soldiers with beating the Fallen Tribes'' armies!¡± Charles made his opinion known, but this outburst only made it clearer about the distinction between him and the rest of the explorers. ¡°There is no guarantee that the artifact will reappear as the monsters do!¡± I harrumphed. Now that was a really good question - while my boss''s minions were pretty much immortal I wasn¡¯t sure how this rule influenced large static items made in my dungeon, or how the sentients called them - the artifacts. I wasn¡¯t counting the weapons of course. These were already proven destructible. But the Altar, the Forge, the Manufacture¡­ I was curious. Sadly the only way to check it - the only way my tiny crystal brain managed to plan the said experiment anyway - was to test said destruction. Repeatedly. Because of that, the Bloody Sacrificial Altar was as good a target as any - there wasn¡¯t much I was using it for. ¡°That may be so, but the life of my teammate is worth much more than a mere artifact. Especially one affixed to the floor and thus - immovable.¡± Agnes answered in a tired tone. ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean that we can¡¯t study its workings locally!¡± This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°You¡¯re not wrong¡­¡± ¡°Then--!¡± ¡°But we¡¯re still destroying it.¡± A ferocious smile appeared on her face. ¡°Will the kingdom lend me one of their healers in exchange for this artifact?¡± She asked slyly. ¡°M-maybe.¡± Charles stuttered in response. ¡°I-it could be a great discovery leading towards the reclamation of the corrupted lands! It could make us heroes!¡± ¡°Could being the principal word here, right darling?¡± She shook her head, cutting off his next words. ¡°I know that you want that finder¡¯s money, but let me tell you - the Beast Princess doesn¡¯t leave her own for the wolves!¡± Agnes green eyes widened and Charles trembled. He breathed in and out, but in the end, chose silence. Something that the rest of the party noticed with a small cheer. The discussion ended. The Swords of Hope drew their weapons and prepared to enter the battle. It was however too late. Why? Because Eve managed to send one of her beams through the upper part of the room. And cut off Guardian sanity support. For a moment the armored monster just stared at the adventurer¡¯s faces, the healer too responding with a simple, focused gaze. The serene silence lasted only for a moment though. And then a cacophony of words emerged from his helmet. ¡°Crush!¡± ¡°Kill!¡± ¡°Swallow the light!¡± He stared at Eve for a long moment. ¡°Swallow the darkness!¡± Then his body jerked in Peter¡¯s direction. ¡°Bring out the blood of the chosen!¡± ¡°Savour it!¡± ¡°RIGHT NOW!¡± His faceplate swiveled towards the charging Agnes in the end as the crazy words echoed through the room. ¡°A choir-like soul... I will devour!¡± He lunged forward, his large arms throwing away the crude weapon in favor of the wide-grabbing motion. Agnes jumped up while cursing, somehow managing to barely get out of the way. She then used the momentum to bounce away from Guardian''s arm and stab one of her swords into the helmet slit. She left the blade inside, choosing to escape his one-track pursuit rather than stay and fight. A roar echoed right behind her only to get cut short by a beam of light appearing from nowhere. It bounced off the armor, pushing back the black knight and stopping him for a long second. It was enough for both Charles and Peter to fire off their magics, adding more scratches to already damaged metal armor. Guardian turned towards them like a boss from a computer game - easily driven by the changing aggro. I shook my head. It was all a ruse though. The real deal was Tinna, slowly inching towards the Altar under the effect of her skill. A black mist was washing out everywhere, allowing her to blend in with the surroundings. She thought herself invisible, but in his calm state Guardian should be able to discover her advance and - in turn - prioritize. Right now however he was no better than a beast. Thus a minute later she arrived interrupted at her destination. Then, with a steady hand, she dragged both of her daggers across the runes visible on the rocky surface. The magical symbols brightened momentarily only to grow dim and still. The damage was big enough to disable the artifact immediately and Eve soon lost her frenzied behavior, slumping down on the floor. This made her a target of Guardian attack as he ignored the buzzing flies and delightedly ran towards the unconscious elf. ¡°The bloodline of light!¡± He screamed, hunger easily recognizable in his voice. ¡°You fuckin¡¯ wish, monster!¡± It was Boulder who stood against the charging monster, kneeling with a shield tilted on one side. Guardian only harrumphed in frustration, preparing to kick the unexpected obstacle aside. But the half-orc was quicker. His armored form shot ahead like an arrow. If arrows had large, vertical objects strapped to them. Normally the tank would get squashed by the mass of the rushing monster, but Boulder, learning from his earlier experience, turned his tower shield surface just enough to nick the approaching enemy. This managed to disturb Guardian''s center of stability, forcing him to stumble¡­ and then helplessly fall to the ground. A cloud of dust had arisen and another bellow of rage left the monster¡¯s mouth. In the meantime, Lone Mountain dragged the elven healer back into the tunnels. They were a bit safer than a chamber where a brutal fight was taking place. If she had just left her there I was fully committed to sending some Ratlings in the hope of getting my hands on another core. A rare light-affinity one! Sadly the chance never came as the tall Amazon decided to guard her companion, leaving the rest to her teammates. I nodded sadly. Guardian was getting mauled. If it was his sane, composed self then at least a few of the intruders would get slaughtered. Right now? He growled and spewed curses like he was the one overcome with bloodlust. An animal, not a once noble knight. The tides had turned and the adventurers changed from prey into hunters. With peerless cooperation, they made sure that Guardian was trashing helplessly from one side of the room to another. While I wasn¡¯t looking another sword ended up in his healthy eye, thus blinding him completely. It was a lost cause. A checkmate. I watched as they slowly whittled his health down, turning the knight into a ragged, tired beast. It was my duty to witness every second of this fight. After all, Guardian was fighting for me. To keep me safe. To defend the dungeon. I might¡¯ve turned into a bit of a monster myself, but¡­ he was my servant in the end. No words of betrayal left his mouth until the end. He fell on the floor, his scarred body barely kept alive by willpower alone. ¡°The children of the gods will burn. This world will burn.¡± He rasped, blood slowly trickling down his helmet, pooling on the ground. ¡°And the free---¡± Agnes was the one to deliver the finishing blow, her blades pinning Guardian''s head to the floor, piercing the brain, skull, and metal helmet in one try. She cut him down without hesitation. ¡°Shut up. The monsters should do their job and die quietly. Don¡¯t spout some rubbish just before you croak.¡± She spoke rudely to the quickly cooling corpse. After that, she breathed out, leaning on her weapons, suddenly exhausted, and started to observe the battlefield. Their fight left most of the room in shambles, with scars of weapons and destroyed rocks marring the once-clear walls. More than a few long trenches were left on the ground and even the coppery spiderwebs left on the back now were cut, mangled, and incomplete. The smears of red human blood and much murkier, more red Guardian¡¯s liquid were splashed around like surroundings like the work of some mad artist. ¡°Soon. I can feel it.¡± Princess mumbled, her face flushed and hair more red than blonde now. A clenched fist was slowly released from her beloved weapon. ¡°A level-up?¡± Peter appeared from nowhere, his face seemingly tired, but radiating some type of fulfillment. ¡°Yes. Or rather I feel it¡¯s close. This means that one, two, maybe twenty monsters and I¡¯ll get to level twenty.¡± ¡°And push the dread back one more year.¡± The shadow mage whispered some nonsense. ¡°Yup.¡± Agnes gave a sharp nod and immediately left for the tunnel entrance, where their healer was forced to lie on the ground and rest. As soon as she arrived a veritable flood of complaints left her mouth, washing over the startled Eve. The elf didn¡¯t know how to react, her face turning red while she frantically tried to get free. It all ended when Agnes hugged her teammate, both girls happy to be alive and well. It would be a touching moment if not for the fact that both of these women were responsible for the deaths of my monsters. Thus seeing them like that only evoked a feeling of disgust. It seemed like an old adage about ¡®not humanizing your enemy¡¯ was right after all. In the meantime, Peter turned towards Guardian''s corpse and huffed to himself. ¡°Now, where our prize should be?¡± Both Boulder and Charles stood nearby and - without any signal - began to comb the room for anything resembling weapons, armor, or artifacts. They were slow and methodical with their search, knowing that there should be an item of great worth somewhere in all this mud and blood. It would be worth it. Riiiight. Of course, they didn¡¯t find any. It was true - I wasn¡¯t the brightest core that walked the earth, but still. Do I look that much like an idiot?! I won¡¯t arm my enemies¡­ especially after they defeated one (another one!) of my minions. I admit though that... There was this strange, weird feeling that compelled me to award them something for their efforts¡­ but seeing the bleeding form of Guardian sprawled on the ground quickly cured me of such thoughts. And this seemed to miff the invaders quite a bit. ¡°It¡¯s not here!¡± Shouted Charles only to instantly become the center of attention. ¡°What?¡± He asked, not understanding the meaning behind the people¡¯s gaze. ¡°It¡¯s not possible, sir.¡± Answered Peter, while eyeing him suspiciously. ¡°The Dungeon Core will award those strong enough to defeat its guardians with an item of great value. It¡¯s a compulsion they seem to have.¡± He shook his hands in order to emphasize his words. ¡°There are no exceptions.¡± He huffed angrily. ¡°There are.¡± Eve was already back to her arrogant self. She smiled at the frowning man. ¡°The undead dungeons deep south seemed to grant the items only on the next floor. Near the nexus. The core I mean. Or in one of the deeper chambers.¡± She shook her head, playing with the small curls of her golden hair. ¡°It may be a similar circumstance.¡± ¡°Why would they do that?¡± ¡°In the hope of gaining a skilled warrior body of course.¡± The elf girl smiled grimly. ¡°So we need to be prepared for a battle?¡± ¡°It would be prudent.¡± ¡°This dungeon seems to like its undead, that¡¯s true. Well, then - no time like the present.¡± Mumbled Agnes. ¡°We do a sweep of two first rooms. Maybe three, depending on the layout. But after that, we will stop and retreat to the first floor. No more delving today, people!¡± 039 Uno The humans were descending. Agnes took the lead, still however allowing Tinna to take a long and thorough look at every stone step on her way down. A wise notion. This also gave me the idea to add some traps to the stairs. There was this weird compulsion that usually stopped me from implementing such thoughts, but the deeper I was the weaker it seemed. According to Princess''s order, the Swords of Hope walked down the stairs in a tight formation and safely arrived at the ¡°greeting room¡± as I started to call it. I left it alone and focused on the other chambers in return, thus creating another rest spot for the sentients. Tinna wasn¡¯t however in a mood to leave anything to chance and as such adventurers slowly crawled forward just behind her back, matching slow and deliberate steps. Only to end up in the Central Pond Room. What? I never said that I was good at naming! At least the people entering didn¡¯t have this fading, big letters sprawled right in their faces¡­ Valley of Drakes Undead Burg Lost Izalith Firelink Altar Central Pond Room Yeah¡­ Nope. The place was just like the name suggested - teeming with life, full of white-silver trees and strange bone ferns growing chaotically all over the pond visible in the center. The air was surprisingly dry thanks to my lichen conquering every wall available. Maybe I should prepare another species to compete with it? Something preferably not white, silver, or grey. The whole chamber looked pretty nice under the bright, but cold light provided by the large Electrical Chandeliers sprinkled around the ceiling. They had this strange, natural irregularity, creating sections of brighter and darker patches. Bed of copper grass screeched under the soles of their boots as the invaders walked a few meters into the metal forest before suddenly stopping, noticing the water''s surface. A large mass of water was teeming with a few types of monsters I added. There were Erosion Rays frolicking underwater and freely growing dirty green Drowning Man Razors or even piss-yellow Acidic Freshweeds. There were also other, Anima-free creations with similar colors, but without any of special properties reserved for Uno-made creatures. They somehow made their way down from the stream originating in the Underground Lake. The more shocking revelation was however that one or two even managed to mutate and survive - even thrive! - in the poisoned fluids that my ¡°pond¡± was made from. In the end, while parts of the Central Pond Room were covered in all kinds of metallic flora and brimmed with life the water itself had a dirty and toxic feel, mostly because of its dangerous inhabitants. The place as a whole had limited visibility, making for a nice ambush location, while also gently pushing the adventurers away to explore the four branching tunnels (not counting the one they came from). It was all of course because my fake core was hidden deep under its surface. Not that it mattered much right now. Anyway. I gave an order to attack as soon as the adventurers advanced into the chamber. While they just stood there, staring at both shiny plants and small animals moving my Lebir Exploders started to arise from various hidden holes and from behind tree trunks and began to run. It was the best quality of the undead. They didn¡¯t need to breathe, they didn¡¯t question my plans and they had nothing against suicidal orders. Perfect soldiers. It took a second or two for the sentients to recognize them as dangerous. After all, there were Blue Hoppers, Dragonflies, and other small fauna I made to liven this place up. All of them moving, rustling, and hunting one another. And to tell the truth, fifteen undead running forward, while looking like they were auditioning for the position of an Olympic torchbearer wasn¡¯t the most menacing sight in the world. Especially since each of them had fallen at least once. I still thanked my luck that none of them fell and then exploded. My surprise would get ruined otherwise. That¡¯s why the line of advancing, blue-colored undead already made it halfway when Tinna started to shout in a panic: ¡°Incoming enemies! Prepare!¡± ¡°Intercept!¡± Barked Peter, leaving her, Lone Mountain, Boulder, and Agnes to do their job. ¡°They¡¯re running weirdly! Something doesn¡¯t add up!¡± Commented half-orc, eyeing their clumsy movements. ¡°Surely the dungeon knows that something on this level won''t stop us?¡± He snorted. ¡°We killed its Floor Guardian, for Brighton¡¯s sake!¡± ¡°You¡¯re right! There must be something else¡­ something that we overlooked!¡± Shouted Agnes, nervously swinging her weapons in preparation for the fight. ¡°Wait! My skill is telling me something¡­¡± She focused, retreating a bit behind the defender¡¯s line. And this saved her life. True to his orders Boulder smacked a Lebir Exploder right in the head, intercepting his advance and burying the poor creature into the ground. It would work, normally, but his luck seemed to run out and the Electric Stick still managed to touch the volatile metal, while falling helplessly on the ground. The effect? *booom* An explosion that stunned the man and blinded him. ¡°I c-can¡¯t seeeee! Heeeelp!¡± He screamed while attacking anything that approached him. ¡°More incoming! Dodge!¡± Agnes commanded, her voice once more growing hoarse. It was however too late. Princess people couldn¡¯t hear her through the explosions and the dust and wooden splinters both hurt and separated every invader. Then a few more explosions happened and suddenly most of them were out there - alone, and facing an unknown weapon. And these Lebirs were only a first wave. The second one started from a bit farther but should arrive in thirty seconds tops. A few of the perks of the undead - inexhaustible stamina. ¡°Is everybody alright?¡± Agnes shouted into the air, trying to take control of the situation. ¡°Retreat to the stairs! We can¡¯t deal with these things!¡± ¡°Retreat!¡± Repeated Peter, hot on her tail. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me!¡± Screamed back Boulder, blood flowing from his eyes. ¡°Move, move, move!¡± The mages were already retreating. Shadow mage was first to run, Eve also turned her back on the rest of the team to reach the stairs sooner. Her gaze lingered for a moment on Boulder''s angry and fearful silhouette, but she shook her head and moved away. ¡°INCOMING!¡± Tinna screamed once again seeing the not-so-comical-anymore shape of undead waddling through the ferns and smoke. ¡°Get back, sir!¡± She directed her words at Charles who, surprisingly, was moving forward, not backward. ¡°We need to get the half-orc back!¡± He shouted back. ¡°Our orders are different! SIR!¡± She responded, her body tensed and fearful. Yet she held still. ¡°RETREAT!¡± ¡°No! I need to--!¡± ¡°As one of the Hawks, I order you to turn back, sir! You¡¯re much more valuable than any of us!¡± Tinna took out a weird brooch with a symbol of the bird with its wings open. Like it was preparing to take into the air. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Charles''s face changed to shock, curiosity, and then anger. ¡°I don¡¯t care for the Kingdom''s special forces!¡± He screamed loudly enough to spray some saliva on the thief¡¯s face. ¡°I am saving that man and there is nothing that----!¡± His words were cut short as the handle of Tinna''s dagger robbed him of consciousness. She turned her head only to see advancing undead. ¡°Lone Mountain! Take him back!¡± Her eyes burned with conviction. ¡°PLEASE! I¡¯ll block them!¡± Hearing that the tall woman hesitated and, after muttering a short curse, turned back to drag the fire mage to safety. At this moment the next wave of Lebirs arrived, their weak eyes focused on the warrior trashing in the front. And the rogue right behind him. Boulder was, however, closer to them than the girl, which sealed his fate. An undead lunged forward with its Electric Stick kept high in the air. *booom* One *booom* after *booom* another¡­ *booom* Their combined effort turned towards the orc¡¯s annihilation and they continued to self-destruction until he stopped screaming... and only after a pile of flesh and metal pieces remained. [Tasty!] I screamed in delight feeling the devoured energy. This was¡­ something else entirely! These scrawny half-elves couldn''t even compare! [Would that be insensitive if I said that he tasted like pork?] I giggled, overcome with ecstasy. My mind returned a few seconds later. [That¡¯s good stuff.] I mumbled. [But too much of it and I don¡¯t know what¡¯ll happen¡­] In these few moments even more Lebir Exploders arrived. Tinna turned towards the incoming attackers and weaved through their lines like a goddess of war. My undead were clumsy piles of bone and iron thus an agile rogue like her easily cut their hands off, effectively disarming them. She worked tirelessly, glancing towards the retreating Agnes. After she confirmed that the party escaped it was her turn to reach safety¡­ and it was then when her attention slipped. It was only a moment, a small oversight. The electric weapon fell on the already disabled Lebir. On the volatile, blue part to be exact. But it was enough. The explosion tore through the air and mangled a few meters of trees and other flora, the secondary detonations happening as both metal and weapons were strewn in every direction. Soon the dust cloud had fallen leaving only thoroughly plowed earth and scattered pieces of meat. The remaining invaders retreated in time, not even looking back in their panicked return to the first floor. Save from Agnes who took a long, grudge-filled look at her fallen companions and my undead until she quickly retreated. [That one will be trouble.] I mused quietly. And then I turned my attention to the survivor. Tinna was very unlucky. The explosion mangled her left leg and arm, pretty much leaving only stumps intact. Her cute, small face was scarred and bloodied, the same with parts of her torso. The armor shielded parts of her flesh from the explosion, but pieces of shrapnel - from my undead and her broken-down defenses were embedded in her body. But she was alive. And I made sure that she remained as such, giving the appropriate orders to my minions. A tourniquet isn¡¯t that hard to make, especially with people (undead) who have opposable thumbs. I wanted to quietly celebrate my successful defense when a familiar green and red mana flux appeared in my dungeon. While I planned to check on the adventurers and maybe do some peeping¡­ I mean - the tactical reconnaissance - it seemed like much bigger trouble appeared on my doorstep. And right I was. Soon a pair of twins appeared from the thin air. Like before one of them was blonde, with long hair, a modest figure, and piercingly accusatory blue eyes. Like before ¡°the left one¡± as I called her in my mind was wearing a one-piece dress both humble and tempting. ¡°The right one¡± looked similar, yet different. The shape of her body and face was the same but burned, scarred, tortured. Her was the red hair and eyes dark, deep like the blackest night. And yet they were one - a Goddess called Gangria, a part of the triumvirate of gods still residing in this dying world. Unlike earlier they took one look at me, at my Exploding Lebirs standing at the ready, at the husk of the Tinna, the rogue being dragged over and the shouting had already started. [Are you retarded?] ¡°The left one¡± asked gently, like a child looking at an ill puppy. [Do yOu wiSH tO bEcoMe liKE YOur mIndLeSs pRedEceSsorS?!] ¡°The right one¡± screamed right at my core. [It¡¯s really weird how you use your gifts, Uno.] [WhY dO yOU oVeRusE tHe ANIMA oN SucH tRiFleS!] [What did I do wrong?] I whispered under their vocal and mental attack. The twins looked at each other, sighing deeply. They shook their heads for a moment, communicating without words and soon ¡°the left one¡± stepped forward. [We appeared in your dungeon because you nearly managed to kill the Geinard Kingdom weapon.] [wE tEnD tO kEeP wATch oVEr oUR eNeMIes.] [And when we arrived we noticed this¡­] [...aBoMinATioN!] [I still don¡¯t understand what are you talking about¡­ can you please explain?] I was getting a really bad feeling about this conversation. What they were getting at? Was playing with undead a taboo now too? Or was it something else? Fuck. It was something else, right? The twins nodded again and ¡°the left one¡± started. [It will take a while, but I¡¯ll explain.] She bowed lightly, like a child making a performance for her parent¡¯s sake. [What do you know about magic?] She asked and I noticed that ¡°the right one¡± disappeared somewhere. [Not much¡­ Ummm, where is your sister?] I asked nervously. [She¡¯s interested in your prisoner. Answer my question.] [Oh, Tinna. I see. Well... you press the button and the magic comes out? Using¡­ mana?] She looked at me in exasperation. [iDiOt!] A faraway voice echoed in the chamber. [Let¡¯s just start from the beginning then. A short version.] She nodded to herself and somehow I understood that her expectations turned a bit lower. [Mana is everywhere. It¡¯s an invisible substance that penetrates every being, thing - simply a lifeblood of our world. Long ago people of the world discovered that by using it they could bridge the impossible. They can command the elements, shape the world, and kill each other.] Her last words had a hidden viciousness in them. [The gods didn¡¯t think much about this power at the beginning. They were beings of faith and it was their sustenance and their power. However, as the mortals grew the need for the gods diminished.] A cruel smile appeared on her face. [And so the gods panicked. They debated with each other, trying to avoid the fate of starving to death¡­] [Magic?] I whispered, seeing as she deviated from the topic. [Yes. But the gods were lucky. You see, the people who took in the power of mana in their bodies started to get twisted. It was slow at first. An angry outburst here from the fire mage, an unfounded suspicion from the dark mages, the laziness from the earth mage¡­ and so on.] She shook her head, blonde hair once again swaying in the invisible wind. [And then the war happened. Beings as powerful as gods, but not quarter as sane clashed. The world was nearly destroyed.] [The end?] [No. The story repeated itself - mages grew in power, they grew unstable¡­ gods needed the new solution. And they found one - the System and the cores.] [What are they?] I asked, full of curiosity. [They¡¯re a type of filter prepared for the gods to keep the mana influence away. It stops the assimilation of one¡¯s element and gives time to cope with it. Also by severing the ability to freely take in the mana in one¡¯s body it stops the catastrophe that already happened twice.] [The Second Empire?] I asked. [Yes.] A sharp and concise answer. Against all hope, I tried again. [Can you--?] [No. It¡¯s not important and my time is limited. Now.] She clapped her small hands to gain my attention. [The dungeon cores were made differently.] [How?] I asked dreading the answer. [They take the mana directly, as did the wizards of old.] Her smile turned mischievous. [Where does that put me?] My question was filled with dread. [Can¡¯t you at least puzzle out that part by yourself?] She pouted, but I only begged quietly. [Please. There is something wrong with me. I know it. But I can¡¯t understand why.] *sigh* [What is your Element?] She asked pretending to be a teacher asking questions during the test. [Anima.] [What is Anima?] [An essence of truth?] [Yes. And what a chosen element does to the one using it?] [It permeates? Assimilates? But what does that mean to me?!] I felt the rush of the adrenaline, something long absent from my crystal mind. [PLEASE. TELL ME!] [YOu¡¯Re nO fUn!] Another voice answered. [To pUT iT sImPLy - yOUr rEaL bOdy is a cRysTaL mAdE aS a sLaVE tO gODsssss¡­] She hissed her last words. [And because of that each time you use your Anima to breach the realms of impossibility, to create these toys¡­] She pointed towards my duct-taped undead. [You get a bit closer to the truth of your body. The unchanging crystal whose layers turn stale with each spell you cast, each monster you make. To turn you into a slave. A machine. A tool.] With each word, her smile grew wider and wider, more and more resembling her sister. [Why are you telling me this?] I asked, full of suspicion. [YoU¡¯Re a nICe diStRacTiON!] [We already got all the pieces in place. Would you believe that we just enjoy seeing you squirm?] [Why?!] For the first time, both of them stopped smiling. After a long and heavy silence, the "right one" answered. [WoUlD yOU bEliEvE tHaT We¡¯Re loNEly?] Her voice echoed in the shadows and their forms started to disappear. [Wait, please! I have questions!] My words were only answered with two distinct chuckles. [Later! Have fun!] [I LeFT yOU a pReSEnt!] Eh¡­ What present? As if to answer my confusion a woman¡¯s scream tore through the dungeon. 040 Uno Hearing the scream echo through the tunnels I forced my senses to expand. My being, earlier focused on the sole point where Gangria appeared, expanded back to its default, omnipresent state. I was once again aware of everything that happened under the watch of my cameras. I was the dungeon and with this knowledge came a type of pride - an addicting sensation. Because of the change in perspective finding the source of constant wailing turned out to be a child¡¯s play. Before zooming in, however, I wasted a second to check on the adventurers currently camping in the first-floor Guardian¡¯s room. The heavy silence that permeated the air said a lot about the current state of their minds. I left nothing to chance though. My Lebir Exploders were already waiting, hidden amongst the grass. With endless patience, they eyed the stairs on which invaders might appear once again. Just in case one of them was stupid enough to renew the attack. At the same time, the manufacturing workshop was humming with ant-like undead, laboring busily to produce new exploding sashes and affix them to the Lebir volunteers waiting in a long line. I mismanaged the speed of their production, but, other than that, everything was going exceedingly well. The source of my concern was different. I found the origin of the commotion. It was Tinna. She crawled towards the closest wall and curled up, as much as a being lacking limbs could. Her battered body looked awful and at first glance, I thought that her pale face was a testament to the pain she felt, the blood loss being a slow and insidious killer. Yet after a few minutes of observation, my opinion changed. There was something wrong with her - both mentally and physically. And it wasn¡¯t something as obvious as the phantom pain or the discomfort stemming from the knowledge that she would never walk again. Her thin body started changing color, which reminded me of argyria - the disease that turned the skin of its victims grey. It was however connected to the inhalation or consumption of silver¡­ and certainly wasn¡¯t a type of illness that progressed so quickly. Strangely enough the most vulnerable parts of her body - the stumps of her arm and leg - were looking clean. The silvery stains concentrated around the chest and neck regions of the young thief¡¯s body. Even stranger was the look in her eyes. Was she hallucinating? Her dull and lifeless brown eyes indicated that she wasn¡¯t all there. Escaping the reality was, after all, a normal way to cope with an unmanageable situation. Taking however a closer look I wondered if this wasn¡¯t instead an expression of shock. Or maybe even betrayal? Only now I remembered that for a few long minutes, she was in the presence of Gangria''s rowdier personality. At that time I was more interested in my survival, so whatever happened - be it a feat of magic or just a simple conversation - was unknown to me. Because of that, there was only one course of action I could take - to simply ask the person in question. But to do so would probably demand the creation of a translation device. Normally I would do so without hesitation... if not for the warning that the crazy Goddess delivered. The way she spoke and explained was chaotic at best, not to mention that she left me to deal with the situation on my own. Then again I wasn¡¯t her ally, neither did I swear allegiance to her faction¡­ what duty did she have to help a wayward Dungeon Core like me? Bah. No matter. I decided to rearrange all this new knowledge in my head. The sentient creatures of this world once upon a time were able to learn how to manipulate the surrounding mana and by using this new knowledge they gained unmatched powers. The said mana came in many flavors and granted its users different abilities. However, after even more time had passed they learned that there was a price for using it. Mana corrupted, or rather changed - assimilated? - it¡¯s users. This modified their behavior, their very being¡­ in the end, turning them against each other. And had sown the seeds of the world war. When the unthinkable happened the planet barely withstood their combined rage, devastation brought by magic unlike any other. This forced the gods into starvation as the sentient beings were teetering on the brink of annihilation. The precarious balance was however archived. Both the world and sentients recovered while magic and technology once again started to blossom. All was well¡­ on the surface. To tell the truth, the gods were afraid. They understood that with the resurgence of magic, the apocalypse would repeat itself. Thus, to safeguard their flock, or rather the faith they produced, a conclave of gods concocted a plan to filter mana influence from the sapients, add the System controlling (or rather completely stopping) the magic research, and in turn avert the end of the world. But they fucked up. They fucked up so hard that most of them had to flee the planet, leaving sentients and the ever-growing corruption to their own devices. The only ones left were Brighton, Mirabelle, and Gangria. One of these was not like the others¡­ Anyway - what happened? Who knows. Maybe if the schizophrenic Goddess visits me again I¡¯ll get to know about that part. It didn¡¯t matter. From where did the corruption appear? Was that an effect of the gods'' intervention or something deeper, older, stirring from the Yana depths? Who cares. My minions were either immune to its influence or actively cleansed it from the surroundings. That was the extent of thought I was willing to waste on this topic. I was much more interested in the knowledge that described how I was getting fucked by the System and how mana was influencing the Dungeon Cores in general. As I understood - I and the rest of the puppet-like DC-s don¡¯t have mana filters in place. We do not need them. Theoretically. While we were like the mages from the past, getting easily influenced by our affinities it didn¡¯t matter in the long run. Why? The rest of my brother-crystals had no free will (was sister-crystals a better word? Even without the necessary equipment I thought myself male). They were made to serve the ¡°higher purpose¡±, like machines programmed with a sole task in mind. How they did it was irrelevant - be it by using fire, ice, earth, or more ethereal elements. My situation was however different. Not only my mind was intact - at least I think so, my memories of the time I spent on Earth were blurry at best - but I also had the misfortune of acquiring the Anima (which translated into ¡°the truth of a being¡±) as my element. I mean it wasn''t all that bad... A rare affinity meant great power, but most importantly - a way to bridge the gap between the earlier, scientific world and this one, more focused on magic. I no longer had any illusions that my knowledge was solid enough to replicate things like combustion engines, explosives, or even electric forges. Yet somehow Anima allowed me to do it. How? No idea. It just works. Anyway - back to the story. I couldn¡¯t escape my fate. It was a struggle that every mana user in the past had already experienced. And the defeat that came with it, ending in an irreversible change in their nature, creating a deeper connection to their element. In my case, it was a return to the ¡°truth¡± of my current body. The problem was that - unlike humanoids, or even monsters - I was a crystal created with a single purpose in mind. To serve. It was just like Gangria explained - a straight way to become a mindless drone and thus lose myself completely. That said I had a few ideas about how to change that ¡°truth¡± completely and possibly even break free from my status as a Dungeon Core. Ah, but the latter was not ideal. From what I saw of this world it was dangerous, brutal, and on the brink of extinction. Hiding out in my own, fortified bunker was a simple and elegant solution. Even with these sentients constantly banging on my door. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Anyway, there was a problem with the implementation of the mentioned plan. A large amount of Anima was needed to do what I wanted to do, but this, in turn, carried a higher risk of randomly turning into a puppet... Where was the way out then? It was simple - dig deeper, kill more invaders, and grow without using Anima as much as possible! This - in theory - would give me enough breathing room to finish the change I was planning! One floor at minimum and two as the optimal solution. The math behind it? None. It was just a feeling, but it should be enough. I wasn¡¯t completely guessing. Even with only two floors, my mind was independent again - I could operate without any hindrance when remaining in the depths. Otherwise, my strategy with the suicidal exploders would never fly. It was a much different feeling than what I experienced on the first floor. Which in turn made me wonder about the next question. What my future path would be? I have to consider this carefully. I had no choice - Anima would remain as my element. Because of that, the change would come. Sooner or later. But the preparations I was making forced a new venue of thought to appear. A luxury of choice - an ability to determine at which ¡°truth¡± I¡¯ll arrive. For example, choosing a bestial form would probably take away my ability to speak or think logically, but also exponentially raise my physical ability and with it - survivability. Turning into an undead was also an option, although the psychological aspect was what worried me. But on the other hand, the ability to raise servants or even learn new magic (who knows?) were tempting choices. There was also a possibility of a more mechanical path, which could readily rob me of empathy, feelings, the overall humanity¡­ not that much of these were left in this crystal prison. So many choices. I daydreamed for a long moment, only to be brought back to reality by another wild scream. Ah, yes. Tinna. I wondered as to what my next course of action should be when a string of words escaped her scabbed mouth. ¡°No¡­ No! No.¡± She mumbled, her gums bleeding from teeth clenched too hard. ¡°Not real¡­ it was not real. NO!¡± She screamed once again, similarly to how it happened earlier. At least my floors muted the sound between different layers. Otherwise, her companions would probably come running. Then again - if I used these screams as a part of the trap? It would certainly be a nice distraction. Too bad that to implement it I had to create a gramophone, microphone, or maybe a different recording device. And that took Anima. Anyway, the former courageous rogue was currently trembling, cradling her head and mumbling to herself like a crazy person. ¡°Not real! No. No¡­ Please, no.¡± Her anger has already drained considerably, the woman¡¯s voice changing into a begging tone. ¡°Anything! Please! They need to live! Please!¡± She sobbed quietly, tears staining the dirty ground. Each second another please or anything escaped her mouth. I sighed. The mindless torture was never my forte and now, more than ever, I wanted to know what exactly Gangria did to the girl. To understand however I had to speak with her¡­ but like I said before - the translation machine would be a huge waste. This meant that the girl will have to wait for the Guardian to respawn. He could be my mouthpiece now that I knew that he could talk. And - more importantly - an ability to communicate with me too. A perfect translator! If not for the fact that his sanity rope quite literally anchored him to one room. Anyway - no time like the present! Now only to ensure Tinna''s survival¡­ at least until I ask my questions and figure out what had Gangria done. She mentioned something about the present¡­ my spidey senses were tingling each time I looked at the broken rogue. Now, what do I need? Beds. Right. Probably some water, maybe food too - who knows when the adventurers will retreat - and preferably a blanket. Bandages? Do I even have the material to make them? Or an antiseptic? I don¡¯t think so¡­ I have a lot of poisons though! Not that it helps. Tinna started sobbing again so I ordered my Lebir to lift her. The undead stood there for a moment and moved just before I decided to repeat my command. It picked up her body in something that people called ¡°a princess carry¡±. A weird course of action for the normally stupid Lebirs. I was sure that it would try to just drag her or carry her like a sack of potatoes. Well, no matter. With another short order, the undead marched towards the northeastern part of my dungeon. Its target was a Guard Room tucked in the corner, the entrance close enough to the explosives Workshop and my reinforcements. Just in case. I had a few of those sprinkled on my second floor to keep large teams of mobile undead as a way to stop any invaders. While the room itself was useful I couldn¡¯t say so about the beds and weapon racks I had allocated inside. It was a flight of fancy, a thematic choice that I was now regretting a bit. At least they were made by the crude golem smith dwelling on the first floor and his Ratling followers. They were a surprise. Most of them wore parts of poorly made armor and strange, rat-fitting weapons. The one leading them had a pair of goggles on his head and seeing his begging posture gave me a feeling of deja vu¡­ Which nearly distracted me from another important discovery. Boulder¡¯s death wasn¡¯t in vain! I mean, he tasted great, so there was that, but with his demise, I also now understood how to create orcs in my dungeon! Well¡­ the pure orc was the full name of the half-complete blueprint. Normally it wouldn¡¯t be a problem since I just could mount their torso on the spider golem or add artificial hands, legs, and even eyes. And yet it wasn¡¯t like that. The data looked like something had shredded it and left only pieces. It wasn¡¯t impossible to remake, with metal and Anima, but¡­ it would be a very costly experiment. One I wasn¡¯t so keen to start right now. Maybe after adding a few floors. Yup. Also¡­ weren¡¯t orcs classified as sentients? Why was I allowed to make them? Something was amiss! Now, what did I misunderstand? But, more importantly, I knew what I had to do. It was an Uno¡¯s subquest! To gather the rest of the orc parts! And since the orcs were somewhere on the surface¡­ maybe it was time to check on the Ratling army? And maaaaaybe do a little hunting? *** Charles Blueflame commander-in-name of the Geinard Kingdom dungeon outpost When I came back to my feelings I was already outside, the white sun mercilessly hitting my face. I sprung up from the bed, adrenaline still coursing in my veins, the battle echoing in my ears. But as I looked around the familiar space greeted me. A luxurious couch, wide bed, and solid table. And an opened flap of the tent, letting in the sun and with it - a hubbub of the outpost. Commoners doing their meaningless tasks. I nearly ordered the person keeping it open to stop but hesitated seeing it was Agnes standing there. My mind was in chaos. We looked into each other¡¯s eyes. ¡°They¡¯re dead.¡± She spoke first, her words cold and fast like arrows. ¡°Both Boulder and Tinna were killed in this incursion.¡± The princess looked at me, her pain hidden under the invisible shield called duty. ¡°Are¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯re sure. Neither one of them emerged from the stairs. We waited long enough.¡± She lowered her head down, studying the stains on the carpet. ¡°And you know as well as me that dungeons do not take prisoners.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded slowly. After a second my eyes widened. ¡°But this dungeon¡­¡± ¡°It uses undead.¡± A small drop of blood made its way down her face. ¡°We may yet meet both of them. Again.¡± Fiery red anger escaped her eyes for a moment only to return to the muted silence from before. ¡°Also¡­ talk to your butler. It seems like the situation grew worse while we were exploring.¡± ¡°What can you tell me?¡± ¡°The Fallen Tribes are moving. Mostly orcs and goblins according to the scouts.¡± ¡°How many?¡± My face wrinkled with worry. ¡°Our forces here are maybe two hundred warriors. And twice as many civilians.¡± ¡°About a thousand. Maybe more.¡± She answered. I cradled my head in worry. ¡°At least we can request reinforcements. The communication crystal is a real blessing.¡± I mumbled under my nose, relieved. ¡°We can¡¯t.¡± ¡°What? Was the crystal destroyed?!¡± ¡°No.¡± She shook her golden hair in denial. ¡°We already asked for reinforcements. They can¡¯t send any.¡± ¡°Why?!¡± ¡°All the forts on the border are requesting soldiers.¡± Her eyes looked dull and empty. ¡°The Fallen Tribes are attacking our defensive line. We¡¯re on our own.¡± She breathed in slowly and then spoke with a flat tone. ¡°Their exact words were: Use whatever you can use and survive.¡± I laughed in response. 041 Charles Blueflame My bitter laugh echoed in the tent, Agnes my only witness. It took me a few solid minutes to calm down and even then my eyes were still full of hatred. ¡°These bastards¡­ They¡¯re simply telling us to die!¡± I shouted, my teeth clenched, gums bleeding. It was clear that the Royal Army already considered this outpost a lost cause, thus ordering us to deal the most damage possible to the advancing horde. And then graciously perish, becoming silent martyrs. For humanity. For the greater good. ¡°Use whatever you can use, eh?¡± My mumble disappeared in the stale air, as the princess quickly closed the tent¡¯s flap and drifted nearby. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s what the message said.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯ll do just that! I¡¯ll fight like a cornered rat if needed and survive!¡± My heated speech seemed to rouse something in Agnes¡¯ eye, but she soon returned to the morose visage from before. Noticing this I asked in a flat tone. ¡°What about you? Will you stay?¡± There was no way in hell that our benevolent king would leave his progeny to the wolves. All of us were equal in the face of the ultimate sacrifice, as taught by the Kingdom, but some were a bit more equal than others. ¡°Two members of the Hawks appeared before me today. Their orders stated that I was to be transferred back to the capital city.¡± There was muted anger in her eyes. It was one of those rare situations where the country orders couldn¡¯t be ignored by the rowdy princess. The mention of the kingdom¡¯s secret police unknowingly turned my thoughts to late Tinna¡¯s fate. Or, more importantly, the siblings she so happily described before. Considering the quality of her talent they also should show promise¡­ Gathering them up, if possible, would yield me some nice warrior material. I decided to follow this train of thought when I have a chance. Later. My mind switched gears, focusing on the present. ¡°Alone?¡± I asked after a second of hesitation. ¡°I-I can take a few people with me. Lone Mountain, Eve, Peter¡­ you?¡± She asked, her voice getting quieter and quieter as she became aware of the answer. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± My words were sharp and clear. ¡°Your brothers.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I exhaled heavily. Being a noble sure beat being a simple commoner, but we had our own share of troubles. ¡°Would I return alone, after abandoning the outpost, leaving the members of our Order to die¡­¡± I smirked. ¡°Both my head and the rights to this new dungeon would fall in their hands.¡± This was a fate much worse than death. I was always called a black sheep, a disgrace to the Blueflame family. Tucked in the corner of a useless Order dedicated to taking care of new dungeons... years after the last one appeared. To return to that powerlessness, to those grey days of boredom, languid hours of simply existing¡­ No. I refuse! This is my only chance at greatness and they would have to pry it from my cold, dead hands! ¡°I see¡­¡± She swallowed hard, her head suddenly landing on my shoulder. My first reaction was to escape, but I was already caught and greedily hugged. Helplessly captured, I could only listen to the fuming princess¡¯ rant. ¡°There was no way for me to win. Not fair! I would try otherwise¡­ but both of them were in their thirties.¡± I knew she was talking about levels, not their age. ¡°And, what¡¯s worse, they¡¯re experienced! A rogue and mage working together are nothing to scoff at. Especially because I don¡¯t really know anything about their abilities. It makes me angry. Angry, you hear!¡± She banged on the table with her free hand. ¡°I barely managed to achieve my twentieth level after this disaster. This is so unfair...¡± ¡°A new class, then?¡± I murmured, the heat of her body scrambling my thoughts. ¡°Yes. A Valkyrie. That¡¯s how it was called I think.¡± Her eyes scanned through the empty air, clearly reading an invisible menu. ¡°It¡¯s still a warrior class, with a curious addition. It allows me to summon ghostly helpers. Many kinds.¡° She scratched her head. ¡±There is a cooldown and they¡¯re a bit meh, but otherwise it''s a very useful ability. A perfect support skill for solo delving, I can now detect traps, heal or even attack from afar...¡± She spoke, her voice getting mellower with time. Her breath also grew deeper and longer. Soon I felt like there was a little bird napping nearby. She instantly shifted to a lap pillow, her hand still firmly clutching my clothes, our fingers intertwining. ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± I frowned, breaking the calm atmosphere. I couldn¡¯t move my body, but it didn¡¯t stop me from turning my face in her direction, our eyes locked in the contest of wills. ¡°You know that sharing this kind of information could easily lead to your demise!¡± I hissed. ¡°There are always people listening! Please, be reasonable, Agnes!¡± My class jumped up two more levels, even considering how disastrous was our last expedition. I had mixed feelings about that, but experience was experience no matter how it was gained. And, unlike the princess, I wasn¡¯t too keen on sharing such sensitive data. Even with people I trusted. Her only answer was a defiant stare. It would be a bit more intimidating were she not settled down on my lap, gazing upwards. The air stalled, a precarious balance of our body heat and silence continuing for a long moment... until a short cough forced us apart. We jumped back as something stung us, our jumbled figures suddenly free. Adam, my silver-haired butler, was standing awkwardly in the entrance, staring at us with an uneasy expression. At least he had enough composure to close the flap immediately after entering. In an ordinary noble household, the things he already saw would be a death penalty. A perfect way to silence him permanently. The tryst between a noble and the royal princess noticed by a mere servant? Unthinkable. Thankfully for him, both of us knew and trusted the butler. Agnes was acquainted with him for a long time, while for me Adam was pretty much a surrogate parent. My true father was after all too busy with ruling and political intrigue to deal with something as mundane as personally raising his sons. The task was delegated to the then young and energetic servant and we were together through thick and thin ever since. I slowly let go of Agnes'' hand, which unknowingly ended up in mine and stood up, a false smile full of bravado emerging on my face. ¡°Adam! It¡¯s good that you¡¯re here, old man!¡± I bellowed, trying to keep my embarrassment under control. It was important to keep up appearances. ¡°Gather every influential individual in the outpost, we need to have a meeting considering the Fallen Tribes invasion¡­¡± I stopped talking, seeing the hastily paling servant. ¡°People weren¡¯t informed?¡± I asked the princess. ¡°No, of course not. We¡¯re trying to avoid panic. That and the scouts claim the army will take about a week, even two to arrive. We¡¯re not really pressed for time. Preparations can still be completed. Apparently, the same couldn¡¯t be told about the other forts.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re stuck dealing with the second wave, while they whittle the real invasion down?¡± I scratched my head. Not a bad role. If we manage to survive. The problem lies elsewhere. ¡±The scouts claim that the invaders are numbering a measly thousand. They¡¯re lying.¡± I spoke viciously. ¡°What? How do you know that?¡± ¡°You know, I had a lot of free time as the head of the Order of Fates Untold.¡± My mouth twisted in disgust, remembering these times. ¡°Even our name sounds useless.¡± A sigh escaped my mouth. ¡°One of the few interesting activities I could engage in was reading the Kingdom¡¯s forces training manuals. Out of these books, there were ones about the scouts, the exterminator teams, mage squads, using adventurers¡­ and some more. Not important.¡± I paused for a moment. ¡±Anyway - The scouts are required to lower the predicted amount of spotted enemies by a half or more in order to not damage the defending troop''s morale.¡± I cited an excerpt with a wry smile. ¡°So they have one and a half thousand troops?¡± Agnes spoke with her green eyes wide open. She was used to one on one duels, not massive clusterfucks of hundreds that battles usually turned out to be. At least Geinard Kingdom battles. ¡°I would hardly call them soldiers, but yes, you¡¯re not wrong. Maybe even more.¡± I turned back to my petrified servant. ¡±Ignore the earlier order. I want you to find a soldier commanding the local forces, leader of the Adventurers Guild vagabonds, the strongest Mage available, preferably male, and the representative for the civilian rabble.¡± I stopped to think for a second. ¡±And also one of the wealthier merchants. It wouldn¡¯t do if they were to be left completely in the dark.¡± My head turned back to the princess. ¡°I assume that you¡¯ll attend, if only as an advisor?¡± I asked and Agnes smiled in response. ¡°Yes. It should not be a problem. I have to depart today, but an hour or two of delay is still acceptable. Maybe even more. We have at least a week until the horde arrives. According to the scouts.¡± Her eyes turned defiant once again. ¡°After all, it would be potentially disastrous for members of the Hawks to be seen manhandling a princess.¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Even if we¡¯re already dead in the eyes of monarchy?¡± I asked a dangerous question. ¡°There are always survivors, Charles.¡± Her blinding smile assured me that Agnes would appear on our little war council. One way or another. She departed immediately and as soon as she left the tent one of the Hawks had emerged from the nearby shadows. A bodyguard. He was a tall, muscular warrior with brown hair and a sharp face. His eyes were a bit sunken in, creating a tired, sleepy impression. There was grace hidden in his effortless moves, as he matched his speed to the princess¡¯ large strides. This type of movement was usually associated with rogues. I wondered where the mage-Hawk disappeared to. It was strange, the one who was supposed to stalk the darkness was instead strolling in the open. And the other, usually gaudy and prideful was instead hiding somewhere. Interesting, but not important at the moment. I moved back to the tent and started my preparations. A shower, quick breakfast, then changing clothes into something more wholesome. The time flew by and an hour later another servant arrived with the information that everything was ready. I moved out. The light blinded me for a second until my eyes adapted. I looked around and started walking towards my destination. The outpost surrounding the dungeon entrance wasn¡¯t really that big. Not much time had passed since its inception and the most popular type of building was still a tent. They varied in size and shape, showing their owner''s wealth and creativity, yet were still dwarfed by the military structures made out of wood. The silvery planks used in their construction weren¡¯t ordinary stuff tirelessly cut and scavenged from the surrounding vegetation. Our alchemists and mages already understood most of the weird flora¡¯s qualities after the countless tests. With them came the discovery that this wood - I hesitated to call it that - was pretty much fireproof and much more durable than materials gathered from ordinary trees. Not beating the stone as a building block, but still... Then there was an unbelievable speed at which it grew back and denied other plants either water or light. Farmers were already complaining that planting the vegetables not native to the silver forest soil was going pretty badly. The monstrous spread aside at least no metallic tree grew outside the circle of purified mana stretching around the outpost and the dungeon. Our food situation was pretty bad, at least sustainability-wise, but adding the supplies that already arrived with the earlier caravans there was a low chance of starvation. We had about 200 warriors and mages, either hailing from my Order, serving in the army, or working as a part of the Adventurers Guild. Besides them, about four hundred-ish people - farmers, woodcutters, hunters, shepherds, cooks et cetera were a part of the first batch of civilians to arrive at our outpost, but similarly - a burden to be considered in times of war. While I debated the viability of my plans our meeting place already appeared before my eyes. I sped up and walked inside a large tent decorated with green and brown, standard military colors. Inside, a few of the most important policymakers were sitting around a wooden table. There were a few empty chairs strewn about, a large candelabra already lit in the middle. It was still morning! I frowned for a moment, lamenting the waste, but decided to focus on the important tasks. And so I spoke. ¡°As you probably know, my name is Charles Blueflame and I am a military commander of the Order of Fates Untold residing in this outpost. I asked all of you here to discuss an emergency that has appeared and to devise countermeasures. There is much to discuss and plan for.¡± I nodded sharply to the gathered and continued without stopping. ¡°First order of business. Introductions. As this is a hastily thrown meeting please give a few words about your position, name, and rank, if applicable.¡± I looked around. ¡°No objections? Good. Let¡¯s start with a person known to everybody present. Princess Agnes Geinard, royalty, adventurer and a leader.¡± I smiled, letting the rest of the table stand up at attention after hearing my words. I noticed that Agnes sat on the best looking chair, nodding slightly to the surrounding people in response to my speech. Her current noble behavior reminded me of a cold mask that she always donned in public. Unlike earlier, she wore her light armor and traveling clothes, clearly ready to leave as soon as our meeting finished. ¡°Gentlemen.¡± She rose for a second and every person in the room froze. Each of them understood at this very moment that the contents of this meeting were going to be something really important. Agnes hummed quietly, returning to her seat, a sharp-faced rogue standing behind her, his sleepy eyes scanning the room. On his chest, a badge depicting bird with widely spread wings made it known that he was a member of the Hawks, Geinard Kingdom secret police. An ungodly amount of daggers, or rather their handles, were sticking out from various parts of his attire. The black armor and pants he wore looked worn, but pricey, a complimenting set with his leather boots. The person sitting closest to her was a muscular soldier, a nasty scar on his face showing certain battle experience. He wore his epaulets with pride. A captain, huh. Seeing him as the highest-ranked army representative meant one of two things - either the earlier battles were intense enough to cull the rest, or he was left behind by his superiors. Seeing a down-to-the-earth commander like him was a positive surprise. I knew how bad the noble leaders tended to be. The plan I was concocting could be described as unusual in the best case. Suicidal in the worst. Seeing the sudden shift of attention the man in question coughed and stood up from his seat. ¡°Captain Molan Duree, temporary commander of Royal Army detachment.¡± He saluted swiftly and sat down, clearly happy to be out of the picture. In the next seat, a rough and hairy man was fighting with the tiredness, his random assortment of weapons and armor clearly showing Adventurers Guild membership. Including the somewhat rusty cleaver, he wore on his belt. His long black hair trembled each time he stifled a yawn¡­ at least he didn¡¯t smell. These unruly monster hunters were infamous for their unwillingness when it came to not caring about the authority or breaking the local laws. I intended to fully make use of this quality. Looking around the dark-haired man stood up, smiling. ¡°Call me Lois. Rusty Blade Lois is my full moniker, but I don¡¯t expect anybody here to use it.¡± ¡°Guild Master Lois, then?¡± I asked. ¡°I guess so. The old man bit the dust and since I¡¯m next in line¡­¡± He scratched his head, red, tired eyes peering from behind unruly hair. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel real.¡± Saying this he returned back to his seat. The next person had a heavy smell of herbs wafting around him, wore a conservative robe, a staff and weird, helmet-like head armor. Various symbols were strewn on the dark violet clothing, symbolizing power, luck, and nature. A few locks of grey hair escaped from under the material and piercingly blue eyes stared accusingly at every person present. ¡°Master Vincent.¡± Whispered Adam. ¡°He wasn¡¯t very happy that I dragged him back here from his experiments.¡± I simply nodded and turned my gaze towards the man in question. Seeing this he sighed audibly and stood up. ¡°My name is Vincent and I really hope that you can explain this¡­ barbarism.¡± He snorted and his gaze pierced my butler, making him twitch. ¡°Otherwise there will be¡­ consequences.¡± He sat down, ignoring the presence of royalty. In the corner of the eye, I saw the Hawk¡¯s rogue twitching angrily, but a single, nearly silent no stopped him in his tracks. Seeing this I bowed slightly towards Agnes, a small dismissive glance being her answer. We all wear masks. I mused, waiting for the next person. Only two more were left. Unlike their predecessors, they were clearly overwhelmed and felt out of place. One of them had a large build with bright eyes and a bald head. His hands clearly had signs of hard labor and while he wore his best clothing - a strange combination of blue leather pants and white cotton shirt it was clear that he was very nervous. Sensing the appraising eyes he swallowed hard while trying to stand up. Trying being operative word, as he hit the wooden table with his leg, hissing in visible pain. Then, forcing himself to stand, he started to speak. ¡°Tom is my name, d-dear lords and ladies. I am a l-leader of the carpenter team and as such the civilians r-representative.¡± He bowed deeply, his bald head smoothly polished. ¡°I was told that issues of great importance will be discussed here.¡± He gulped audibly. ¡°And as such, I was told to r-retell them my neighbors¡¯ and colleagues.¡± He bowed once again and sat down, clearly happy that his speech wasn¡¯t stopped. Or that he didn¡¯t have to leave. A peasant in the company of noblemen and even royalty. What a time to be alive¡­ The last one was a slim and delicate young man with just enough gold on his person to pass for a noble. He wore strange, skin-tight clothing made from monster¡¯s leather. Normally such brown attire would be seen as humble, but knowing the price of any monster¡¯s material might change that impression. His eyes gazed upon the rest of the gathering, while he unconsciously played with one of his rings - depicting a snake eating its own tail. On his head, a circular cap with a feather was sitting, mostly covering unruly bronze hair. Seeing our gazes he coughed in embarrassment and stood up. ¡°Merchant Outeles Kamap, from the Dross Republic is pleased to make acquaintances.¡± He also bowed deeply, but with a different feel than his predecessor. I sighed quietly, internally yelling at Adam. Why did you get a foreigner?! This is a Geinard¡¯s Kingdom affair?! ¡°I hope that you can explain the sudden summons, sir Charles. This humble merchant has a lot to do around the new dungeon.¡± Despite sounding humble I could sense the irritation at my request to talk. I guess he was thinking that the Order wanted to implement some policy, maybe a tax? And just to spite his small-scale thinking I started with a bomb. ¡°According to the Kingdom¡¯s scouts, we have about two weeks before a large army of Fallen Tribes goblins and orcs arrive at our location.¡± I inhaled. ¡°We have no reinforcements, an order to defend this position and our enemies have numerical superiority. At least five to one.¡± A smile emerged on my lips. ¡°Now. Who has any suggestions as to how to survive this deathtrap?¡± I stared at them for a long while and as soon as they understood that it wasn¡¯t a distasteful joke all hell broke loose. 042 Charles Blueflame A pandemonium. That was the one word I would use for this situation. There were only a few people in the tent, so the ease with which they filled the place with the stench of despair was a bit surprising. They each reacted differently - talking over each other, changing expressions or simply staring blankly, yet no matter what they did it was clearly in order to cope with a harsh reality. All their arm-flailing, spit-flinging notions were a reaction to the oncoming specter of death. A total panic. It was perfectly understandable though. The enemy we were forced to face was no ordinary army - an opponent that could be reasoned with, maybe even bribed. Something within our limited comprehension. No. It was more like a force of nature - cruel and unforgiving. A horde made up from an unruly mass of tribals, monsters and wild mages. What¡¯s worse, unlike any other troop, their focus wasn¡¯t claiming territory, gathering riches or defeating the enemy in combat. Instead, their army was like a cloud of locust, focused on devouring all that was alive. Nobody could escape their grasp, be it a simple animal, a guard of the merchant caravan or wandering high noble. This meant that a bigger and more delicious target - like our outpost for example - would never be overlooked. The dungeon expanding its influence was a clear giveaway, but even without it, a few hundred souls stood out like a sore thumb in the desolate northern wilderness. After all, the rest of this place was devoid of life and littered with ruins, baring an occasional tainted lake. With the horde coming, various raiding parties would form and spread around like wildfire, greedily searching for easier targets, leaving no stone unturned in their zeal. Many called such hordes a disease and their raiders were really like tendrils of illness desiring a piece of clean flesh to devour. Any escaping civilians would be their prime targets, but the reasons for the hunt varied. Some of the invaders simply craved carnage, others cared about harvesting our mana cores or enslaving the civilized races. Yet the worst among them were the ones who had completely turned into animals. Both their bodies and minds turned grotesque, deformed and demented. Yet they were not always that way. Not many knew or cared to remember nowadays, but the orcs, goblins, trolls, lizardmen, beastkin and all the other fallen races were once as civilized and organized as the Northern Alliance. It was the corruption that turned them into monsters, raising the strength of their senses, muscle power and reaction times. This created a type of predator craving both challenge and meat, relying on their wild instinct to lead them from one feeding ground to another. Only the most powerful mages and warriors could contend with them. Rare individuals or parties comprised of veterans could also defend against their assault. For the rest of us mortals, the only way to even have a chance to survive was to make sure we had the sheer numbers needed to overwhelm them. Something we didn¡¯t have right now. That was why, despite having services of the experienced Hawks at his disposal, the king decided to unhesitatingly abandon the outpost and save his daughter instead. The land could be always reclaimed, the royal blood - not so much. Even then the chances of survival of both princess and her companions weren¡¯t that much greater than ours. Worse even, each hour of delay diminished them even more. It was because of this fact that Agnes'' bodyguard was visibly fuming, his eyes drilling holes in my back. At least he kept his expression neutral so only I and master mage Vincent noticed his burning impatience. I focused my attention on the people present. Their state of mind was important. I needed to collect enough pawns to carry out my defense plan. In order to do that I needed to gather both their attention and support. They knew that their lives were in danger. I observed their reactions, gauging them against earlier knowledge. Having a capable butler like Adam was really a blessing. ¡°No! How¡¯s that possible?¡± Moaned Dross merchant Outeles while cradling his head. An extravagant cap he was wearing earlier already ended up on the floor - forgotten. It was clear that the man had understood how grave the situation was. Like every trader worth his salt he had loyal men guarding his goods and people, but¡­ it was clear for anybody that his control would slip the moment that news about the horde went public. Such were the hearts of men. ¡°-------!¡± Tom, the civilian representative was silent, clearly too shocked for the words to escape his mouth. He hyperventilated, his bald head full of sweat, eyes darting, hoping that it was all just a cruel noble¡¯s joke. It wasn¡¯t. I never saw a man who could sweat so much, his handkerchief already damp and dirty. It was quite disgusting to watch, noble sensibilities or not. And yet I rejoiced. His fear was useful. It made him predictable. The people he represented were a burden. Weight to be left behind in order to survive. And since I was planning to be their savior, they should latch on tightly. Good. While the rest of the representatives were also agitated, their reactions seemed muted compared to the civilians. A clear divide between powerful and powerless. Captain Molan Duree was mumbling something to himself. It might have been a tic, but he kept rubbing the handle of his sword. A simple, iron thing used by ordinary soldiers. It looked weird on the officer¡¯s waist. His face seemed full of worry, but also radiated the feeling of strange confidence. I could barely hear words like ¡°last defensive line¡±, ¡°a heart of the warrior¡± and ¡°show them our worth¡±. I miscalculated. The captain seemed like a weak man at first, left for dead by his superiors and easily pushed around by his peers. Unexpectedly there seemed to be something else here instead, a wild, unbound spirit. It would be hard to convince him to stop worrying and just follow behind my back. And yet I would have to try. On the other hand Guild Master Lois was smiling creepily. It was a strange reaction to the news that a bloody battle and probable annihilation was near. Was he a battle maniac then? That would fit the bill, but he sure didn¡¯t seem like one. I guess appearances could be deceiving¡­ I was sure that as the survivor of the Adventuring Guild higher-ups he would be more concerned about his life. If I remembered correctly his caravan was ambushed by the rats native to the dungeon, culling the unwary adventurers. The defenders let their guard down, thinking them a common and weak monster. They were however damn clever and organized, managing to turn the tables on their unsuspecting foe. It was probably the first time that the aggressiveness of the dungeon¡¯s creatures worked in my favor. The negotiations with the old fogeys would be impossible, but with Lois? There was a chance. He was young, brash, and much too impulsive. Should I manage to appeal to his wild side he and his vagabonds would become my sla-allies. And last, but not least there was Master Vincent. The old man was so scary that I even called him with a big ¡°M¡± in my thoughts. Was this the difference in levels or something else? Who knew¡­ Anyway, he led his own troupe of combat mages, a rarity in the Geinard Kingdom. Most if not all people born with magic cores were after all promptly recruited after discovering their ability, becoming a part of either army, special forces, noble retinues or various public organizations. Because of that fact, the people following the old mage were a rare breed. And pretty much the only wizard troop in the outpost, not counting a dozen or two of Royal Army mages. Sadly their levels and experience were completely incomparable. My Order also had a few, but we faced the same problem. The man in question was just staring blankly ahead, thinking about something very hard. His wizened face scrunched in thought as he scratched the weird-looking cap on his head every so often. His mumbles were much quieter than those produced by Captain Duree and completely unrecognizable. However, as he noticed my gaze the old mage smiled toothily and nodded. A clear indication that at least one person in this room understood why I had gathered them all today. Master Vincent was calm. So calm that I started to suspect that he was in possession of some kind of life-saving artifact. Maybe a legendary teleportation stone? Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. What I would give for such power... Not good. My thoughts were swimming. No distractions! I needed to focus on the present and so did the people in the room. I clapped my hands loudly, gathering their attention. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen! I didn¡¯t gather you here without a solution. I have a plan for all of us to survive this calamity and even bite back at our enemies!¡± My words, especially the latter ones lit the fire in the military men¡¯s eyes. ¡°I would very like to hear about this plan of yours, good sire!¡± Shouted Captain Duree and Guild Master Lois nodded fiercely to his words. ¡°Yes. Any plan that gives us a chance at survival is a good plan!¡± He smiled widely. Huh. So he was not just a bloodthirsty idiot. ¡°Then¡­¡± ¡°There is only one thing I¡¯m concerned with, sir.¡± Molan decided to interrupt me. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked back. ¡°Why are they here?¡± He asked while pointing towards Tom and Outeles. ¡°I believe that or talks will be of the military nature and as such the presence of a civilian and a foreign merchant are uncalled for.¡± His last words were full of poison as he directed his derogatory gaze at the two men in question. Bald Tom only lowered his head, a somewhat comical sight for a man as large and muscular as him. It reminded me of a child being scolded by his mother. The merchant on the other hand only sighed and started to talk back. ¡°Listen, you----¡± ¡°They¡¯re here because I need their help, captain.¡± I interrupted coldly, becoming once again a target of their shocked gazes. ¡°W-what do you mean?¡± The soldier answered, clearly forgetting his manners because of the surprise. ¡°Our armed forces are the unbreakable shield behind which the common people of Geinard Kingdom can take shelter!¡± ¡°And what would you propose should be their fate in this situation?¡± I asked, knowing what he alluded to. ¡°They should escape while they can and leave the outpost defense to us!¡± He proclaimed boldly, squeezing a frightened gasp from Tom¡¯s mouth. It was a nice way to say that they should fend for themselves. Considering the advancing horde they would become a distraction and probably also nourishment for the incoming enemies. I considered this possibility, but the cons simply outweigh the pros. ¡°The civilians are a precious workforce and militia material.¡± I answered, with a small smirk on my face. ¡°Workforce? For what?¡± Captain Duree asked, clearly confused. ¡°Sir.¡± He added after a second. ¡°Where do you want to defend then, captain?¡± I asked incredulously. He can¡¯t be that stupid. ¡°Ummm¡­ in the field?¡± ¡°While the battle would be a glorious one we would get certainly annihilated.¡± Snorted Lois, while inspecting the nasty piece of rusted iron he called a sword. Or was it a cleaver? ¡°That is true. And since we have a lot of materials¡­¡± I tapped one of the chairs made from the local silvery flora. ¡°I see.¡± My gaze turned toward Tom. ¡°We would gladly take part in your plan, sir!¡± He shouted loudly eliciting a lot of wry expressions from other people. And one not so loud curse. ¡°My people will volunteer for the defensive duty too!¡± He added while bowing deeply, his bald, shiny head dripping with sweat. ¡°The merchant then, sir?¡± Captain Duree asked, half-convinced. ¡°I ask you, Outeles Kamap, lend us a hand in this time of crisis, according to the Northern Alliance tenets.¡± I asked formally while staring at the young man from the Dross Republic. He calmed down considerably, seeing the other¡¯s focusing on the future. My words straightened his back even more. ¡°I will aid you, sir, to the best of my ability. What would you have me do?¡± The fancy hat was still lying on the ground, but the man himself seemed more focused than before. Well, a vision of certain death would do that to anybody. ¡°Tw-Three things I need of you.¡± I lifted my fingers in the air. ¡°Your guards and your cargo will be merged into the defensive effort.¡± ¡°A chance at life can¡¯t be bought for no amount of gold.¡± He smiled, before muttering half-audibly. ¡°At least against these unholy beasts.¡± ¡°Good.¡± I nodded. ¡°I also need you!¡± ¡°What?!¡± It was the calm Agnes that suddenly stood up like her ass was on fire. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± She seemed angry. ¡°I need a person to manage our stockpiles, princess? An accountant of sorts¡­?¡± I asked falteringly, seeing her furious glow dissipate in the air like it was never there. ¡°Is that so? Then continue.¡± She nodded, suddenly calm. I was left disoriented¡­ surely she hasn¡¯t thought that I changed my orientation¡­ I thought incredulously. Mentally shaking my head and bowing slightly towards her I continued. ¡°Then there is also Adventurer¡¯s Guild and Master Vincent¡¯s mages---¡± ¡°We¡¯ll follow.¡± Lois was one to interrupt me and before a frown started to form on my face another person spoke. ¡°My disciples and I will also help. It was a long time since I was in a scuffle, but we should do fine. There is however something else that intrigues me. That plan of yours. So don¡¯t delay and tell us all about it.¡± Master Vincent was staring at me with his clear eyes, playing with the gorgeous embroidery decorating hem of his robe. ¡°Yes. I will so. But before that, I need to ask you a simple, but important question.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°How durable are dungeon walls?¡± ¡°Strong enough to withstand the force of fireball, but not the pickaxe¡¯ endless toil.¡± Old mage answered in a poetic fashion. ¡°I see.¡± I mumbled, before continuing. ¡°Then¡­ how strong are they from outside?¡± ¡°THAT¡¯S ENOUGH!¡± A stern voice interrupted my questioning. ¡°Any destruction of the Kingdom property - the dungeon included - is forbidden by the royal law!¡± Agnes'' bodyguard suddenly barged into our conversation, his face full of fury. ¡°Cease this foolishness at once, noble, or your family and everybody present will face the consequences!¡± He bellowed. I was surprisingly calm, eyeing his armed form. ¡°And who you are to lay this claim?¡± ¡°My name is Korn and I am one of the Hawks!¡± He declared proudly. ¡°And what is your military rank in the Hawks, Korn?¡± ¡°I am a corporal!¡± He answered, his voice wavering a bit. ¡°Then I guess you also know that when addressing a noble one has to adhere to the proper protocol?¡± I asked back, my words full of venom. ¡°Unless you¡¯re a noble yourself?¡± ¡°I-I am not.¡± ¡°I see. Then once again, on whose authority are you ordering us to cease planning?¡± ¡°O-on authority of the K-kingdom¡­¡± He answered warily, sensing a trap. ¡°And who gave you this authority?¡± ¡°I-I am a Hawk!¡± ¡°And I am a NOBLE. So tell me, little peasant, what gives you permission to interrupt, when your betters are speaking?!¡± I shouted. ¡°A mere corporal, eh?!¡± ¡°B-----!¡± ¡°Silence!¡± It was my show now. ¡°Who do you think you are, coward?¡± ¡°I am no coward!¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re not? Then I suppose we will see you on the battlefield, helping to keep this place free from Fallen Tribes scum?¡± I provoked. It was too easy. The man might be a high-level rogue, but he engaged in political debate, where a goal was not the truth, but beating your opponent. ¡°I-I have orders! There isn¡¯t much I can do about that!¡± Good, he keeps discrediting himself. What a find. ¡°Then did your orders also include helping with the outpost defense?¡± ¡°N-no.¡± ¡°Were you invited to this meeting at all?¡± ¡°I came as the princess¡¯ bodyguard!¡± ¡°I need no bodyguard.¡± Calmly replied Agnes. Nice save! ¡°You came here on your own, corporal, insisting that I was in danger. On your own volition.¡± She emphasized and in response, the rogue shrank under her cold gaze. ¡°So to summarize. Corporal Korn intruded on his own on the secret defense meeting and managed to insult not only a Kingdom¡¯s noble but also Kingdom¡¯s own princess! What do you have to say in your defense?!¡± I shouted, the crux of the matter already shifting from using the dungeon in my scheme towards his lack of authority to order us anything. ¡°B-but, the law----!¡± He still tried, stuttering words failing him time and time again. ¡°A message from the capital said that we should do whatever is necessary to keep this place defended. Are you saying that your word precedes in importance Royal Army directives?!¡± ¡°I---!¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± Said Agnes and nodded in confirmation. ¡°Leave. Just¡­ leave.¡± I said tiredly. ¡°Before I send the message asking for your dishonorable discharge from the Hawks. You made enough mistakes today.¡± Seeing my iron gaze Korn swallowed dryly and retreated, before bowing deeply towards the royalty. ¡°Haaaaa¡­ That was tiresome.¡± I eyed the remaining people. ¡°Now, let¡¯s start talking again. Without interruptions this time.¡± Under my scrutiny, the men straightened their backs, while Agnes smiled warmly. The first battle was won. Now only to implement my plan¡­ and survive. 043 Uno I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the adventurers left my domain. It was only a few hours later, but for a dungeon core any intruders, not to mention these monsters were a nerve-wracking experience. Especially since I could only wait and listen, absorbing random bobs and bits of knowledge from their conversations. After that ended, I was observing how the dying thief was doing. Yup, Tinna was dying. I was no doctor, but her grisly cough, pale face and slowly changing skin were easy symptoms to analyze. The verdict was a slow and painful death. I guess the constant loss of blood and the two destroyed limbs contributed to her current state. It didn¡¯t help that she was also mumbling constantly, begging some non-existent entity for mercy and recounting¡­ her siblings? I think? Her speech was so chaotic and erratic that it was hard to fish out facts from behind all her delusions. A shame too, since something has been done to her by Gangria. She even called her a present! I felt like an owner of a pet turtle who helplessly watched its demise¡­ because the stupid thing bit an electrical cable and got fried. Tinna¡¯s breath was slowing down, heavy and laborious when the sentients left my halls. I instantly repopulated the whole place with Lebirs and Ratlings - and in return, I felt like my hidden urge was quenched. It was satisfying, like taking a piss after keeping it in for too long. The only problem was that while my weaker monsters appeared immediately the same couldn¡¯t be said about Decapitator, Jailer Jonathan or Guardian. It was a logical thing according to many games I played - especially MMO¡¯s, but why it was happening in the real-life?! The only explanation I could find was that since they were boss-like characters then maybe their ¡°schematic¡± was written somewhere in my core or the dungeon as a whole and because of that they ¡°respawned¡± by using ambient mana? This theory was as good as any other since I didn¡¯t have any way to check it. Well, any safe way to check it. Not with the sapients breathing down my neck. It was a dangerous thing since the first floor without them was ripe for the taking. Of course, any invader stupid enough to step on the second level would get annihilated by the Lebir Exploders. I also needed to have a serious talk with the Guardian. Both about his constant silence and how to use him as my living megaphone. He was after all pretty much the only being in my dungeon capable of directly talking with me and anyone present, be it sentient or rat. Guardian was currently my only connection to the outside world, at least until both I and the said world managed to learn the squeaky-tongue used by the Ratlings. But that serious talk was a thing for later. Right now I was waiting and observing Tinna¡¯s slow demise. Almost three-fourths of her skin turned grey. I predicted that when the process finished she would simply¡­ die. It was frustrating. There was a source of new knowledge, new power right beside me. And there was nothing I could do to devour it! Nothing, but wait. But of course, I wouldn¡¯t just sit down with my (non-existent) arms crossed! There was always something to do! My first order of business was strengthening the Guardian¡¯s room, making it much sturdier. The last battle that happened inside changed my concept of ¡°reinforced¡±. Those with high levels or powerful magic could very well literally break my walls and dig down, towards the dungeon core. I briefly wondered why nobody did so. The next problem were the cables used by the Guardian to hook him up to my system. There should be an option to make them stronger. During the last battle, they were broken relatively easy, which in turn made him vulnerable and ultimately led to his demise. My first choice was to use metal or even rock, but it would end up in a straight pole, severely limiting Guardian¡¯s mobility. He would be like a circus pony - walking in circles, while kept on a tight leash. This would undoubtedly cripple him in combat. In the end, I decided on making a large amount of small, metal tubes containing the cables. They would clatter, ring and weren¡¯t really that sturdy, but I simply didn¡¯t have any better ideas. So I left the problem alone and pretended it didn¡¯t exist. A true and tested technique. Afterward, I asked the rats to bring me some cloth, food, and water for the prisoner. She didn¡¯t eat or drink that much, but a change of bandages should do her some good. I also didn¡¯t just take from the Ratlings. Lately, we established a barter system between us - to try something more than a master-servant relationship. The currency we used was simply¡­ Anima crystals. Normally one would say that using my somewhat special power more and more was just tempting fate, but the cost of creating these crystals was surprisingly minuscule. I was sure, at first, that they would draw much more of my energy, but under the constant nagging of the Rattling Queen, I summoned one as an experiment. And she promptly swallowed it whole. I was both shocked by her behavior and by how cheap the thing was. But the price was always relative to scarcity, so the green, sleek shards of crystal I produced were valued greatly by the ratkind. So the trade continued. Why I even bother with this? Mostly because of my belief that hard work had to be valued in any society. And partially because the Ratlings were steadily moving towards the theocratic model and it was scaring me. If I had to contend with the rat crusades¡­ The addition of good, clean, free-market should do wonders for their rigid caste system creating a chance for the truly ingenious to rise to the top. As to what they were using my Anima for? I didn¡¯t want to know. Not after the said Ratling Queen spewed green bubbling fluid from her mouth, while the surrounding rats worked themselves into a frenzy in order to drink that vile thing¡­ Yeah. While my appetite for normal food as a dungeon core was non-existent, such sights still grated on my nerves, so I chose to avoid them. Back to more pleasant topics. I knew that the Underground Lake on the second floor had an outflow, which ended up somewhere in the wastes. Probably. What surprised me however was that a small troop of Ratlings managed to leave and return through the underground river. Sure, some perished in the process, but the prolific little buggers already organized another expedition in the unknown, preparing canoes made from ax conifers and oars carved from ironbark. There was a party at the shore, just beyond the reach of the Glass Progenitor and they even took a few of the Ironflame Rats with them. And a¡­ canoe aircraft carrier? A large (by rat standards), flatboat with two of their tamed Dragonflies wobbling precariously on the deck. It was interesting. At that moment I really regretted not knowing their language. Well, one more thing to consider in the future. Sadly, while I was admiring their spirit another wave of sentients barged into the dungeon. They were different than the earlier team though. For one they moved in groups of ten or twelve people, with measured, soldiery steps. Pretty much every single invader was armed with a spear and a shield while wearing leather armor laced with few pieces of metal. And a leather helmet. Their leader wore a similar outfit, but with much more metal added, a fancier helmet and a sword on his waist. He rarely drew it though, content to shouting out the commands. Unlike unruly adventurers, they instead walked in a formation - both as a team and as a whole group, with one of the dozens leading the way and the others guarding the retreat path. Their coordination was so good, that they simply mowed down my Lebirs. They weren¡¯t much help when deprived of the boss¡¯ help, but a few managed to get a hit or two in. It was then when I noticed a tired-faced healer that I understood that these were the professional soldiers. As if to show me their true worth despite a great beginning humans marched forward with cautious enthusiasm. Still, they didn¡¯t overextend. They rotated, diligently making sure that each of their little teams changed the vanguard just after one battle. Their pace relaxed for a moment when most of my minions on the first floor were slaughtered and a laugh or even a small whistle randomly escaped from their otherwise tense faces. They blitzed forward, but not before losing two of their number to my hallway traps. A great difference between automatic ones and those operated by the Ratlings. Experienced Ratlings may I add. The invaders'' energy was added to my reserves - tasty, but nothing special. Half-orc Boulder was like well-smoked pork. These people were just potatoes. Filling, but still potatoes. Without salt. It was when they arrived near the Forge and the now-empty Guardian¡¯s room that I really tensed up. On the first floor, I didn¡¯t have any real chance to retaliate, due to my mind¡¯ crystallization, but once they stepped down¡­ Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. I would remind them what hell was. Too bad they steered clear from the stairs. I guess that meant that my Guardian revival would finish unimpeded? The three groups left scouts every ten or so meters, which in turn lowered their numbers to only a group of seven. These people unhesitatingly entered the Smith Golem lair. It was rather bad on my nerves - that surety with which they moved. At least each step they took was full of wariness, even though the room was mostly empty. There was only one thing moving - an untiring if crude smith dancing between four points - the barrel of ores, electric forge, anvil, and finished goods pile. Their fascination at the bizarre sight lasted for a moment. Then one of them broke the silence. ¡°Whew¡­ I didn¡¯t believe them at first, you know?¡± He spoke to nobody in particular, absorbing the red-hot sight before his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a golem righty-o.¡± Spoke another. ¡°And it¡¯s¡­ smithing.¡± ¡°Rare.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t stare, people! We have a job to do!¡± A team leader spoke loudly, clapping his hands to get everybody¡¯s attention. This worked, but he didn¡¯t bet on the golem also closing by. It stopped its endless cycle and turned the armored head towards the source of the noise. New visitors. Usually, the golem would ignore all that wasn¡¯t new kind of metal or some unusual material, so I too didn¡¯t know what happened. But it moved. The bile-golem strode towards the now speechless humans, its sturdy knight frame peering over their figures. They just waited, looking at the metal man''s reaction. Not all of them though, as one of the humans was currently hyperventilating. The rest had their hands on the handles of their weapons, slowly drawing the blades and pommels from their sheaths. Ready to pounce. The tense moment lasted only a few seconds before golem returned to its routine. The humans exhaled collectively as their bodies relaxed. ¡°T-that was scary!¡± Whispered one of them, still clutching his weapon. Light gleamed off the sword¡¯s blade. ¡°It¡¯s because our boss decided to scream so loudly!¡± Another added, sending an angry glance towards the apologetic leader. ¡°My bad.¡± The person in question answered wryly while combing his hair. ¡°There was nothing in the report about its sensitivity to noise. Anyway¡­ let¡¯s continue! Remember your training!¡± He shouted the last words while still whispering, eliciting a choir of angry responses. ¡°¡±¡±Shut up!¡±¡±¡± ¡°Sorry¡­¡± The leader¡¯s voice trailed off as the golem started to hit the pieces of metal with his hammer. The loud noises instantly making communication harder. ¡°Remember why we are here.¡± He continued with a calm expression. ¡°Ade, Jin take the already made items and haul them back to the surface. The militia will have a need for them. Norn and Edward are to wait until the golem processes more ores. Gather them and send a runner back. The next shift will be ready in six hours, so try to keep alert until then.¡± The men nodded and spread out according to the orders given. Very professional¡­ except for one word of his little speech that caught my attention. Militia. What do they need the militia for? I had a bad feeling about this¡­ wasn¡¯t I the only target around here?! The team leader continued, ignoring my mute confusion. ¡°The rest with me. We¡¯re returning to the surface.¡± ¡°Do we need to remind our living lamps to not move during their shift?¡± ¡°There is no need. They¡¯re professionals. And they know what is at stake.¡± ¡°I see. Then how about a little incursion?¡± A large, muscular man hauling a great shield smiled wildly. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that there is a fork in the road that still wasn¡¯t explored.¡± ¡°No.¡± The answer was short and concise. ¡°We¡¯re part of the Royal Army. This is no time for leisure. And what you¡¯re proposing is even worse. Insubordination!¡± ¡°B-but¡­ the money! And nobody will know.¡± The giant pleaded. ¡°No means no, Saiki. Do you want to get replaced, by some Adventurer¡¯s Guild crony?¡± ¡°Never!¡± The soldier straightened his back. ¡°Then shut up and let¡¯s hurry. The miners should be on the way.¡± I still watched as the group quickly returned back to the first-floor entrance, expertly avoiding the traps and making sure any of the dark corridors didn¡¯t hide an ambush. It was then when I noticed what the words meant. Miners would be coming. I had the option of creating various metal ores on my dungeon walls, but it treated it as a waste of space. After all, it would¡¯ve made me a real asset to exploit, while helping the sentients to produce weapons and armor locally. I much preferred that each gram of iron to be painfully transported from somewhere else. That¡¯s why my walls were either made of rock or bricks. And covered in the dungeon flora. Useless for the miners. I started to wonder if the people mining walls of my dungeon would be dangerous? Painful? Now that I thought about it my real dungeon core was still on the first floor¡­ what if they accidentally found it?! Shit! Emergency! Should I move my core? Assault the invaders, or simply wait for my monsters to respawn? And only then stomp on them?! While I panicked the decision was made for me. A large group of muscular, but dirty men descended from the stairs while being led by an even larger, more muscular and bald man. They all carried pickaxes with them, slowly stomping down the already well-trodden road. Wearing only boots, pants and long shirts with sturdy leather gloves made them easy to recognize, considering that everyone else was both armed and armored. Unhesitatingly they turned left, faced the wall and immediately started to take measurements. They chatted during work and I listened. ¡°Mister Tom, yer sure we should be doing dis?¡± Asked one of them, larger and dirtier than the rest. ¡°There¡¯s not much choice, my friend. We either do this or we go back to the Kingdom. On foot.¡± A tense expression appeared on his face, while drops of sweat curled on his brow. ¡°T¡¯ats a suicide if yer asks me!¡± The miner answered, spitting on the ground. ¡°I agree. So between certain death and some unpaid labor and a possibility of survival¡­¡± ¡°I und¡¯stand boss!¡± The man nodded as the rest of his subordinates finished their work, standing at the ready. ¡°Listen up, people!¡± Bald Tom shouted while unfurling something that looked like a map of my dungeon. With a few red lines showing future expansions. ¡°We have a job to do! A very important job! Our little outpost needs a fallback position and we¡¯re going to provide one!¡± He smiled. ¡°So work hard, follow the rules and we¡¯re going to be fine.¡± ¡°Sure, boss!¡± ¡°Diggin¡¯, diggin¡¯.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s get to it!¡± Hearing his words of encouragement the miners rushed forward, quickly destroying the dungeon wall and creating new, open space in shape of the funnel - wider in the beginning and smaller in the end. ¡°Is this wise, boss? Won¡¯t t¡¯dungeon get angry at¡¯s?¡± Mumbled the sub-leader. ¡°According to Master Charles, it¡¯s the other way around. As soon as we finish these new rooms the mana contained on this floor will rush to claim them.¡± He pointed towards the niche they were working on - which was already two meters deep. They sure were fast, these humans. ¡°In the long run, this will make the dungeon stronger.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s a good ting?¡± ¡°Stronger dungeon means better loot. And more materials.¡± He sighed. ¡°Maybe even this smith golem that the Swords of Hope had found would experience an evolution. And produce more than this garbage.¡± He lifted up a metal¡­ rod? No. It was a dagger, I think. Probably made by the bile-golem working the forge. Only it would make a blunt dagger. It didn¡¯t even have a stabby point! ¡°Why, boss?¡± ¡°Because the larger floor means more mana. And more mana means more energy to use - for casting spells when it comes to humans or for evolving regarding monsters.¡± He stopped. ¡°That¡¯s why it''s normally forbidden to expand the levels. Dungeon cores learn to gain more power that way and once they try it again and again¡­¡± Tom shook his head. ¡°They often self-destruct.¡± Oh. So they did know about the space limitations imposed on each floor. Wait. Wasn¡¯t that bad? They¡¯re forcefully making me exceed the said limit. But what can I do? The entire floor had crystalized, not really reacting to my orders. Haaaah¡­ let¡¯s just wait and see. Preferably no self-destruction will happen. I hope. During my internal monologue, the miners already managed to create a few meters long corridor, slowly digging deeper and deeper into the rock. Their movements were looking pretty chaotic from the outside, all the laughing, screaming and huffing at each other¡¯s, but there was no denying their skills. As soon as the first group of workers started to get tired another thirty people descended and seamlessly replaced them. Their work continued uninterrupted and more tunnels and small rooms were being added - some clearly ambush spots for their soldiers. Adding all this room gave me a strange feeling. Like my body was being stretched - a rubber band. Not so much as to break, but I was getting there. The worst part, however, was that there weren¡¯t any active cameras in this new expansion! The deeper they went the less I could see! Inexcusable! This was my dungeon! I immediately roused the surrounding Bone Lichen to claim the new territory. ¡°Uwaaaah!¡± One of the miners shouted seeing a greedy plant growing quickly in plain sight. He raised his pickaxe and prepared to strike. ¡°STOP!¡± A loud scream held him in his tracks. ¡°Don¡¯t touch it!¡± ¡°B-but it¡¯s movin¡¯! Like a livin¡¯ ting!¡± The man shouted back, still eyeing my creation. ¡°It¡¯s a normal, living being. Born in the dungeon though.¡± It was the bald Tom who screamed the earlier order to cease the attack. ¡°The dungeon is claiming any free space. Leave it be. It¡¯s not even dangerous.¡± ¡°Is not?¡± ¡°Yup. These little guys gather water and can be used to slake your thirst.¡± He petted the plant, a large, bone-looking tube already grown on its side and full of water. With a slight exertion, he broke it off, twisting the ¡°cap¡± on its upper part and swallowed down the liquid inside. ¡°Aaaah. Nice and cold. Remember it. Your life may depend on the little suckers.¡± ¡°¡°Yes, sir!¡±¡± The people around him nodded and returned to work. I too decided that observing was not enough. Right now the new tunnels were being made by both the Ratlings and my mana. I was preparing a space to install my new cameras. While I couldn¡¯t directly interfere with the sapients peeping on them was always an option. Even while doing all this one of my artificial eyes was always focused on the Guardian¡¯s room - the one that humans curiously avoided. I didn¡¯t know why until a few snippets of their conversations informed me of the deep fear they carried. Fear spread wide by the adventurers who came before. It was logical, after all, that the average adventurers and soldiers would avoid the place where their champions nearly lost their lives. Regrettable though. The potatoes weren¡¯t that bad when you were starving. Even without salt. My second project was a bit bolder. I started to dig a tunnel starting at the second floor Lebir barracks, aiming to breach the surface in the shortest way possible. While my first floor was out of the question I didn¡¯t feel any compulsion to stop, so¡­ it was allowed? For a core to have an escape route? The tunnel twisted and twirled, connecting with a various rat made under-roads and climbing higher and higher. I cautiously avoided already existing rooms and branched a single tendril in the direction of the surface. There was a strange sound when I breached the soil, like air escaping a balloon, but it stopped as soon as the entrance had been covered with a rock, courtesy of the surface Ratlings. And then a smallish, but nimble copper wire started to extend from my network, a shy Ratling dragging an artificial eyeball staggering just behind it. It was high time to see what the sentients were up to at the surface. Earlier my minions tried to describe what was happening there, but being restricted to a sign language and without using any abstract terms it wasn¡¯t going so great. Not to mention that often the Ratlings weren¡¯t able to understand what they were seeing. Something was going on and I was very interested in joining in the fun. Not to mention I would go for some pork right about now. 044 Uno Everything was ready. My network of wires curled just under the surface, more and more strands of metal pushing the soft soil back, like a plant eager to grow and blossom. My Ratling helper was standing nearby, breathing heavily after all that hauling. The artificial eye wasn¡¯t that big, but dragging it through the tunnels was awkward at best. Not an easy job for anyone, rats included. Ignoring the wheezing presence I began my work in earnest, merging the singular wires into a lattice capable of keeping the camera upright. The stalk thickened, copper growing rigid - within reason of course. I wasn¡¯t able to energize it as I did with the iron, nor was there a need to do so. Then I tried to connect the eye-camera to the metal, delicate wires sliding in and out of the near-biological construct. I got it right only after a few tries, a sudden influx of information heralding my success. It was a bit wobbly, like a scoop of ice cream perched in a cone, but I could see well enough. And so an eye-flower was born. Now to only seed it all over the world... Just kidding. I laughed briefly and stopped wasting time on idle thoughts. Instead, my focus turned towards pushing the stalk through the brown soil, slowly moving closer to the surface. The ground gave away easily until inevitably I bumped into a rock. This forced me to change the direction of my ascent, and since a straight way up wasn¡¯t viable anymore I tried to change it to about a 45-degree angle instead. The force I exerted rose time and time again until I felt the roots appear all around, a clear sign that I was closing in on my goal. A few seconds later and my efforts were rewarded with a beautiful sight - a beam of light that cut through the darkness. It was a different sight than I was used to. Both the color and its intensity were much warmer and seemed in a way more natural when compared to the cold lighting I was using underground. This pretty much screamed to me life, life, there¡¯s life here! That¡¯s why I was surprised when the eye-camera opened completely and I was greeted by similar plants to the ones that were growing all over my own dungeon. Weird... Wait¡­ Taking a closer look... they weren¡¯t simply similar. More like identical! How did they even get up here? I remember Ratlings describing a grove of trees present aboveground, but hearing about it and seeing it directly were two different things. Mostly because I imagined them to be of a ¡°normal¡± variety, not the silvery types that I made. To make matters worse I was still trying to get used to the change in perspective. It was weird. I was not used to being so close to the ground, every common sight gigantified. This made recognizing faces and guessing how big the buildings were rather hard. Now that I think about it¡­ I could force the wire to crawl along the ground and climb a tree in order to get a better look since not many people had a tendency to check what was above them¡­ there were risks too, like a higher chance of discovery, but still¡­ After a few seconds of consideration, I decided to give it a try. What did I have to lose? The coppery wires would look a little out of place on the tree bark, even the silver one, but that was something I could deal with. A few swishes and swashes and a group of Ratlings took care of the metal, covering it with crushed soil. The wire was still shining through, but oh well¡­ nobody¡¯s perfect. At least the clusters of the copper grass growing nearby made its metal counterpart easily camouflaged. Now that I took a closer look it seemed like patches of my creations were intermingled with sparse green flora. It peeked from behind knife-bushes and somehow just¡­ fit. However if one considered this place a battlefield it was clear that my own creations were winning. It was a bit weird, as I don¡¯t remember making them that competitive. Whatever. Not my problem. The crawl had ended and I was happily twisted around one of the bigger branches of the silver Ironbark. Now I only had to hope that nobody discovers the creepy little eyeball hanging from a tree, like some kind of abominable fruit. I turned my attention to my surroundings. The eye-camera ended up on the edge of silvery growth - about ten or so meters behind it the lush, silvery-green forest suddenly devolved into a bleak wasteland with a few sparse bushes and grasses barely clinging to life. It was a monstrous sight, but also strangely poetic, like the work of a mad painter, splattering shards of life amongst the overwhelming canvas of death. The wastelands were unchanging and monotonous, cut only with a small stream slowly trudging from the west to the east, moisturizing the dungeon oasis and then disappearing underground. For a moment I considered how big was a chance to just have a water source present in the place where my dungeon was founded. I was suspicious. Considering its rarity in the surroundings¡­ And then it struck me. I scoffed, seeing a gap in my reasoning. It was the other way around. This place was once a town. A castle was built with soldiers, artisans, crafters, and mages. With people. And people need food, water, and shelter to survive, so it was a logical conclusion that the location in which they prospered was bound to have access to all three. With time the said shelter had already turned into ruins. The food sources, both plants and animals neared extinction, devoured by the unforgiving wastelands. But water¡­ water was eternal. Unless something really catastrophic happened the river won¡¯t disappear. This line of thought, however, made me worried about my Ratlings. I had an army outside. Strong, loyal and I couldn''t use it. Because it was starving. It seemed that while they stayed in the dungeon their needs were taken care of. If I had to guess by the mana ever-present inside. This wasn¡¯t, however, the case as soon as they left my premises. Because of that most of my rats had to scavenge, search for berries, hunt small animals, and even fish. All while trying to not get caught by the sentients. It was unsustainable in the long run too. This place was barren in normal circumstances. Adding Ratlings, their beasts, and sentients? Recipe for a disaster. It was high time to make some kind of nutritious plant capable of sustaining life, but doing so would mostly help the humans camping above my entrance. Which I was unwilling to do. It was also hard to think about countermeasures. The most that I had planned was to make two types of food, something like a potato and maybe a tomato (one to plant in the dirt and one to grow above ground) which would be poisonous when eaten separately. I had a few problems with this solution. First, my Ratlings didn¡¯t cook their food. Remediable. Second, new plants were bound to gather attention. Anything that the dungeon make was studied by the sentients, so it was only a question of time until they noticed their purpose. And the correlation between both fruits. Or were they classified as vegetables? Whatever. It was the third problem that I felt was the worst. My knowledge of poisons was superficial at best, which meant that my Anima had to be used in filling the gaps. And that was dangerous for my sanity. Which moved the whole idea into the folder labeled ¡°to-do when completed the third floor¡±. I switched gears again, feeling at ease after all this brainstorming. Was it still brainstorming when I was talking to myself? Who knows. New figures appeared in my sights. Humans. Lots, and lots of humans. They were moving, swarming around, always busy and always loud. Like ants. I observed their skittering for a few long minutes, trying to get a feel, a sense of all this chaos. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. It was hard. It was hard to focus my attention since I felt an itch each time a worker underground shaved another piece of rock connected to the dungeon. My subconsciousness was screaming at me to move my mana into an empty space and claim it. And again. And again. Maddening. What however grabbed my attention was the fact that the people aboveground were also digging. Unlike their counterparts, however, they stopped as soon as they hit the rock. Which meant the upper part of my dungeon in this case. After doing that they moved to the next part of the moat. It was a moat, right? A long, winding hole was built just before the palisade. Did I mention they had a palisade now? It was incomplete yet, but nonetheless being quickly built. The parts that were already made did look a bit shabby though. If I had to guess they didn¡¯t have anyone smart enough to make it sturdier. But then again I too wasn¡¯t an architect. As I stared at the place trees were being cut down and stacked, only to be turned into roughly similar planks or barely processed poles. These, in turn, were moved as a part of the defensive line or to make various buildings. What was their purpose? No idea. The tempo of their work was impressive - both men and women sweated, cursed, and screamed while giving their all in the process. It was clear to me that there was only one reason for humans to manifest such unity. Fear. They were preparing for war. I grinned. Getting to the surface suddenly was a bit higher on my list of priorities. All this energy to gather and use it to grow. War was a profitable business. All more when you¡¯re a dungeon core. I focused once again on the scene. It was clear that the village above my head contained a large number of military forces. In my head, I divided them into two types - soldiers and warriors. What was the difference? Soldiers were clearly a part of the military unit since they working together well and were wearing matching uniforms. Their presence seemed welcome amongst the masses. The warriors were different, most of them carrying a unique or simply weird weapon, with small parties of three to nine people wandering around. They looked just like adventurers from video games. It was easy to understand that they were trying to avoid work, doing only as little as possible. This didn¡¯t make them any friends amongst the workers and the tensions naturally rose. I anticipated they would be butting heads soon, but surprisingly it didn¡¯t happen. People simply focused on their work, choosing to ignore the idlers. It was strange. Unnatural. The human race I knew was much more belligerent than that. Should I risk sprouting another stalk a bit closer to the main camp? Was that worth it? It would probably get noticed right away and the reaction¡­ The reaction would surely be bad. While in a contemplative mood, I didn¡¯t notice a danger coming right at me. Around the chaos of work, younger and older children buzzed like flies, busy with doing laundry, cleaning, cooking, scavenging for food - searching for the rare plants that somehow withstood the pressure of my metallic flora or hunting down small, scurry animals similar to rabbits. And sometimes even taking on my rats. Yup. The children. Most of their faces and hands were dirty and bruised. They seemed like they were used to scavenging all kinds of bits and bobs amongst my murderous plants. What they weren¡¯t used to were eyeballs growing from orange stalks. Staring at them. The specimen that found me was a girl maybe ten years old, with two small braids on the sides of her head. She was brown-haired and brown-eyed like most residents of this world seemed to be. She also wore a pretty cute, but visibly weathered white dress and wooden clogs on her legs. My mistake was twisting around a branch of the tree that used sharp, falling leaves as weapons. Of course, people wandering under them would look up. Her already big eyes grew even larger after noticing my demonic-looking camera and after a moment which felt like eternity¡­ she screamed. ¡°Kyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± A very girlish voice echoed through the encampment, eliciting an immediate response. The men ran toward the source of the noise while preparing their weapons. It was useless though. Not that I was a threat. But... A goblin-like thing hiding nearby sure was. It was a small, greenish creature that shrieked in response, rising up from the nearby cluster of knife-bushes and lunging toward the child. How did it even get here? Why did it leave the safety of the hiding place? And why the hell did it have three arms?! All these questions were thrown to the back of my head as I saw the monster attack the child with its claw. The girl couldn¡¯t dodge and a long, serrated wound appeared on her chest. The force of the blow threw her back, screaming. She landed on the ground and started to bleed while thrashing around as the goblin closed in to finish the job. Its advance was however stopped by one of the soldiers, brandishing the spear and a shield combo with an ease of a trained warrior. ¡°Protect the girl!¡± He shouted to his companions. The one in the back quickly nodded, immediately taking bandages out of his back and immobilizing the still screaming victim. ¡°Let¡¯s murder this thing!¡± A large brute was one of the people answering the call for action, a monstrously large sword dragged behind him. ¡°You stay back, vagrant. The Royal Army will take care of it!¡± ¡°So be it.¡± The giant laughed back and continued to speak in a taunting way. ¡°You¡¯ll change your tune when the bulk of the horde arrives.¡± The goblin tried to flee, using their quarrel as a distraction, but it was promptly cut off by another soldier. I had a moment to fully appreciate the beast for what it was. It seemed mutated in some way, with twisted features, a toothy mouth, and claws gleaming on the tips of its fingers. And on a third, rather useless, arm. It was nothing more than a stump, not the powerful appendages I was used to seeing on Mortal Kombat Goro. The goblin was not much bigger than a child, maybe one hundred twenty centimeters in height, and yet with constant hunched posture it looked much smaller. A few pieces of rags covered its nether regions while leaving the rest of the body bare. There were numerous scars on its skin. And bite marks. Lastly - it stank. Not that I had a sense of smell, but the reactions of the surrounding soldiers were telling enough. One of them thrust his spear forward without a warning, but the little bugger dodged downwards while screeching. A taunt followed, only to be cut short by another stab from its blind spot. The weapon pierced the goblin¡¯s chest and its eyes instantly were filled with pain. Another merciless stab followed, pinning the monster to the ground. And then it died. Overall pretty good. They reacted quickly, culling the enemy before it had a chance to retaliate. Everybody was happy with this. That was when not counting the child¡¯s body, currently being cradled by her mother. She was repeating the words ¡°wake up, please wake up¡± without end. Yes. The attack of the monster was too deep. Too fast for anyone, but me to react. So the little girl didn¡¯t survive. People around them stood rigidly, glancing at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to do. The adventurers only scoffed at the crowd''s reactions and turned to leave. All these wandering eyes... It only took a few moments for somebody to notice my eye-camera. ¡°What the fuck is that thing?!¡± Screamed a nearby worker. ¡°Demons!¡± ¡°Save us!¡± The panic quickly grew. ¡°Belle¡¯s tits!¡± ¡°It¡¯s the Corruption!¡± Shouted a white-robed man standing in the back. ¡°Soldiers, destroy it immediately! We can¡¯t let it spread!¡± He ordered. ¡°We need to bring new samples to Master Vincent first, padre.¡± Answered one of them, while the rest shifted uneasily. ¡°It¡¯s a spawn of the wastelands, one of the servants of the Corruption. In the name of the Guardian Gods, I order you to destroy it!¡± The man huffed, pointing directly at my camera. I made it blink. His reaction was hilarious. ¡°Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± He shouted while clawing at his eyes. ¡°It cursed me! IT CURSED ME! Destroy it! DESTROY!¡± He screamed while I cackled in amusement. And then the line was cut short. I guess one of the soldiers heeded his call. Too bad. My focus returned to the dungeon. And to the constant banging of the miners and the constant discomfort. It reminded me of how my neighbor was always renovating his flat. That was why I accepted Guardian¡¯s reappearance with a sigh of relief. It was something that I could use to busy myself. It was at this moment that I noticed with disappointment that Tinna died. She succumbed to her injuries and grey-ification in the time I was checking out the surface. In silence and alone. Her body was already cold. Then again, maybe it always was since she contracted that grey... thing. The thief¡¯s still-open eyes were staring into nothingness. [I should probably close them, eh? Sanctity of the dead and all.] I mumbled to myself. [Yeah, right. Get in my belly!] Changing my decision immediately I screamed and waited for her to dematerialize. The sapient races were only good as a meal for my dungeon. It won¡¯t push me through the threshold, but you know¡­ every bit counts. That¡¯s why I was surprised when nothing happened. Hours passed as I stared at her body, and she still just was lying there, unmoving. I was beginning to grow bored, but then I noticed something weird. Her eyes had turned black. Like black-black, without any pupils not just the color. And then she sat up, her only arm clutching the bed frame and lifting her whole body. A feat of strength she was unable to accomplish earlier. Then a groan-like voice emerged from her mouth. ¡°I¡­ won¡¯t¡­ forgive¡­¡± She spoke, mincing every word. I quickly used my Analyze, trying to understand what she turned into¡­ because of that? That thing was clearly no longer a human.
Revenant (damaged) named Tinna A type of accursed undead whose sole purpose is to haunt the living and exact her revenge. This being looks just like a human at first glance, however, deeper inspection reveals completely black eyes, a grey complexion, and, most importantly, the unmistakable stench of death that permeates the surroundings. Revenants are masters of death, but that affinity manifests itself in many forms. This undead uses her newfound power to hide and ambush her foes. She stalks the darkness and uses two corroded daggers to kill and maim the targets. Her small frame may be mistaken for a child, making her easily capable of hiding in plain sight. The target of her revenge is the entirety of Geinard Kingdom and she will do whatever possible to see it burn. Threat level: D--
Gangria, you crazy bitch... what have you done? 044.5 On the foreign shores Wet Nose leader of the 4th Ratling Scout expedition ¡°This lowly rat will do his best!¡± Squeaked Wet Nose while saluting. His grey fur and iron spear thrower were especially blinding today, polished for this unique occasion. It was not every day that the rat-kin were sending out an expedition into the Unknown! And it was not even the above-Unknown! No! From the Watery Gra-... Watery Place into the network of the wet tunnels and unexplored rivers. The bad-bad things below had already been subjugated by the combined might of the dungeon and its inhabitants, but it still elicited a twitch or two from the more cowardly denizens. Or was this just the random Ratlings? Anyway, Wet Nose was just a rat like that. To tell the truth, his reaction was justified - his very name came from a time when conquest was waged against the Watery Place, more so - when a glorious battle against the glassy snakes was being fought. Blood, sweat, and squeaks filled the air. And yet for Wet Nose, a most important memory of this day was one of drowning, of being dragged into the depths by the unrecognizable horrors¡­ to never again see the Queen-Mother and his ratty brothers. And then he was saved. His nose wet from tears and lake water. As a reminder of this shameful display from this day, he was known as Wet Nose. Which was both a rare and strange course of action, as not many of the Ratlings had ever earned a name. Bad as it was the name remained a source of pride. Was this why he volunteered for this expedition? Him, a rat deathly afraid of rivers and lakes? Or any source of water deeper than a few centimeters? Nope. It was the master Scout of the Silent Council that had decreed so and with this decision, only volunteering was left. Or death. Sometimes Wet Nose thought death was preferable. And today was one of these days. ¡°For the glory of the Creator! This lowly rat serves until his death!¡± He squeaked once again, a frail leader to the twenty Ratlings. His new subordinates were mostly busy looking grimly at the wild current flowing by. The atmosphere indicated that every rat on board the flotilla would rather prefer to fight with some adventurers than traverse this hellish waterway. The underground river, if one even could call it that, began with a barely eighty centimeters high half-filled tunnel. Its flow was fast and random, endangering the makeshift boats made from local plants and things stolen out of Tall Ones camp. No sane person would ride on them willingly. There were five such contraptions, with wide, flat decks and wooden edges protruding only a few centimeters above the water table. Each of them had a large steering paddle attached on the far end and carried some pieces of food strapped to the deck. Due to their experiences on the surface rats already knew that leaving the safety of the dungeon meant being exposed to hunger and thirst. Out of five boats, three were carrying five Ratlings each - most of them soldiers, with a few crafters thrown in. These scholarly rats were looking especially desperate, their wild eyes darting from the water toward the crazily laughing captains. The leading watercraft had only two scouts on board, while the ship on the far back carried two Dragonflies, their pilots, and a navigator. ¡°This lowly rat will do his best!¡± Wet Nose whimpered once again, eyeing his superiors with puppy eyes. Please, let me stay! He screamed silently. ¡°The dungeon blesses you, child.¡± Said Queen-Mother while motioning him to depart. Her intention was clear and Wet Nose could nearly hear her real intention - Fuck off and go do your mission or die trying! Just don¡¯t waste my time! Sighing and coming to terms with his fate the unwilling expedition leader boarded the second boat. It was close enough to the front to safely give orders and yet far enough for the others to die first in case of some trouble. He thought it was an elegant solution. As the flotilla left the shore he waved furiously at his two friends standing nearby. They responded with loud squeaks. They were simple workers, whose sole emotion they felt right now was a relief. Neither of them had been named, as it was a kind of a rarity in Ratling society, yet considering that only Wet Nose and Bronze had a dubious honor to gain an individuality they would much more prefer a long and boring life to the blaze of glory. And inevitable death. Wet Nose was a reminder of rat cowardice, Bronze, on the other hand, was a shield that defended his fellow Ratlings - a handsome and powerful individual with a rare, bronze-looking fur - yet none of that mattered if they were to be thrown out like used goods. Bronze being so headstrong could be the reason for becoming a leader of the earlier expedition... Mused Wet Nose. Why me, then?! I¡¯m a nobody! His panicking inner thoughts weren¡¯t exposed to his subordinates though. ¡°We¡¯re ready to start, leader!¡± Squeaked the navigator, eagerly waiting for the signal to begin. Unlike most rats, they weren¡¯t afraid of the water and even revered the dangerous currents instead. ¡°This one orders: do it!¡± Wet Nose spoke in his usual tone, closing his eyes from fear. Yet for an outsider, he instead sported a charming and wise figure. Inside? Inside he was still screaming out his grievances. I UNDERSTAND THAT THE LAST THREE EXPEDITIONS FAILED SO IT¡¯S THE RATLING WAY TO SEND YET ANOTHER ONE! He yelled angrily. I UNDERSTAND, BUT, OH FOR THE MERCY OF THE CREATOR, WHY ME?! His last words were filled with resignation. It was simple, really. Due to how many Ratlings were born the tunnels were getting crowded. That meant that expansion was a must. Thus the ¡°devouring tunnel¡±, as the common rat called the waterway, was a good way to get rid of the surplus and maybe even conquer some new lands. The members of the Secret Council even decided that whoever managed to conquer this route out of the dungeon would be granted an audience with the Creator. A rare honor. And since it was Scout¡¯s turn to choose... Unlike his predecessors, he simply decided on a rat who had numerous brushes with death and yet managed to survive all of them - the one called Wet Nose. It was an incomprehensible choice for his fellow council-rats but the person in question trusted his intuition. Besides, what did he have to lose? It was just a game. This was however unknown to Wet Nose himself. He was more focused on the simple fact that being chosen as a leader meant working hard and shouldering the sudden responsibility to the best of his ability. Thus with a small nod from Wet Nose the flotilla drifted a few meters forward and was immediately snatched by the greedy current. The small tunnel they traversed was half-filled with water and much too claustrophobic for any bigger being to fit in. The various twists and turns would''ve made it impossible for them to move through without some kind of water-breathing ability. And preferably a lack of bones. Or somebody could just go the hard way and squeeze in a flotilla of rats, guided by their mad navigators, and hope that some of them survive the journey. ¡°Hyahahahahaha!¡± It was when he heard his navigator''s high-pitched laugh, that Wet Nose understood what the leader¡¯s job included. ¡°Grab the railings, people!¡± He screamed, hopefully, loud enough to reach the other vessels. ¡°Grab for your dear life, for Creator¡¯s sake! This one orderssssssssss!¡± His voice echoed as rock after rock appeared from the thin air and immediately disappeared behind them. How are we still alive?! He thought to himself while observing the nearly supernatural movements of his navigator. ¡°Gyaaaaaaaa!¡± One of his soldiers'' claws had suddenly loosened and the poor fellow flew through the air, screaming, until a second later a wet crunch sound silenced him forever. ¡°We¡¯re going to die!¡± ¡°Keep it together!¡± ¡°Not like this, not like this!¡± ¡°Claws to the railing. Breathe. Claws to the railing¡­¡± ¡°Oh, Creator, please guide this wayward soul¡­¡± ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck!¡± The crew''s reactions to certain death varied, but for Wet Nose hearing them cry out meant that they were still alive. He was much more concerned about the silent scout ship. Still, he could see a silhouette or two moving onboard, so at least somebody was alive out there. It isn¡¯t so bad. He thought with relief. Stolen story; please report. Just as he was coming to terms with the situation his navigator cried out. ¡°Raaaaaaaaaaaaaapids!¡± ¡°This one doesn¡¯t understand! What the hell do you mean, by rapids?!¡± Wet Nose was confused. ¡°We¡¯re fucked, leader.¡± The rat had a manic grin on his face. A grin that meant that he was ready to die and welcomed it. ¡°Now I understand why nobody returns from The Tunnel!¡± And then all hell broke loose. The rest was a parade of broken pictures. Rats screaming. A boat crushed to bits by the current. Dragonfly drowned helplessly, while its pilot dived after it and never surfaced. The navigator singing. Somebody praying to the Creator. And finally¡­ A large rock appeared from the foaming water, right in their path. The rest was consumed by darkness. ¡­ .. . At least until the Wet Nose woke up on the riverside. Hurt, but alive. Some of his subordinates were also there, slowly returning to consciousness. Around them, pieces of wood and other flotsam danced on the now peaceful waves. Unknowingly to anybody present a blue box appeared. If Uno was here to read it he would laugh gleefully knowing that his creations could grow more and more powerful on their own. Sadly that discovery had to wait.
Wet Nose (Iron Ratling Spear Thrower) had evolved into Wet Nose (Fatetwister Rat)!
When he came to the first thing he saw were¡­ cattails. That¡¯s what they were called? Tall, sturdy, and stiff plants with brown growths on the top and green-brown wide leaves. It was a sea of cattail-like plants to be exact. He breathed in the air, happy to be alive, only to cough heavily, throwing up some water. Above the survivors, a cave ceiling with suspicious light-giving crystals was covering the horizon. It looked far away, but they were still underground. Behind the small snippet of a rocky beach, they landed on the wild river and stagnated into another lake. Most of all the air was thick with mana. The taste was not dissimilar to their home dungeon, but still not completely the same. Just great. Thought Wet Nose. I just hope that no bad-bad monster lives down here. Then he wrinkled his nose. ¡°This place sure stinks.¡± He murmured. A stench of rotting plants, brackish water, and unmistakable rotten meat suffused the whole place. Standing up was hard, but being out here, in the open seemed like an even worse solution. At least the rest of his crew were already waking up, most of them in worse shape than their leader. Twisted ankles, cracked teeth, damaged skin, and torn tails plagued the survivors. But at least they were alive. Only six rats made it out. Six rats and a Dragonfly. The thing stared at the Ratlings warily, its pilot already lost under the waves. What¡¯s worse one of its wings had cracked during the journey, grounding it and making flying impossible in the short run. But while the others considered killing it for meat Wet Nose simply waltzed right up to it and started to pull it by the halter. Seeing the confused gazes of his subordinates he explained. ¡°The Dragonfly may not be able to fly right now, but it¡¯s still useful as a beast of burden or even a war potential.¡± He caressed the insectoid head of the monster. ¡°Besides all its legs are intact. We can carry our wounded this way.¡± He smiled shyly and the Ratlings conceded. Nobody addressed the elephant in the room. The Dragonflies could be only tamed by their riders. Left alone they reverted to their wild behavior. And yet somehow this specimen accepted Wet Nose as its new rider? Talk about ridiculous. The five underlings quickly gathered any useful tools and food left from the shipwreck. There wasn¡¯t much to save, but then again there weren¡¯t many supplies on the boats in the first place. They had more pressing concerns. Finding a place to rest, scouting the area, and, most importantly, just surviving. More rats will be coming - that was certain, as the Secret Council''s persistence was known to all rat-kind. They had to carve a niche in this¡­ place. Whenever it was. One of the scouts managed to survive - a small, nimble creature taught in the ways of silence and subterfuge. Wet Nose immediately asked it to check the surroundings, making it a priority to find a potential base location. ¡°Tunnels would be nice.¡± The unlucky leader murmured. ¡°And maybe a bigger cavern to house the Dragonfly? Then water and food in proximity.¡± The rest of his subordinates huddled together behind the plants, shaking off the water. The tamed monster also crouched nearby, more for the company than any real need. One of the crafters cautiously set its cracked wing straight, the same treatment given to any wounded rats. Still, it was only a temporary solution. And then they waited, cave ceiling up high glistening with a constant, mysterious light. Neverending dusk ruled in this place. What interrupted their rest was a panicked scout shooting out of the bushes. ¡°Snakes!¡± He squeaked in terror, immediately hiding behind his compatriots. ¡°Defensive positions!¡± Screamed Wet Nose. ¡°Remember your training!¡± He added and the rest of the rats automatically spread out in a half-circle, spear throwers ready to fire at any incoming threat. Even the scout somehow regained enough control to join the survivors. Their eyes scanned the tightly growing plants, trying to pierce the living wall. Silence descended on the small group, scout¡¯s heavy breathing being the only sound they could hear. And then the enemy came into view - a trio of serpents slithering through the mud, forked tongues tasting the air. Each of them stood twice as tall as the common rat, their eyes glinting with greed at the sight of what they perceived as easy prey. The one leading them had a blue belly with green scales covering the rest of its elongated body. Two others flanking it were completely green and visibly smaller specimens. Their arrival was completely silent - were it not for a scout¡¯s warning the expedition remnants would be completely taken by surprise. Both sides sized up their opponents for a single moment before jumping into an inevitable battle. Unlike the sentients, these monsters had no need for diplomacy or subterfuge. Their might would decide who¡¯ll end up as today¡¯s dinner. The first exchange was awfully one-sided. The Ratlings shot their spears, wounding two of the attackers and outright killing one. Serpents weren¡¯t discouraged by their losses though, lunging forward with widely stretched mouths. Their fangs dripped with venom. The blue snake was visibly more skilled. It avoided the claws and teeth of the defending rats and bit an unwary soldier on the leg. The Ratling trembled and in mere seconds succumbed to the paralytic poison, eyes glazing over. His green-scaled compatriot wasn¡¯t as lucky though, one of the spears stuck in its flesh already severely limiting its mobility. A few of the additional attacks pinned it to the ground where it was simply mutilated by the frenzied rats. Seeing this turn of events the only surviving monster grabbed his victim and started to retreat. Yet while it was focusing on the armed opposition an attack came from its blindspot - the formerly still Dragonfly extended its insectoid head and took a bite out of its body, eliciting a hiss of pain. It was enough of a distraction for the rest of the rats to charge recklessly forward, tearing chunks of flesh from the serpent. With a roar, the snake freed itself from the assailants and started to escape. A singular spear flew through the air and skewered its head at this moment, Ratlings frozen by the sudden attack. Their heads turned towards the direction from which it appeared only to see a gigantic, bronze-furred rat smiling at them. The countless barely-healed scars on his body, a crazed look, and enormous muscles didn¡¯t inspire confidence in the survivors though. They warily watched him approach, only for an awkward silence to be broken by their leader. ¡°Bronze! You¡¯re still alive! This little rat couldn¡¯t be happier!¡± Wet Nose squeaked while running forward to hug the giant Ratling. The new visitor looked startled for a moment but recognizing the incoming rat his tension also dissipated. ¡°Wet Nose! Of all the rats in the world, you¡¯re the last I would expect to lead the expedition in the Unknown.¡± He hollered, his voice deep and growling. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me. This lowly one was chosen.¡± The smaller rat shook his head in despair, changing the mood. But a smile blossomed on his snout a moment later. ¡°At least you¡¯re here! Now we truly have a hope of survival!¡± ¡°Yes, yes little brother!¡± The giant smiled shyly. ¡°It is hard to live in this hellish place, but together¡­ together we shall conquer it in the name of the Creator!¡± His bellows roused something in the surrounding warriors, their eyes suddenly hoping for more than a place to rest. ¡°This one would be happy with just a peaceful and dry resting place.¡± Mumbled Wet Nose quietly. So quietly that nobody managed to hear him. ¡°Follow me. We need to administer the antidote to the one bitten. And worse, the commotion might have drawn more of them. Of the Tall-Short Ones.¡± He added mysteriously. ¡°Yes-yes.¡± Nodded the expedition leader. ¡°Get the wounded and paralyzed on the Dragonfly. And don¡¯t forget to butcher the snakes!¡± His head turned. ¡°Please lead us, this rat will follow.¡± He bowed quickly and in the meantime, his subordinates busied themselves while eyeing warily the still monster. The tamed insect, however, regarded them with calm indifference, still chewing on a piece of meat wrenched from the snake¡¯s body. The group organized their meager belongings and walked in a single file towards the promised safety. Bronze was leading them quickly, but warily. An hour later they arrived at a small cave entrance hidden behind a few large, but twisted leafless trees. Their roots made for a quite lovely labyrinth - something that every rat could appreciate. Thankfully the cave proper was large enough to house both the new occupants and their tamed monster. The wounded were taken care of properly, poisoned given an antidote, and hungry had their bellies filled. Thus, in the safety of the new home, questions brewed in the heads of those who managed to survive. And most of them were answered. Bronze talked slowly, but surely, like each word was a precious coin he loathed to part with. His deep voice echoed off the walls, as the rats gathered around the burning flame. He spoke about the three earlier expeditions. About the battles against the constant stream of snakes assaulting them and the strange two-legged beings who turned the simple hunts into a three-way war. About the painful losses, new poisons they discovered, and simple, dull things they did for survival. About learning about the enemy and waiting for the unavoidable reinforcements. About lonely patrols, searching for the supplies and survivors. Finding bodies. About scavenging and even cannibalizing. About rats dying left and right, while learning about dangers and braving the mud. About the constant struggle. And planning. Constantly planning their great revenge. ¡°This place is huge.¡± Said Bronze, staring into the flames. ¡°We managed to scout most of the outer ring, but the way towards the middle is guarded by the stronger and stronger creations. There is even a snake that looks like the Tall Ones.¡± He shook his head. ¡°These serpents¡­ They spawn continuously, reminding me of our home.¡± The rats whispered, one of them bold enough to speak out. ¡°It¡¯s a blasphemy, brother! There is no second place like our blessed homeland!¡± The speaker curled up seeing the madness in the larger warrior''s eyes. ¡°I know. This place is wrong. Full of mana, but wrong. Not at all like our home.¡± His snout relaxed, remembering his birthplace once again. ¡°But the way it creates is similar. And¡­ I saw chains. Chains with words on them, binding something, someone in place.¡± He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath. ¡°And it looked similar to the Creator.¡± A bunch of gasps emerged from the newcomers'' mouths. They stared incredulously at the giant Ratling, waiting for his next words. It was Wet Nose who broke the charm. ¡°This simple rat has to ask then, what are you planning.¡± Bronze grinned, but what answered him was a different voice coming from the entryway. ¡°We¡¯re trying to break the chains. A Dungeon Core has a right to be free.¡± The scarred, one-eyed rat answered in a cheeky tone. Behind him, ten more Ratlings were slowly making their way into the cave. ¡°We wanted to wait for more of our brothers to arrive, but with a Dragonfly¡­ yeees¡­ with a Dragonfly, we can do it.¡± ¡°You think so?¡± ¡°As soon as its wing will heal we can start our attack. The Tall-Short Ones are growing lax nowadays since we¡¯re killing most of the snakes.¡± A wild grin appeared on his snout. ¡°This lowly one acquiesces.¡± Wet Nose answered with his own smile. In the background, both the veterans and newcomers cheered with bloodthirsty expressions. 045 Uno I really, really disliked surprises. Surprise visits by friends, surprise birthday parties, surprise boyfriend¡¯s day presents - it doesn¡¯t matter. My life should be as boring and predictable as possible. Because that¡¯s safe. I sometimes wondered if this quality of mine was part of why I was chosen to work as a Dungeon Core in this new life. This inner instinct was to hide, burrow, and avoid other people and their loud, obnoxious attention. Not quite the basement dweller, but close. Now that I started to wonder about the past it¡¯s easy to notice that these memories grow more and more blurry with each passing day. The human me is getting steadily replaced by a colder, more crystallized persona. Some would even say - an inhuman imitation. Not me though. To live is to learn. To learn is to change. And I¡¯m doing just that. Well¡­ not exactly. To tell the truth, I was currently busying myself with a hasty rework of the tunnels and kinda trying to duplicate a current collector. I had not enough knowledge about how it worked, but I was going to need it - right now! Anima be damned. Meanwhile, my loyal Lebirs were slowly carrying the now undead Tinna on a stretcher. Their target was clear - the Central Pond room. Of course, before the whole journey started they were ordered to bind the undead girl with some ropes. Both for her and her escort''s safety. Who knew if she was in the mood to attack my minions, so I wasn¡¯t going to risk it. There was no us (monsters) versus them (humans) mentality. It was more of a free-for-all in my mind. To make the whole affair harder the revenant¡¯s face was hard to read, baring her habit of suddenly screaming or babbling. Even then the words she threw out concentrated on revenge and pain, making up a few parts of an endlessly repeating mantra. I once saw something like that in reality, when a bullied guy in my class muttered endlessly, working himself into a rabid rage to beat on his oppressors. He was expelled by the way. His bullies were not. I sure hoped it wouldn¡¯t happen again. No matter, back to the work. Discarding idle thoughts I focused on remaking the ceilings between the first and the second floor. More precisely the tunnels with a staircase starting up behind the Guardian¡¯s room and then leading the whole way down, right into the Central Pond. It was only ten, maybe twenty meters, but the trouble it brought me¡­ At least the whole shape was a spiral with steps carved into a rock instead of something built by brick and mortar. Because of that I easily managed to carve a ditch in the middle of the ceiling, deep enough to slide my copper wires through it. This action only added a few more meters to the already gigantic network. I guess it was kinda similar to the human nervous system. The one I saw on TV at least. The feeler wires were stretching everywhere and connecting all the important parts of my body - the dungeon itself. Now came the hard part. Like I mentioned before - what I wanted was something akin to a current collector. What it was exactly? A mobile device had been used on a tram to attach it to the power lines. In my case, I had an idea to interconnect it with a cluster of wires already attached to Guardian¡¯s head and allow him greater mobility. It didn¡¯t escape me that a current collector (as its name described) wasn¡¯t made to transfer information. Or mana. But it had to do, the Anima would fix something similar enough. I could also go the other way - just extend the wiring and make him more mobile this way. In a normal situation, this would be even preferable - I had to just make sure that he kept the spare wire somewhere safe. It was this ¡°somewhere safe¡± that I was worried about. Currently, my first floor was teeming with soldier patrols. They were checking every nook and cranny, while constantly staring at my already-spawned Floor Boss. I was paranoid they would go for an attack of opportunity as soon as they saw that Guardian was absent. My options were limited, so instead of useless thoughts I just worked, shaping stone and copper into an imitation, leaving it to the Anima to connect the pieces, all the while Guardian tried desperately to converse with me. [My lord!] He whispered mentally, his unstable and frightful thoughts freely flowing through my mind. [My lord, I¡¯m sorry. Please, please speak to me.] A moment passed, and my existence focused on something more important than his whimpering. [My lord!] He cried again. [The silence¡­ it is too much.] He clutched his armored head, suddenly sitting on the ground. The metal on his body clinked and a rogue that was watching from just behind a corner darted away in panic seeing my iron giant move. Guardian ignored him completely though. [I have sinned, my lord.] His insectoid, dark form slumped even more. A broken being without a purpose. The weapon he earlier sported - a blunt, two-handed broadsword, was nowhere to be seen. His red eyes - two points of light in the otherwise black mass of metal - moved towards the ceiling. [I shall repent, my blood and those of the invading sentients will paint your walls!] His form condensed, a purpose found. Standing up one of his hands reached for the bundle of ¡°sanity¡± wires. A moment of hesitation and he touched the glistening metal. [For the Dungeon!] He shouted mentally, only to get instantly chided in the next second. [Shut up and let me finish my work, Guardian!] I exploded, forced to hear his whiny nonsense for a long while. And worse, during so delicate task. Any bit of Anima wasted was unrecoverable after all! [My lord, you speak!] He laughed happily. [Of course I speak you fool! Can¡¯t you see I¡¯m busy right now?] I snapped back irritated at the childishness of my most powerful creation. [I see, I see¡­] Blessed silence lasted only a few seconds. [What are you doing then, my liege?] He changed his words a bit, maybe understanding that his my lord routine was starting to sound like mommy, mommy to my ears. [Preparing a way to the lower level for you.] [And why am I needed down there?] I sighed and spoke immediately sensing his rising panic. [There is an undead down there who is not under my control¡­] I started, only to get interrupted. [I see! As your strongest pawn, I shall dispatch this monstrosity in your holy name!] He screamed zealously, his physical form flailing and once again scaring the shit out of already returned scout. I decided to once again stop his unneeded enthusiasm. [Shut up. I need you to communicate with her, not fight. She may become my servant yet.] I mumbled the last words, remembering how Gangria called her a present. She was a bit damaged, but I had an idea of how to remedy that problem. Now only to negotiate. My attention turned to the present. Walls were changed, wires extended, all in complete silence. Meanwhile, the big child called Guardian was staring daggers at the humans, hoping they were stupid enough to challenge him. He even murmured under his helmet, loud enough to scare anyone peeking inside. One could say that without a weapon his ability to kill and maim was severely limited. And yet even if his armored hands were empty, the sheer bulk of my creation was enough to rend bones and smash any armor these pathetic humans could produce. Seeing him calm down I continued my work and summoned a mace similar to the weapon used by Boulder the half-orc. Guardian swung his new toy with glee, while I used this time to describe Tinna¡¯s character and share any knowledge about her and her companions that I had access to. It wasn¡¯t much, yet a few hours passed in a blink, humans relentlessly patrolling the first floor and digging away the new rooms to the east. A large amount of rock has already been excavated and a new batch of workers descended into the darkness - this time they weren¡¯t the miners though, but artisans. Architects, planners, sculptors. As they practiced their craft I was growing more and more certain that they worked on a bunker of sorts. But what disaster do they hope to survive? That I did not know. Yes, people talked with each other in hushed voices. Yes, they stared at shadows and prayed more often than not. But the problem was they weren¡¯t really specific! I just understood that something really bad was going down. The suspense was killing me! Bah. Not really. What does a Dungeon Core care for the problems of mortals? I grumbled a bit, my work nearing the finish and decided to diverge even more. The earlier excursion taught me how to ¡°grow¡± the cameras through the ground. This ability was now a part of my experience - something that I was able to do without much conscious effort. And since I needed knowledge¡­ I focused on seeding about twenty-five more. While the deed was being done I taught Guardian what I knew about principles of communication. The theory of it at least. I wasn¡¯t very good at it. By the time the rest of my work finished only four cameras were alive. The locals were quite persistent in squashing them whenever they showed up, all while calling them Devileyes. Curious that this world had devils too. Then again in a place where gods were real, it wasn¡¯t a far-fetched thought to have demons and devils too. Not that it mattered now. I used the survivors to confirm that something big was still going on. The traps were being built, the palisade had already been finished and a large plaza was full of constantly sparring soldiers and adventurers. I was glad that my cameras lacked a sense of smell. My view shifted. The tent was full of adventurers, dirty, loud, and full of testosterone. There was a discussion going on - all this getting-stronger-at-all-cost bullshit. A person in charge had been asked a few times to send a party or two into the dungeon. To gain experience and explore the second floor. For a moment I hoped for a bit of excitement - these people weren¡¯t even as half as strong as the Swords of Hope, so they would get squashed. Sadly their leader immediately refused, citing the princess''s opinion as a reason. Contrary to my expectation they simply swallowed the explanation. No grumbling, secret plans, no nothing! I was feeling disappointed. At least the way down has been finished. Guardian was currently slowly lumbering down, trying to keep his large feet on the narrow stairs and not tumble down in an unsightly manner. Yup, that was an oversight on my part. Gotta remember to change that as soon as possible. Thankfully he managed to get down without any problems and then safely emerged from the tunnel. All to meet our special guest. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! The girl in question was calmly lying on the stretcher while staring at the ceiling. She was muttering to herself. The loneliness, silence, and darkness weren¡¯t fazing her at all. She should feel right at home down here according to the Analyze description. Anyway, I ordered Guardian to come closer and repeated the last order given, in a somewhat vain hope that he won¡¯t screw this up. [Now, ask her who she is, what she remembers, what her goals are, and - most importantly - do not slip up that you¡¯re asking on behalf of a Dungeon Core!] I hissed and my boss monster straightened his back even more. The last few steps and his red eyes stared at pale face up close. Not the best position to start a conversation, staring someone down. ¡°Welcome to the dungeon, undead.¡± He started, while the girl seemed to ignore his words and continued her mumbling. It was however noticeably slower now. ¡°Can you hear me?¡± He repeated waving a black hand before her eyes. This got her attention. ¡°W-ho?¡± She asked, throat having trouble with speaking proper words. ¡°Me? I¡¯m called Guardian and¡­ I guard the dungeon''s first-floor entrance. You should remember me.¡± He added, hoping that the recent battle would rattle her memory. ¡°Mem-ber¡­¡± She growled. ¡°Fi-fight. Fear. B-battle.¡± Her eyes focused, suddenly full of reason. ¡°E-enemy.¡± ¡°No, not anymore.¡± Guardian shook his head in denial. ¡°You¡¯re already dead, remember? No need to fight against a fellow undead.¡± It took her a moment to understand. For the first time she looked, really looked over her body. It was mutilated, pale, and dirty. She wasn¡¯t a sentient anymore. This knowledge seemed to sink in, nearly breaking her. But then, with a sudden influx of willpower, she clenched her fist. ¡°H-how? Not¡­ d-dead?¡± ¡°No, no. You don¡¯t understand. You¡¯re one of us now.¡± Guardian gestured towards the nearby Lebir, having it turn its skeletal head towards the girl. ¡°See this guy? You¡¯re similar.¡± ¡°N-no! No. C-can¡¯t¡­ Too¡­ M-much.¡± Her mood changed once again, black tears threatening to spill from her unblinking eyes. ¡°Shhh¡­ focus on the present. Leave the past behind, it is the only way.¡± Guardian coaxed her gently, somehow used to this situation. His hand landed on the girl¡¯s shoulder, reassuring her. Then, in one swift motion, he undid her bonds and she sat down, trembling like a small animal. And the mumble had returned, only with a focus on different words this time. ¡°No, no, no, no¡­ Si-sters...¡± She whispered while rocking back and forth, like a patient in a mental asylum. ¡°The living don¡¯t matter now, girl.¡± Guardian rumbled. ¡°The dead are even more irrelevant. It¡¯s a new life, on the other side of the barricade. You should have a single purpose now. What is it?¡± He asked, gently at the beginning. Seeing his charge descending into madness he repeated the words, louder this time. ¡°What is your purpose?¡± Silence. ¡°WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE, GIRL?¡± He shouted in the end, waking Tinna up from her stupor. Black eyes stared at him unblinkingly, like the earlier humanity she had shown was only a lie. The silence continued until a single word left her mouth. ¡°REVENGE.¡± She answered crisply, her only hand tightened so hard, that black blood started to seep between twisted fingers. ¡°Good.¡± Guardian nodded, his voice once again calm and collected. ¡°Who is the target of your revenge?¡± ¡°Geinard Kingdom.¡± ¡°Who?¡± My servant simply repeated his question, forcing Tinna to think. To search deeper into her newborn mind. ¡°N-nobles. H-a-w-k-s.¡± She iterated each word, each letter a chore. ¡°L-l-leade-ers.¡± ¡°Are all of the humans your targets?¡± He re-confirmed. ¡°N-no.¡± She shook her head in denial. ¡°N-not c-ca-re.¡± ¡°Do you remember anything else? Your friends, family, enemies? The Geinard Kingdom you seem to hate so much?¡± Guardian continued his interrogation, but the only answer he got was an unblinking, silent stare. Tinna, former Swords of Hope rogue seemed to be nothing much, but an empty husk right now... [I can work with this.] I mumbled. [My lord?] Guardian asked, shedding his older brother persona. [Offer her a way to restore the limbs she had lost.] I ordered, staring at the seemingly calm revenant. [What our terms should be then, my liege?] [None. Just let her sow chaos in the world.] I grinned. Not that he could see what my face looked like right now. Not that I could see. [Why? She could be groomed to become a powerful ally!] [And how would you control such a being?] [Isn¡¯t her goodwill a good enough bargain chip?] [The world doesn¡¯t work that way, you know. Not between monsters, anyway.] I sighed. It was a tempting proposition, but I sensed a trap. Gangria was content with sowing chaos everywhere. Somehow I doubted that she would exclude me from her plans. [But yeah, we should probably ask her for something. I guess hunting and dragging back some of the larger creatures should suffice. More data to work with is always good.] I said, mostly to myself. [Do you have any preference?] [Just¡­ not the bats.] He visibly winced. [Right.] I stopped for a moment, thinking, searching for holes in my reasoning. There wasn¡¯t anything else I wanted him to do. [Then off you go. Negotiate.] I ordered. The giant once again stomped close to Tinna. She didn¡¯t react to his presence, still mumbling and staring into nothingness. ¡°Let¡¯s start again.¡± He spoke and sighed in exasperation. ¡°What is your name? I already told you mine.¡± ¡°N-n-no-ne.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡± He asked, trying to interpret her words. The revenant shook her head in confirmation. ¡°Non-e.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have a name, then?¡± A sharp nod. ¡°That¡¯s troubling.¡± A head tilt. ¡°How should I call you then? ¡®You¡¯ and ¡®revenant¡¯ are going to get stale real soon.¡± The girl closed her eyes and started to think about the question. After a few minutes of deliberation, an answer came from her lips. ¡°Non.¡± Another sharp word escaped her mouth. ¡°I will call you Non, then.¡± Guardian nodded. ¡°What are your plans for the future then, Non?¡± ¡°K-kill.¡± ¡°How?¡± He asked while staring at her stumps. ¡°You lack a leg and an arm. You¡¯re weakened and there are human warriors everywhere. You¡¯ll get killed as soon as you leave the second floor.¡± The girl in question only stared, not moved by his simple analysis. ¡°And your vengeance will end unfulfilled.¡± These words were effective though. ¡°NO!¡± She twitched, trying to unsuccessfully stand up. ¡°M-must. K-k-kill.¡± A wet stare once again found her anchor in the Guardian¡¯s red-eyed helmet. ¡°H-help.¡± She said unabashedly. ¡°I can help you.¡± Non¡¯s face brightened. ¡°But there is always a price.¡± Her smile was immediately replaced with wariness. ¡°Oh don¡¯t look at me like that!¡± Guardian grumbled. ¡°It¡¯s nothing much. I can use some of the powers hidden in this place, but in turn, you should hunt some animals and drag them inside once you get better. That¡¯s what I meant as a payment.¡± ¡°K-kill.¡± She shook her head in denial. ¡°Listen, you can¡¯t be the only one to gain something in this transaction. The world just doesn¡¯t work that way. If you don¡¯t want to I¡¯ll just leave you to your own devices. There is no rush.¡± There was a smile in his voice. ¡°I¡¯ll be over there.¡± He added, while pointing at the nearby lakeside, then walked away with a steady gait. He sat on a fairly flat rock, simply waiting for her response. Minutes passed in silence until Guardian decided to interrupt the calm with his mental voice. [Talking with her reminded me of my younger sister.] He said while staring at the waves. [She was also taciturn and stubborn.] [Where is she now?] I asked. [Dead.] [I see.] [I can remember her figure, voice, even the things she said.] The giant stopped, his fists clenched. [Why can¡¯t I remember her name or her face?!] [That I do not know.] I answered softly. [Yes¡­ I¡¯m sorry, my liege. I guess as we return from death there is always a price to pay.] He grumbled under his nose. [I should consider myself lucky. That girl¡­ she lost everything, but her revenge.] [And how do you know that?] [Her emptiness feels similar to mine. Only, it''s deeper. Much deeper.] [Aren¡¯t you afraid she won¡¯t come?] [Oh, she will.] He paused, scratching the wires extending from the back of his head. [People like her¡­ people like me¡­ we¡¯re always moved by a single-minded purpose. She knows we hold the keys to her freedom.] A few more minutes later his prophecy came true, as Non dragged her half-destroyed body along the ground, leaving a thin, snakelike trail. She appeared determined, her only arm clutching the earth and rock. ¡°Have you decided?¡± Guardian turned his head to look at her. ¡°Y-yes. E-e-x-change.¡± ¡°Good. Up you go, then!¡± He said, lifting her small body in his arms. She struggled for a moment, surprised, but soon stopped moving altogether. ¡°You.¡± He pointed at one of the Lebirs mulling nearby. ¡°Get the core and bring it here.¡± He ordered, while simultaneously speaking mentally. [My lord, please. With grandeur, if possible.] [Yes, yes.] The Lebir in question simply walked into the lake, traveling down, into my hidden (but fake) Core Room. The normal poker face that Non sported changed as she understood that something was down there, deep underwater. Something important. It took nearly thirty minutes to prepare my soldiers - heavily armored Lebirs flanked by their electric and exploding brothers. The one in the middle was a fail-smith brother, another Bile-brain Golem encased in dark armor. In his hands a Dungeon Core rested, suffusing the air with its power. Both the carrier and the surrounding soldiers were traveling slowly. Both the undead and golems can travel underwater, but it was hard to work your way against the pressure. More importantly, the minions walking had most of their attention focused on the Core and its carrier. I quickly Analyzed my substitute, finding it the same as before.
Mechanical Core Gem This mechanical creation is indistinguishable from the real dungeon core for the sapient races. It can give orders to dungeon creations and even to attack and defend on its own. The communication ability is restricted to at least part-mechanical creations. It can be subordinated to the dungeon core or left to its own devices after giving orders. As such it allows to grow the dungeon''s influence even outside its normal borders. The additional effect is cleansing of the surrounding mana while converting most biological and mechanical lifeforms to dungeon-created ones. The ability to attack and shield with electricity allows it for a modicum of self-defense, but the real strength of the Mechanical Core is its ability to direct and create new beings. Due to its nature, the amount of subordinate cores you can possess is directly linked to the Dungeon Core Level¡­ Threat level: D--
The additional effect is cleansing of the surrounding mana while converting most biological and mechanical lifeforms to dungeon-created ones. I mouthed the words. A little surprise. I did not have any means to control her¡­ yet. My cautiousness also disallowed me to convert her immediately. The risk was simply too great - who knows what she could¡¯ve done until completely taken over? But this? A way to strengthen her and then to let my influence slowly grow, only to win out in the end? I grinned maniacally, my non-existent face full of ecstasy. [Do it.] I ordered the core and a computer-like beep of acknowledgment echoed in my mind. I wondered - was that something created from my memories or were mechanical beings just similar even when created in wholly different worlds? As I mused the power that resonated from the Mechanical Core was growing stronger and more focused. The fake Core looked just like me - an onyx gem, about 15 centimeters in diameter, but the power it wielded was different from my own. The color and intent were different. Instead of electricity a cone of bronze energy suddenly expanded from it, covering both newly named Non and Guardian. The girl twitched in surprise, while my servant stoically waited for the process to end. Then a scream came. And another one. Weird, living metal was growing on Non¡¯s body, the ¡°infestation¡± starting in the stomach region. Unlike any metal known to man the blackish substance breathed in and out and with each passing second the energy that it carried seeped into the revenant¡¯s flesh. It was strengthening it and somehow regenerating appendages that were lost. Besides muscle and bone getting grown from nothingness the rest of the metal started to cover the nearly naked body, devouring the bits of flesh and any clothing - more like rags - that were still left. Liquid-like iron draped itself over each centimeter of the pale body and then retreated - building a light armor, similar to the one she wore when alive - chest, arm, and leg pieces appeared before my eyes. Then the metal retreated, leaving a finishing touch - a black mask covering her whole face. It was a simple, oval piece of equipment with slits for eyes. And then... Then it was over. Non¡¯s moans of pain slowly died down as my subcore retreated with its retinue, their job already done. What was lying in the Guardian¡¯s burly arms was a completely different-looking revenant. [Analyze]
Iron-melded Revenant named Non A type of the cursed undead returning to haunt the living and exact her revenge. Parts of her body are made from iron, creating a functioning body - a combination of a golem-like arm and leg with the pale flesh, combined to create a form of a young woman. Her brown, braided hair and black eyes look human enough a first look, but the stench of death that permeates her surroundings quickly reveals her true nature. Revenants are masters of death magic in many forms. This being uses her newfound power to hide and ambush her foes. The darkness is her home and two corroded daggers on her waist are much more dangerous than they look. Her small frame may be mistaken for a child. As all revenants she has a target of her revenge - Geinard kingdom, which mistreated and starved to death her younger siblings, while she was outside, serving their nobility¡¯s interests. Threat level: D++
Perfect. I smiled¡­ And then she was gone. Guardian panicked, getting into a defensive stance, while the rest of my servants looked around dully. Undead weren¡¯t too bright after all. Non had already departed the second floor, after all. How did I know that? Well, she wasn¡¯t exactly stealthy when Geinard Kingdom¡¯s patrols were in her way. Screams and the smell of blood followed her every move. People falling, killed, or dying, with their throats sliced by an unseen monster. Some were running. Others simply prayed to the unfeeling gods. None were spared. And in their absence, my dungeon released its pent-up stress, both undead and the bosses returning to defend me Decapitator, Jailer Jonathan and the Lebirs were being summoned one by one. I caught a glimpse of her black-iron armor as she stood near the stairs leading outside. Her eyes were still completely black when she turned to give a last, long look at my dungeon¡¯s interior. I could hear her scoff. [Not wanting to keep your part of the deal, girl?] I laughed soundlessly, even Guardian was outside my range right now. Now I knew why villains tended to project their plans when encountering a hero¡­ It just feels sooo goood! [Don¡¯t worry. I wasn¡¯t one to keep to mine anyway.] A manic grin once again appeared on my face. [See you later.] I sent to her mind. She twitched with disgust and ran into the encampment premises. Screams followed. 046 Uno It was only a solid few hours later that sounds of battle quietened and then slowly faded to nothing. Non had successfully escaped after exacting her revenge if the dark faces of the returning soldiers were any indication. Unlike before the sentients were concentrated strictly on guarding the entrance room, their sentries comprised mostly battered and bandaged people. No more forays in the dungeon and no loud, haughty conversations told the story of a dire defeat. At the same time, my Decapitator was up and running again, his thirsty blades etching scar after scar in the stone tunnels just behind a corner. There wasn¡¯t much in this bile-brain of his, but I clearly felt the desire for revenge. To rip and tear. Yet for now, there was no chance to do so. I gathered the contents of the hushed whispers that sentients shared over smoldering campfires. It quickly became clear that most of the battle-capable soldiers remained on the surface. Ergo - the threat up there was much greater than underground. Something was coming, I could feel it. But, like before, I had no reasonable options to interfere with the outside world. Because of that life in my halls returned to its earlier tranquility, interrupted only by the workers'' relentless digging. It was calm if one ignored the Dungeon Core''s ethereal body currently bashing his head against the wall. It was a futile endeavor, seeing as the walls were ¡°real¡± while I was not. The reason for such behavior? I was lamenting my totally unnecessary cockiness. It was just like me, trying to look cool, only to get kicked in the balls. Why did I send that last mental comment into Non¡¯s mind?! All this time I endured and let Guardian do the honors. He was leading the revenant in and cajoling her until the girl was convinced that every step she took was out of her own volition. The trap was set, ready to snap. And in the last possible moment, I just had to fuck myself over! Yes, I was giddy, everything was going my way for once, and now somebody knew I was a sentient dungeon! Goddammit! Why did I do that?! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Ugh¡­ ... .. . *sigh* Let¡¯s calm down. Maybe the situation wasn¡¯t that bad. The undead girl only knew that someone other than Guardian had the ability to communicate mentally in my dungeon. At least I wasn¡¯t dumb enough to actually introduce myself. Non¡¯s ability to speak was pretty non-existent too, so the chance for her to slip up and divulge my existence was minimal. Who knew however if this would change with time. The next problem - she was bound to encounter some powerful individuals in her quest for vengeance. I was certain that both nobles and royalty had capable bodyguards in their employ, not to mention some of them being powerful warriors and mages themselves was a distinct possibility. I still remembered that the people who managed to conquer my first floor were a royal princess, a noble, and their retainers. This meant she could get easily captured. Another unpleasant notion. There might be ways to extract knowledge from the undead, just like I did with Guardian. Stupid! I once again bashed my ephemeral head against the wall. There was also a chance of betrayal, changing sides, as she wasn¡¯t one of my creations after all, and her blatant disregard of our ¡°deal¡± only reinforced that notion. Ah¡­ all this thinking was giving me shivers. Whatever! I don¡¯t care! Out of sight, out of the heart! Whatever happens, happens! Let¡¯s just focus on more important and interesting tasks - namely that, without any fanfare or cultivation-like epiphany I had gained a level. Yup. All these weak soldiers killed by the rampaging undead weren¡¯t that filling, but be it bread or rice a sheer number of the dead carved by Non¡¯s blackened blades was more than enough to push me over the threshold. And because of that, I could gaze at my new status with pride. Like so:
Race Dungeon core
Name Uno
Dungeon core level 2
Affinity Electricity
Element Anima
Location Henrik Waltzer ruined Castle - Dungeons
Magic None
Skills None
Innate Abilities Mana sight, Anima manipulation, Electricity Encroachment
The empty Magic and Skills parts were hurting my gamer soul¡­ yet there was little I could do to fill them. The only speech-capable monster in my dungeon, Guardian was clueless when it came to such things (which may or may not have stemmed from thorough brainwashing I put him through). And there was no way in hell I would ask the sentients for help! But then again - nothing that some kind of torture wouldn¡¯t solve, now that I had a willing mouthpiece to ask questions. These were plans for the future though, and there was no time like the present! My first instinct was to dig, to burrow deeper and further away from the greedy sentients. I fought that feeling with all my might, barely stopping myself from ordering my sturdy Stone Drones. The usually calm stone dolls seemed a bit more active right now, likely sensing my excitement. Unlike most of my creations, these guys were only useful when another level was being excavated. I had no ability to dig on my own but somehow managed to easily maintain my tunnels and caves. I guess that was what happened when every stone and brick wall was part of a giant organism. Anyway, I managed to suppress my innate desire to burrow and decided to focus instead on the creation of another subordinate core. While I wasn¡¯t using them much in the past the recent incident involving Tinna¡­ or rather Non clearly proved their worth. They had a different skillset from mine and it was time to use them for something else than dungeon-slavers bait. At least the new one. I summoned my mana and forced it into an already familiar shape. It was easier this time, just filling the gaps between reality and slowly feeding the emerging monster. I stared at the newborn core with a strange sense of comradery and innate understanding. It was my servant, bound and ready to fight. I knew that it would look just like me, with an onyx-like smooth surface and the darkest blackness swirling inside. Except it didn¡¯t. Or rather there were notable differences between my shape, the other sub-core, and this newcomer. The aura that swirled around it reminded me of old, crusty blood... [Analyze.] I whispered quietly.
Mechanical Core Gem (Curse) This mechanical creation is indistinguishable from the real dungeon core for the sapient races. It has the ability to give orders to dungeon creations and even attack and defend on its own. The communication ability is restricted to at least part-mechanical creations. It can be subordinated to the dungeon core or left to its own devices after giving orders. As such it allows growing the dungeon''s influence even outside its normal borders. The additional effect is cleansing the surrounding mana while converting most biological and mechanical lifeforms to dungeon-created ones. This specific gem has been changed by the residual energies of the souls devoured by the Dungeon. Because of this, a new ability to create cursed equipment has been added. Unlike its creator and predecessor, this gem also produces an unhealthy, reddish glow. Threat level: D--
Oh. Ooooooh. That was new. Did that mean that my actions had consequences even when creating new minions? Would that mean that I could force some evolutions on my Lebirs or Ratlings? Or maybe even Bile-brain Golems? I already started to experiment in this direction, but seeing no results I simply abandoned this venue of research¡­ Should I try to create a Kodoku? A space that was filled with poisonous worms that would devour each other until the strongest one remained? Metaphorically speaking of course¡­ Let¡¯s keep that thought. But¡­ cursed weapons, you say, Analyze. I could work with that. From what I gathered listening to sentients conversations most of the dungeons had some kind of a trial in which a challenger had to prove themselves worthy and then receive a prize. Said prize being often a weapon, armor, or otherwise magical item. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. A foolish notion, but one I couldn¡¯t escape in my pursuit to grow less conspicuous. As in I¡¯m not a sentient dungeon, folks! way. One could, of course, say that my uniqueness was already set in stone, but I desperately wanted to remain as standard as I could, since unremarkable was already out of the question. Yet it just didn¡¯t sit right with me to simply bestow my enemies with weapons or armor, be it of an average quality that I was capable of... Thus with this ability to create cursed armaments, I had another avenue to choose. Lovely. There were also other things to consider. For one I forcefully switched Guardian¡¯s position with the enhanced Golem that earlier guarded the underground Core Room. The fake one, of course, as my own position remained entrenched on the first floor, in the isolated chamber. The big guy whimpered for a bit, unwilling to leave his home, but I quickly managed to convince him that the whole Dungeon was something akin to his manor now. Only then he moved to the underwater tunnel and further down - into the lonely room that guarded one of the two planned ways down. While he moved I closed the ceiling trenches, effectively confining him to his new place. The plan was to lead him even deeper, but that had to wait. I felt nearly a physical need to dig down, but¡­ NOT YET! Not yet, Uno! Stay strong! Instead of going down, I ordered my Stone Drones to dig east from the Rat Beast holding pen. They ran towards the place in a nearly rabid fashion, zealously scratching at the stone and dirt, their moves more similar to how animals tore their victim¡¯s flesh apart than calm construction workers building a new annex. Large, gorilla-like Rat Beasts growled at the sudden intrusion but considering that the newcomers weren¡¯t made from edible material they just let it go. An instinctive feeling of belonging, which usually connected the dungeon residents helped too. Not even an hour passed when my little minions managed to excavate a sizable room. [Good.] I sent and despite not understanding me in the slightest the Drones rejoiced. Was it me, or were they looking a bit more¡­ alive right now? No matter. I smiled and sent a few of the Lebirs to fetch the Flamecaller, Ironflame Rat King. He normally lounged in the south part of the dungeon, the place which Ironflame Rats turned into something like a combination of a temple and training grounds. They sparred there constantly, slowly building up an organized and bloody structure. Now that I think about it wasn¡¯t that a clear indication that the surroundings had a direct effect on the individual¡¯s evolution paths¡­ How did I not notice it earlier? Was I growing dumber? Haaaaaah. No matter. The hulking three-meter tall Flamecaller arrived, flanked by his two Ironflame Rat Temple Warriors and about ten simple Lesser Demonic Ironflame Rats. He barely squeezed through the tunnels dug for much smaller beings. At least the newly dug room was nice and spacious, easily capable of holding rat king and his retinue. It was the right time to introduce them to the visiting adventurers or soldiers. Or anybody else stupid enough to invade my dungeon. The system calling him the King really did the giant rat warrior justice. He looked a bit like the Rat Beasts that were currently busy trying to meld into the walls while whimpering in fear. His two massive clawed fists were used to lumber from one place to another. He looked powerful but slow, yet I knew that these looks were deceiving. Not once or twice I saw him soaring through the air, like death incarnate. On the top of his head, a red crest stood proudly, while the rest of the rat¡¯s face and body was covered in sturdy scar tissue and natural leather armor. Seeing that both of my chosen entrance points were secure I let it all out and ordered Stone Drones to dig. They reacted without hesitation and I felt another barrier crumble as two downstairs were being made - one near the underwater tunnel and the second one behind Rat Beasts Pens. I willed them to converge in one position and they did, thanks to the savant genius of the Stone Drones. A third level was being made and my head was already full of ideas to implement. My minions created a ¡°safe room¡± with two stairways descending inside. They were ending on the west and east side of the room. This way anyone dumb enough to check the second one would have to contend with the boss. I also ordered the Drones to carve four statues in the corners of the room. They froze, not understanding what the order meant. I sighed, sharpening my image. Sentient, with a magic staff, one hand lifted in the air. Sentient, with a bow, ready to strike an unseen foe. Sentient, with a large mace and tower shield. Sentient, with two daggers and hunched posture. The diggers threw themselves at the work, full of fervor. Too bad that their skills were lacking. What I ended up with were four statues of¡­ something. From an objective standpoint, they looked more like prisoners half-plunged into the earth, trying desperately to claw their way out. Their faces were indistinct but open in silent screaming, weapons no more than broken and rusted sticks, deformed flesh slowly being devoured by the greedy earth. I could work with this ambiance. Behind each statue, I ordered an alcove to be dug out and then a rock lid to be fitted, creating a small empty space. Ratlings were already digging through the third floor, spreading their network of tunnels, so it took a little nudge to lead them toward this room. In a few more minutes levers and mechanisms were fitted by their tails and claws, similarly to how the spear traps on the first room worked. Only instead of the spears, I had hidden Lebir Exploders in the alcoves. I had finished the preparations and was going to give out orders when a blue box appeared before me. [Fuck.] I cursed, seeing its contents.
You have created a Statue Entrance Room! This room, unlike most entrances, is fitted with deadly traps and was thus converted into a variable trap room. The rules of the trap activation are as follows:
  • an adventurer attacks the statue in the room
  • an adventurer attacks another adventurer in the room
  • an adventurer attacks a non-aggressive monster in the room
Yeah, fuck you too, Gangria. Then again¡­ monsters that were not aggressive? I had a ton of these. Immediately one of the Stone Drones was chosen and ordered to stay in the entrance room. After a minute of thought, I ordered it to carve into the surrounding walls and even allowed the Drone to gather materials from the surroundings. It nodded gently. The ¡°drone¡± wouldn¡¯t fit anymore, so I decided to simply call it Sculptor. And then¡­ Nothing happened. Duh. It was not like a simple naming ceremony was that big of a deal. I mean, yeah, it was important, but the name came after purpose. It was the purpose that led to the process of evolution. A need to acquire something. An individuality. That''s what I was thinking right now, anyway. The flow of life would surely verify my knowledge. The next room came to life pretty fast too. And the next eleven rooms with it. Only a few days passed, but I was so enthused that I hardly noticed. An obvious advantage of becoming a Dungeon Core. No more piss breaks and an annoyingly growling stomach. Goodbye, sleep and tiredness! The rock was harder down here, with less soil present, more disparate stone, and even some ores present. Nothing special was found, though - copper, iron, some coal. No hidden hoard. No skeletons. In the end, I waited for the Drones to finish and started working on the smallish room south of the entrance. After a second I filled it with Devileyes, their half-mechanical eyes tracking any movement. From my earlier experiences, I knew that these plantlike cameras were considered sources of the curse and bad luck by the sentients. This little psychological play was however only a prelude. A large door was carved in the stone and then covered in a thin layer of gold and a few precious stones I could scramble. Probably a useless gesture as sentients were sure to steal anything not nailed to the floor. But it fit. That was also why I ordered my freshly minted Sculptor to start working on the two blocks of stone standing near it. I had it focus on the simple expression. Greed. Sadly the newly made individual was lost, just like his brothers before. I guess it was too much to expect from him right now. A fat merchant clutching the bag of gold, coins spilling. Sculptor started moving a bit, yet still looked shocked if a faceless stone doll could have any expressions anyway. Then I sent another image and it once again stood there, overwhelmed. A woman, pointing at the merchant, armored guards running from behind her. I chuckled for a bit. I guess all these new words: fat, merchant, bag, gold, coins, woman, guard, armored¡­ these new concepts and the information that came with them were a bit too much. I left the pondering creation alone, smoothing the rooms and connecting them with similar doors. The Drones worked and I put in the finishing touches. One room on the left and one room on the right. Repeat. Chamber of Daggers. Chamber of Swords. Chamber of Axes. Chamber of Spears. Chamber of Maces. Chamber of Shields. Chamber of Helmets. Chamber of Gauntlets. Chamber of Breastplates. Chamber of Greaves. The Great Greed Hallway. In each of these a Bile-brain Golem. And, as a finishing touch - a larger room, with a larger Bile-brain Golem. Unlike the others, this creation of mine had six arms, three on each side, and a special chamber hollowed in its chest. My newest fake core was implanted within¡­ And the Golem changed. [Analyze.]
Bile-cursed Golem This creature is a fusion of bone, dead flesh, metal, and stone created to do its master''s bidding. The metal parts - breastplate, greaves, gauntlets, helmet, and a mace are magical items carrying various curses in exchange for destructive power. While strong and robust it¡¯s not very intelligent, but due to being made partially from earth, it retains its stubbornness. Given any task, the golem will try to finish it to the best of its abilities. The large mass and slow movements make this being a perfect shield for the others. It is however slow to heal as the material it was made from is somewhat rare. At the same time due to its rarity knowledgeable adventurers will hunt it down to the end of the world, especially because of the magical items it¡¯s wearing. Threat level: D++
It growled. A curious sound, considering the lack of a mouth. The items it wore languished with other sounds - screams of tormented souls, fiery auras, cold crystals materializing from the thin air. The Cursed Golem just stood in the middle, eyes aghast with red color. I smiled as another sound of notification resounded through the air. I was right. A trial was created!
The trial of Greed has been created! Your dungeon has become a host to a first trial. The trial encompasses the Hall of Eyes, Chamber of Daggers, Chamber of Swords, Chamber of Axes, Chamber of Spears, Chamber of Maces, Chamber of Shields, Chamber of Helmets, Chamber of Gauntlets, Chamber of Breastplates, Chamber of Greaves, The Great Greed Hallway and Cursed Golem Enclosure. The rules of the trial are as follows:
  • the challengers are allowed into The Great Greed Hallway unless they damaged anything in the Hall of Eyes
  • the challengers are allowed to enter any of the Chambers while defeating the Golems inside
  • the Golems are armed with one piece of cursed equipment each
  • each defeated Golem adds its piece of equipment to the Cursed Golem
  • the main trial begins when the challengers open the Cursed Golem Enclosure or eliminate all auxiliary Golems
  • once challengers enter The Great Greed Hallway they cannot escape
Hahahahaha! Yes, yes, that¡¯s what I was talking about! That¡¯s some bullshit difficulty! And the reward for all this hard work was a cursed magical item. Perfect. Now I only had to order Sculptor to work a bit on these carvings to actually represent the pieces of equipment. I felt like singing. [My lord?] A sour voice interrupted my little self-congratulatory session. [What is it, Guardian?] I sighed, expecting another complaint about his new home. [I think something is not right.] He answered hesitantly. [Huh?] My mind snapped back to the dungeon, noticing the now fully staffed and guarded complex on the first floor. The civilians were in the middle of the evacuation. I moved my attention towards the surface, searching the surroundings through my few remaining cameras. And, as I thought, there were people standing in the shade of the walls. Soldiers, adventurers, mages. All of them clutched their weapons, cold sweat visible on their faces. Their stillness was foreboding, the silence - full of tension. I followed their gaze and looked towards the treeline. There were monsters. Various races squirming and roaring, their deformed silhouettes emanating bloodlust and desire to kill and devour. I could recognize small and hunched goblins, armed with sticks and stones, muscular and fang-faced orcs, boulder-like trolls, centaurs with vicious features, goat-legged and hairy satyrs, giants, werewolves, lizardmen, nagas, and more. A horde was approaching. I should be afraid, but instead, the only feeling I felt was¡­ hunger. For their bodies and souls. 047 Uno My cameras were observing the delicate balance between the two armies. A solemn atmosphere. Vicious gazes. On the one side humans closely guarded their impromptu outpost. A rather large squad of the shielded spearmen and supporting troops were deployed outside. Their aim seemed to both provoke and intercept anyone stupid enough to attack without a plan. A passive strategy of waiting for the enemy move. Then again, as an outnumbered side, there wasn¡¯t much more they could do. On the palisade behind them, numerous mages and archers stood at the ready. I zoomed in, only to see pale, sweaty expressions all over. The morale wasn¡¯t high. The commanders who were pacing a few steps behind the soldiers didn¡¯t look any better, but under all this panic and strained nerves, there was something else. A sense of purpose. A wild hope. These people had a plan, a chance to survive. Their faces told me as much. Between the static spearmen, some teams of adventurers slowly moved from one place to another, easily recognizable by mismatched armor and use of strange weapons. Their faces looked full of fear and tension too, but some enjoyed the atmosphere, the excitement. Crazy ones, adrenaline junkies - that was what they were called, right? But nothing was happening. Nobody made the first move. Yet. I tuned back to the monsters, like a bored teenager switching TV channels. At first glance, they were a chaotic blob of different races and languages - more and less barbaric depending on their species. There was no sense of purpose, no leaders, no nothing. Just wild, crazy, hungry horde. And yet after a few minutes of observation, I noticed that I was wrong. There were some rules pertaining to their behavior. Like how the bigger and stronger monsters were concentrated in the middle of their group. They were also the ones with fewer deformities and wearing way better equipment - mostly made from metal, which contrasted with stone, wood, and leather common amongst the rest of the horde. It also seemed like there was a clear structure, with the smaller, mostly less intelligent goblins, kobolds (or even lizardmen and orcs) being both a vanguard and scouts for the more important and powerful beings. It was a simple, tribal structure, but hey - it worked. Especially because (as I saw) the defiant monsters were devoured by the leaders. Amongst the giants, trolls, and ogres camping in the middle, a small group of many different beings caught my attention. They seemed to be heterogeneous, comprised of many different races. While largest of them were giants it was not uncommon to see a naga, orc or even a goblin walk by, undisturbed by the other, theoretically stronger beings. The one thing they had in common were staves - or more like sticks with human skulls embedded on them. Each of these, let¡¯s call them tribal shamans radiated an aura of magic. But no mystical shit - a literal, colorful aura that could be seen with a naked eye. Blue, red, yellow, green and so on. Even the biggest of the other monsters seemed to avoid them, leaving a rather large stretch of no-man-land in the middle of the horde. Their appearance also seemed to rouse the humans. In a bad way. ¡°Nobody said that they will have mages!¡± Shouted a large armored man towards the commander of the defense, red-haired mage called Charles. ¡°We¡¯re screwed! Totally screwed! They¡¯re going to take my Nadia''s head and mount it on the spike!¡± He mumbled while shaking. ¡°This was always one of the predicted outcomes. We will survive nonetheless.¡± The noble answered calmly, looking down on the man from his platform located on the palisade. ¡°Lies!¡± The warrior yelled back, ignorant to the gazes of pity that the surrounding soldiers showered him with. ¡°You and your noble friends are going to hide in the dungeon, while we bleed and fight for you!¡± He screamed even louder. ¡°Let us down there too!¡± ¡°That¡¯s an interesting thing you said, considering that I am standing right here and it is you who wants to whimper and hide!¡± ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m a coward?!¡± ¡°Worse.¡± The red-haired man smirked. ¡°A dead coward.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Flamebolt!¡± He chanted quickly and threw a fiery projectile right into the man¡¯s chest. It lodged deeply, burning flesh and filling the air with his screams. ¡°And once more, for good measure. Firebolt.¡± The second one seemed to be more accurate than the first, entering through the already dying man eye, while killing him instantly. The soldiers stood around, shocked, not knowing how to react, while the adventurers murmured angrily. The situation was volatile, but Charles immediately grabbed the chance to defuse it. ¡°Do you see how the cowardice ends?¡± He asked while pointing at half-burned body. ¡°We need to be strong, we need to be courageous and we need to act according to plan! Understood?!¡± ¡°Sir, yes SIR!¡± The soldiers saluted, while the adventurers grudgingly bowed. The people who had been in the party with the departed especially had to stifle their anger. Somehow they managed to do it, but not before sending a few furious glances up to the noble. ¡°Now, get back to your posts and prepare for a fight! Remember, do not lay down your life thoughtlessly! We have a way out and it will come true if each of us will fulfill our duties!¡± The commotion ended and the only people left were Charles and some of his adjutants. ¡°Make sure somebody cleans up this waste.¡± He said to nobody in particular. ¡°I need a moment.¡± The surrounding people looked at each other, confused. ¡°A moment alone.¡± He repeated. ¡°Adam, stay please.¡± He added as the old butler was ready to leave with the others. With a small bow, the silver-haired servant stood behind his master¡¯s back. ¡°Do you think I was too harsh?¡± Charles asked while staring at the horde. ¡°We willingly burdened you with this task. There are no bad decisions now. Only more and less costly, sir.¡± ¡°I see.¡± The mage glanced at his soldiers, once again ready to fight. ¡°I want the friends of this man to not survive the battle. One way or another.¡± His red eyes searched the orderly ranks. ¡°This should subdue any notions of disrespecting the nobility.¡± ¡°It shall be done.¡± The butler only smiled, then bowed to Charles and left. A solemn sigh escaped the man¡¯s lips. Only I was here to hear it though. It was time to switch the channel - there were four cameras left, giving me a sufficient view of the battlefield. A flat plain, with only a few of the silvery tree stumps, was surrounding the oval outpost. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago this place was a jungle. Now, in the middle of this devastation was a palisade and a shallow trench, filled with sharpened sticks. The only road towards the gate was blocked by a large contingent of soldiers and adventurers. They stood guard quietly while waiting for their enemy move. Some of the mages and archers joined them as support, but these were mostly comrades of the vanguard adventurers. Behind them, on a specially prepared platforms archers and uniformly clothed mages waited in anticipation. The said mages were mostly using violet robes, with a few exceptions of red, yellow and light-blue garbs. I couldn¡¯t see any civilians, which was pretty obvious in the hindsight, considering that pretty much all of them were hidden in the newly excavated area. The air tensed even more as the horde started to move. It was a sudden, primal action - the kobolds and goblins ran ahead, their small figures and primitive weapons looking comical if not for inhuman faces, sharp teeth, and common deformities. There weren¡¯t any recognizable words in the shouts they produced and I watched as the whole lot of them clashed with human warriors. Soldiers armed with shields and spears stood their line, barely hampered by their senseless wailing. From behind them, adventurer teams were slipping in and out, leaving a bloody trail behind them. An interesting combination, because as far as I knew (spying on the sentients being my new hobby) a common soldier was a level one, two or maybe three being. And yet they stood their ground against an army a few times bigger. The little beasts were outmatched, but they didn¡¯t break. They bit the humans on the ankles, tried to spit in their eyes or just cut any part of their clothing that was not armored. It was even a bit adorable if not for their full of madness single-mindedness. It reminded me how my dungeon creatures tended to throw their life away to please me. After a few minutes of harassment, most of this wave¡¯s monsters were dispatched and a loud, deep sound resounded in the background. Not that I thought about it was also here before, when the goblins charged, yet this time I managed to identify the source. It was a horn from some large beast, mounted on a stable platform and used by a giant clad in wooden armor. Well, calling it an armor might¡¯ve been an overstatement since it was simply a large door held by some ropes. Anyway - it signaled something, but I wasn¡¯t sure what. The little goblins and kobolds knew, though. They shrieked in shrill voices while gesticulating towards the human defensive line. Some of the men spewed curses in response, others simply prayed. The second wave of creatures emerged from the horde, this time reinforced with groups of orcs, lizardmen, and satyrs. Unlike their predecessors, these medium-sized monsters were using leather armor and had weapons other than clubs at their disposal. They were still crude and rusted - probably scavenged from the fallen, but a jump in quality was clearly visible. Unlike before there was a commotion. People on the walls were preparing, counting arrows, gathering their thoughts, getting into positions. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The horde advanced, many monsters growling and shouting with excitement. They crossed an invisible line, and so an order was given. ¡°Fire!¡± A cloud of arrows flew through the air first, skewering many of the enemies. The line wavered, but it was still not enough - the ones pushing from the back forced the remaining creatures to advance. Then the spells arrived. The fireballs burned the advancing monsters to the crisp, the ice flowers froze them into abstract forms and the earthen spikes broke them apart. Violet energy similar to lightning fell from the sky only to burn and cut and maim, stopping the enemies in their tracks. I observed this magical hurricane in awe. For a moment it seemed like sheer power the humans produced would be enough to keep their enemies at bay¡­ Then the horn sounded again and more medium and small-sized monsters arrived on the battlefield. Some hesitated, some tried to run when arriving at the death zone, but in the end, their sheer bulk was enough to push through¡­ But it wasn¡¯t enough to avoid falling into another trap - the earth they were standing gave in and broke under their weight, a hundred monsters falling to their deaths. Onto sharpened sticks below. A large trench was uncovered, the one that humans were digging earlier. I was wondering where it had disappeared to. Sounds of pain and exertion followed as the smaller monsters were squashed by the larger ones, while all of them received some concussions, bruises, and cuts. The unlucky ones were killed instantly. The hole was wide enough to block the whole approach and a few meters deep, ending in a rocky, flat surface which reminded me of something. Human warriors cheered loudly seeing another wave of the invaders meet their doom, some of them even shooting arrows and magic towards the helpless monsters. They were yelled at for wasting ammunition. A wise decision as the horde grew even more restless and another horn sounded in the air. More monsters were coming. Hearing the echo those imprisoned in the ditch grew frantic, frightfully grabbing loose dirt and stones, trying to claw their way out. The spearmen weren¡¯t having any of that - their sharp weapons poked the eyes and skin, instantly forcing orcs to tumble back down. The lizardmen were a bit better off, their natural armor allowing them to easier endure the abuse. Still, an accurate hit was enough to blind any of the advancing braves. More importantly, those standing watch over their makeshift moat knew that they couldn¡¯t allow a single monster to gain ground on the other side. The desperate struggle continued, while the horn sounded a different note. Like before small goblins and kobolds advanced, same with orcs and other brutes, but the ones flanking their advance were nagas and centaurs. Half-humans, half-horses and half-humans half-snakes. How fitting for the sentients to meet their end at their cousin''s hands. The centaurs accelerated immediately, their long legs giving them an advantage. Barely any of them wore furs, but each had a spear or another long weapon. Their speech was incoherent and each of the advancing warriors bore a sign of disease - broken skin, unseeing eye, an infected wound. With a brave leap, they jumped over the dry moat and landed amid the defenders. Most of them were slaughtered in a brutal battle, but some managed to hold their ground long enough for the reinforcements to arrive. The nagas used their serpentine movements to easily scale moat walls while dual-wielding their sharp swords, spears, and axes. The upper part of their bodies looked human-like, but anybody seeing their eyes would say otherwise. Those were naga men, with naked chests and bald heads. Their advance was calm, silent and felt inevitable, as they slithered with practiced movements, each of them trying to cut the legs of their opponent, only to finish them by a bite from their unnaturally widening jaws. This battle seemed to turn against humans, something I wasn¡¯t too worried about. After all, as an observer, I was sure to weather any incursions from the horde. I even welcomed it, especially these shamans with their skull-like accessories. A notion of neutrality that was overturned a few seconds later. ¡°Do, it mage!¡± Charles snapped at his second-in-command, violet-robed elder in a strange helmet. ¡°Yes, yes¡­ so impatient.¡± The man in question murmured. He raised his hand upwards and the rest of the similarly clothed wizards followed his example. In a second he started to murmur, violent energy collecting on his palm. The rest of the surrounding people also chanted, their spheres seemingly significantly smaller, but looking no less dangerous. Thirty seconds passed, the air humming with concentrated power. And then... ¡°Disintegrate.¡± He breathed out exhaustedly. ¡°¡°¡°Arcane Lance¡±¡±¡± The rest followed with a slightly different spell. A while later the old man¡¯s spell flew towards one part of the moat, while the combined Arcane Lances moved to the other. The difference was that the Disintegration just left a trail of the monsters-turned-ash, until it impacted the ground, tearing a large chunk out of it, while the Arcane Lances on the other hand simply cut through the enemies, puncturing anything on their way, until exploding¡­ And also tearing a large chunk out of the ground. There was no pain, no fear. Just a sound of the escaping mana¡­ similar to the kettle with boiling water. It was then when I understood. These fuckers were drilling holes in my dungeon! A moment later I lost the direct control over the cameras and my network, the severed cables no longer sending the data towards my core. I gasped. The loss of sight was always painful. Thankfully the cables, the network were just crutches - I could still search the first level manually. And so I did. There were two large holes, two breaches - one located in the Twisted Tunnels, other in the Conservatory. The latter was more important, as it pretty much severed my ability to influence the walls, to shape them. It could start to crumble at any moment now! What was worse the humans were evacuating downstairs, filthy cowards! ¡°Move, move, move!¡± Shouted the sergeants, while pushing their men down the stairs in an orderly fashion. ¡°Adventurers last, soldiers later, mages first, remember your training!¡± People shouted, fear nearly visible in the air. ¡°Keep them away!¡± ¡°They¡¯re not moving!¡± ¡°Good, use that time wisely!¡± ¡°Run!¡± ¡°Orderly, Belle¡¯s tits! Orderly I said, fuckers!¡± ¡°Master Vincent!¡± Charles, the red-haired noble yelled. ¡°Yes?¡± With a small smile the absent-minded old man¡­ no - a terrifying mage - answered his question. He was still observing the aftermath of his work. ¡°Are you sure the monsters will focus on these holes?¡± ¡°Yes, but not exclusively. The biggest, like giants, will wander off in time, the medium and large abominations will flock to the new entrances like moths to the flame. The small creatures¡­ who knows.¡± His brow scrunched. ¡°Also we didn¡¯t foresee the arrival of the shamans. They¡¯re the bad news, those ones.¡± ¡°Any weaknesses?¡± The younger man asked brusquely. ¡°No. Not that I know much about them, anyway. Not my venue or research. Not to mention each of them is different.¡± Their discussion had been interrupted by the arriving messenger. ¡°Sir! Most of our forces are already in the shelter, we¡¯re awaiting your arrival.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go then.¡± The man nodded and violet-robed mage followed his footsteps. A small whisper escaped Charles¡¯ lips. ¡°Finish them.¡± A faint shadow behind him nodded in confirmation. I ignored the rest of their conversation. After all, there were more important things to take care of. Like an invasion on my doorstep. Only a few minutes had passed since the explosion and both my monsters and those outside were confused. But confusion didn¡¯t mean inaction. Four of the already hurt orcs were in a bad position earlier, squashed under bodies of their companions, slowly choking to death. That was until the explosion threw them down into a weird hole, their grunts echoing in the cavernous tunnels. Sensing that the dead flesh of their companions disappeared (my doing, by the way) they stood up, their primitive weapons readied. A second or two passed in silence until their ears started to hear again and a strange sound repeated in the background. Clang. CLang. CLAng. CLANg CLANG¡­ It was getting closer. The monsters huddled together, their breaths growing quicker and quicker. With widened eyes they stared at the closest corridor, none of them wanting to advance. And then Decapitator found them. My thirsty walls were once again splashed with warm blood. The group that had fallen into the Conservatory was a bit luckier, the only enemy here being my plants. That is until one of them stepped on a Fiery Dandelion, one of my more acidic creations. It spewed the corrosive material all around, just like it was designed to do, killing and hurting the intruders in the process. My Lebirs or Jailer Jonathan didn¡¯t even have a chance to shine. I was sure that no matter how many enemies would come my creations would stand tall. It was a certainty that I was going to regret in the coming hours... According to my cameras, most of the monsters had indeed crowded towards the newly opened entrances. Some moved to the ¡°old¡± one and bashed down hatch covering it. They were currently fighting it out with the sentients. The rest was funneled towards the second floor. Yes, my monsters fought valiantly, Lebirs and even Fail-Smith mounting a resistance every few centimeters. Backing out when another enemy fell. But the space to retreat was limited. In the end, they gave their lives trying to bleed the enemy dry. My traps and plants also worked wonders, taking many with them. The spears, the pitfalls, acidic plants, Strangleroots¡­ Decapitator managed to turn the walls bright red before it was overwhelmed. In the process of said battle, it also collapsed my tunnels, now without a fresh surge of mana to reinforce them. This in turn divided the enemy forces cleanly, forcing those in the east to focus on humans, while the rest attacked me. My monsters still respawned, since the system didn¡¯t recognize the invaders as sentients, but the appearing creations were immediately getting torn to shreds. But not Jailer Jonathan. Or Decapitator. Or Enhanced Bile-brain Golem. These three fought their own battles, especially the last one - a hulking brute stuck in a room where any bleeding would trigger a bloodlust effect. He was a show-stopper for the steady trickle of enemies trying to conquer my lower level. But none of them managed to return. All my creations, undead and what not were on high alert - and the once calm Central Pond Room now looked more like a surface of Moon, than a jungle, with all the craters covering every free centimeter of space. Every few minutes a large explosion echoed, adding to the grunts and screams of the invaders. I managed to time my Lebir Exploders production in such a way that they appeared when another group beat the Floor Boss. The resulted explosion pretty much always decimated the incoming monsters, feeding me enough energy to keep producing more Exploders. And more Lebirs. The Ratlings had their hands full too, fighting a guerilla war in their tunnels, murdering any goblins, kobolds or other small monsters inside and getting murdered in return. It was a brutal campaign, with claw against claw and teeth against teeth. A war of attrition. Not once or twice I saw a rat perish while still strangling the neck of his enemy. The unreasonable violence continued as my creations threw themselves senselessly at the advancing horde. They weren¡¯t stopping, but neither was I. At least the giants, trolls, ogres and other large creatures seemed bored senselessly after only a few days of observing the slaughter (since they were too big to fit into my corridors and join in the fun). They just up and left, without a word, leaving a clutch of shamans and a veritable sea of monsters behind - still waiting to ravage my dungeon. The situation stabilized. For me at least. The days passed and the humans were on their last legs. Constantly charging monsters, a lack of sleep, the tension of their families waiting just behind a corner combined into a veritable powderkeg. It was only a question of time until somebody broke. And then a few more days passed again. The sentients were screaming at each other and I hoped to taste all that goodness hidden in my halls¡­ Especially their mages... But the fucking elves arrived as reinforcements. Couldn¡¯t catch a break, could I? 048 Uno The longears arrived unseen, their stealthy troops making short work of the sentries that the Fallen Tribes horde had dispatched. Well, calling the random assortment of the lesser races anything like guards was a stretch in itself, but then again they fulfilled this role with surprisingly high effectiveness. I was sure that the rangers wearing the green and brown armor would get discovered soon, considering that the horde didn¡¯t lack monsters with a superior sense of smell. Yet somehow their advance was unhindered, long, straight daggers reaping life after life. Even so, they stopped once the stragglers were taken care of, as the rest of the sleeping enemies were in groups far too big to quietly overwhelm. Only a few hundred were left on the surface now, about the same amount surging angrily through various parts of my dungeon. My first and second floors contained small, wary groups of monsters wandering through and occasionally battling against my creations. A surprisingly large part of their number was concentrated near the place where the humans holed up, the Colosseum, and a newly dug-out tunnel turned into a bloody battlefield. I was wondering what the elves were up to, these two hundred soldiers getting on my nerves like Damocles¡¯ sword. My few remaining cameras were stretching their half-biological stems to survey the surface. It didn¡¯t take long to notice the commotion - a few richly clothed elves were vehemently arguing with an important-looking girl. Somehow they managed to do it in relative silence too. Color me impressed. The said girl had long, blonde hair curled into locks and a pair of piercing, neon-green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. Her small body was clad in greenish-blue leather armor. I ascertained it was a magic item of some kind, mostly after seeing the seams shift lazily every few seconds. She wore a leather helmet too, complete with boots and sturdy pants, while a wooden wand rested in a belt loop on her thin waist. Currently, she was listening to the other people''s arguments with a bored expression on her pretty face. I could barely hear them, but it didn¡¯t matter anyway. They were using a foreign language I was not privy to. I guess my constant contact with humans had me at a disadvantage when it came to other races. Just behind the bored blonde, a large, no, more like - gigantic - man was standing quietly, his blue eyes surveying the surroundings with a calm sense of caution. He was clad in leather armor strengthened with metal plates, a bit different from the people surrounding him, but that wasn¡¯t the source of the incongruity he emanated. Only after a few minutes, I understood what was so strange about him. All the people around had sharp, knife-like ears... but not the giant! That¡¯s what it was! A human amongst elves. Rarity. And, considering the disdainful glances thrown in his direction every few moments, the other people weren¡¯t entirely pleased with his presence. He ignored them splendidly though, not wasting any attention on the surrounding soldiers, instead of focusing more on the outside. Not much was visible under his armor, but what flesh peeked out was scarred and tough, like the man himself. A veteran. His weapons of choice were a sword and shield combo, right now both hidden in their sheaths. The quarrel between the girl and the other elves didn¡¯t look like it would end soon, so I shifted my attention downstairs, to observe the human underground encampment. A constant battle raged in a small and now damp corridor, which was technically no longer a part of my domain. The monsters were mostly getting slaughtered, orcs or lizardmen no match for a few powerful human fighters remaining. From time to time a bolt of magic or a blast of otherworldly energy cut off the constant stream of challengers, making sure that the defenders had at least some respite. A small, slender man in a red bandana was currently fighting, his butcher¡¯s cleaver carving chunks of meat out of attackers. He laughed loudly staring at the incoming enemies. His clothes were splattered with red blood, both fresh and old and a few cuts marred his muscular body. A desire for blood and battle emanating from him was a clear deterrent to the advancing monsters, but also his own troops. The few remaining human soldiers and adventurers were already pale, their dead eyes and slow movements a clear sight of exhaustion. Most of all the fear they felt - both because of the boisterously laughing man and the advancing horde - was clearly visible on their faces. ¡°Come! Come, fuckers! Join us in this bloody dance!¡± Shouted the man in the red bandana, his sudden voice startling both his allies and enemies. ¡°My blade wasn''t fed enough today! Neither was I! Come and quench our thirst!¡± He continued. The monsters stopped in their tracks, trying to decide who would be the courageous one to lead the advance. For a few seconds, a silence ruled over this small piece of hell... until a roar resounded from the back. Something big was starting to make its way toward the defenders, monsters howling in elation¡­ until they understood that for the new champion to appear their own lives had to be forfeited. The tunnel wasn¡¯t big enough to let it safely plow through, after all. With a sound of exertion, one of the orcs was pushed forward, tumbling down in the process. And another one, and another after that. Each of them met their end under the human¡¯s blades and spears. Their howls turned resentful, forced to die without purpose. And then it appeared. A large, obese monster that once resembled an orc - but not anymore. It has lost its tusks, the green color it was born with faded long ago. What remained was a mass of flesh, vibrating with each step it took. Pale flesh, with visible folds of fat underneath, was slapping against each other. Plop, plop, plop. Unlike the champion¡¯s sickly-looking skin, its hands had turned into fearsome weapons - enlarged, serrated claws made from bone. The beast raised its arm, letting the claws touch the walls and amidst screeching noise, a long scar appeared on the rock. ¡°Damn, our weapons weren¡¯t even able to scratch that...¡± Mumbled one of the adventurers in a fearful daze. The orc champion roared once again, sending the remaining monsters into a frenzy, as they rushed forward, practically throwing themselves at the defenders'' blades. Yet, as was the case when attacking without considering one¡¯s safety, their reckless charge managed to kill and maim three out of eight warriors in the room. The screams of the wounded filled the air as the bandana-wearing man commanded. ¡°Get the wounded to the healers! This bitch is mine!¡± A wild, wide smile appeared on his face. ¡°Come here, fatty! I wonder how you¡¯ll taste!¡± As if to emphasize his words he licked the butcher¡¯s cleaver comfortably resting in his right hand. A large amount of blood ended up in his mouth, enraging the opponent and pushing the human forces for a quick retreat. ¡°Guild Master Lois really lost it, huh?¡± One of the escaping soldiers scowled, only to get reprimanded by his companion. ¡°Shut it! Do you want to end up as an unnecessary casualty like that one guy before?¡± Hearing the adventurer¡¯s words, the disgruntled warrior only shook his head in silence. Right, that was the bandana-guy name - Lois! The new Guild Master of the Adventurers Guild. I knew I had seen this man somewhere before¡­ Ah, but then again his figure was much more gallant at that time, not to mention he wasn¡¯t fighting like a maniac. Not my business though. With the butcher¡¯s cleaver in one hand and a sting-like dagger in the other, he waited for the fat orc champion to fully emerge from the tunnel. A useless, but gentlemanly move - that was what I thought at first. Then, as soon as the pale monstrosity breathed in to roar its challenge - he struck. The long and thin dagger easily delved into the monster''s stomach - only to get stuck. Lois retreated immediately, leaving the weapon stuck inside. This time it was the monster who laughed, slapping its flabby stomach and jumping forward with speed unbecoming its mass. The human Guild Master wasn¡¯t taken by surprise, though. He deftly avoided the incoming claws, retreating a few meters to the back. ¡°Throw me some daggers, people!¡± He ordered not even looking back. ¡°We¡¯ll be having some skewers tonight!¡± The men complied - swords, daggers, and even spears thrown into the impromptu ring. Lois laughed loudly, picking up a rather heavy-looking sword. He swung it around with one hand, swishing noises showing how much strength was contained in this thin frame of his. Pale orc roared in anger, not understanding the contents of the speech, but clear on the mocking tone. It charged forward, once again trying to kill the annoyingly buzzing fly. This time however Lois wasn¡¯t content with just avoidance. His silhouette flashed and disappeared, only to emerge behind the monster. ¡°A little appetizer, for now!¡± He laughed again, chopping down on the flabby flesh. The new sword cut deep inside the beast¡¯s back, but in the end, it didn¡¯t manage to sever it. Lois grunted, forcing it even deeper, only to get swatted by a large arm. He flew away, bouncing back from the chamber¡¯s wall. Then, for a long moment, he was just lying there, while the pale orc roared in delight. Blood started to pool nearby, while the soldiers and adventurers under his command looked at each other, before nodding deeply. ¡°He might be a son of a bitch¡­¡± ¡°And a dastardly fucker!¡± ¡°But he saved my life more times I can remember!¡± ¡°Brothers, with me! Save the Guild Master!¡± Their screams were cut short when with a grunt, Lois lifted his battered body. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Don¡¯t kill me off just yet, boys!¡± A grin escaped his lips. He licked his bloodied arm. ¡°Salty. Now, let¡¯s pay you back, fatty!¡± He roared back his words of defiance and the soldiers responded in kind. ¡°ENOUGH!¡± A loud voice shattered their celebration. It was Charles, the noble leading these survivors. His red hair and eyes were alight with magic. ¡°Fireball.¡± A large ball of flame flew forward, staggering the beast and scorching its flesh. ¡°Firebomb.¡± Magical energy landed on the ground, soaking the stone. The fat orc roared in confusion. ¡°Fireball.¡± Another flame soared through the air and exploded. This time however the enemy was prepared, shielding his scalded face with pale arms. The attack still did some damage but didn¡¯t manage to stop it from moving. With another roar, the champion charged. Charles mumbled under his nose, seemingly ignoring the advancing enemy. ¡°Hey, hey! Look out!¡± Lois couldn¡¯t stop himself from screaming. It seemed however that the red-haired noble planned for this attack. As soon as the fat orc stepped on a stone a few meters away the magic that soaked it suddenly activated. For a split second, I could see a complicated magical circle appearing and then an explosion pretty much cut and maimed the monster¡¯s legs. Just like an anti-infantry mine would. The orc roared in pain, slowly dragging its body towards the chanting mage, still stubbornly clinging to life. ¡°Greater Fireball.¡± He finished the chant and a large ball of flames appeared in his palms. A moment later he threw it unhesitatingly, betraying the solemn grace of a person already used to decimating his foes. The orc was swallowed by the fire and turned into ashes without any ceremony. Like a tense battle that Lois had to go through was just a lie. Then, in one swift motion, he turned back to the tunnel, where the next wave of monsters was already coming. Seeing the decimation they staggered though, casting fearful glances on a powerful human fire mage. This was a mistake on their part. Charles mumbled under his nose again, quickly unleashing another powerful magic. ¡°Wall of Flames.¡± Instantly the tunnel was filled with fire, burning and killing any monsters inside. As I expected it didn¡¯t create a single-tile horizontal blockade. No. Instead, it started at the entrance of the tunnel and ended just before the defensive chamber. It was perpendicular¡­ Ingenious. ¡°I never grow bored of these magics of yours, Charles.¡± Mumbled Lois through his bloodied mouth. ¡°And I believe, Guild Master Lois, that we had a deal.¡± The red-haired noble answered in a cold tone, making his companion twitch uncomfortably for a moment. ¡°Hey, hey, I didn¡¯t know they¡¯d send a champion this early.¡± ¡°But they sent it. And, according to our defensive strategies I was to be informed of such intrusion.¡± The mage continued. ¡°May I remind you that while you were playing games our men were dying?¡± His voice trembled for a moment. ¡°May I remind you¡­¡± ¡°Charles, Charles¡­¡± The Guild Master interrupted, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. ¡°Charles!¡± His words snapped the mage''s attention to himself. ¡°I was not playing games. You and Master Vincent are our aces in the sleeve, but¡­ look at you.¡± He pointed towards the mage. It was only now that I noticed that the noble eyes had been not only red but also bloodied from a lack of sleep. He was swaying on his feet, trying to keep straight and proper. ¡°Look at you, friend. You need to rest.¡± Lois continued in a quiet tone. ¡°How much did you sleep through these two weeks? A few hours? A day, maybe?¡± ¡°It was enough.¡± The red-haired mage stubbornly refused. ¡°I leveled up, so¡­¡± ¡°No! Believe me, I know that leveling up fills you with power, but it doesn¡¯t replace a need for sleep!¡± The slim man grabbed the mage by his shoulders. ¡°Go to sleep! We¡¯ll manage!¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°For Bella¡¯s sake! Please!¡± The Guild Master bowed and remained in that posture. The soldiers and adventurers behind him heard the whole conversation and their voices echoed Lois¡¯ sentiment. ¡°Please, sir!¡± ¡°We¡¯ll manage!¡± ¡°For the Geinard Kingdom!¡± ¡°Believe us and rest, sire!¡± ¡°Sir!¡± Seeing the whole room bowing Charles sighed loudly while combing his red hair with an impatient hand. ¡°Yes, yes, I heard you¡­ I¡¯ll go.¡± He frowned. ¡°But remember to call me when something powerful comes through. We cannot¡­ fail.¡± He stumbled only to get caught by a few adventurers. ¡°The wall will burn for about half an hour. Prepare accordingly.¡± Charles added while slowly returning to his quarters. After he left a silence ruled the defensive chamber. It was Lois who broke it. ¡°Get the wounded out of here! Ask the tenders for water and food!¡± ¡°And change the shift!¡± A new voice appeared from behind him. ¡°Molan!¡± Lois laughed loudly, seeing the once-proper captain of the Geinard Kingdom army, Molan Duree, casually walking through the tunnel, flanked by his subordinates. The prim and proper soldier was wearing a damaged uniform, yet somehow managed to stay clean in this hellhole. ¡°Hello, Lois.¡± The man nodded seriously, before laughing loudly. ¡°You should take care of yourself, before reprimanding our fire-wielding maniac.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Frowned the Guild Master. ¡°It was our turn to stand guard two hours ago.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a competition.¡± ¡°Yes, but remember that these shifts were assigned this way to let the common soldiers rest.¡± He squinted. ¡°I¡¯m not talking about monsters like you.¡± ¡°What are you¡­¡± ¡°You nearly took on a champion by yourself, didn¡¯t you?¡± The man grinned. ¡°Yup.¡± A similar grin appeared on Lois'' face. ¡°Then, how¡¯s leveling?¡± A quiet question. ¡°Close to level tenth.¡± An even quieter answer. ¡°Good!¡± Molan clapped his back, then spoke out loudly. ¡°We¡¯re taking over!¡± Then he added even louder. ¡°Let¡¯s show these folk how the army does things, boys!¡± ¡°¡°¡°Yes, sir!¡±¡±¡± A choir of voices answered. Interesting. On the surface, it would seem like the obstacles on their path forced the sentients to come together and fight for their collective survival. To abandon preconceptions and fears while presenting a united front to the enemy. It was only on the surface, though. While the soldiers fought the civilian population was forced to live in squalor and manage on the pitiful rations. Food was after all reserved for those who defend them. No matter how sheep-like the common man was he would turn rabid once forced into a corner. Through my rats, I felt the masses shift. Women cradling their children and asking their husbands for salvation. Cold and cruel beatings were administered to those who dared to speak out. I had heard the whispers in the dark. I had heard the murmurs of food and weapons going missing. I had seen the new tunnels being built - away from the defensive line, deeper into the wall, and then - up. Always up. But their tireless escape had been blocked - by me. More escape tunnels breaching the surface meant more entrances - something that I wasn¡¯t too keen on. To prevent that I focused on growing the roots of my silvery trees. Yes, they were cut down to build the defensive outpost, but nobody bothered with pulling out the stumps. Any mana that I managed to gather and wasn¡¯t immediately funneled back into my defenses was sent over to the root network. The plants grew sturdier, their aboveground parts changing to accommodate this evolution. The Silver Ironbarks they were called once, were large trees with dangerous leaves. Some of them remained - too far from the former outpost to be used by the workers. They grew even now, left to their own devices. But many more were destroyed, their flesh used in sentient¡¯s constructions. Over these few days, I had forced them to grow, to stay alive. Their network expanded and intertwined, covering the ground with steel-like growths, just below the surface. No more drilling holes in my dungeon! No more people simply digging to reach me! There were two unexpected changes to the plant itself, though. One was pretty minor - the root network accepted my other creations, giving space and sometimes even sustenance to grow them. However, this treatment didn¡¯t cover plants like wheat, rice, or whatever other food was normally grown in the Geinard Kingdom. This meant that the experiments with Ratling agriculture had to be moved forward in time. The second one rather baffled me. The remains of Silver Ironbarks turned into natural traps - the stump simply dissolved into a flat, circular plate directly connected to the roots. Innocuous, right? Except that when something - or somebody - stepped on it a large number of spikes would appear, skewering the victim and thus allowing the plant to feed. I decided to call it Spike Sundew, due to how it reminded me of this certain insect-eating plant. Copper Grass often grew nearby, covering the otherwise easy-to-spot flat surface of the plant. After a few successful hunts, the bodies of the fallen were additional bait, so I left the Spike Sundews alone, happy with another way to thin out the attacking horde. Well, here I was, going off-tangent again. The point was - these humans weren¡¯t going to hurt me like that again. The mana on the first floor was still thin, but the additional entrances were healing. Slowly. An invisible membrane was forming over them, retaining most of the spent energy. I guessed that something similar must¡¯ve happened when I explosively made my surface entrance, but now I had an opportunity to observe how it all worked - in slow motion too! That said I was still far away from creating a dome, or a magical equivalent of it (a barrier maybe?) and thus conquering the surface. But a Dungeon Core can dream, right? A few more hours had passed and the elves came to an agreement. Their forces started to move towards the human encampment. The proud elf girl said a few harsh words but lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. At least that was universal. A moment later she left with her human in tow. Once the decision was undertaken the silent warriors attacked without warning. Most of the monsters died in their sleep, rarely getting up and screaming before being cut down anyway. This, of course, woke the remainder of the invasion force but seeing the elves eliminating their comrades in a professional fashion was too much. The monsters broke away and ran. The longears didn¡¯t pursue. What happened afterward was the bloody and tiring work of clearing the eastern tunnel and contacting the humans. Once the survivors heard the sounds of battle their morale had returned and an attacking force was immediately formed. Hours later the last monster was dead and the warriors and mages were wading through a mixture of invader¡¯s flesh and blood reaching up to their ankles. In these circumstances, a meeting between Geinard Kingdom forces and the elven expedition came to be. The elves were represented by the girl, shadowed by a large man from earlier, while humans had Charles Blueflame flanked by Captain Molan Duree, Guild Master Lois, and Master Vincent on their side. ¡°My name is Minnalea Luna, third Princess of the Royal Family.¡± She bowed graciously, her foreign accent nearly impossible to discern. ¡°I have come to your aid according to the Northern Kingdom''s pact.¡± ¡°We welcome your aid, oh fair Princess.¡± Charles, even as tired as he was, remained a true blue-blooded noble. ¡°Charles Blueflame of the noble house Blueflame greets you!¡± The mage¡¯s bow was much more pronounced and servile than hers. ¡°Good.¡± A cold smile appeared on the girl¡¯s face. ¡°Then let¡¯s start. Our arrival here wasn¡¯t a random occurrence after all. We know that this place¡­¡± She wildly waved her hand while scrunching her pretty face in disgust. ¡°Harbors a Forgotten Dungeon. Our aim is simple - to destroy it, to smash its core. After all, no technology from the forbidden era may remain, according to Luna Kingdom¡¯s law!¡± ¡°I refuse to let that happen!¡± Answered Charles simply, while observing the incredulous expression on the Princess¡¯ face. ¡°We¡¯re on Geinard Kingdom¡¯s territory and your laws don¡¯t mean anything here, Princess.¡± He once again bowed deeply, a trace of contempt hidden under the mask of gallantry. The temperature froze. 049 Uno The blonde princess''s reaction was interesting to watch. She just looked at Charles incredulously, her mouth opening and closing a few times, like a fish out of the water. Different emotions swirled in her eyes - surprise, anger, humiliation, and then - simple resignation. Too bad, I was getting ready to see how she differed from other people trying to reach my core. With a sigh Minnalea raised her hands in the air, eliciting surprised grunts from the humans. They all entered a defensive stance, two high-ranking elves behind the princess also trying to move between both parties in a rushed panic. Somebody here was treated as untrustworthy, huh? All she did, however, was turn her head in the direction where her people stood and spout a long series of words in elvish. After speaking her piece she simply turned and stormed away, taking her bodyguard along. The rest of the room froze in consternation, humans much more weirded out by this than the elves. Thankfully I wasn¡¯t the only one who didn¡¯t understand a word she said. ¡°Master Vincent?¡± Whispered Charles, while trying to look calm and collected. ¡°I don¡¯t know Elvish. Could you please translate what the princess said?¡± ¡°Yes, I should be able to. It was quite quick, but I believe she spoke something along the lines Since you were the ones who wanted to save humans first, then deal with this. I have better things to do than to quarrel with these rude people. So clean up your mess! Idiots.¡± He whispered back with a quiet chuckle. Charles just stood there for a second, digesting new information. ¡°She isn¡¯t that different from our princess then.¡± He responded with a tired sigh, but quickly adopted a noble demeanor noticing that the two well-dressed elves were approaching the human delegation. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that our meeting started on the wrong foot.¡± Smiled the larger and more muscular of the two. ¡°My name is Agric Oakbound and I am one of the commanders for this mission.¡± The scars on his face gave a dark impression which was quickly dispersed by his cheerful demeanor. He walked forward with his hand outstretched and Charles immediately greeted him back. ¡°Charles Blueflame of house Blueflame.¡± He repeated while bowing and pointing toward his companions. ¡°Behind me, you can see Master Vincent, our magic advisor.¡± The old man in a weird cap cheerfully waved back. ¡°Guild Master Lois, chief of the local adventurers.¡± The young butcher looked disinterestedly at the half-elves but nodded deeply nonetheless. ¡°And the commander of our military forces - Captain Molan Duree.¡± The man in question saluted, his eyes never leaving the approaching party and hand - the handle of his sword. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡± Agric bowed softly, while half turning towards the last member of his own delegation. ¡°This guy is my co-commander and our resident mage - Ian Sleekit.¡± Behind him, a smaller, more delicate elf was simply observing, his full and childish face somehow more serious than those of his companion. Nonetheless, he bowed deeply when introduced, speaking in a soft tone. ¡°Hello, humans. I hope we can reach a compromise.¡± ¡°And you have to breach the topic this way, Ian.¡± Mumbled Agric, surprisingly in human language. Then he shook his head. ¡°Let¡¯s negotiate!¡± He then turned his attention back to the Charles¡¯ group. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if there¡¯s a need for any negotiation.¡± Said the red-haired noble, as he stared down the half-elves. ¡°We simply can¡¯t reach the compromise. You want to destroy the Dungeon Core and we want to preserve it. We don¡¯t have anything to talk about.¡± His head shook in a calculated denial. ¡°And since these are our lands¡­ we don¡¯t intend to budge.¡± A small smile appeared on his face. ¡°Yes, yes I know it all. But for now, we need to understand if this place is really a Forgotten Dungeon.¡± Charles¡¯ raised brow prompted Agric to continue. ¡°You see we don¡¯t really have any proof that this place produces the Magi-Tech Empire-era weapons.¡± He stopped for a moment and I noticed that his companion, Ian, stabbed a finger in his back, likely trying to deliver a message don¡¯t tell them that! The bigger man however simply ignored him and continued. ¡°Because of that, I would ask you to present an electric weapon that our scouts found on the first floor. As a show of good intentions.¡± Agric smiled widely, staring at the human delegation. His intention was clear. We know there is a weapon like that. So show it to us or we¡¯ll go check it ourselves was the message. Charles nodded in consent. ¡°Master Vincent, could you please do so? If I remember correctly the weapons were in your custody for research purposes.¡± He half-turned, asking the old mage for help. ¡°Yes, of course. Acolyte, please get me the lightning weapon sample.¡± A moment later violet-robed mage arrived with a wooden box. He carefully moved towards Vincent and deposited it in his hand. ¡°Thank you.¡± The old mage smiled, his wrinkled face more focused on the weapon than anyone present. ¡°Master Vincent?¡± Charles coughed. ¡°Ah? Yes, yes, here you go. Please handle it with care, our samples are limited at the moment.¡± He smiled again while smoothly handing the weapon to the elves. ¡°I¡¯ll check it out.¡± It was Ian who intercepted Agric''s hands, his eyes glittering with curiosity I more often than not saw in Master Vincent''s eyes. He put the box on the ground, unlatching the hatches and opening it impatiently. A small gasp escaped his lips as he stared at my creation, touching it delicately like he was afraid to break it. Then, with a renewed vigor he picked it up and imitated a few wide attacks. Then, with a press of a button electricity buzzed on the surface of the weapon, mesmerizing the surrounding crowd. Then, with a sigh, he turned it off and spoke. ¡°It¡¯s a Forgotten Dungeon for sure.¡± He shook his head. ¡°This level of quality is unmistakable. I¡¯m doubly sure because this item uses magical engineering principles, not simple enchantments.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± Asked Charles curiously. I was interested too, not knowing that there was another way of doing this stuff. The half-elven mage stopped his work for a moment, thinking about the correct words to explain. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say because nowadays the art of enchantment is already lost, but there is a rule of thumb to recognizing these things. When using enchantments an array - you may call it a magic circle - is carved onto the weapon or similar artifact to grant it a special effect. Then the user spends his mana to activate the said effect, feeding it energy. This thing?¡± He pointed towards my Crackling Mace. ¡°It doesn¡¯t need an activation process. It has energy reserves inside making it perfectly functional in the hands of a non-magical person.¡± ¡°So what? You say it¡¯s a bad thing. That only means that even soldiers who are not gifted with magic can use it. More versatility is always nice.¡± He smiled widely. Ian wasn¡¯t having that, his hard stare never leaving my creation. ¡°So what?! Are you for real? What you have here is a powerful weapon that doesn¡¯t need a mage to operate it. Think about the consequences, human!¡± ¡°Hey, elf, don¡¯t get carried away!¡± Captain Duree stepped forward, not having a random demihuman offending his companion. Surprisingly Charles grabbed him before things escalated. ¡°What you think is a demerit for the Luna Kingdom counts as an advantage for our Geinard Kingdom. Greater good allows any sacrifice.¡± The noble bit back, citing something or somebody with a solemn voice, his eyes hardening too. ¡°I guess the half-elves hiding out in their forests don¡¯t know the real meaning of desperation just yet.¡± A toothy, but cruel smile appeared on his face. ¡°No matter how hard the war gets our Luna Kingdom will never change or forsake our tenets! We are not like the lesser races!¡± Ian answered with a heated gaze, pride seeping from his very being, but stopped speaking when Agric put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°There is no need for hostility. Please.¡± The bigger elf stepped in. ¡°What matters is that we confirmed that this place is indeed a Forgotten Dungeon.¡± ¡°So it means that the Dungeon Core had consumed some of the earlier era technology and is now reproducing it, right?¡± Lois asked, gathering a bunch of derogatory gazes. ¡°What? I was a common adventurer before. None of this magical bullshit mattered.¡± ¡°Yes, you are correct.¡± Master Vincent decided to get into a teaching mood. ¡°What we call a Forgotten Dungeon is a Dungeon Core which somehow devoured a complicated magical technology of the earlier era and now started to reproduce it. It is worth mentioning however that there are many levels to how the dungeon can interact with this new knowledge.¡± ¡°You mean it can gain experience and grow?¡± ¡°No, nothing so simple. For example - this weapon¡­ it could be that there was an armory containing such lightning maces. Unlikely, but possible. It would be a recreation level. Not really that dangerous, despite what our long-eared friends say.¡± He smiled warmly in the elves'' general direction. ¡°Another possibility would be that the dungeon has acquired a similar item - like the lighting bows we discovered before in other sites. This would mean that the idea behind the weapon was remodeled to fit different criteria. Because of that, it would be called a remodel level. More dangerous, but also more profitable, depending on the point of view.¡° Once again his gaze wandered towards the demihumans present in the room. ¡°And you think that this place is of remodeling type?¡± Lois made sure. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Are there other types?¡± ¡°There is one. Transform level. The ability to freely use any acquired technology and implement it into existing designs.¡± The elves visibly twitched. ¡°The Luna Kingdom had a bad case of such dungeon in its infancy, thus the current policies.¡± ¡°Could you tell me about it?¡± Lois asked, for once not bored with the conversation. His eyes glittered like those of a small child. ¡°I could, but it¡¯s a story for another time. I¡¯m afraid that we have more important things to worry about.¡± A kindly grandfather-like smile appeared on Master Vincent''s wrinkled face. One could nearly forget that he was a powerful mage commanding forces beyond human comprehension. ¡°Good.¡± Sighed visibly bored Charles. ¡°Anyway. It doesn¡¯t matter what your intentions are, this is Geinard Kingdom soil and this Forgotten Dungeon is ours!¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°I am sorry, but that may not be true.¡± Agric smiled apologetically. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I would assume that you know about the monster wave that assaulted the northern border.¡± ¡°Of course. It was the reason we were seeking shelter in these caverns.¡± Charles nodded warily. ¡°The great defensive line of the city bastions was broken. Kojin, Grode and Frist had fallen.¡± Agric said solemnly, looking at the human¡¯s reaction. A flash of surprise appeared in his eyes when Charles started laughing loudly. ¡°Hahahahahaha! They have fallen, you say?¡± He asked, mad light brightening his irises. ¡°Yes¡­¡± ¡°And what do you want us to do?¡± ¡°We could offer you shelter and a place to live in exchange for the d-dungeon r-rights.¡± The elf stuttered his last words, seeing the human noble coming closer. He grabbed his clothes and lifted the struggling longear. ¡°Fuck off.¡± The earlier toothy grin wasn¡¯t an illusion. ¡°The Geinard Kingdom is fighting a losing battle against its enemies and you dare to come, offering me abandon it?! Talk about the double standards, you pieces of shit! Noble elves, my ass!¡± Charles threw the bigger man back, the co-commander landing heavily on the ground and rolling away. He grunted and started rising. ¡°And you.¡± His face turned towards the other elf, Ian already preparing to cast a spell. ¡°Get your companion out of here before my patience completely runs out!¡± ¡°You!---¡± The mage was seething with rage but straightened himself out after seeing a flame appearing suddenly on the human¡¯s hand. ¡°I wasn¡¯t asking!¡± With a huff, the smaller elf dragged his companion out of the tunnel, while glaring at the humans with hatred. ¡°Was that wise, sir?¡± Asked Captain Duree. ¡°It was the only answer I could¡¯ve given. Unless you want to serve as Luna Kingdom watchdog, just like this poor sod following their princess.¡± Charles shook his head, losing his earlier monstrous look, his figure turning weak and desolate. ¡°I see.¡± ¡°Captain, please get our sentries topside and start rebuilding the outpost. These trees should regrow completely in a week or two, so use the local material.¡± He ordered in a tired voice. ¡°Yes, sir!¡± ¡°Also keep the elves out of the dungeon. Especially the princess.¡± ¡°Why?¡± It was Lois this time asking the question. ¡°I have a bad feeling about her. She smells similar to Princess Agnes.¡± He noticed a weird stare from Lois. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Smells like¡­ Sir, what have you been doing with your life?¡± The black-haired man smiled dumbly while licking his lips. He was immediately smacked on his head. ¡°Ow! What that was for?¡± ¡°Do you need to ask?¡± Charles answered exhaustedly while returning back to the human campsite. Yet thanks to the Lois question the atmosphere turned somewhat lighter. The humans retreated, same with the elves. The former re-established their outpost on the surface, slowly rebuilding. The latter formed a cordon around the place, living off the land (which was impressive, considering that most of the surface was either a wasteland or under the thrall of my metallic dominion). And I? I was killing off the last waves of the invaders. According to the Ratlings, most of the kobolds, goblins, and other small monsters were already exterminated. A few last bastions of opposition were found and summarily razed. Their guerilla warfare turned most of the rat tunnels into the deathtraps and taught the survivors valuable lessons in the art of battle. My rats were hardier, more ruthless, and more opportunistic when fighting. More importantly, when killing the last of the mutated kobolds the rat¡¯s vanguard discovered something interesting. The cowardly kobolds were defending with a frenzy earlier unseen, throwing their scaled bodies against the Ratlings'' enhanced claws in a futile attempt to stop them. The advancing units were getting the worst of it, nearly half of the rats were wounded or dead. In the end, we managed to conquer the nest only to find out what they were defending. Eggs. A clutch of eggs - there were thirty-six of them to be exact. Unlike the ones we fought - with damaged limbs, weird growths, and blind eyes - they were looking surprisingly healthy. Still, their loyalty after birth was not guaranteed, so I decided to use my ultimate move¡­ Which was to have them transported near my Mechanical Core Gem and then converted into dungeon lifeforms. It would be a waste to learn that I had such ability and then simply forget about it, right? Under my command, both Lebirs and Ratlings did their best - moving egg after egg into the underwater chamber, where they were carefully put on the ground - like offerings before some pagan god. This was also the place where I moved Guardian, who until now was just standing there, looking bored while staring at the enclosed walls. Because of these new additions he once again grew lively. [Can I name them, my lord?] He asked pleadingly over our mental link. [Yes, yes, you can do whatever you want with them. Pet them, eat them, train them¡­ whatever. Once they¡¯re born and my secondary Core will convert them I¡¯ll get the blueprints¡­ so you can do what you want with them.] [Thank you!] He was somehow able to transmit his feeling of contention. [I should ask the smith golem to make some armor and weapons for them.] He mumbled more to himself than to me. [Do as you wish.] I closed up the link before more of his inane ideas bled through. I turned my attention to the last invaders instead. A group of them was moving into the Underground Lake Room. Should I say another group? These creatures simply didn¡¯t learn. My Ratlings already understood that the Glass Progenitor attacked anything that produced vibrations, be it sound or movement, so their scout teams wore special ¡°boots¡± over their paws. The invading orcs and lizardmen didn¡¯t use any precautionary measures. They simply charged forward, with no preparation, scouting, or anything. Because of that, I was a witness to another bloody scene. Two of the lizardmen decided to go for a swim (who knows why?), their sleek, yet deformed forms were cleanly cutting through the dark water. It took only a few seconds for the Progenitor to recognize that the food was on the table. It snatched the lizards in one fell swoop, dragging them down to its enormous maw, turning the water red after a first chomp. The rest of the warriors - about twenty or so - understood that there was something dangerous in the lake and bolted towards the nearest door. Sadly instead of retreating they choose to run towards the room at the far end of the artificial coast. Three more warriors were picked up by the hungry Progenitor when the first of the runners arrived at the closed doors. He jerked the handle back only to get skewered by the suddenly appearing spear. The rest screamed something - curses, maybe? - and hesitated for long enough to have two more of their number snatched. Roaring loudly they disappeared under the water, saturating it with even more red color. This forced the rest of the band to advance. And advance they did - right into the spikes, water cutters, and - as a final touch - the spear pit. Only one orc managed to stagger back, his body cut and battered, hyperventilating sob and enlarged irises a clear sign of shock. Too bad that the Glass Progenitor was still hungry. Seeing that these invaders were dealt with I moved to the other points of resistance, only to notice that my creatures were having a field day with the attackers. One of those was in the middle of the Metallic Jungle Room, just south of the Central Pond. It was a training place for both my Air Force Ratlings using their Tamed Dragonflies and Ironflame Rats. Their cooperation was perfect - the flying rats were harassing the enemy, while small, self-sufficient teams of Temple Warriors and common Ironflames were cutting down enemy numbers with a combination of fireballs and good old melee. One by one. The jungle was full of screams, the otherwise silvery trees singed with flames or blood. They would get reclaimed soon, returning the area to its earlier look. Some battles were also raging to the north and east from the main room, but those were mostly confined to small exchanges between Lebirs and the enemies. With Lebir Captains thrown in the mix, not to mention a random Exploder or Electro-Touched appearing it was turning into a battle of attrition. One that I was winning. Which forced me to consider another question. What should I do with the Central Pond Room? Right now it looked more like a moonscape than the forest full of vitality. I guess that was how the unrestricted usage of Exploding Lebirs changed the environment. Something in me wanted to leave it how it was, to spread fear and awe in my would-be conquerors. On the other hand, the trees and small hills made spotting my fiery surprises that much harder. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Not to mention that the third floor was still being dug out. I needed a place for experiments, but also to turn my ideas into reality. And, of course, start both my Ratling Enhancement Plan and Fuck You Anima Plan. Non, Iron-melded Revenant Geinard Kingdom Capital - Shieldstar The journey towards the country''s capital should take about a month for a prepared wanderer. Yet such speed was normal only if considering that they needed to sleep, defend against the dangerous beasts, as well as eat and shit. These constraints were no longer binding for the undead being that Tinna turned into. She ran forward with a single-minded conviction, a burning feeling of revenge. Her figure disappeared from shadow to shadow during the days, with the nights being full of long jumps. Doing so Non didn¡¯t care about being seen, birthing rumors about the dark maiden traversing the shadows while clad in metallic armor. Thanks to that she arrived at Shieldstar in about two weeks since her birth. The imposing walls and gates meant nothing for one wandering the night. She teleported to the battlements in a span of a second, surprising one of the patrolling guards. Before the man could confirm whether what he saw was an illusion or not she disappeared from his sight. Sloppy. What would her instructor say? In the other life, in the other time. Was he alive too. She didn¡¯t care. With a steady gait, she disappeared into the alley, her half-naked body drawing glances, but nothing more. She looked like an adventurer and the look of her armor suggested a magical nature. There weren¡¯t many people stupid enough to mingle with such a dangerous person. Not on the streets, anyway. The pickpocket who followed her into the alley looked around in confusion. She was gone. With a shrug, the young thief returned to his everyday tasks. Non decided to first check on the place where her sisters lived. While the Core has been accommodating and the Goddess sympathetic she wasn¡¯t able to trust them before confirming her siblings'' whereabouts with her own eyes. She found that their place in the orphanage had been taken, two small boys sleeping in the bed where her family once lay. It took all her willpower to not strangle the life out of them. Instead, she appeared in the nuns'' quarters - to interrogate the woman she once loved like a mother. The one who took care of all the things happening in this place. Mother Superior she was called. Nobody bothered with her real name. Non¡¯s shadowy figure appeared from the darkness, scaring the older nun. She opened her mouth to scream, only to have it covered with cold, armored fingers. ¡°Shut¡­ up.¡± Groaned the figure. Only when she nodded in compliance the dangerous hands relented. ¡°Please, please don¡¯t kill me! I¡¯m nobody, I don¡¯t know who are you searching for, but it¡¯s a simple orphanage¡­ please!¡± The old woman bowed deeply, her body trembling, a voice no more than a whisper. ¡°Jo-anne. Be-ria. Whe-re?¡± Asked the armored figure and the nun suddenly raised her head. ¡°Tinna, is that you? Child, what happened?¡± She asked, trembling still. ¡°Answer.¡± A simple word spewed like a curse. ¡°B-but¡­ you should already know. I sent letters, I told the overseer¡­¡± Her voice cracked, a realization dawning on her face. ¡°Oh please, don¡¯t kill me! Please! I had nothing to do with it!¡± ¡°An-swer.¡± ¡°They died¡­ a few years ago. The overseer deemed them unfit for duty and stopped their rations. They starved to death¡­ I am sorry.¡± A few tears escaped the nun¡¯s tightly closed eyes. The undead Non was also trembling. A wave of cold anger was currently coursing through her veins. She glared at the kneeling woman. ¡°Over-see-er¡­ Hening?¡± She asked coldly. ¡°Y-yes.¡± Non nodded. She remembered. There were many things, many memories she had forgotten, but in the end, only the revenge mattered. With a single arm, she lifted the struggling woman up in the air. ¡°P-please!¡± She begged, struggling to get free. ¡°T-the other, other children will die¡­ without me¡­¡± She whispered the last few words, clearly losing her breath. ¡°H-have mercy¡­¡± ¡°No.¡± With a swift movement, she separated the woman¡¯s head from her neck. These enchanted daggers are no joke. The body fell to the ground with a dull thud. Then blood started to seep into the carpet, dying it red. Non only stared at the scene of the carnage. All was silent. Then she curled up her fists. Unknowingly her mouth stretched in a wild, inhuman smile. ¡°Hen-ning.¡± A moment later the shadows fluttered and she was gone. Her revenge was not yet complete. 050 Uno I was digging on the third level. Or, to be more precise - my drones were digging. Their upgraded stone chassis easily tore through the soil and an occasional rock. This deep underground they even sometimes got stuck on a particularly stubborn piece of material. These were getting more common than before too. I should probably start researching another upgrade for the drones. I guess iron would be a logical next step. Anyway - I was hoping for the discovery of some new metals, maybe a petrified skeleton of some legendary monster useful in developing some nasty surprises for the next invaders¡­ yet nothing came up - just the monotone brown and grey of the underground. Hours passed as the tunnel was dug towards the north, starting from the stairs chamber. I decided to leave the trial room alone for now. Who knew if digging near it would have some dire consequences? It was still new territory, so better safe than sorry. After a few more minutes of digging, I prodded my drones to change directions. They moved westward, chewing through the stone and soil. It was quite a zen experience, staring at them, busy and serious like ants building a new colony. Some time had passed and I managed to drill out a large, oval room. It had a nice, rich floor covered in the best soil I could find - which should be enough to start my seeding project. Not wasting any time I added Electrical Chandeliers to the mix, bathing the area in their cold, blue light. The wire network came just after, eye-cameras popping in sensitive locations, giving me the ability to see and react accordingly. The Ratlings were hard at work too, their little paws adding tunnel after tunnel to my new design, intertwining their emergency exits, small watch posts, and warehouses with the already existing chamber. Soon it was ready - an experimental farm smack dab in the middle of my underground. Or, for now, just a bare room with a large space full of dark, rich soil in the middle, intermingled with an occasional rock protruding from the floor. A beginning. Let¡¯s get started then. For now, I decided to not feed the plants any magic. Not directly anyway. Instead, seeds of various common plants were summoned and planted in the soil with a little help from the Ratlings. They had their own names, but I decided to call them using my old-world equivalents. There was wheat, tomatoes, watermelon, and a pair of different berry bushes. Then something resembling corn, small paprika, stout cucumber of unheard size, and three or four bean-like plants in different colors, which needed a pair of wooden poles to grow. Then I had radish and carrot lookalikes, with a slight variation of color and size. Each of them was planted in their corner of the experimental farm and for now, just allowed to grow at their leisure. If I was correct the concentration of mana on my third level should rather quickly show some interesting effects. Once that part of the experiment would be complete I only had to isolate what made them special¡­ and bam! A magical plant ready to grow! Of course, there was no way to check which special abilities would develop. Or if they would develop at all, but that could be easily remedied with generous flooding of the area with my mana. Even if they wilt (or explode) I had an unending supply of the seeds. I was about to start testing some more volatile things when a commotion above ground attracted my attention. The humans were at it again. As I shifted to one of the last surviving Devileyes to have good enough vision the Blueflame noble was quickly moving towards the place where Master Vincent and merchant Outeles Kamap stood, staring at the ground with serious expressions. Surrounding them was a large crowd of farmers and other unimportant civilians waiting in worried silence. The atmosphere was heavy and somber. Bald Tom was also present, his large frame easily recognizable against his less muscular peers. He didn¡¯t dare to step forward though, waiting at a respectful distance instead. Still closer than the randos around. I guess that denoted his position as somebody above the common man but with only one foot in the places of power. Heh. A few minutes later Charles arrived, the onlookers'' expressions somehow brightening. Most of them knew that the red-haired noble was responsible for their miraculous survival in the depths of the dungeon and learned to rely on him when it came to decision-making. The man himself took the burden like he was born to bear it. The whispers in the dark attributed him to every success of the colony and much more, the destruction of the Fallen Tribes horde being one of his supposed feats. The rumors grew, feeding on each other, making him out to be a superhuman figure and the sole hope of survival when it came to the Geinard Kingdom. Something that he was wholly unaware of. ¡°What seems to be the problem, Master Vincent, Outeles?¡± He asked, before noticing the bald giant. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded towards him. ¡°Tom.¡± A simple gesture, but important enough to have the large man swooning. ¡°Sir Charles!¡± He shouted while bowing. The two others also responded, their faces austere. ¡°We have a problem, sir Charles.¡± Said Master Vincent, while digging in the dirt. ¡°A serious problem.¡± Outeles added. ¡°I see.¡± The noble looked around. ¡°We¡¯ll continue this discussion in private, then.¡± His voice took a more serious and firmer tone as he addressed the surroundings. ¡°Good people, please disperse! Both I and the masters are on the case! There is no need to worry! Return to your duties and let us work in peace!¡± Hearing his plea most of the onlookers dispersed immediately, the rest were convinced by the suddenly arriving guards. The soldiers appeared immediately after Charles, taking care of the stragglers. Even Tom was about to be displaced but managed to remain after a lazy wave from the human outpost''s sole ruler. ¡°Speak then, please.¡± Charles asked, his tired face scrunched while preparing for the bad news. ¡°As you probably know after the destruction of the outpost and our re-emergence we embarked on a hard task of rebuilding.¡± The merchant started. ¡°Like most Geinard Kingdom the former Waltzer castle allows us to grow both wheat and vegetables through the year, thus normally alleviating much of the food problems we experience.¡± ¡°I know. To the point please.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Outeles bowed slightly, his face nervous. ¡°The point is we can¡¯t grow anything.¡± ¡°Huh? Why?¡± ¡°Let me explain, my boy.¡± Master Vincent interrupted gently, stopping the Charles¡¯ angry outburst. He rose wearily, an old body straightening with nearly audible creaks. ¡°You see under this remarkably rich soil¡­¡± He grasped a handful of dirt and let it slowly fall to the ground. ¡°There is a network of equally remarkably sturdy roots.¡± His gaze hardened. ¡°We already knew about them, but they were contained into much deeper strata and, more importantly, they didn¡¯t mind our crops growing beside them. They were harmless. The operative word being were.¡± With a small sigh, he gathered magical power without any explanation and blasted the nearby ground. After the dust settled down and soldiers stopped panicking an interlacing net of silver and brown tubes could be seen inside the remaining hole. It was completely blocking the recess and under the wary eyes of the onlookers, the roots even regenerated, returning to their former shape. ¡°I guess you tried hacking it away or clearing them out using either poison, fire, or some other means?¡± Charles murmured while poking at the silvery growth. ¡°Yes. Fire, poison, arcane, ice, lightning, even brute force. Nothing works and if it does then the solution is only temporary. They regenerate back pretty much instantly and suck out the energy from any ordinary plants in the process.¡± ¡°They¡¯re a dungeon creation then?¡± ¡°Yes, seems like it.¡± ¡°Why now though? I don¡¯t remember reading any reports about such behavior in any of the books about Dungeon Cores.¡± Asked Charles incredulously. ¡°Maybe because there were no prior dungeons with two forcefully added entrances.¡± Commented Master Vincent. ¡°That might¡¯ve been the cause¡­¡± Admitted Charles bitterly. ¡°Even animals tend to curl up when attacked.¡± ¡°Yes, I agree that this may be a self-defense mechanism.¡± ¡°So these¡­ roots. Will they grow weaker with time? Relax, so to speak?¡± ¡°Inconclusive.¡± Master Vincent shrugged his arms. ¡°There was never a situation like this. True, some dungeons were outright destroyed, when necessary, but nobody managed to do what you did, sir.¡± ¡°I somehow feel like that wasn¡¯t praise.¡± ¡°Oh, but it was!¡± The old mage''s face flushed with excitement. ¡°There aren¡¯t many occasions to experiment with the dungeon behavior after all! Are they like animals? Curling up and trying to weather the bad times? Or do they unchangingly endure, like the oldest oaks? Do they want revenge on those who brought them pain? So many questions!¡± He grinned, calming down a while later. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m grateful to you, sir.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± The noble waved his hand dismissively, but I noticed a small tremble on the word revenge. ¡°What are our options then? Do you have any solutions? We can always hunt the dungeon rats for some meat, but other than that most of the monsters down there are undead. Bad for consumption.¡± ¡°Maybe we should get some meat from the invaders?¡± Piped up the merchant. ¡°Eating trolls, goblins, or orcs? We haven¡¯t fallen so low! How¡¯s that different from cannibalism?¡± Huffed Charles. ¡°No, no, I was more thinking about the various beasts of burden they used. Call them barbarians all you like, but they needed something to carry their supplies. Such animals are usually useful as the meat sources, be it horses, oxen, donkeys or less docile beasts.¡± ¡°Tell the truth. You¡¯re just trying to save your draft animals from landing in the pot.¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°So what if I am? They are the lifeblood of any merchant. Losing them means a pointless death. Not literal one, of course, but still - a slow and agonizing fall into obscurity.¡± Outeles corrected the feathered cap on his head. ¡°And besides my idea is not bad.¡± ¡°I agree, but it is still a temporary solution. Not to mention that the elves would never allow us to claim them considering our current standing. They would rather let us starve.¡± Charles shook his head. ¡°Ahem.¡± Master Vincent coughed artificially. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°They¡¯re half-elves, not elves, sir. It might be wise to stop calling them that. After all Luna Kingdom and Elven Theocracy are in a state of a silent war.¡± He sighed theatrically. ¡°It¡¯s similar to likening humans to the orcs or goblins.¡± ¡°You know I don¡¯t care about the sharp-ears, right?¡± The red-haired noble answered haughtily. ¡°We were talking about starvation issues.¡± Interrupted the merchant, calming the two men instantly. ¡°I also have an idea.¡± Reported Master Vincent. ¡°I sure hope it¡¯s not about the mushrooms.¡± Murmured Tom from behind. ¡°My good man! These mushrooms would be fit for consumption in no time!¡± ¡°Not before half of my workers die from a stomach ache.¡± Calmly retorted the chief carpenter. ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s not about them.¡± Hearing this conversation I decided to closely follow what Master Vincent did in the future. It seemed like his experiments weren¡¯t far away from my own ideas. Of course, his attempts at playing god were much humbler than what I working with. Nonetheless, it was an interesting turn of events. That¡¯s why I was shocked by his words. ¡°There is a dungeon nearby.¡± ¡°What? Another one? But wasn¡¯t that against the rules?¡± The red-haired noble wondered aloud. ¡°Not to mention I didn¡¯t hear about it before coming here.¡± He squinted his eyes, worried and a bit accusatory. ¡°The dungeon I¡¯m talking about is deep underground, under the protection of the dwarf oathbreakers.¡± His words elicited another growl from the mage. ¡°I have nothing against the dwarves, but oathbreakers¡­ they¡¯re bad.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not outcasts at least. Their word is as good as any other dwarf.¡± Smiled Master Vincent. ¡°They¡¯re called oathbreakers, for Gods sake! How can I not worry?!¡± After the scream left his lungs Charles breathed in deeply, slowly calming down. ¡±Two questions.¡± He continued, visibly tired. ¡°How long does one have to travel to arrive at this dungeon of yours? And what is its specialty? I presume it''s something edible?¡± ¡°About four to five days by using carriage and as for specialty¡­¡± The helmeted mage scratched his feeble beard in embarrassment. ¡°Snakes.¡± A moment of silence followed. ¡°Really?!¡± The noble shouted again, exasperated. ¡°Really?! Thrice-cursed snakes?! Oh, Gods¡­ why?! Rats and snakes, that will be the contents of my future meals?! Who did I cross for me to have atone in such a way?!¡± Charles screamed aloud, turning the heads of the surrounding guards. ¡°We do what we need to survive.¡± Mused Master Vincent, not ruffled in the slightest. I could even spy a small flame of interest in his iris. ¡°They¡¯re commonly eaten in the Dross Republic.¡± Outeles mumbled wearily. ¡°Anything to fill our bellies.¡± Tom¡¯s reaction was the simplest. He smiled gratefully, bowing towards the old mage. In the meantime, the red-haired noble managed to calm down. His face was still flushed and his eyes widened, but at least the screams had stopped. ¡°What would we trade for food though?¡± He asked, unconsciously poking his chin. ¡°Our stores are limited.¡± Outeles shook his head, a small notepad suddenly appearing in his hand. ¡°And the remaining supplies will last two weeks. Three, if we start rationing them now.¡± ¡°There is something we can barter with.¡± Vincent mused happily. ¡°Then what is it? Don¡¯t keep us in suspense.¡± ¡°Simple - the trade goods I was talking about are weapons produced on the first floor.¡± ¡°These weapons?¡± Scoffed Charles. ¡°They¡¯re useless. Any dwarf worth their salt will tell you that! Any smith at all!¡± ¡°That is true, but they have another, rare quality. You see, they have been made from a high-class iron. For us humans it¡¯s just useful, but otherwise secondary resource. Yet dwarves¡­ dwarves love this stuff and are always searching for more ores or items suitable to melt down into ingots.¡± Said the mage excitedly. Hearing this Charles¡¯ eyes brightened. ¡°You¡¯re right!¡± A wide smile appeared on his face. ¡°It¡¯s decided then. We¡¯ll try your solution.¡± Spring returned to his step. ¡°Outeles!¡± He shouted, even though the Dross Republic merchant was just beside him. ¡°Yes, sir?¡± The merchant unconsciously straightened his back. ¡°Borrow a few of the Lois adventurers and Captain Duree soldiers. Gather your people too and the remaining carriages. Ask Master Vincent for directions and lead the caravan towards the dwarf dungeon.¡± He turned his head back to the mage. ¡°What it¡¯s called?¡± ¡°Snake Pits!¡± ¡°Yeah, towards the Snake Pits.¡± He mumbled. ¡°Freaking lovely.¡± Then, he added in a louder tone. ¡°Do it!¡± ¡°At once!¡± ¡°You!¡± The noble pointed at one of the surrounding guards. ¡°At your command, sir!¡± The excluded man bowed sharply, saluting in the process. ¡°Ask Guildmaster Lois and Captain Duree to organize hunting rotations in the dungeon.¡± The noble breathed in, staring at the faraway camp full of lithe half-elf figures. ¡°Most of the new squads should be on hunting duty, while the rest will focus on gathering the weapons produced on the first floor.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± A wide, bloodthirsty grin appeared on the soldier¡¯s face. ¡°Remember to not engage the first floor Guardian and do not - I repeat - DO NOT MOVE DOWNWARDS.¡± Charles cautioned, his tone raised to near-scream. ¡°Acknowledged, sir.¡± ¡°Run along.¡± The noble waved his hand in dismissal and the man sprinted into the freshly built barracks. His loud laughter echoed in the enclosed space. ¡°I hope it¡¯s enough.¡± Charles sighed. ¡°It surely will be, sir.¡± Tom, the forgotten carpenter dared to speak at this moment. He quieted quickly, aware of the awkward silence, and seeing the surprised face of his leader he quickly bowed his head. Charles didn¡¯t even remember that he was nearby. ¡°Tom, it¡¯s good that you¡¯re here. Please ask Master Vincent - in his free time, of course - if he has a wish to build a permanent magic tower in the vicinity.¡± A small smile floated on his face, only to be chased out by an expression of worry. ¡°Also.. is there any news from the capital?¡± ¡°No.¡± The large, bald man looked tired too, his fear carving first wrinkles on the otherwise calm face. ¡°The Princess took our magic communication artifact with her when she left and none of the runners had yet managed to return.¡± With a heavy nod, the red-haired mage turned back. ¡°We still have time. Even a runner would take about a month to arrive at the northern frontier. And then they need to get back.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Their silhouettes disappeared in one of the nearby houses, the speech too quiet to understand. And I decided to return underground. I was staring at the happily growing plants, while my drones tried to dig out even more tunnels and rooms. Everything was fine. Non, Iron-melded Revenant Geinard Kingdom Capital - Shieldstar The undead was prowling the night. It was not hard to gather information about Henning. A deathly kiss here, a clink of coins there¡­ and the picture was born. Peter Hening, the first administrator of the Hawks. An important figure in the bureaucratic faction of the court, he was awarded the rank of a baron. Titular, not hereditary, but still. A man who weighed the life and death of many would-be spies and assassins gathering under the command of the Hawk. No matter the cost, no matter the consequences - but always for the Kingdom. Married, with three daughters. Bella, Dorothea, and Casia. Lived in a great mansion nearby, guarded by a knight legion and leeching off the Kingdom¡¯s luxuries like a great, fat parasite. A man of power, a man of wealth and influence. One of the seven most important figures in the King¡¯s court. And right now? A man on the run. Slowly he crawled away from the terrifying shadow that arrived at his opulent residence. The formerly lit mansion which was echoing with sounds of life now turned silent, distant, and cold. No sound traveled the abandoned halls but the lamentation of a human turned into simple prey. The orchestra room no longer reminded him of the violinist who graced these chambers. There was only fear. There was only despair left. And a maddening mantra of it¡¯s not real, it¡¯s not real, it¡¯s not real! Peter was never muscular or strong, his figure resembling a pear, with folds of fat unpleasantly clapping when he moved. That never stopped him from indulging in the most beautiful women, the sweetest nectars, and the rarest delicacies. It was the first time in his life that he regretted these actions. He regretted not training. Not praying enough. Not gathering enough of personal power to escape this¡­ abomination. She stalked every shadow, a pair of black eyes following him through the estate. He noticed a sitting figure - a knight in full armor resting on the nearby couch. With a berating yell, he jumped forward, believing himself safe. ¡°Wake up, knight! Defend me, for Goddess¡¯ sake!¡± His screams were cut short when he touched a heavily bloodied body and its macabrely carved head tilting back and landing on the floor in total silence. With a soundless scream, he retreated, landing on the floor with a wet thump, and hissed in pain. The cut tendon still radiated pain. In the beginning, he tried to jump on one leg, to run faster, but this soon exhausted his stamina. Afterward, he was forced to crawl on his knees, moving like a worm. Tasting the humiliation for the first time in his life. He sobbed and turned back to stare at his pursuer, with defiance born from desperation. ¡°W-what do you want?!¡± He screamed in the darkness, half-hoping for silence and a half - for a timely rescue. What answered was a hiss full of malice. ¡°G-give¡­¡± ¡°Give what?! Please! Money, women, power! I have it all! Just¡­ let me live!¡± ¡°G-give¡­ ba-ck.¡± ¡°What?!¡± ¡°Jo-anne. Be-eria. Wh-ere?¡± She asked with hatred, each word slowly crawling out of her mouth. ¡°Wh-who are they?¡± Peter asked, feeling the silent, black pressure wash over him like a cloud. ¡°Gi-rls. Un-der¡­ Hawks.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, please, I really don¡¯t know!¡± He lied with his eyes closed, praying to every god, every demon that listened to save him. But no one did. ¡°W-wrong. Ans-wer.¡± Non smiled widely, her perfect-looking teeth leaving a mad, crooked impression. ¡°Penalty.¡± She said, throwing something out. ¡°Eh?!¡± The administrator jumped back as far as his battered body allowed, only to fall into the pool of sticky blood. The liquid felt cold and dirty, but soon a feeling of something landing on his lap attracted his attention. Bloodshot eyes of the administrator wandered down against his will only to see up close a cut-off head of his wife staring at him with an expression of shock. ¡°Gyaaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± A scream echoed through the empty mansion as the grisly trophy was thrown in the air. Non didn¡¯t waste any time. She repeated the question. ¡°Gi-rls. Under. Hawks.¡± Slowly accentuated words twisted like venomous snakes. A shocked, wide-eyed stare was the only reaction. The revenant watched her victim for a moment, giving the human a chance. Then, she repeated coldly. ¡°Wrong. An-swer.¡± This breaks the spell, but it¡¯s already too late. Another cut-off head soared through the air and this time the fat administrator was silent. He just widened his arms and sobbed quietly. ¡°B-bella¡­ no. It¡¯s not happening. My little Bella. What¡­ why?¡± He raised his tearful eyes only to meet a pair of black orbs staring heartlessly at his despair. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± ¡°Gi-rls. Under. Hawks.¡± Was the only answer his interrogator had given. ¡°I-I can¡¯t. Please. I¡¯ll die. My family will die.¡± ¡°Wrong. An-swer.¡± Words spill out of the shapely mouth with a precision of a dwarven time-counter. ¡°I beg you---¡± A voiceless scream rose in his chest as another severed head landed on his already bloodied lap. He breathed deeply, lamenting, clutching, and hugging the remains of his daughter. ¡°Gi-rls.¡± She whispered in the broken man''s ear. ¡°A notepad under the mage-light table. Press 3, 3, 4, 1, 8, and twist it right.¡± He answered soullessly, his eyes focused on the remains of his family. Another smallest head joined the quickly rising pyramid, but Peter didn¡¯t react. He couldn¡¯t. There wasn¡¯t anything left out of him. All he could do was to weep, desperately hugging what remained. Tonight Peter Hening died. And nobody could bring him back anymore. With the grace of a predator, Non moved towards the table he mentioned. It was old, well used, and indeed had a mage-light above it. On its wooden surface, a bunch of numbers was carved - following the instructions the revenant opened a hidden compartment. Then, with bated breath - she searched. The hope she carried in her heart beats louder and louder. Then she finds a small, unimportant note. [Joanne. Beria. Tinna younger sisters. Found inadequate. Eliminated. Due to emotional connection eliminate the older sister as she finishes the assignment. The Hawk agrees.] Under that written in clear, bold words. [Peter Hening, Chief Administrator.] And her heart breaks completely. That night a pair of voices howl in pain, scaring the surrounding urban area in the submission. At the dawn, military police found only a scarred, broken man who once was called Chief Administrator. Non still haunts Shieldstar though. It¡¯s time for her biggest prey. 051 Uno I was observing slowly growing plants. It filled me with a strange sense of satisfaction. Was that the feeling exclusive to creation? Who knew? It was hard to tell at first, but the mana-soaking treatment was working. While the changes were minuscule and random it reminded me how people in my earlier world described radiation exposure in older movies and books. The workings of the chance were exciting. After all, I couldn¡¯t call myself a gamer if I wasn¡¯t a devout believer of RNG-sus. As I said before, most of the changes were small. A weirdly shaped leaf here, a metallic-looking stem there. They were adding up though. Slowly, but surely. Even so, there were some speedy exceptions too. They didn¡¯t fare well, but I had some fun observing their antics. One of them was a carrot that grew legs - yes, actual root-like legs! - and uprooted itself from the soil, while starting to walk away from the gardens. I was curious about its destination, so I let it be, but only after a few meters of brisk jog it slowed down, visibly shrunk, then in three more minutes wilted and died, turning into dust. Too bad. In another experiment - a piece of common wheat - changed color to red, grew a sunflower-like flower cup, and¡­ started burning. For a moment I was excited about a new defensive ability - while I wasn¡¯t sure how the plant was doing what it was doing, I speculated that it could be discovered after some dissecting¡­ Then I remembered that it was a plant that was on fire. As if to answer my expectations the ¡°fire sunflower¡± produced some popping sounds from its stem and started to smoke. A few minutes later all that remained was a pile of ash¡­ I sent some Ratlings over to make sure that the fire didn¡¯t spread. No sense in endangering other specimens. After all, I doubted that it was some kind of phoenix flower that would rise from the ashes. Some of the other failures simply wilted or turned into dust, like vampires exposed to the sun. I accepted that outcome as a reasonable price to pay. It was easy to understand that while the mana could mutate the plants, there were some unavoidable dead ends on the road of random evolution. Still, I was happy. There was this fuzzy feeling in my (non-existent) stomach. In my earlier life, I wasn¡¯t what you would call a green thumb. Quite the opposite, in fact. The only greenery that managed to survive in my home were either cacti or similarly stubborn plants. It didn¡¯t help that I frequently forgot to water them, use fertilizer, or change their soil... Observing the evolving plants was relaxing. A great change from the constant fear and anger that I felt when sentients invaded. Speaking of the sentients¡­ my bliss didn¡¯t last long, as the humans started to pour down the stairs, fulfilling the orders of their leader. A team after team fought against my defenders, gathered meager experience, the loot, and then retreated. A constant stream of attackers returned with meat, fur, and bone harvested from my Ratlings or with parts of armor and weapons stripped from the defeated undead Lebirs. It was rather jarring, only being able to watch and not intervene, but there wasn¡¯t much I could do about it. After all, my control over this level was non-existent, courtesy of the Anima use side-effects. Slaughtering Lebirs was one thing - they were mass-produced undead automatons, after all. What hurt more was each Ratling lost to violence. What a waste of potential¡­ I had plans for them and the more there were available, the better. At least the stronger specimens were already staying on my lower levels. My other gripe was the fact that their deaths literally fed my enemy - filling both their experience levels and stomachs. I felt that with their rise in power chances of pulling some stunts would rise too. Each battle won raised their confidence. Drunk on success many of the delvers glanced greedily at my substitute boss - an Enhanced Bile-brain Golem, as the system called it. While a great deal weaker than Guardian it compensated with a lack of the glaring weakness in the form of wires stretching to the ceiling. Not to mention that the first-floor stairway still had Bloody Sacrificial Altar lying inside - and this new defender was immune to its effects which gave it a distinct advantage over its predecessor. Nothing much happened though and it ended with the glances only. The orders given to the sentients explicitly stated that no one was to challenge the Floor Guardian. A healthy dose of fear after one of the squads wandered near the room¡¯s entrance and was nearly dragged inside helped too. The Decapitator was also out of a job, his former kingdom cut in half by the dungeon collapse. No challengers arrived anymore, the place changing from a chokepoint into a dead end. The metallic monster was also not really profitable - the only worthwhile part of it being a veritable mass of metal it was composed of. The bile-brain, being the only organic component it sported, was inedible too. Not worth the effort seemed to be the humans'' take on the creature. Jailer Jonathan fared not much better. While both he and his Lebir minions were harassed more frequently by the adventurers, not once did they do so without magical support. These assaults turned more sporadic with time - the only draw of my undead being their armor, weapons (which rarely included a Crackling Mace), and combat experience against humanoid opponents. The pseudo-magical weapon I produced should be normally treated as quite a treasure - if the circumstances were a bit different. Right now, however, the local market was completely saturated. Pretty much any warrior who wanted to test the Crackling Mace already managed to acquire it. Normally the surplus would be sold to the visiting caravan and sent into the Geinard Kingdom. Yet in the current situation, it was clearly impossible. Not to mention the wandering Fallen Tribes, even selling to the elves¡­ (well, half-elves) was out of the question, considering their quite hostile relationship. I noted that both short- and longears frequently used racial slurs and derisive language, not to mention their overall attitude. The tensions were high, yet somehow they managed to avoid an all-out brawl. While I couldn¡¯t exactly understand what the half-elves were speaking when pointing at humans walking around it was clear from their expressions that it wasn¡¯t anything flattering. Anyway, back to the topic - I could understand a lessened appeal of my weapons, but it seemed like I was lacking a piece of a puzzle. It took me a few hours, but my ignorance was dispelled when I overheard a pair of humans talking about it. ¡°No, no, you see - this is a real weapon!¡± The first man grabbed a large, spiked mace and shook it agitatedly. ¡°It¡¯s just a lump of iron.¡± His companion snorted in derision. ¡°Real weapons have some kind of an enchanted effect or a special ability. Like this baby here.¡± He smiled, while carefully retrieving a Crackling Mace from a leather loop at his waist. Every move he took was slow and deliberate like he was afraid to damage it. ¡°Bah, toys!¡± Snorted the bigger and more muscular man. ¡°You need weight to fight. Power. Simple strength!¡± His weapon hit the ground leaving a small indentation and lifting it up stirred a small cloud of dust. ¡°Like this!¡± ¡°No.¡± With a simple negation, the slimmer and smaller man activated his own weapon. Streaks of blue electricity danced on the mace¡¯s pommel, lighting up the surroundings. ¡°One hit with this monster and you¡¯ll be out for a whole day. Armor or no armor.¡± A small smile appeared on his face. ¡°And I can choose when to activate and deactivate it!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, stow it. Wait until it runs out of charges in the middle of a battle. At least normal enchantments work as long as you pour mana into them!¡± ¡°If that happens I¡¯ll just get another one from the dungeon.¡± This time it was the smaller man''s turn to grow irritated. ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me!¡± Snarled his friend. ¡°I bet you already have a replacement. I saw you sneaking in with the Gunnard¡¯s team!¡± ¡°Hahaha!¡± The smaller person laughed happily. ¡°I managed to snatch three of them!¡± He sobered a bit. ¡°Nobody else was interested.¡± ¡°At least the experience is pretty good down there, huh?¡± ¡°Yup. That¡¯s true.¡± The two warriors spoke for a moment about random things while I was digesting new information. Now I understood why my creations weren¡¯t that popular. Two conflicting emotions mixed in my chest - a hurt pride of the creator and insidious laughter at the sentients¡¯ stupidity. They never discovered that while my Crackling Maces indeed had a limited supply of energy there was also one, very important aspect to them. Their energy cell, or what I liked to call it - battery - was interchangeable. It was a pretty unassuming name for a long, sleek crystal ending with an iron cone on both ends. Each of them was small, maybe ten or twelve centimeters long with two centimeters in diameter, but looked decidedly otherworldly, glittering with lines of violent energy contained between two metal tops. An irreplaceable thing. And yet the main obstacle I was facing when making new things was the simple fact that I lacked both the knowledge and Anima to create something truly interesting. Or should I say truly powerful? I was an average guy who had access to batteries, iron, wires, and cameras. But I aimed much higher. With a huff, most of my attention turned back to leading the Stone Drones and digging. This time I decided to go with a bit different floor plan than the earlier levels. Unlike the sprawling labyrinth on the second floor with dead ends and countless rooms, I started to dig an endless tunnel interrupted by a chamber every five or six meters. Looking at the map and seeing my progress reminded me of an old mobile game called ¡°Snake¡±. More rooms were added and the overall length of the tunnel extended even more. An obstacle course for adventurers I thought with a grin. And in the end, there will be a boss fight. Too bad I can¡¯t force the creatures to respawn behind their backs while they deal with my boss¡­ I mused. Hmmm¡­ Who said I couldn¡¯t? With a laugh, I decided to add a hidden room at the end of the tunnel, just before the boss chamber. Three entrances were carved into the rock and filled with moveable stone - leaving just enough free space behind them to fit some of my monsters. Maybe I¡¯ll go with Exploding Lebirs from earlier? Or should I wait for the Kobolds to hatch? We¡¯ll see. Anyway, my work continued. Room after room refitted, lengthened, sometimes a ditch added in the middle just to mess with any advancing sentient. That¡¯s why I was shocked and stiff seeing the sudden floating notification.
The trial of Single Combat has been created! Your dungeon has become a host to a second trial. The trial encompasses the Sparring Room. The rules of the trial are as follows:
  • the challenger is allowed to fight in weapon combat against one or two Lebir Spar-masters available
  • the challenger is not allowed to use anything but his body and his weapons, any magic is forbidden, including magic items
  • if the challenger forfeits during the spar it''s not possible to repeat the trial ever again
  • the trial is fought to the death or when the challenger forfeits
  • after successfully defeating a Spar-master a large amount of experience will be awarded to the victor
  • after successfully defeating both Spar-masters during single combat a skill Shield Mastery (60%), Club Mastery (30%), or Battlefield Survival (10%) will be awarded to the victor according to the performance
  • after the challenger attempts the trial no further attempts can be made for 3 days (72h)
What the hell?! Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. I quickly dismissed the notification and turned my attention toward the first floor. The sparring room that the blue box mentioned to be exact. What greeted me was a pretty weird sight - a spooked soldier and two of my Lebirs, standing ramrod straight, with their weapons at the ready. They weren¡¯t attacking the human though, which was heavily against my conditioning. The human was breathing heavily while staring at something I couldn¡¯t see. He was wearing the colors I associated with the Geinard Kingdom army uniform - a dark blue background with a grey shield sewn in the middle. The rest of his equipment was comprised of an iron breastplate, leather pants, boots, and a helmet. He used a round, wooden shield, a bit similar to my undead, but instead of clubs, a sword was sheathed on his waist. With an average face, average height, and weight he was an epitome of a common soldier in the Geinard Kingdom army. Seeing him hesitate I turned my attention to the two Lebirs standing still in the middle of the room, despite a potential victim fidgeting just a few meters away. At first glance, they looked ordinary. Just two undead clad in black armor with a square shield attached to one of their arms and a mace clutched in the second. It took me a while to understand the difference. The way they carried themselves differed from my common troops. There was a feeling of confidence in them, a sense of power. And most importantly - a glint of intelligence absent from the other undead. Their armor and weapons are also of a better make. Iron armor and helmets completely covered their flesh, while the shields they used looked thicker and maces were more dangerous than those that the other Lebirs used. I took a deep, completely unnecessary breath and whispered. [Analyze.]
Lebir Spar-master An abomination made from metal and flesh joined together in a mechanical union. This being is covered in metal and some of it was even used to reinforce its bones and muscles. It uses a square shield to defend itself and a mace to attack. Unlike most of its brethren, this specimen is intelligent and has knowledge of both weapon use and tactics polished over long bouts with its mirror twin. The Spar-master relishes the feeling of battle under the compulsion of the trial it¡¯s assigned to. Under normal circumstances, it would train its lesser brethren in the art of warfare.
An undead trainer! That''s what it was! With anticipation, I searched my mind hoping against hope to find the blueprint for them in some nook or cranny¡­ and found nothing. Of course, it had to be that way! Stealing my abominations¡­ remaking them... I wanted to scream at the injustice but only sighed in the end. The only human present started to mumble something under his nose. It took me a while to understand that he was¡­ reading. ¡°Trial¡­ defeat one or two. Then¡­ what¡¯s that word?¡± He scratched his neck, longish and unruly black hair escaping from under the helmet. ¡°Gain experience¡­ or a skill?!¡± His eyes widened with shock for a moment only to get replaced with greed. ¡°Just weapons¡­¡± He glanced at his sword. ¡°No magic.¡± A small chuckle escaped his mouth. ¡°Yeah, magic¡­ right.¡± As he stopped reading I understood a few things. First - the man was a commoner. Which meant a type of a person despised by the noble Charles and most of the outpost¡¯ hierarchy. Second - either he couldn¡¯t read all of it or some, but not all conditions remained a secret to the challenger. Third - he was an idiot. I concluded the third fact as he unsheathed his weapon, stepped forward, and exclaimed loudly: ¡°Fight me, you monsters! For the glory of Gei-ubhpffffffffffffffffff---!¡± His glorious rant was cut short as both Lebirs interpreted his words as a dual challenge and attacked with their heavy iron maces. The human sailed in a beautiful arch only to land a few meters in the back, somehow dropping both his weapon and the shield. With a scream he huddled on the ground, crying out in pain. What happened later was quick - the human soldier opened his eyes for long enough to notice the advancing undead and held up his arm in mute protest. This, however, didn¡¯t stop the Lebirs from literally beating him into the ground. When they were finished only a hard-to-recognize paste remained on a nearby floor. Since there was no sentient nearby I quickly absorbed what was left of him and the weapons he dropped. Not much, but I wasn¡¯t letting anything go to waste. About an hour later another soldier arrived and noticed the weird behavior of the undead. They stood still and observed him instead of charging with wild abandon. Curious he came closer, only to be presented - I assumed - with the same message as his predecessor. ¡°Trial¡­ skills¡­ three days.¡± He mouthed with difficulty. I waited and, just like before, a twinkle of greed appeared in the soldier¡¯s eye. He quickly searched his surroundings and retreated, while muttering. ¡°Wait for me, my little skill. I¡¯ll be baack~~!¡± Yep. The sentients were idiots. Non, Iron-melded Revenant Geinard Kingdom Capital - Shieldstar Non was sneaking through the palace. In her earlier life, she never managed to get close to the old, stone monstrosity. Some people whispered that its oldest rooms were made in the last days of the Magi-tech Empire and carried unspeakable secrets. And horrors. Or both. It didn¡¯t matter to the Revenant. After all tonight she was one of these unseen, stalking horrors. Non blinked through the night, her daggers at the ready. From one shadow to another she teleported with the grace of a predator, slinking silently and confidently. The sheer size of the place was both a deterrent and a blessing. It would be hard to find the men and women she was hunting here, but then again¡­ she had her daggers. And knowledge from another life. Her form coalesced in one of the dusty interiors, just behind a ginger maid slowly dusting off the nearby chairs. The girl was cute - there were no ugly servants in the palace - and looked very inexperienced, but she somehow managed to notice Non¡¯s arrival. Her eyes widened in horror and her mouth opened to produce a scream. The Revenant acted quickly, a sharp chop to the larynx robbing her opponent of voice. The maid collapsed immediately, coughing heavily, tears flowing from her all-too-big eyes. She lifted her head only to meet a cold gaze of the abomination. ¡°P-please¡­¡± She whispered. Non only shook her head. A few minutes later she was already teleporting in a different direction than before, sure of her destination. The maid¡¯s bloodied body was hidden in a long-forgotten compartment, left far behind. It would take some time before her absence would get noticed - she should be either finished with her mission or dead. Not that she cared either way. It took her about thirty minutes to arrive in the throne room, most of the time spent hiding from the guards. She could slaughter them with ease, but their absence, unlike the maid¡¯s, would be immediately noticed. So she squeezed, trying to put her ability to the best use, jumping from one frail shadow to another, sometimes even stalking the patrolling warriors to find another spot to advance a moment sooner. In the end, she managed to finish her journey under the impossibly high ceiling of the king¡¯s audience room. Then she simply waited. Her main target still hadn¡¯t arrived - currently, only the king, Eric Geinard, his daughter Agnes, and a few guards mixed with country leaders were present. Normally hearing what they spoke about would fill the listener¡¯s heart with dread. Non didn¡¯t care. ¡°...So are you saying that the newest dungeon outpost somehow defeated the horde advancing on it?¡± Asked the king, scratching his grey beard. He was a tall and strong man once. Now, the burden of the duties dulled his eyes and bent his back. ¡°These are news from the runner, Your Majesty.¡± Answered one of the ministers. ¡°I told you that he would prevail, Father.¡± Agnes laughed loudly from the side, full of pride. ¡°Yes, yes, the young Blueflame is something else.¡± ¡°He has a name, father.¡± The girl¡¯s tone turned instantly colder. The king only sighed in annoyance. ¡°I know, Charles, right?¡± Agnes instantly smiled and nodded. ¡°Your majesty?¡± One of the surrounding bureaucrats dared to interrupt the father-and-daughter exchange. ¡°Yes? Speak, and out with it!¡± Eric answered with a dignified tone. ¡°Could you please notify us which leaders and armies were dispatched?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a state secret. Why do you need to know?¡± ¡°To prepare for consequences.¡± The people in the surroundings gulped heavily. ¡°Sending high-level generals to battle always has¡­ consequences.¡± The minister was pale and sweaty but still stood straight, staring at his king and awaiting answers. ¡°Haaaah¡­ Yes. I guess there is no way around it, eh?¡± Eric turned his eyes toward the ceiling and Non instinctually hid, not knowing what level was the ruler and what skills he had in his possession. ¡°The western fortress of Kojin will be liberated by the Hekkan of Ash.¡± He spoke and even more people turned pale. ¡°Your majesty¡­ there will be no fortress to be liberated after Lord Hekkan finishes his duty¡­¡± Muttered the minister, who asked earlier. With a knowing nod, the king continued. ¡°I decided to send Iron Hand to Grode, to rebuild the middle fortress.¡± This time reaction was much better, some of the people even whispered with relief. ¡°And the eastern city-fortress of Frist, your majesty?¡± ¡°Ah, yes. I didn¡¯t send an army there.¡± Eric smiled deeply. ¡°After all she is enough to clear out the trash.¡± ¡°Y-your¡­ your majesty!¡± ¡°I sent Green Succubus to take control over Frist.¡± He noticed the breathless crowd. ¡°Oh come on! She hasn¡¯t done anything horrid for years now!¡± ¡°Your majesty¡­ we all know the stories.¡± Whispered the minister. ¡°And what¡¯s worse we know that the stories don¡¯t even tell the whole truth.¡± ¡°I agree, Your Majesty.¡± A new voice joined the fray. A large, muscular man wearing a hawk helmet and clad in dark leather armor arrived in the room. Non¡¯s eyes brightened with desire, her small mouth twisting in a horrid expression of joy. ¡°Lord Hawk!¡± Smiled the king, even standing up from his throne. ¡°My king!¡± The man exclaimed and bowed deeply, then turned his face towards the princess. ¡°Hello, Agnes!¡± ¡°Hey, master spy!¡± The girl twisted her pretty face as emotions of anger and simple joy mixed. ¡°Are you still mad that I forced you to get back here from the outpost?¡± He asked while tilting his head. A wry smile appeared on his face noticing her unwilling nod. ¡°Also, are these your special days in the month?¡± He said loudly while staring at her eyes. These were only a few words, yet they stirred a hornet¡¯s nest. ¡°How dare you!¡± ¡°Guards, guards!¡± ¡°What do you think you are doing?!¡± ¡°No, they aren¡¯t,¡± Agnes answered calmly squinting her eyes questioningly. ¡°I see.¡± He nodded, his smile turning rigid. ¡°ASSASSINS! PREPARE YOURSELVES!¡± He screamed into the air, blade masters around him unsheathing their weapons and running toward the king and his daughter. Lord Hawk unsheathed his daggers and took a battle posture. Non knew that her cover was blown. It didn¡¯t matter how, but there was still a chance to attack. Her body blinked and appeared behind one of the nobles, pushing him forward. The blade master defending the king reacted immediately, decapitating the advancing minister. Blood sprayed from the wound, momentarily blinding him and allowing Non to cut his arm. The skin sizzled as the warrior grunted in pain. The man was well trained though. He retreated behind his companions as soon as he felt he was at a disadvantage. Growling, Non teleported again, ¡°accidentally¡± making sure that Lord Hawk could see her. A dagger was thrown and people shouted in fear as it closed on the king only to breathe out as it was intercepted by an outstretched hand. With a dull sound, it pierced skin, flesh, and even bone before stopping. Then it immediately started to corrode the flesh it touched. Lord Hawk shouted in pain and immediately dislodged the weapon, but the damage was already done. Still, he laughed fearlessly and exclaimed. ¡°Your assassination attempt failed little one. Surrender and your death will be quick and painless.¡± He lied without hesitation. ¡°There is no escape from this place. You¡¯re tra--¡± His words were interrupted by the scream from behind. ¡°Tinna?!¡± Agnes shouted, covering her mouth in shock. ¡°You are alive?! HOW?!¡± These words distracted Lord Hawk for a moment, a light of recognition appearing in his gaze. After all, he was the singular person who taught every single one of the Hawks. It was just enough for the Revenant to slip into his shadow and try to sink the second dagger into the human''s flesh. Yet Lord Hawk was too fast - quickly using his already hurt hand to protect the vitals. ¡°Kill¡­¡± Non hissed, seeing her target still alive. ¡°You little!?--¡± Gasped Lord Hawk, while concentrating. His body glowed and the corrosion of the daggers stopped. ¡°Deadly Light!¡± He screamed, retaliating. For a moment everybody in the room was blinded. When they opened their eyes Non was kneeling on the floor, clutching her now destroyed arm. Being an undead her sense of pain was dulled, so she only glared at her attacker, while whispering. ¡°Revenge¡­ will¡­ later.¡± Lord Hawk''s eyes widened as her frame twisted, turned into a shadow, and then disappeared. ¡°Find her!¡± He ordered while the two wounds on his body were slowly healing. ¡°Somebody get a sealing cloth and isolate these daggers!¡± He added after a moment, pointing at the two weapons left behind by Non. ¡°Revenants are connected to their murder tools, so we should be able to find her with this.¡± He mumbled. In the back, Agnes was kneeling, her eyes full of tears. ¡°If Tinna walks the world as a Revenant, then¡­ what about Boulder?¡± She whispered to herself. Outside Non was running away, the stump of her arm burning with pain as the light energy battled her metal and darkness. With a grunt she escaped the palace, her eyes naturally turning towards the north. ¡°Ho-me.¡± She grunted and shook her head. The smile that appeared on her face didn¡¯t look vicious at all this time. 052 Uno It took two more soldiers disappearing after getting their heads bashed in and passing another week before the outpost¡¯s higher-ups noticed that something was wrong. An investigation was immediately launched and soon the next trooper in the line was caught red-handed - diving into the dungeon by his lonesome. Under a barrage of questions and by using some less savory methods he quickly broke, agreeing to lead the outpost leadership towards his objective. I watched as a large number of guards, red-haired Charles, Master Vincent, crazy Guild Master Lois, and suspicious Captain Duree descended the temporary stairs - smack dab in the middle of Conservatory. I suppose that it was a better idea to enter through here than to risk wandering into the remains of Twisted Tunnels, where the Decapitator roamed with ever-increasing passion. Six of the guards were chosen to lead this expedition, their faces growing worried when hearing about the task. Their slow and deliberate movements brought a smile to my face. While the Conservatory was mostly a ¡°safe¡± room it had its quirks. Besides large silvery Ironbarks with a bit too sharp leaves, I also seeded some husky, but otherwise unassuming Battery Devourers. The sentients still didn¡¯t know their true value, but I worried, considering the shallow level they were growing on. It seemed like my past judgment was not the best. Besides them, a few Ax Conifers grew in the corners, while knife-bushes and Bone Ferns cluttered the free space under the trees. The Copper Grass screeched under the heavy boots of the soldiers, every step they took raising a cacophony. After a minute I heard the curses and a hissing sound of the Fiery Dandelion exploding with acid. ¡°What are you, a child?!¡± Shouted Captain Duree angrily, berating the still cursing trooper. ¡°Now is the time when you set off a Boomer?¡± He asked, calling my creation by the sentients'' crude name. ¡°S-sorry, Captain.¡± Grunted the unlucky victim, while hastily taking off his boots and cleaning the scalded foot with water from his leather canteen. ¡°I don¡¯t care anymore¡­¡± Duree sighed. ¡°You!¡± He pointed at the nearby soldier. ¡°Yes, sir!¡± The man saluted immediately. ¡°Help this dunce with bandaging and rinsing his wounds. After that escort him back to the surface.¡± The chosen warrior nodded, but I spotted unwillingness in his gaze. ¡°Can we move on?¡± Charles asked lazily while yawning. He was wearing a red overcoat with a blue flame on his back, describing the noble house he was a part of. His gaze slowly wandered through the surroundings. ¡°Yes. There is no problem, sir. I suppose nobody else would be stupid enough to get incapacitated by the simple plants.¡± He raised his voice. ¡°We may be on the first level of this dungeon, people, but should I remind you that all of the creatures and dangers here were cataloged by our mages? Not to mention the fucking maps you have?!¡± He ended with a near-scream and many of his soldiers embarrassingly lowered their heads. It was only now that I noticed that pretty much every single one of them had a sheet of leather tied to their waist. Most were glancing at them from time to time. The ¡°map¡± in question was decorated with a few strange symbols and contained a simple, but accurate enough representation of my first floor. With the broken parts included. There was a flower, with a small ladder, sketched in, which should be a sign for a conservatory, an anvil for the smithy, a small statue representing the sparring, or food hall, and a skull with crossed bones which was obviously a way to designate where my Floor Guardian was. The human ranks reformed, and their vanguard determined to stop wasting time. The large procession slowly followed behind them, wary and prepared. The invaders easily jumped over the spear traps and followed their bound captive into the Food Hall. Once they arrived a few Lebirs armed with clubs and Crackling Maces descended from the pedestals in hopes of ambushing the humans. By now nobody was surprised by this action anymore - the trick with undead pretending to be statues was already discovered by the constantly arriving sentients. If I was still in the control adding some real statues and maybe a trap or two would be in order. Just to keep the invaders on their toes. Sadly it was not meant to be. As the eight Lebirs charged the enemy, Jailer Jonathan hurled his armored body through the Kitchen door. I guessed that he already finished gorging on the stone-like food and discovered a dessert - a whole group of Geinard Kingdom soldiers. With a joyous roar, he grabbed the stone wall and propelled himself forward, with a grace of a flying boulder. A second later he landed and the earth shook as he ran forward, his sudden appearance a shock to the advancing enemies. I didn¡¯t have any hopes for my first floor, so this change lifted my spirits a bit. Or so it was until I saw Guild Master Lois running to meet my creation, while the rest of the humans clashed with the incoming undead. The bandana-wearing rogue took initiative, his charge turning into a slide. He easily glided between the giant¡¯s legs, while Jonathan clumsily tried to grab his agile opponent. Lois disappeared from his sight and for a long moment, the cursed Jailer was only confusingly staring at his empty hands. The undead soon changed gears, forgetting about the quick warrior and instead focusing on the meal laid before him - other human soldiers battling the Lebirs in one large group. Many of them were standing in the back, the Food Hall simply not large enough to give them space to fight. Jonathan roared, only to have his shout of hunger turned into anger when an unbelievably sharp butcher knife nearly separated one of his arms from the body. The screech of metal grinding against the metal was overwhelming. I watched as the blade cut the iron, then skin, muscle, and wires before reluctantly stopping. Normally such an attack would leave the opponent incapacitated, curling up in pain. Jonathan, however, was an undead. His only reaction to the left arm hanging only on a strip of armor and muscle was another roar and then - a furious attack. He turned rapidly, his remaining hand slapping the attacker in the chest and sending him flying. The force of the blow caved in the human¡¯s armor and sent him flying a few meters back. With a loud crash, Lois hit the nearby wall and tumbled down only to immediately stand up - his smile now more similar to a vicious sneer, the bloodied teeth bared in an expression of joy. ¡°Lois!¡± ¡°Help him, now!¡± ¡°Together we¡¯ll slay the monster!¡± ¡°Guild Master!¡± A few voices sailed through the air, but the battle-crazy human only shook his head. ¡°Do not intervene!¡± He snarled. ¡°I haven¡¯t had a decent fight¡­ IN AGES!¡± With a scream of defiance, he charged towards my monster, another blade - long and serrated - suddenly appearing in his free hand. With a flourish, he dodged a wide swing of the Jailer and then vaulted over the undead¡¯s back. He slowed his descent with both blades, cutting two bloody lines on the monster¡¯s back. The iron armor that Jailer Jonathan wore seemed to be completely useless under the assault of, what I assumed, were magical weapons. Black, thick blood slowly dripped down from the damaged flesh, my creation more angry than hurt - if not counting the lack of one arm. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s how it should be done!¡± Screamed Lois and I noticed that the rest of my Lebirs had already been beaten to the ground. ¡°No surrender!¡± He giggled, eyes glazed over with joy. ¡°Can you hurry up, Guild Master?¡± Charles shouted with irritation. ¡°Give me just a moment, sir!¡± The bloodied maniac laughed and pounced back into action. The rest of the expedition was completely unfazed. Captain Duree was refining his look, checking if the dark blue armor he wore acquired any blemishes. Unlike the common soldiers, he wasn¡¯t using a normal iron with a tabard worn over it, but rather a specially dyed and carved piece. The grey shield sculpted in its front was especially pronounced. Master Vincent was studying the Bone Lichen growing on the walls, poking the pale growths full of water with his finger, while murmuring to himself. His violet robe and strange helmet were still unique among the sentients. I paid special attention to his movements since his core should be especially desirable. You never knew when an occasion could present itself. But then again - even not-so-powerful mages were my targets too. The fight between Jailer Jonathan and Guild Master Lois ended a few minutes later. I hesitated to call it like that since it quickly became clear that the bloodied human was just playing with my creation. Despicable. Only I was allowed to kill and maim my enemies slowly and deliberately. And I would do so even more if this sportsman decided to grace my lower floors with his presence. As his deed was done the Guild Master cleaned up with a piece of fabric, only to lick his lips in ecstasy, tasting both his blood and that of his enemy. Some of the surrounding soldiers trembled with repulsion while turning their heads away. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Lois promptly ignored them. A minute later the expedition arrived at the Sparring Room, my two Lebir Spar-masters were staring at the sentients with malice, their bodies unmoving - bound by the trial. As the soldiers moved forward most of the people present inhaled sharply. They crossed an arbitrary line, and - according to their expressions - were surprised by a notification box, similar to the ones I was encountering. It was already a tried and tired reaction chain - an expression of shock, then interest, and in the end - pure greed. After a few seconds (faster or slower, depending on their reading speed) the eyes of the sentients sharpened, their throats suddenly dry and nostrils flaring. Most of the soldiers controlled their emotions immediately, it didn¡¯t, however, stop me from noticing quick glances thrown towards the higher-ups. Too bad nothing more interesting happened. Master Vincent was the first one to speak, stroking his ragged beard. ¡°A trial. And on the first floor too.¡± He nodded to himself. ¡°It seems like the dungeon started working on its third level.¡± I was surprised by his speech¡­ was this ability of mine so common that the sentients understood it already? ¡°Are you sure, Master Vincent?¡± Charles asked warily, still reading and re-reading the invisible box. ¡°It should be. If I remember correctly most accounts claim that the dungeons tend to create trials as soon as the third or as late as the ninth floor.¡± The only reaction to this enlightening information was a collective *gulp* and scraping sounds made when human troops retreated a few steps. ¡°Fuck¡­¡± ¡°Really? But the first floor is already a bitch to clear!¡± ¡°N-nine floors?!¡± ¡°The first boss was only beatable by the Swords of Hope¡­ and even they got demolished on the second floor.¡± Their murmurs were mostly inaudible to the party leaders, but I could hear them just fine. ¡°So these tunnels can go as deep as nine levels into the earth?!¡± Shouted Lois. Unlike his surroundings, there was no trace of fear or hesitation in his expression. Instead, there was¡­ joy? That human was really weird. ¡°While it¡¯s certainly possible, I doubt it. Considering the time that passed since the dungeon was uncovered and its current state I would guess that it¡¯s at maximum four levels deep. Not more.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Charles laughed with relief, while the rest of the warriors reaffirmed grip on their weapons. ¡°Still, marvelous.¡± Hummed Master Vincent. ¡°A fully functional trial on the first floor. With a skill as a reward for perfect completion.¡± ¡°Is it rare?¡± ¡°Why, yes. Most dungeons simply offer some materials, experience, sometimes a magical item.¡± He nodded his head while stroking a grey beard. ¡°This? It¡¯s unique. I guess Forgotten Dungeons really are special.¡± His grumbles grew quieter. ¡°If only these damn half-elves weren¡¯t so keen on destroying them¡­¡± ¡°Too bad the divine box doesn¡¯t tell us what skills would be granted to the victor.¡± Mused Captain Duree. Divine box, eh? I thought. What a curious expression. I guess it was rather obvious that they called it like that because of Mirabelle and Brighton, the only two gods I knew of. Somehow I doubted that Gangria was counted amongst their number. ¡°Considering that the trial demands a warrior-like elimination process I would guess that they should be about hand-to-hand or weapon combat.¡± Grinned Lois. His bloodied body seemed to be already fine, the dented breastplate ditched somewhere in favor of leather armor. ¡°It¡¯s not so obvious, you know.¡± Smiled Master Vincent. He eyed the speaking warrior, changing his tone to more serious. ¡°There were cases where a mage trial granted a physical skill. Or where a rogue was given magical ability.¡± He once again stopped speaking to stroke his pitiful beard. ¡°The dungeons are sometimes like that. Random.¡± I grinned. That was an excellent suggestion. If given time and chance I would use it for sure - one more way to screw the invaders. ¡°No other way, but try. Still, according to the soldier.¡± He glared at his prisoner. ¡°At least two other people tried and failed to beat it. And like everything else in this dungeon the penalty was death. Do we really want to risk any of the higher-ups?¡± Now that was interesting. Captain Duree''s words suggested that other dungeons don¡¯t kill the invaders. Or rather, that their trials are less severe? I had two pairs set up already, but each of them was a type the gamblers call all in. What was even more curious even the trial that was forced on me, the trial of combat had a very spartan feel to it. More questions. No answers. ¡°T-the other ones died, sire. I saw them raising their hands in surrender, only to be b-beaten down b-by the u-undead.¡± The captive stuttered, speaking while trying to bow. Not only was he bound with ropes, but he also had a pair of chains clamped on his arms and legs. The dirty and torn dark blue uniform identified him as a part of the soldier detachment guarding the place. ¡°Shut up, traitor.¡± Captain Duree slapped the speaker, sending him tumbling on the ground. ¡°Sir, please! I-I didn¡¯t know it was a crime!¡± The prisoner cried out, blood flowing from the cut lip marring the cold floor. ¡°Ignorance of the law excuses no one.¡± Smirked Duree. ¡°Still, according to the military regulations, the information you provided to the authorities redeemed you somewhat...¡± He pointed towards the two waiting Spar-masters. ¡°T-thank y-you, s-sir¡­¡± ¡°Your sentence will be changed to simply hanging instead of quartering.¡± ¡°What?! NO, NO, PLEASE, NO!¡± ¡°Take him away.¡± Two of the closest soldiers only looked at each other, shaking their heads and dragging the screaming and struggling prisoner back to the upper level. The rest of the soldiers straightened their backs, wisps of greed disappearing from their squinted eyes. I was curiously waiting for their next words when a commotion above ground had drawn my attention. The human and half-elven soldiers were screaming at each other, their hands nervously resting on the blades, loudly spoken curses were exchanged, while their faces filled with anger and disgust. They were gesticulating, pointing fingers, and nearly brawling. My camera noted it all. The situation was even more complicated for humans, because most of the human leadership was currently underground, leaving carpenter Tom and merchant Outeles Kamap in the outpost. None of whom had authority over the troops. Because of this the situation only escalated - which I wasn¡¯t too worried about since I was all about lessening the number of sentients. There was something strange going on though. I wasn¡¯t an expert on human interaction, now more than ever since being thrown into an inanimate crystal, but the normal progression of such interaction should be violence. And it was the elves who were stopping it from happening. It was then that I noticed that some of the half-elven higher-ups were stealing weird glances at the empty space¡­ Wait! There was something there! A shimmer-like disruption. It reminded me of how the predator tended to use his cloaking device. In the older movies at least, not the recent garbage that was thrown into cinemas before my untimely death. I squinted, using the zoom on the camera to the greatest advantage. There were... Two? Yes, I think two figures were trying to... sneak into my dungeon. The humans were none the wiser, their attention solely focused on beating the shit out of elves. I observed as the infiltrators climbed down the stairway and slowly made their way toward the boss''s room. Instead of fighting they chose to sneak by and no amount of nudging could force the Enhanced Bile-brain Guardian to attack something it couldn¡¯t see. The situation on the second floor was a bit better, but not by much. The Lebir Exploders charged forward, but trying to pinpoint the location of invaders was a chore - they ducked and weaved, appearing for a moment and then disappearing immediately. And while my undead had some ability to see in the dark they lacked the life sense that was often attributed to them in games. Not to mention zombies and skeletons - and these were fantasy equivalents of my monsters - had any special abilities. They didn¡¯t tire though. That much was similar to how undead worked both in games and on Yana. I was getting nervous, considering how to intercept the intruders, when I noticed where they were going. My reaction was to summon even more reinforcements - adding patrols of the Ironflame rats and Electro-Touched Lebirs while reinforcing the sentient''s belief that they were going the right way. I banked on a game-like idea that the path of the largest resistance was the correct one. It seemed to work, as the invisible elves happily pranced forward, their sharp daggers even disposing of some of my creations. Fools. Like the orcs before they were walking straight into a trap, towards pretty much the only monster in my dungeon that didn¡¯t rely on sight and was thus immune to their little ploy. The Glass Progenitor. This monstrous tentacle with always hungry maw hunted by vibration and sound after all, which weren¡¯t suppressed by their magic items. Or maybe abilities. I wasn¡¯t sure what exactly they were using. The elves stopped at the entrance of the Underground Lake Room, probably surprised by the lack of opposition. I worried that they would just turn back and escape, but it seemed like my worries were unwarranted. Soon their steps echoed creepily in the gloomy room, the only other sound being a whisper of the running water. The invaders were halfway there when the monster struck. A transparent tentacle shot out from the water, instantly impaling one of the elves on the wall. He screamed in pain while hacking at the attacker with his dagger. These were however only small pricks to the Glass Progenitor. The other infiltrator only stared in silence, his face and cloak showered in blood, turning the cloaking device useless. The monster wrapped itself around the dying victim (not many sentients can survive a pierced stomach) and started to drag him back underwater, to feed. The second elf hesitated for a moment but seeing the water turning red he chose the only sensible option. He started to run. In the meantime, I gathered most of my monsters on the way downwards and upwards - to block the escaping pest. I reasoned that while the half-elven army had a few hundred warriors they only sent two to scout (or maybe conquer?) - this meant that either the items they wore were priceless artifacts or their skills were incredibly rare among their people. Otherwise, what would stop them from attacking me with dozens of such squads? If it was an item I would prefer to have a chance to experiment on it. If it was a skill¡­ then denying the sentients knowledge about the second level and destroying an important human resource was a win in my book. Or was it an elven resource? Anyway. My monsters were trying to stop the elf from escaping. And they failed. It was mostly because of the pure dodging skill of the invader, but also his determination. Both Lebirs and rats managed to wound him, however, even going as far as nearly gouging one of his eyes. The bleeding and exhausted sentient managed to arrive at the first-floor staircase¡­ But he forgot about the Floor Guardian. My monster was waiting for him, stone fists prepared to pound him into oblivion. It was big enough to block the escape from the room, its large build for once turning out useful. I could see the despair on his once handsome face, as he tiredly raised his daggers and prepared for the last fight of his life. And then¡­ A human arrived while burying a strangely sharp butcher knife in my Guardian¡¯s ass. ¡°I knew I smelled blood!¡± He screamed, pouncing at the golem. [OH COME ON!] I screamed even louder. 053 Uno A half-dead elf, a crazy human warrior, and a towering golem were standing in a room. Sounds like the start of a joke, right? Yet the situation was anything but funny. As if hearing my thoughts the figures in the chamber sprung into action. The golem started to reach behind, intent on slaughtering Lois, who was tightly clutching to its back. It was a natural reaction, even if the creature couldn¡¯t feel pain, the discomfort of having its limbs sliced was still present. This wouldn¡¯t do. My goals were different, after all. While the human was annoying as hell, killing the elf who had returned with knowledge of the lower floors remained a priority. A small voice in my head was telling me that this course of action was just prolonging the inevitable discovery (since more explorers would come for sure) yet I couldn¡¯t stop myself¡­ The secrecy was one of the tools I used for my defenses. The fewer people knew about my halls the better. I simply had to try. Chasing away the idle thoughts my mind focused on the present. In seconds multiple instructions were sent to my Floor Guardian. [Ignore the human.] [Smash down the elf.] [Do it now! No dilly-dallying!] The large armored golem halted its movement while processing the torrent of new information. Its dull mind had problems even with the simplest of commands, not to mention these complex orders. Its stillness confused the human, who stopped moving and waited for his enemy''s reaction. One that wasn¡¯t yet coming. During that time I tensely watched the half-elf''s movements, but he just continued to look exhausted. His arms were trembling as he kept up the defensive stance, laboring to take each breath. Drops of red blood were falling on the ground, slowly sliding from his once beautifully carved armor - which was now covered in cracks and smudges. The artistry defeated by the mundane. There had to be a moral here, somewhere. No matter. The elf moved slowly, a wince of pain appearing on his face each time a step was taken. But he did try to walk forward. Lois was the first to break the stalemate, by jumping down and rolling quickly enough to separate the hurt half-elf and my creation. The scout seemed to be as surprised by this action as me. I briefly wondered when relations between races had grown so good. They sure didn¡¯t look like friends this morning. ¡°T-thank¡­ you.¡± The barely alive elf coughed heavily, a string of blood flowing down his well-chiseled chin. The hurt warrior had unruly dirty blonde hair and tired, bronze eyes. His whole face and posture screamed noble blood, but not much of it was obvious under the blood-smeared posterior. ¡°Oh, shut it, elfie.¡± Snorted Lois. ¡°You¡¯re going to get your beating after I¡¯ll finish with the big boy here.¡± He pointed at the incoming abomination. ¡°Let¡¯s say you¡¯re a dessert¡­ Hahahahaha!¡± His wild laugh echoed through the chamber, forcing the unwilling half-elven companion to take a few steps back. In the end, he leaned against the wall, painting it red and black. ...blood? Wait a moment... Why the elf wasn¡¯t affected by the Bloodlust effect?! He should have turned into a blithering maniac the moment he took a step into the room, considering he was literally bathed in blood! Was it some quality of the elven warriors, or some similarly broken shit?! My mind was already racing through the elven race passives I knew from different games. Resistance to magic, resistance to poison, resistance to enchantments, immunity to sleep and illusions¡­ was Bloodlust an illusion effect? Not sure, but I didn¡¯t think so. The earlier pop-up classified it as black magic. Something wasn¡¯t right... My camera instantly zoomed in, eagerly concentrating on his body, searching for bleeding wounds, amulets, active spells - anything that could shed some light on this situation. I patiently scanned each visible centimeter of skin, trying to look under the damaged armor, even as Lois was going to town on my golem, chipping away the large monster¡¯s stony flesh piece by piece. At least his magical butcher cleaver wasn¡¯t a useful weapon against this type of opponent. It gave me time to concentrate, Anyway, in the end, I managed to discover something. One weird fact - it seemed like all the wounds the scout sported were already healed. It was a recent thing too since the scar tissue was forming right now, visibly toughening in seconds, instead of days. More importantly, the red liquid seeping down his chin started to look less and less like blood, being both thicker and quicker to coagulate. This meant a few things. Firstly, and most importantly, it seemed like health potions were a thing. HP potions, pots, reds, or whatever else they were called in games had many forms, but one purpose - to restore taken damage, sometimes even going as far as recreating cut-off limbs or regrowing shattered organs. To tell the truth, I was surprised that most of the healing items brought by the adventurers were things like bandages, antidote pills, and soothing balms. Pretty much none of them were magical too. Worse - some only had a placebo effect. Now it seemed like access to healing items of greater efficiency was limited, but they existed nonetheless. Which made my little experimental garden that much more interesting. It would be up to fate to decide what kind of ingredients I would be able to grow, but the possibilities excited me. I wasn¡¯t so delusional as to presume that a little boiling would do the trick, there ought to be more complicated steps to creating a potion. This road seemed long and perilous, but at least I had a few more shortcuts I could use¡­ like transferring the responsibility to the whole race of overly-curious beings¡­ Secondly - no one, but the half-elves had demonstrated an ability to create or even use these things. This meant that either it was pricey, rare, or simply somebody had a monopoly on its production. Or race-specific. Or it was just that my dungeon was too weak - maybe not important enough - to warrant the use of such items. I didn¡¯t see Swords of Hope using healing potions, none of them were discovered on the bodies of Boulder and Tinna either. And they had a royalty amongst their ranks. Then again, that party might not be a good representation of how the Yana world high-level adventurers dealt with the wounded, considering they had an exclusive healer. Thirdly, this meant that the elf warrior was only exhausted, not half-dead. This rang alarm bells in my head. Even now he was trying to desperately regain his strength before the inevitable battle. The only question was would he have to deal with my golem or just Lois? On that note, my creation was currently getting his ass kicked rather thoroughly. The one dealing all this damage wasn¡¯t faring much better, though. Lois'' face was scrunched in a permanent scowl, but - unlike normal people - he only grew stronger under the effect of Bloodlust. The man in question laughed and jumped around like a monkey, avoiding the wide swings of my golem by a hair¡¯s breadth. Even when struck by a powerful fist, and when his body sailed through the air landing on the hard ground with the grace of a beached whale... he was still somehow able to recover seconds later. I managed to notice that his wounds started to heal slowly, allowing the Guild Master to contend with my oversized monster. Yet his battle prowess was all for naught because my golem ignored his attempts to draw aggro and concentrated its attacks on the wheezing half-elf. A few next swings were dodged by the scout, but the increasingly spasmodic moves proved he was at his last legs. This constant avoidance irritated the golem, just like a buzzing fly draws the ire of the cooks. Thus my creation, which was normally a calm and slow-witted creature, decided to finish him for good. It curled up - cut, bent, and scarred stone-flesh tensing with gathered power - and then¡­ It jumped. The elf¡¯s eyes widened as the golem¡¯s massive body unwound like a spring and its silhouette appeared above him. There was nothing he could do. A second later a wet *splash* sound echoed in the chamber, as the lithe sentient was completely crushed under the weight of my monster. I could feel the joy radiating from the dumb brute as it slowly started to climb on its feet, keen on continuing the battle. Sadly it was not to be. Using the distraction to his advantage Lois closed in on the normally protected golem¡¯s head. With a swift motion, he climbed the slowly rising giant, reminding me a bit of the Shadow of the Colossus game, although smaller in scale. After all my creations weren¡¯t ten-story-high monstrosities. At least not yet. Anyway, the important part was that Lois made his way toward the Bile-brain directing the monster unopposed. A moment later - using a two-handed grip - he cleanly cut through the iron cage that protected its squishy parts. The damaged metal fell on the ground with a *clang* sound and pieces of the flesh followed. The Floor Guardian tried to fight back, to reach up with its hands - only to stop when Lois stabbed the squirming Bile-brain with his weapon, the creature¡¯s limbs jolting in response, before stopping to move altogether. For a long, long moment my creation was only standing there inertly before gravity did its thing and forced the abomination on the knees - and then face-first into the ground. This left panting Lois as a sole survivor, seemingly taking in the scene of carnage. And what a carnage this was - the room full of scars, mostly left by the missed attacks of the Floor Guardian. Some of the lesser cuts were added by the wildly flailing Guild Master and his butcher¡¯s cleaver. They looked deeper than those left by the bile-brain but were less pronounced. Only now I noticed that the Bloody Sacrificial Altar had been destroyed in the fighting, its rocky surface smashed and cracked under pressure. Judging by the damage type it was probably demolished by my golem trying its best to resist the attacks. I shrugged. Considering that the new Floor Guardian was weaker than the earlier version and how the Bloodlust effect was a two-edged sword¡­ not to mention that I didn¡¯t have a lot of influence on the first floor of my dungeon anymore¡­ It was okay. I could live with this. The human standing in the room breathed out heavily, shaking off his crazed state. Being a sole winner didn¡¯t come without a cost, however. The red bandana he wore had a lot of tears and slashes, barely withstanding the abuse of battle. The leather armor he borrowed from someone had already been destroyed, joining the heavier armaments he lost to the Jailer Jonathan. There were pieces of it left, but deep gashes and blue skin were already healing, courtesy of a magical item or a special skill that Lois had acquired. From all the weapons he once hid on his body only the cleaver remained, both serrated dagger and other weapons chipped and bent beyond recognition. ¡°That was a shitty ending.¡± He murmured regretfully while looking at the meat patty lying on the ground - all that remained from the half-elf scout. My secrets were safe. Or so I thought until I heard the next words he spoke. ¡°I guess I should continue to explore?¡± He grinned maniacally. ¡°There should be some powerful monsters left, seeing how the elves ran with their tails tucked in.¡± [No, no, no! This is a time when you turn back, prepare, and let me REST!] I shouted in frustration, knowing that the only person who could hear me was currently cuddling a batch of Kobold eggs. On that note¡­ I probably should break open one or two, only to check if I¡¯ll gain any blueprints. Ah, but considering how Guardian cherished these little things I decided to reconsider. I dreaded making him angry, mostly because he was the only conversation partner I had at the moment. Not that we were talking much. The lower floors were still in the process of restocking. My Lebir Exploders were slowly making their way towards the central room, their production workshop far away from the frontlines. Both a blessing and a curse. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. I also didn¡¯t start replacing all the destroyed flora and damaged parts of the chamber, which was why Lois whistled, seeing the destruction. ¡°Now, which creature could do that?¡± He wondered aloud, his strange habit a small boon to me. ¡°That Charles noble did say something about explodin¡¯ stuff, right?¡± He scratched his head, unwittingly freeing some of the black hair from under the bandana. I had little choice. Not wanting him to do what the half-elves did - especially after foolishly losing so many of my trump cards, Lebir Exploders, I chose to send out a call. To Lebirs, Ironflames, Ratlings. To my creations. Most of them wouldn¡¯t understand the words, but the intent... [The enemy is here.] ...the murderous feeling... [Stop him! Kill him!] ...it was here. A roar echoed through my halls, startling the sentient. A second one followed. ¡°Is that a welcome?¡± Lois was undaunted, peering beyond the moon-like room. His expression changed a bit as the first of my creatures arrived - they were the closest and relatively weakest monsters - Lebirs. They came in squads, each led by a Lebir Captain. When they stepped into the destroyed chamber instead of grouping up they started to spread their ranks, deciding to assault the invader at once. This, for some reason, surprised Lois. ¡°Did they hear me speak? The dungeon monsters usually tend to stay in their rooms. Not to mention organize. They¡¯re the same type, so¡­ they have leaders?¡± He mused, ignoring my monsters and looking at Lebir Captains with amusement. ¡°Unless all these guys are of the patrolling variety?¡± His face scrunched. ¡°It still feels a bit too much.¡± A shrug. ¡°I¡¯m not complaining though.¡± His complacent expression started to turn more and more serious as the last of all eight groups arrived at the destination, leaving him alone to contend with forty reinforced undead. Both sides stared at each other, Lois'' eyes darting around, considering his chances, while Lebirs waited for¡­ me? [Get him!] I ordered and the Lebir Captains raised their weapons, charging ahead. Just behind their followers were closing in, bent on killing an intruder. ¡°Shit!¡± Cursed Lois. ¡°What did these elves do, to rile the dungeon so much?!¡± He screamed while dodging the first few of the attackers. ¡°Fucking delve-killers! Oh, I¡¯ll punch the next elfie I¡¯ll see even if it¡¯ll get me in trouble!¡± His murmurs didn¡¯t stop the advancing undead, Lois counter-attacks slicing off a few appendages - the damage which would maybe stop the living opponent, but nothing for those already dead. ¡°When in doubt¡­ RUN!¡± He huffed, skillfully avoiding the enemy and choosing to break through the weakest part of their siege. That said one or two hits managed to land, eliciting grunts of pain from the escaping Guild Master. He chose to run south, towards the Metallic Jungle and Ironflame Ratlings temple. It was a dead end. Many of my creations were coming, most interesting of them a group led by the biggest Ratling I ever saw. While normal ones stood at about 20 centimeters, this guy was a staggering one meter! More importantly, his whole body was covered in scars and cut flesh, marking him as a survivor of many battles. The oversized claws and fangs closed and opened menacingly, seemingly desiring an opponent to fight against. On his waist a small, leather belt with a few pouches lay comfortably, ready for immediate use. And, like some of the other rats I noticed, his back lacked the spear-thrower that his smaller cousins sported. The most imposing thing about him had to be the metal helmet attached to its skin and bone. It defended the rat¡¯s eyes and head while giving it a menacing look. The metal was formed into a square, with small slits left for eyes and the lower part completely shaved off - to allow for a biting motion. The human was running, but this¡­ enforcer of the Ratlings was still on his tail. After a few more minutes and when I had to witness the decimation of three more Ratling squads the enlarged rat crossed paths with Lois. Both sides stared at each other for a long moment, before my rat behemoth breathed out a deep roar and Lois answered with his own, wild sneer. ¡°What are you?¡± He asked, not with fear, but rather barely contained excitement. ¡°Are you some kind of a mutant? And that helmet¡­ Maybe an escaped Master Vincent student?¡± He laughed. Another, even deeper growl escaped the throat of my giant rat. Then, with a practiced motion, the Ratling reached into its pouch, took out a green-looking pill, and swallowed it. The formerly red eyes of the monster took on a green sheen. ¡°Intelligent? Using tools and magical items?¡± Once again Lois'' expression changed. It was entertaining to have someone that easy to read in my dungeon. He would still die, though. ¡°Ain¡¯t that a bit too fast? I guess that¡¯s a Forgotten Dungeon for ya.¡± Another second of staring passed until Guild Master lunged forward with a loud shout. ¡°Dieeeeee!¡± I wanted to observe the battle (and some small part of me did), but at this very moment, even more sentients arrived in the - now-empty - Floor Guardian room. Because of that, my attention was drawn back upwards. I still didn¡¯t manage to clean up the place, human presence only slowly dissipated since Lois¡¯ departure. Much to my surprise not only Charles and Master Vincent were arriving, but accompanying them was the half-elven princess and her shieldmaster. And a few elves too, not counting nervous human guards. Both human leaders sported sour expressions and were distractedly looking around, the mage immediately spotting the demolished altar and running toward it. Minnalea, on the other hand, was drawn to the squashed remains of her scout. She crouched nearby and used her gloved hand to search for something amongst the destroyed flesh and bone. ¡°Was this one of your people, princess?¡± Charles wasn¡¯t the most delicate man in the world. Even I knew that this was a bad way to start a talk. It seemed like the man didn¡¯t care¡­ and yet, to my surprise, his conversational partner didn¡¯t react badly. ¡°Sannel Cloudrest was his name.¡± The girl answered after a long moment. ¡°He was one of the rarely born Shadow Children.¡± ¡°A what?¡± ¡°The princess means those with an innate ability to hide.¡± Master Vincent arrived a moment earlier, his absent-minded voice echoing for a bit. ¡°They are born to the elves or those with thick enough blood and some of the other races.¡± ¡°Master Vincent? Did you finish whatever you were doing out there?¡± Asked Charles, motioning to the destroyed altar. ¡°Yes, yes. Sadly there wasn¡¯t much to analyze since most of the enchanted circle had been destroyed during the battle. I can, however, say that it was marvelously if somewhat crudely carved and animated.¡± His expression changed into one of happiness immediately. He was speaking about something he loved, after all. ¡°I was more interested in what it did, though.¡± Smiled Charles, his patience visibly growing thinner. The violet mage ignored the looks he was given, chatting away. ¡°I can¡¯t really place the magic, mostly because it¡¯s one of the dark and primal variants, shunned and culled by the modern practitioners. The most I can say is that it deals with blood and mind spheres of influence.¡± He turned towards the elven princess. ¡°If time allows for it could I ask Your Highness for disabling the Guardian without destroying this piece? I would like to preserve these runes in their entirety!¡± He beamed his question, only to be immediately shot down. ¡°No. This is a Forgotten Dungeon - one which had drawn the elven blood already. Everything here is to be purged. I won¡¯t be a part of any research efforts, mage.¡± ¡°Well, no need to be so hostile, princess.¡± Sighed Master Vincent. Then he mumbled under his nose. ¡°It was still worth trying, though.¡± ¡°That means that this poor sod was one of your scouts?¡± Charles asked once again. ¡°Yes. The other Child of Shadow is missing, however¡­ I can¡¯t find this one Goddess Kiss.¡± ¡°And what that may be?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a secret.¡± ¡°You do remember our deal?¡± Sneered Charles. ¡°Knowledge for access. Are you breaking it right now?¡± The princess stared coldly at the red-haired noble, both of them silent for a moment. Minnalea was the first one to break. ¡°Fine.¡± She sighed. ¡°The Goddess Kiss is an item, which, when cracked can completely heal the wounded person carrying it.¡± ¡°A restoration potion, then?!¡± Asked visibly flushed Master Vincent. ¡°Yes. We have a constant if a bit small stream of potions coming from our most advanced dungeons.¡± Charles turned his head to the mage, staring at him questioningly. The man in question took out a small, oval sphere and stared at it for a second. Then he shook his head. ¡°She¡¯s telling the truth.¡± ¡°Oh please!¡± The princess sneered. ¡°Like I would tell lies to already dead men.¡± ¡°What are you talking abo--?¡± Asked the startled noble before his voice was drowned by the Minnalea''s louder orders. ¡°USE THE GAS, NOW!¡± Her shrill scream came as a surprise, as the elves immediately wore something that I could only describe as gas masks. A moment later each of them took out a glass globe and smashed it against the ground. The thick, green gas started to fill the room faster than my magic could purify it. Humans started to fight back, drawing their weapons and preparing spells, Charles even managed to burn one of the assailants to a crisp before he too fell to the ground. ¡°Are all of them incapacitated?¡± The princess asked slowly. A few of the accompanying elves rushed to check. Minutes passed as they did their thorough checks. Only when all of the humans were accounted for did the soldier¡¯s representative speak. ¡°Yes, Your Highness. All of them will sleep until death.¡± ¡°Technically it¡¯s not true. The Curse of Sleep can lull them for between one to thirty days.¡± Minnalea looked at the fallen humans with amusement. ¡°If they were not in the dungeon and if there was anyone left to help them¡­ then they could survive. But by using this thing I¡¯ll be free to say that I didn¡¯t kill them, truth-seeking orbs be damned.¡± She turned back. ¡°Leave them as they are and follow me. We have a dungeon to conquer and destroy.¡± The soldiers saluted and followed her downstairs. Right into the arms of already waiting Lebirs. Not to mention Lebir Exploders who already arrived at the Central Pond Room. The first explosions rocked the floor, startling both battling Lois and killing off about half of the incoming elven soldiers. I was sure that all of them perished, but once the smoke cleared a big, glowing shield was separating my undead from their prey. Just behind it, the princess¡¯ silent human was kneeling, his arm thrust forward. ¡°Jake! Are you alright?!¡± Minnalea screamed in fear, squeezing through her other soldiers. She relaxed only when she arrived near the armored man and touched his shoulder. Hearing his soothing grunt she turned towards the enemies and glared. ¡°You dare? YOU DARE TO HURT HIM?!¡± Waves of visible energy started to arrive at her feet, like waves of light-sea. At the same time, the darkness in the room started to grow deeper, greedier, more monstrous. I could hear the terrified whispers of her soldiers. ¡°The Lightless Lantern!¡± ¡°The Lightless One!¡± ¡°Dark Child!¡± They spoke. ¡°The Lone One¡­¡± A single of them whispered only to find that the shadows were growing deeper around him. And then the youngest princess of Luna started to chant. ¡°I deny both Light and Darkness. And yet I glow. And yet I cast the vilest shadows. I am a Lightless Lantern. I am the power just beyond your sight, oh divine! Bathe in my light, oh world!¡± At this point, she and her closest surroundings were bathed in light, the rest turning so dark that even my cameras weren¡¯t able to see anything. I could only feel as if the lives of my creations were snuffed out like candles. Five minutes passed, then ten. Lois was still battling my gigantic Ratling. I grew bored and checked on the garden, only to find it unchanged. Only a half-hour later the chamber started to brighten, my Electrical Chandeliers survived whatever that was. The half-elves were huddled around the Minnalea, their faces pale and tired. Seeing as the darkness was passing one of them forced himself to speak. ¡°Y-your H-highness¡­ Please.¡± He bowed deeply turning to kneel when his legs gave out. ¡°C-can you please stop using battlefield-annihilation spells on t-the dungeon s-second floor?¡± He begged, his comrades nodding with pitiful expressions. ¡°It not only t-tires you out but also makes our job harder.¡± ¡°I guess I overreacted a bit?¡± She laughed shortly, but nobody joined and after a second there was only an awkward silence. Not even the silent shieldman. This reminded me of the other elven girl, who also seemed to have a weak grasp on self-control. Was this something that all elven women had, or was it restricted to just the high-level ones? I guess elven harems were out of the question in this world, huh? My mind raced, focused on random things, trying desperately not to think about the destruction that this one chick would bring to my dungeon. I ordered the drones to quicken the third-floor boss room preparations. The fake core also needed to be moved as soon as possible. Especially with this maniac wandering the level. After a moment of hesitation, I also ordered Ratlings to focus on trying to wake up the sleeping humans. The enemy of my enemy was my friend. I would be glad if they managed to stir up some trouble for the elves. To add to my troubles a familiar telepathic link was closing in. [Need¡­ help¡­] A feeling of pain and weakness was transmitted. [Es-scaping.] She added. [Need¡­ hide-out.] A feeling of desperation. Then hope. [Home.] Normally I would sigh and probably refuse the girl, but right now I needed all the help I could muster. [Welcome home, Non. We are in a bit of a pickle, but you can jump right in. Teleport¡­ here.] I answered while showing her a trap room just beyond the greedy Glass Progenitor. The trap room was turned into a small cell. The dangerous mechanisms were removed and replaced with a simple bed, a chair, a table, and a few other random things. As soon as the Revenant teleported in and collapsed on a nearby bed I whistled. [Damn¡­ what did you do, girl?] She was bleeding light from her left arm, the corrosion starting to devour parts of her upper body. [Not-G-Guard-ian?] She asked suspiciously. [Oops.] [I¡¯m also here, little one.] A new, warm voice added. [W-where?] [Right now I¡¯m taking care of the little kobolds, you know? You can visit.] [No, she can¡¯t - we have an invasion for fuck¡¯s sake!] I answered angrily. [As you wish my lord.] [W-who? Lord?] [Arhg¡­ fuck it. My name is Uno and I¡¯m a Dungeon Core. Right now we have a rather big emergency, so please lie down, I¡¯ll try to help you as soon as it¡¯s possible.] I answered in an annoyed tone. [E-nemy?] She slowly stood up. [Help¡­ Help home¡­] Her hand grasped at the empty sheath hanging on her waist. [You¡¯re barely standing. Lie down, Non!] [No, f-fight!] [Haaaaaah. Non-sentient minions are much better to control¡­] I sighed loudly. It seemed like repairing someone¡¯s body was going to be a priority for now. [But¡­ Non¡¯s¡­ sen-tient?] She sputtered and sighed even louder, while Guardian laughed hysterically. [That¡¯s not what I¡­ ahhhh. You know what? It doesn¡¯t matter. Just lie down. I¡¯ll start my operation.] As if to spite me a notification box arrived just when I was starting to cut her flesh.
Berserker (Iron Ratling) had evolved into Berserker (Regenerator Mutant)!
It didn¡¯t sound that bad, but¡­ why did its race change?! 053.5 My body is a temple Berserker All rats were made for a purpose. From the moment we were born out of the womb of our mother, we gasped and grasped at the Gift of Life and Gift of Knowledge that was granted by our esteemed Creator. It was at this point in our lives that the great divide came to be. A single instance of fate-granting decided how the rest of our existence was going to be. Some were given but a word, a letter, a number - the smallest of the small, forced to wallow in mediocrity until the end of their lives. Others inhaled through their long, greedy snouts a single, fleeting vision - one that gave them purpose - which simply burned into their brains in the solemn hours slowly passing since our arrival into this world. Even fewer of us were given a Gift of Understanding. A deep root of knowledge twisting our insides with passion and madness of a different world. This power allowed us to become something more. Something greater. But, as we learned, nothing was free. There was always a price to pay. In exchange for a painful sacrifice, we were chosen to grow without end, to change this underworld of ours. To serve the Creator with our claws, our wits, and our flesh. To become a pillar of the Secret Council! We were strong. But not the strongest. There was one existence that had flown higher into the maelstrom that was our Creator¡¯s mind and returned unscathed. Our Queen, our Mother¡­ our Rat-Prophet! The one guiding us towards the future. I, on the other hand, was just a simple rat, living a simple life. Or at least that was what I wanted to be. There was nothing special or different about my birth. No fanfare, no magical lights - nothing. On the contrary - I was even smaller than my siblings, just one of the many blind, weak, hairless balls of flesh. It was warm. Quiet. Somber. I--- we - all wanted for this bliss to continue forever. But it was not to be. The visions came, forcing both me and my brothers to squeak in pain. To scream our denial, our sudden pain out into the world. To foolishly reject what was given. This was expected. The experienced tender tucked us in, cleaning sweaty bodies with water-soaked rags. One by one the rats in the nest stopped screaming, their wheezing, tired forms filling every space possible. They were reborn. All of them, besides me. I screamed myself hoarse, trying to escape my destiny, my throat raw and bloody from mumbled words and angry growls. The undeveloped claws painted long, shredded lines in my own flesh, forcing the tenders to bind me down in a desperate effort to let a youngling survive. I don¡¯t know how much that torture lasted. Minutes? Hours? Days? In the end, my blinded eyes were filled with the sight of a sentient - female? - singing. Her form was hazy, filled with static, but the words she spoke¡­ the words¡­ they were clean and crisp, like shots fired in the morning. My body is a temple. A shrine to the Lord. And although I walk through the valley of death I shall fear no evil, for he is within me. And although my fate is to bleed, to kill, and to suffer I shall not relent. For we are servants of the Grand Creator. We are the enlightened ones. The words burned as my soul devoured them greedily, growing and changing. And then, suddenly¡­ my epiphany ended and I was left in the dark, wishing frantically for the warmth and purpose to return. I didn¡¯t know that yet, but at this moment my pitiful self was destined to become a part of the Secret Council. As a sign of my ascension, I had acquired a new skill called Blood courage. It allowed me to both regenerate and strengthen my abilities while in contact with blood. Its origin didn¡¯t matter - animal, sentient, even undead fluids were working. I could feel my power steadily growing, just like it was predicted. But being on the receiving end wasn¡¯t enough. My body was a temple - and I was certain that each day spent training, sparring, bleeding, and reinforcing my scarred flesh was a living testament to our Creator¡¯s power. My stonelike bones were pillars that lifted the rich bricks of the flesh. The sturdy skin, turned hard and strong by the hours of constant fighting, was constantly covered with paint made from sweat and blood, while my fangs and claws were temple guards, separating the grain from the chaff. I knew my strength, and every part of my young mind desired recognition. With time I was granted a name - Berserker - mostly because of my fighting style. According to the Mother, it was a title given to the strongest of the sentients from another world. They often forgot themselves in the middle of a battle, reveling in chaos, death, and destruction. I was proud. Ready. And then that pride was cruelly broken. My first real battle came - one against strange, translucent creatures. And one during which I was taught the harsh way of the world. It took only one attack from the monstrous creature to shatter my sturdy bones. If not for my posse of rats I would end my journey right there, in a belly of the beast. Before I accomplished anything. It was a waking call. I needed to get stronger. The temple was to be an unbreakable thing. Otherwise, how could it answer the expectations of our Creator? So I did what I could. That included asking my Council brothers for help. They gladly answered, hoping to both test their abilities and show the depth of their faith. Crafter fashioned a helmet from his strongest metal - a foreboding alloy he called warpsteel. Its silvery hue kept greenish strength hidden, like a Ratling lair - ready to strike. Mechanic and Mage worked on permanently attaching it to my skull, while Scientist created a new type of drug - something he simply called green pills. While the name was mundane the effect was anything, but. They enhanced my already great strength and reinforced the regeneration, allowing me to even regain lost limbs. I was cautioned however to never take more than three at any given time. Otherwise, the effect could not be predicted. After that came training and even more training. The temple had to grow, after all, and it did so as my flesh and bones were strengthened. And when sentients invaded our sacred lands¡­ the long-awaited call was given. The Creator called, his pleasant static flowing through my brain. We all knew what that meant. ¡°For glory!¡± Squeaked my companions. ¡°For the Dungeon!¡± ¡°For the Ratlings!¡± ¡°KILL!¡± My low growl joined their voices, silencing the commotion. It came as a surprise, rats other than my posse not knowing how to react. I sighed internally. My confrontation against the glass nightmare did not end without any consequences. But losing the ability to speak was a small price to pay for a warrior. For a long moment, the uncertainty and fear slowly trickled down, poisoning the gathered rats with fear. Luckily one of the more bloodthirsty warriors shouted and immediately dispersed the gloomy atmosphere. ¡°The Berserker had spoken! We hunt!¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°¡°¡°WE HUNT!!!¡±¡±¡± I nodded approvingly. Courage was good, but I preferred to not scare my lesser brethren without a reason nonetheless. After that sorry incident, we started to move, the surrounding rats flowing after me like a living tide. We ran through the hidden corridors, small chambers, and twisted tunnels whose walls still bore signs of combat against goblin and kobold scum. A scar here, a broken weapon there, a small indentation left after a missed attack¡­ they remained - a grim reminder of our fragility. Not once or twice our paths crossed with some of my Council brethren. They also were compelled to answer the Creator¡¯s call with their own skills and forces. Tactician and Strategist were having their hands full, coordinating the advance troops and preparing a crippling strike against unsuspecting invaders. For now, the Un-tasty Ones were holding the line, their devotion to the cause unflinching even in the face of certain annihilation. Behind the common rats Mage and Mechanic for the first time in under-world history led their forces into battle. Warp acolytes and Rat mechanists were chosen to stop the advance of Tall Ones - the latter with the power of their green stones and the former by using their strange half-living contraptions. Young rats hurried forward, their eyes full of hope and greed. ¡°For glory!¡± ¡°For the Master!¡± ¡°For our home!¡± They squeaked, while readily advancing. Many of them would be dead before this day ended. But such was the will of the Creator. Others will take their place. And those who survive will undoubtedly grow stronger. Along the way, I even managed to meet Scientist wandering away from his secluded laboratory. A rare sight. Behind him, a bunch of scared assistants carried countless colorful vials, strange machines, and various pills. ¡°K-kill!¡± I mumbled and his servants shivered in response. Cowards. ¡°Oh? Ber, is it you?¡± He, on the other hand, squeaked in delight. I nodded fiercely and he continued speaking. I noticed that despite the passage of time his body was still covered in blue vein-like lines. The number of scars and damaged skin he bore was not much smaller than those decorating my own, battered body. ¡°What a surprise. How are the pills? Are you feeling any after-after-effects?¡± ¡°Kill, kill.¡± I answered shaking my head in denial. They were perfect. Produced personally by the claws of our resident genius. I did not doubt that they worked as intended even in longer engagements. Scientist was showing off his new power after the Creator decided to bestow the gift of warpstone on our kind. ¡°Well, we better get to it. I have been ordered to advance towards the first floor using our tunnels. My job is to make sure that the poisoned Tall Ones get better.¡± His snout twisted in an expression of disgust. ¡°I know that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but it still doesn¡¯t sit well with me. We should kill them all, consequences be damned!¡± My only answer was an angry roar. ¡°Yeah, yeah I know.¡± He twirled his surprisingly agile claws in a gesture of surrender. ¡°I¡¯ll finish the job that was given by the Master. But if in the process of doing so a few sentients die, or get sterilized¡­¡± His voice trailed off and I could see the expression of wonder slowly appearing on his face. The rats behind him recognized it immediately and stumbled against each other trying to get out of the way. I too shuddered. Scientist¡¯s experiments were dangerous. There was a time when we worked together and to this day I pray to the Creator each night, thankful for my survival. Sensing the change of atmosphere I nodded to the mesmerized rat and turned tail. My team followed, not knowing why we were moving, but not keen on asking. Perks of being a boss, I guess. Even after we left I could still hear the echoing whisper. ¡°They have cores, right? Now, I wonder¡­ how would they interact with warpstone? Or, maybe just an incision¡­ will soft meat wither, when exposed to the glorious Anima Crystals? Or would it mutate? What about the eyes?¡± Scientist mumbled under his snout. ¡°Yessss¡­ what about the eyes?¡± I shuddered. It seemed like the other Tall Ones were up for some bad awakening. Not that it mattered. They would all die in the end. Our Creator demanded so. And speaking of dying¡­ Our small group was closing in on our target. The lone warrior we were chasing still advanced crazily, not looking back. I could see the glory in that. To burn brightly before one¡¯s demise was a good thing. My nose twitched, instantly stopping the ruminations. I smelled blood. Ratling and human blood, but it was the former scent that dominated the air. Seconds later we arrived at the battlefield. Corpses in various stages of dismemberment were strewn about like in a scene straight from a nightmare. The air was wet and heavy, with the added flavor of sweat, piss, and fear dispersing slowly. And amongst the bodies stood the invader - a black-haired man wearing scraps of leather armor and rags that were once modest clothes. Once-red bandana now looked like a scrap of waste. In his hands a strange butcher knife was vibrating with hidden energy, slowly devouring the fluids covering its blade. It was a bewitching, terrible sight. One that I welcomed. An opponent. A real Opponent granted by the Creator! I roared, while my face distorted into a happy sneer. Not that the human could tell. ¡°KILL!¡± The man responded with a laugh of his own. His eyes were anticipating a surprise strike and searching for the right angle to attack. Perfect. ¡°What are you?¡± He asked, not with fear, but barely contained excitement. ¡°Are you some kind of a mutant? And that helmet¡­ Maybe an escaped Master Vincent student?¡± He roared with laughter again. ¡°Kill.¡± I answered with deeper emotion. Fulfillment. To kill or be killed. Seeing him observing my form I used this time to repeat my mantra. Prepare, never underestimate the opponent. A green pill ended up in my mouth - a motion I trained a hundred, thousand times. The small pouch I carried on my waist had about twenty portions left, but the usage limit was still fresh in my mind. I did not want to die before fulfilling my duty. After I swallowed the drug a feeling of strength slowly traveled through my veins, reinforcing bones, and muscles, making my mind swirl faster. I stared at the human with amusement as he spoke. ¡°Intelligent? Using tools and magical items?¡± His expression changed. ¡°Ain¡¯t that a bit too fast? I guess that¡¯s a Forgotten Dungeon for ya.¡± The man complained playfully, still talking to himself. And then he lunged forward with a scream. ¡°Dieeeeee!¡± It was a decent attack - quick, ruthless, and utterly brutal. Butcher knives aren¡¯t known for their precision after all. He swung it down, aiming to disable my left arm, but I instantly dodged, starting a swipe of my own. The attack missed, cutting the ground instead, a deep gouge showing both the human¡¯s strength and his weapon¡¯s might. My swipe didn¡¯t find its target too, as he agilely used the momentum and fell forward, spinning a bit before landing. ¡°Ta-dah!¡± He jested, but I reacted with another attack. This time I opted for a charge - my helmet was made from the strongest metal known to a rat, after all. Raising speed I flew forward, my legs and arms barely touching the floor. The air cried, torn apart by my quickly moving flesh. Then the sound stopped - and I felt the sound of a collision together with a screeching of abused metal. Even under the effects of inertia, the human managed to slip away, hurt, but not dead. I ended up headbutting the wall, a tremor of force nearly knocking me out. We both turned and stared at each other in surprise. ¡°H-how the hell¡­¡± The invader stuttered, looking at his nicked blade. ¡°This is a magical weapon, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± I checked the integrity of my helmet and was shocked to find a nick in the warpsteel¡¯s smooth surface. It seemed like our equipment was on par. A few more bouts followed, both me and the human scoring the hits, but not weakening each other. It seemed like his ability was similar to mine - the blood helped him to keep up and regenerate. At least until I swallowed the second pill. My muscles grew explosively, but it wasn¡¯t all strength - an explosive gain in speed was also experienced. Small, green lines started to appear on my flesh, reminding me of how Scientist looked after a few catastrophic experiments. The human¡¯s answer was simple. ¡°Fuck you, you cheater.¡± He mumbled, his eyes slowly losing the spark with which he started our battle. I decided to end this fight. All the more since I could hear constant explosions from the direction where most of our forces advanced. I felt restless. The sentients should already be dead, and yet the battle continued... Four more attacks and the invader was on the ropes, stumbling back, like a marionette with broken strings. I lunged forward, both of my claws piercing his shoulders with a wet sound. A small scream of pain followed, and the man was immobilized against the wall. I opened my mouth to bite his head off, finishing this battle in my favor only to hear him whisper. ¡°It¡¯s a draw, fucker¡­¡± With a strength surprising for a half-dead person he lifted his damaged butcher cleaver and cut straight into my belly, spilling blood and guts on the ground. I started to feel cold, weakness spreading from the wound, but with the last spurt, my jaws clamped on his neck, severing the head from the rest of the body. After that, both me and the sentient fell on the ground. He - a dead pile of flesh. Me - a soon dead Ratling. I could hear my subordinates screaming panickedly, their squeaks filling the air. My snout unknowingly stretched itself in an expression of happiness. Such loyal, little rats. I thought, feeling the darkness just behind the corner, waiting to claim me. But it didn¡¯t. Instead, a red-hot pain seared up from the wound, traveling quickly through my flesh and bone. It hurt. It hurt so much, that I wanted to die, a long, piercing scream building up and leaving my damaged lungs. ¡°Gyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± And again. Again. The waves of fire continued to travel through my flesh. I could feel myself changing. The stomach wound repairing itself. My brain - my head - growing and filling all the space left in the warpsteel helmet. Both the legs and the spine were filled with muscles, tendons, forcing me to stand upright¡­ The arms grew slender but still powerful, claws turning into¡­ fingers?! I couldn¡¯t see my face, but the snout that always was there simply disappeared. And, most of all. ¡°WHAT IS HAPPENINGGGGGGGGGGG?!¡± I could talk now. The explosions once again rocked the dungeon''s second floor. Wonder had to wait. There were rats in dire need of help. 054 Uno It was chaos. I tried my best to attend to three places at once - to keep Non contained and not foolishly attacking the invaders, while also preparing her for an operation. At the same time, I was checking on my newly evolved minion, and charting the longears'' progress. While I was certainly capable of some multitasking this was still a bit too much. [Why can¡¯t I simply be left alone?] A word of complaint escaped my mouth, the only recipients being Non and Guardian. Both didn¡¯t answer, as the former was busy squirming, trying to loosen my ropes and the latter was observing his new pets. Or rather their eggs as not one of the kobolds had hatched yet. I focused on binding the unruly revenant down, more and more copper tools being prepared to deal with the dangerously pulsating bright thing. That arm of hers was already lost, both flesh and metal devoured up to the shoulder. The only thing I could do was to cut it all off and dispose of or isolate the corrupted tissue. The only thing that remained looked like a half-translucent, pustule-like growth, which somehow reminded me of jellyfish. My first choice was to contain it inside a big glass receptacle. I still didn¡¯t know what this weird substance was, but the ability to devour both metal and flesh seemed interesting, if rather dangerous. This, however, meant that it could be weaponized - maybe in a similar fashion that the person who hurt Non did. Which was a piece of information that I should drag out of her as soon as she became less delirious. On the other hand, if handled improperly the material could very well devour my dungeon¡­ Bah. No risk, no gain. Just to be sure I stationed a few of the Ironflame rats nearby, deciding that in the worst-case scenario they were to be used as an impromptu sterilization unit. The good ol¡¯ fire should be enough. Afterward, a small part of my consciousness was left in the temporary operating theatre, creating tools and ordering minions. Soon I could feel the saw slowly grinding down Non¡¯s flesh. The living metal, her supple muscle, hardy bones - I felt it all. At the same time, I could also tell that my copper tool had to be constantly regenerated if I wanted to shear her body all the way through. Of course, it would take time, but I was anything, but patient. I turned my attention toward the tunnels where the fight against the sneaky invader took place. My cameras displayed a scene of total carnage. There were scraps of flesh, broken bones, and fur, with headless and armless corpses strewn everywhere¡­ to add insult to injury various Ratlings were thrown about like dolls destroyed by a petulant child. And blood. Blood everywhere - painting both the ceiling and walls crimson red. Slowly the scene was getting cleaner, my constant devouring of foreign materials starting up now that the sentient was dead. Only the scars and crumbled rock would soon remain as a silent witness to the destruction. The human was dead, his haughty body crumpled like a useless rag - his head torn off the torso by a monstrous force. My first evolved minion was still nearby, his muscular body breathing heavily. A reaction to winning the fight, or maybe the evolution? Who knew? The system called him Berserker - and he really looked the part. I observed him for a second. He looked similar to the video game character from¡­ Vermintide, was it? At least I thought so. A rat ogre - I believe that''s what the monster was called. The current form of Berserker was certainly similar, but there were also differences. For example, his face had a shorter, more human-like snout with teeth reminiscent of the shark instead of the rat - a few rows of scary fangs, ready to tear the flesh from the bone. The hands also looked different - the claws were still there, but in a more subdued form, with an ability to wield weapons and perform complicated maneuvers. Not simply weapons, but tools. That said my Regenerator Mutant still had a lot of bestial features, including the overgrown muscle, vicious expression, and green, glowing eyes. And the mane. Yeah - a lion-like mane formed from brown fur, reaching down to his shoulders. At least now it could walk on two feet, which put it at little more than two and a half meters of height. Savoring the sensation I spoke. [Analyze.]
Regenerator Mutant called Berserker A surprising effect of overusing a never-before-seen magic drug. Its primal form was a simple rat, but after the enforced evolution the final effect is anything but ordinary. This large, vicious rat humanoid has nearly unlimited ability to regenerate, but unlike its distant cousin, troll, neither fire nor acid will disrupt its function. Instead only destroying both the brain and the heart at the same time will slay the beast. Some of the magic still remains in the creature¡¯s bones and as such further mutations are possible. Despite becoming a member of a completely different race, Berserker still considers himself a Ratling. As a progenitor of a new species, he has been graced with enhanced intelligence and emotional capacity. Threat level: B--
Lovely. A real monster. I had already decided on a perfect role for him. As indestructible as he was Berserker seemed a perfect fit for the third floor¡¯s Boss position. Especially if I equipped him right. Some cursed armaments would feel just right. I couldn¡¯t wait to try my hand at kiting him out! Right now the newly evolved monster was slowly making its way to the battlefield - eager to stop the longears invasion. I was giddily waiting for his arrival, expectantly waiting for both the aggressors'' reaction of horror and perspective of quickly approaching carnage. In the meantime, my attention turned toward the second-floor entrance room. I had to make sure that my newest enemies weren¡¯t pushing too hard. And with this came a surprise. I did order the Lebirs to hold their ground. To keep the attackers busy with something. Anything. They were expendable, after all. But¡­ The forces trying to keep the elves in check were mostly comprised of ordinary Lebirs, a few Lebir Captains, and even fewer Lebir Exploders. Some Ratlings also joined the battle, helping my creatures with both sneak attacks and covering fire. Normally each of these minions would be doing their thing. Exploders would be charging. Lebirs would be charging. Captains would be charging. Most of the Ratlings would be charging also. Yeah¡­ Pretty much all my creatures would recklessly run to their deaths, catching the defenders'' arrows with their faces and squishy parts. Not ideal, right? And yet this time it seemed like my rats were taking command. That in itself was not a surprise - they were one of my most intelligent creatures, save a few unique beings spread around the floors. What was, however, unexpected was the fact that the undead were actually listening to them. My Lebirs usually tried to fulfill their orders in the simplest way possible and of course - to the letter, while ignoring anyone or anything trying to distract them from the task. This was their greatest strength and their greatest undoing. And now they simply¡­ stopped doing so? I was stunned. How did the rats manage to override that trait of the undead? My shock lasted a few more seconds - until I noticed something else out of ordinary. While most of the Ratlings were simple rank and file, some of them looked different. For one on their heads, they were wearing metal circlets with small, green gems. What¡¯s more the sensation I felt from them was familiar. And very so. The green aura they radiated¡­ The power so similar to my own¡­ Ah. Crystallized Anima. Of course. The thing that the rat-kind seemed to covet so much. Lebirs would surely listen to somebody who felt just like a smaller, weaker me. Wait. Did I just witness the creation of a necromancer caste? Well, they weren¡¯t able to raise dead, so maybe that was a not entirely accurate description. Ratling dark mages, then? When I debated how to call this addition to the underground rat empire the Ratlings in question continued the attack. They squeaked orders right and left, pointing their little paws in the direction where the undead were meant to go. And the Lebirs obeyed, working in small teams to disrupt enemy defenses, jumping from cover to cover like they were on the beaches of Normandy. It was clear that this change came not too long ago because longears were in full panic mode. ¡°Shoot the blue ones!¡± Screamed one of the defenders. ¡°They explode!¡± ¡°What do you think I¡¯m trying to do? I can¡¯t get a clean shot! They¡¯re being shielded by the other undead!¡± Answered another with a frustrated tone. ¡°Princess!¡± ¡°I know.¡± The blonde mage barely grumbled, sending a long sharp beam of light towards the advancing undead. The ones in the front were cut in half, falling on the ground like damaged dolls. It didn¡¯t stop their advance though. The defenders curled up, expecting an explosion¡­ but nothing happened. ¡°I-it¡­ didn¡¯t¡­?¡± Asked a confused elf. ¡°What the...?¡± ¡°It was a decoy! Keep your eyes peeled!¡± A spotter shouted, reacting earlier than others. ¡°A decoy?! How the hell are they learning so fast?¡± ¡°Goddess bless us! More are coming!¡± Chaotic screams filled the air as one of the Exploders (dyed with ash to hide its color) approached the defense line. ¡°A blue one!¡± ¡°Brace!¡± A command followed. ¡°Fuck that! Hide!¡± The shouts of warning echoed as Minnalea softly spoke to the accompanying human knight with a grumble clearly noticeable in her tone. ¡°Are you alright, Jake? Another one is coming.¡± A grunt of acknowledgment was the man¡¯s only answer as the silent warrior steadied his posture, took a deep breath, and extended the shield once again. I could tell that this wasn¡¯t the first time he did so during this battle. And that it was taking its toll. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The undead started to run, an electric weapon lighting up in its hand, covering the surroundings in a blue, unearthly light. After a few seconds, the speeding Lebir hit the half-translucent barrier, his body exploding in a blaze of glory. The chamber shook heavily. A few pieces of dirt fell from the ceiling and another crater was added to the room¡¯s decorations. The defender¡¯s only response was another grunt, but the shield held still. Still too weak I mouthed bitterly, but my mood instantly improved as I zoomed on Jake¡¯s face. My camera had discovered a speck of blood forming in the corner of his mouth. The man immediately swallowed it down, throwing a quick glance in his master¡¯s direction. Seeing as she was still absorbed in studying the advancing enemies his calm gaze too turned toward the battlefield. ¡°Where are the reinforcements?¡± She whispered under her breath, sending another beam of light at my minions. I didn¡¯t know if it was an effect of her reckless attack or maybe a tactical decision made by the Ratlings, but most of the Electrical Chandeliers had been destroyed, not being able to reappear for as long as the sentients occupied the hall. My undead, however, could see perfectly in the dark, the Ratlings being not much worse at it. Their enemies - the elves - also seemed to have some semblance of night vision, but it was of a lower quality than the one used by my creations. I judge so mostly because their arrows became devilishly accurate only in a small circle of light remaining around them. The surrounding darkness stirred and elven soldiers echoed its activity. ¡°Something¡¯s coming!¡± ¡°Prepare your bows!¡± ¡°Wounded, get back to the healer!¡± ¡°Check your ammo!¡± One of the warriors was especially religious - or maybe even a priest - as he started to chant. I stirred, but no magic lights appeared from nothingness. It seemed to be a purely morale-raising tactic. ¡°Oh, our Goddess! Mirabelle! You who watch over our world! Our eternal Guardian! Patron of the sacred swords! The defender against corruption! Light in the Darkness! Bless us, as we stand in your name, protectors of the Luna kingdom, shields of the sentient races, luminaries of knowledge, servants of peace!¡± He stopped to take another breath, only to continue his obnoxious preaching in an even louder tone. ¡°Bless us, as we praise your name and cut away the darkness! Oh, our Goddess! Mirabelle!¡± A moment of tense silence followed, interrupted only by a few Ratling squeaks. The longears didn¡¯t know it, but orders were given to the Lebirs. Only a dozen or so invaders remained, not counting the princess and her shield knight. On the other side of the room about thirty undead slowly were getting in formation - the common variety upfront, their square shields at the ready. Behind them, a few of the remaining Captains joined shoulders to cover a single Lebir Exploder, currently being covered in dirt and ash. The rest of my reinforcements were still coming. Lebirs, Ratlings, the Regenerator Mutant. Another few nervous minutes passed, both sides preparing for the unavoidable conclusion. I could see the sweat forming on their brows, widely opened eyes scanning the darkness surging with activity. The elves were full of fear, their hearts beating louder and louder as the silence dragged on... And then a noise came. One, two. One, two. The undead¡¯s feet struck the ground in perfect harmony, like soldiers on a parade. ¡°A-are they¡­ marching?¡± Asked one of the elves, his voice strained. ¡°By the Gods! What is happening here?!¡± ¡°Oi, how fast are they learning?¡± Soon from the surrounding gloom, a dense mass of Lebirs appeared, their rhythmic march getting on the invaders'' nerves. ¡°I was afraid of this. The Forgotten Dungeon has access to military data.¡± Minnalea muttered under her nose. ¡°There is no other way, we have to change our attitude. It¡¯s no longer simply a dungeon conquest. No. This is war. The only question is how deep this rabbit hole goes¡­ Did it only find some books, maybe magical aids or¡­¡± The princess trembled.¡± Or did it find a damaged, or, Gods forbid, fully functioning Strategos.¡± She shook her head, clearing the grim expression. ¡°I will analyze this later. Survival takes priority. For now¡­¡± She coughed, her voice growing sharper and louder. ¡°PREPARE YOURSELVES, MEN! FIRST RANK - FIRE! SECOND RANK - READY FOR MELEE COMBAT!¡± Her command woke up the remaining elves, their bodies quickly reacting to the orders, even though their minds were still in chaos. ¡°What is our motto, men?!¡± She screamed. ¡°Never again!¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t hear you!¡± ¡°NEVER AGAIN! WE WILL PURGE THIS DARKNESS!¡± A vigorous shout answered her. ¡°EVEN IF!¡± ¡°EVEN IF ALL THAT¡¯S LEFT OF US ARE BONES!¡± Soon a first volley was sent loose and, in answer to that, the Lebirs were ordered to charge, their once neat formation quickly breaking out. From the gaps Captains with heavier armor and better equipment could be seen trying to get to the front. Many things could be said about the Lebirs, but there was no coward amongst them. Then again, do undead even feel fear? Elven sharpshooters added a few more arrows to the mix before switching to their daggers and knives. With a shout the second line stepped forward, shielding them and clashing with my undead. The sound of colliding metal and gasps of pain filled the air. ¡°Give them hell!¡± Minnalea shouted while cutting down an undead after undead. Her men followed, suddenly devoid of fear. The battle raged on. I could easily infer that in pure skill they were far above my minions, their blades cutting, shearing, tearing Lebirs, breaking their bones. Their reaction speed, coordination, and morale were all top-notch. I even saw one of the frail things kicking the undead Sparta-style, sending the undead tumbling down. But how do you fight against an opponent who doesn''t stop even when you cut off both of his arms? Who doesn¡¯t tire? Who doesn¡¯t fear death? And most importantly who has the numerical advantage¡­ and doesn¡¯t care about the casualties? ¡°BLUE ONE!¡± A terrified scream cut through the air as the half-elves spotted my little surprise. The Lebir Exploder was advancing in the thick of the battle, surrounded by my Captains and a few dark mage Ratlings sitting on their shoulders. I silently thanked them for their sacrifice. They will be remembered. ¡°DEFEND!¡± The hoarse order sounded and then, following it, an explosion happened. *BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM* A monstrous detonation cut through the sentients and undead alike, raising a cloud of dust that filled the entire room. A few moments passed, the sound slowly returning to the chamber. Yet the sight that greeted me was once again not what I expected. Two barriers were glinting in the weak light. A yellowish one created by the shield knight and¡­ a green one? I gritted my teeth. It didn¡¯t matter. The barrier meant that the princess survived. That was bad. She seemed to be a force behind this invasion and this ambush failed to eliminate her. I started to hurry up my forces, bent on killing her off before she escaped to the surface. And then I stopped. ¡°Your Highness! Are you alright?!¡± A concerned voice cut the air. I knew that voice. It belonged to the half-elf - Agric Oakbound, the royal aide. Fuck. ¡°Your Highness!¡± He screamed, his large, muscular figure moving cautiously. ¡°Oh shut up.¡± A tired voice answered him. The dust settled, showing that - as I thought - Minnalea survived. No serious wounds could be seen on her body either, barring a few scratches. She was currently clutching the kneeling knight''s back, the man throwing up large amounts of blood. ¡°I told you to not overextend yourself.¡± She spoke quietly to the human while ignoring the surroundings. ¡°Why do you always do this, Jake.¡± The knight''s only answer was a weak smile, followed by another bout of puking out blood. ¡°Your Highness¡­¡± The leader of reinforcements started to speak, suddenly looking much less sure than before. The men behind him - I counted at least fifty - shuffled hesitantly. ¡°WHAT?¡± She asked in a sharp tone. ¡°What are your orders, princess?¡± He squeezed through his throat. A moment of silence followed. Jake puked out some more blood. ¡°Kill them.¡± She answered in a cold tone, not turning her gaze in the slightest. ¡°I WANT ALL OF THEM DEAD.¡± ¡°Your wish is my command!¡± Agric shouted, turned around, and led his team to clear out the chamber. It was clear that he wished to be as far away from the royal princess as humanly possible. Yet he didn¡¯t forget to leave a bunch of guards in the chamber, before going off to fulfill her demands. Thanks to leaving so eagerly he didn¡¯t notice that Minnalea¡¯s hand was tightened so hard, that it turned white. Jake, however, was able to see it. With a slow and careful motion his gauntleted hand reached for hers and one by one her fingers were pried loose. Only then did the princess''s gaze soften. ¡°You fool.¡± She whispered. All that romance happened while in another part of the chamber, my minions were getting slaughtered. To tell the truth, most of the survivors were Lebir Captains and the dark mage Ratlings. Currently, they were retreating east in a tight formation. One or two lacked limbs and the rats had their share of their own shrapnel wounds (which meant that their shields were completely foolproof), but that didn¡¯t stop them from steadily moving back. All around them heavily damaged Lebirs were doing their best to slow down the attackers. ¡°What the hell is this?¡± Asked one of the elves. ¡°Yeah, are we fighting the dungeon monsters or thrice-cursed mercenaries?!¡± ¡°Stop your nagging! Pursue! You heard the princess, didn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°As did you.¡± One of the officers grumbled. ¡°I also heard that another batch of soldiers was sent for.¡± ¡°What? But it¡¯s already too much for a dungeon dive.¡± ¡°Are you daft?¡± The man said indignantly. ¡°What part of this massacre looks like a dungeon dive for you?!¡± ¡°Bah. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡± ¡°Fool.¡± The elf summoned an earth spike slamming it against the Ratling¡¯s shield. The poor creature screamed, but the green barrier still held. ¡°See? That¡¯s what a Forgotten Dungeon is capable of. On. The. Second. Floor.¡± ¡°They¡¯re running!¡± A shout cut the conversation short. Indeed, my minions decided to change their strategy and legged it. I blamed the decision on the Ratlings, as the Lebirs didn¡¯t have any self-preservation instinct to speak of. And yet the pursuing sentients followed right behind them, but their efforts were hindered by a slow drip of Lebir reinforcements. A few more minutes passed and the escapees left their pursuers in the dust. I wanted to turn the situation around when another batch of soldiers descended the stairs. This time they were led by Ian Sleekit, the second aide - a delicate looking, but dangerous man. ¡°My princess.¡± He bowed. ¡°What are your orders?¡± ¡°We go after Agric.¡± She spoke curtly, her human knight already healed, though still looking a bit pale. ¡°But¡­ we don¡¯t know if he went in the right direction. Shouldn¡¯t we map the space independently? Isn¡¯t that the standard procedure?¡± He asked while raising an eyebrow. ¡°Normally I would agree.¡± Minnalea nodded, now calm and composed, the earlier murderous rage nowhere to be seen. ¡°But it seems like the dungeon had devoured not only the technology but also¡­ tactics manuals.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°There is no other explanation.¡± For a moment the princess¡¯s face contorted. After a brief inner conflict, she sighed and beckoned the man to come closer. ¡°Princess?¡± He asked curiously but listened anyway. ¡°There is a probability that the dungeon has devoured a Strategos.¡± She whispered into his ear. ¡°Truly?!¡± ¡°Calm yourself!¡± Minnalea chided the man immediately. ¡°It is only a theory. The changes in its behavior might be also an effect of devouring some magical curio containing the necessary knowledge.¡± ¡°Yes. I understand now. We must reinforce Agric immediately! We cannot let the past repeat itself!¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She nodded seriously. ¡°Sure, this is not an insect dungeon, so the consequences should not be so severe, but¡­ it¡¯s good to see you¡¯re not a complete fool, unlike your friend.¡± ¡°Ah, Agric can be a musclebound idiot sometimes, but he is like a brother to me.¡± Ian smiled abashedly, scratching his head. ¡°I see.¡± A long sigh followed. ¡°Let¡¯s go then and hope we are not too late.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± In the other part of my dungeon, the man in question was currently screaming out orders. ¡°Keep up the ranks! Do not let them surround you!¡± ¡°Sir, what are these things?!¡± ¡°By the Gods, I don¡¯t know, but they look dangerous!¡± Agric responded while sweeping the legs from under a Ratling contraption. If I had to describe what it looked like¡­ ¡®an egg with two pointy legs and arms¡¯ would probably be most accurate. In the middle of the said egg, there was a small slit radiating a green glow, but I could also glimpse a sweaty Ratling pulling levers and buttons at a breakneck pace. I tried to analyze this thing, but the only result I got was that common Ratlings were piloting these¡­ mechs. Were they mechs? I hesitated to use this word. At a height of about fifty centimeters, they swayed like drunks, not capable of moving in a straight line. On the other hand, their steampunk-looking lower limbs were fitted with a mass of gears and transmissions which somehow worked despite being obviously overcomplicated. This contrasted with how the upper arms - I hesitated to use this word - looked. It felt incongruous - they were after all only simple metallic rods with sharpened ends. Did they not have time to finish these machines? Or was it planned to be this way? Their method of attack was also unsophisticated - simply bashing their armor against the half-elves'' knees or trying to pierce them with their arms. After the first moments of confusion, the invaders started to laugh. ¡°What the hell are these things?¡± Shouted one of them. ¡°Aren¡¯t they clumsily cute, when you look closely?¡± Another added in a relaxed tone. ¡°Look how they try to keep balance.¡± ¡°Haha!¡± ¡°Do you think the commander will allow us to take a few of them back home?¡± Grinned another. The merry atmosphere continued as my Ratlings tried their best. I felt bad just looking at them. And then¡­ The situation changed, the laugh dying in the invaders'' throats. A mini-mecha exploded, killing both the Ratling pilot and the enemy. 055 Uno I nearly started giggling seeing the sentients¡¯ expressions. Their shock-filled faces and sudden change of tone were very satisfying. No more laughs and jests. No more disrespecting my creatures. Or they¡¯ll pay the price in blood. Most of the soldiers took a few steps back, instinctively gathering into a large blob of flesh and pointy armaments. Clearly, a human herd behavior at work. They stared wildly at their nearly dead companion. The unlucky soldier gasped a few times his body still desperately clinging to life, before gurgling and slowly sliding down on his knees, falling into the bloodied dirt. I noticed that his crotch, chest, and face had been completely obliterated by the explosion, flesh shredded from the bone. It was both a vicious and effective way of getting rid of the opposition. Not counting the death of a Ratling pilot. Speaking of which - the state of his mini-mech was much worse than that of his victim. The upper part was completely gone the strength of the explosion turning the metal into murderous shrapnel. Bent and sharp metal shaped outward like a gruesome flower was a piece of clear evidence that the explosion originated inside the machine. Its two arms were still barely connected to the destroyed shell but could only dangle helplessly. The ¡®egg¡¯ insides were completely melted and covered in green glowing dust pretty similar to how radioactive waste was depicted in various sci-fi flicks I saw in my old world. Only flecks of flesh and bone remained of the rat pilot, the smell of burnt fur filling the surrounding air. All in all an expected outcome for something that looked similar to reactor overload. There was one thing that confused me, however, and that was the reaction that the Ratlings had. Instead of capitalizing on the invaders¡¯ inability to act and attack they too stared at their former companion''s metallic grave while squeaking to each other. My social skills were lacking even when it came to reading humans, not to mention the bestial faces of rat-kins with their whiskers, fur, and squinty eyes. But there was something even I noticed. Confusion. Fear. Hesitation. These emotions were present in each of their actions. It slowly dawned on me that the mech pilots were as surprised as me, or even our enemies, by this explosion. In short, this course of events was an accident! This changed my mind quite thoroughly. While having self-destructing creatures in my roster was certainly nice (Lebir Exploders being a perfect example) it was a completely different case if I couldn¡¯t control when they burst into a blaze of glory. A ticking bomb - that¡¯s what it was! Nothing more! Even worse - if one of them could start a chain reaction¡­ I shuddered considering the consequences. While I was in my own little world another Ratling force arrived as two sides were busy staring at each other, neither of them all that keen on starting the battle. An unusual commander was accompanying the army of reinforcing egg-mechs. Unlike the others of his kind, he was not piloting a metal contraption but rather moving through the skillful use of spider-like limbs attached directly to his back. His head was covered with a mass of metal, wires, and lenses forming something similar to a crude science-fiction helmet. With his arrival, a new wave of squeaks followed, as surviving creatures joined hands with the newcomers, the volume lowering immediately as the mechanized rat spoke. His words were short and harsh, stirring the Ratling population present and turning them against the sentients. The confusion was gone - a group of the machines readied their flimsy weapons and waited for the signal. On the other side of the room, sentients weren¡¯t wasting time either. At least I could understand what their commands meant. ¡°Shield bearers to the front!¡± A thin line of elven warriors carrying round shields stepped forward, crouching and preparing to push back any attacker. Despite most of their soldiers preferring to use daggers, there was a healthy mix of various weapon types in the invasion force. ¡°Spear troop! Follow up and support!¡± A few more elves surged, efficiently executing the commands, a wave of pitiful spears suddenly poking out of the formation like a seriously bald hedgehog. ¡°Bows at the ready!¡± Another order was given, straightening the backs of the archers, each of them preparing to fire. Their role would be minimal in the upcoming clash, mostly because my creations were encased in a defensive layer of metal. The few who weren¡¯t - including surviving Lebir Captains - were aided by Ratling dark mages instead. Because of that, my minions were protected against ranged attacks. ¡°Try to trip the fuckers, stop them from coming closer!¡± ¡°Remember your training!¡± ¡°Pierce their eyes, mouth, and balls - that always works!¡± ¡°Sergeant, they don¡¯t have balls!¡± ¡°Bullshit, what are they using crotch protectors for, then?¡± ¡°Focus! Focus or you¡¯re dead!¡± A constant stream of encouragement, curses, and instructions was cut short by the hoarse and loud scream. ¡°By the Goddess sweet ass, is that a unique?!¡± ¡°A boss? What?! Where?!¡± Their leader, Agric, shouted even louder while running to the spotter position. ¡°S-show me!¡± He gasped, while his subordinate pointed at the mechanized Ratling. ¡°It¡¯s right there, sire! That weird one, covered in metal and stuff!¡± He spat on the ground, thick saliva mixing with dust. ¡°An abomination! This place¡­ it spews only monstrosities. It¡¯s not a training ground granted by the Gods, but a curse! It should be destroyed!¡± He stopped speaking for a moment, before adding. ¡°Goddess protects!¡± ¡°Yes, Goddess protects!¡± Agric nodded absentmindedly. ¡°You¡¯re right. Judging by the size it¡¯s not a warrior type. We haven¡¯t been drowned in fireballs, so it''s not a sorcerer either. We wouldn¡¯t even see a rogue coming, so that leaves only one choice. A commander.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°What are your orders, sir?¡± ¡°Call our mages, we¡¯ll try to snipe this bastard. According to my experience once we blow his head off the rest should panic and disperse. At least that was how it worked in other dungeons.¡± ¡°But these old rules don¡¯t seem to work in this thrice-cursed place.¡± The spotter complained quietly but obediently turned back to fulfill his orders. A few moments later a group of enemy soldiers wearing light armor converged on Agric''s position. They were of various ages, their diverse-looking faces full of concentration and zeal. The elven leader started speaking immediately after they arrived. ¡°Earth mages, focus on blocking! Pull some boulders from the ceiling or ground, and try to make the terrain as rough as possible. These things seem to have a hard time walking on the flat ground, let¡¯s make them work for it!¡± Two of the surrounding soldiers nodded, immediately moving forward and pelting my creatures with various pieces of rock and dirt. The damage dealt was minimal - a bent mechanical arm here, a scratched outer shell there. I was however worried about the mini-mechs crashing. I too noticed their unsteady movements. ¡°Jinji, concentrate on healing. Don¡¯t waste your energy attacking, I don¡¯t think water could help in this situation.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± A slender and delicate elf saluted, turned back, and returned to the back lines. His formerly white gloves were already stained with blood and sweat. ¡°And you three¡­¡± Agric stared at the remaining faces. ¡°I have a job for you. These monsters aren¡¯t like the other ones we encountered. They have a chain of command, they fulfill orders, plan... and they have a leader. A general. An alpha. Whatever you want to call it. ¡°The mages'' expressions grew even sharper. I didn¡¯t know it was physically possible. ¡°Fire magic has a reputation of being the strongest and most violent out of the four elements. I want to prove that reputation today - cut off the hydra¡¯s head! Burn it!¡± ¡°You can count on us.¡± Grinned the youngest one, his girly face twisting in an angry expression. ¡°I saw the decimation that the royal entourage experienced. These creatures will regret attacking our forces!¡± ¡°It is the will of the Goddess to destroy anything connected to the Magi-Tech Empire blasphemy.¡± Said another one. ¡°Could you please show us the target?¡± ¡°Yes, of course. Let¡¯s go.¡± After a while, the trio of mages appeared on a temporary hill made up of boulders and loose dirt. Earth mages'' job. From there elven leader pointed at my Ratling commander. ¡°I see the monster, Master Agric.¡± ¡°Me too.¡± They immediately started to prepare for their long-range attacks. With faces full of concentration they coalesced the flames, slowly growing their size. A chant followed, like a strange melody begging the fire to form and mold into shape. Normally I would find the process fascinating, as ordinary magic was still beyond me, but I¡¯ve been spoiled rotten by the Blueflame noble. His spells were stronger, keener, faster¡­ more exciting to watch. These sparkles? They were on a level of parlor tricks. My Ratling commander wasn¡¯t one to take his chances though. He pointed towards the concentrating mages and let loose a string of commands. Following that a few of the Lebir Captains moved forward, the dark mages on their shoulders casting their greenish barriers, effectively stopping the assault before it even started. The elven mages still tried, letting grunts of exertion as the spells flew through the air - arm-length arrows made up from flames. A beautiful sight. Yet the force behind them was laughably weak and was easily dispersed either by the sturdy shells of egg-mechs or the barrier. ¡°Pah!¡± Agric angrily kicked the ground. ¡°No easy way out, then?¡± He mumbled. ¡°We need to take the fight to the enemy¡­ and do it skillfully.¡± His soldiers weren¡¯t very keen on advancing, the explosion and subsequent death of their companion filling them with a healthy dose of dread. On the other hand, my Ratlings were currently in the middle of waddling through the room, their egg-mechs pretty useless in rough terrain. As the battle started to heat up I vividly felt two things. Firstly - the elven blonde princess was currently running towards the commotion, her soldiers reinforced with a new team straight from the surface. Secondly - the Ratlings managed to wake up Charles Blueflame, the Geinard Kingdom noble. The man in question was currently sitting on his knees, retching. I immediately changed the focus of my attention in order to observe his actions. Helping him was a long shot, but the risks were minimal and the more chaos could be stirred above ground the better. Considering the man¡¯s character I was pretty sure he wouldn¡¯t take this insult lying down. The red-haired Blueflame spat out a few more times, thick globes of stomach acids mixed with something weird splattering on the ground. His face was twisted in an expression of disgust. ¡°What the hell is this green goop? It¡¯s all over my face, worse - even my clothes are smeared with it¡­ I smell like shit.¡± It was at this moment that he noticed my Ratlings making a strategic retreat. He stared at it for a moment, before yelling. ¡°You little¡­ GET BACK HERE!¡± Like in a comedy skit, he clamored to his feet, before unsteadily running after the rats. His gait was however much too slow and my creatures easily escaped into their tunnels. Only after losing sight of them, Charles looked around, his face slowly brightening with an expression of understanding. And anger. ¡°What happened?¡± He spoke to himself. ¡°We talked about elven equipment. Then I was¡­ attacked. Drugged. Betrayed. My men¡­ Master Vincent too.¡± His gaze jumped from one figure lying on the floor to the other before resting for a moment. ¡°They want to destroy the Dungeon Core, even the whole dungeon, my work, my future... these fucking whoreson elves!¡± His eyes snapped open and his jaw clenched tightly. ¡°They wanted to kill me! Me! One of the Blueflames! These sons of bitches, insane incestuous zealots¡­ are they thinking that with all the shit that has been happening, we don¡¯t have time to fight them?!¡± He kicked one of the guards lying on the ground awake, the man curled up from the pain while coughing his lungs out. It was however enough to wake him up from his trance. Seeing this reaction I wondered what these Ratlings were doing to the sentients if the solution to waking them up was so simple¡­ ¡°Get up!¡± Charles shouted and the human soldier redoubled his pitiful efforts to stand up. Only after seeing him scrambling did the noble turn to another one. ¡°I have to get back to the surface. To my forces. Organize an expedition. Get revenge.¡± His face twisted again, this time with a wild smile. ¡°I¡¯ll show you, bitches, that disappearing in the dungeon can happen to you too!¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. With steadier movements, he started waking up to the rest of his companions. For the common soldiers, a solid kick to the noggin was enough - most of them groaning in pain, but quickly coming to their senses. The armor of the few was dirtied with green. When it was Master Vincent¡¯s turn Charles changed his approach to more delicate. He bent down, reached for the mage''s shoulder, and started to shake him. The old man soon opened his eyes, and a brief moment of confusion was immediately replaced with resigned clarity. ¡°The young princess is a ruthless one. I see.¡± He smiled weakly towards the noble. ¡°This was the most unpleasant surprise. How did you manage to avoid the effects of Green Poison, sir?¡± ¡°So that¡¯s how it¡¯s called? Fitting.¡± Charles nodded, suddenly looking calm and collected - if one failed to notice fire burning deep in his reddish eyes. ¡°It was a fluke, really. These small rat monsters were nibbling on my face when I awoke. Fortunately, they didn¡¯t focus on my vitals, trying instead to go for the meat. They probably thought I was dead.¡± ¡°I see. While it¡¯s true that Green Poison cools the body and slows the breathing down it still shouldn¡¯t...¡± The mage''s expression turned complicated as he continued his mumbling for a long while. It was clear that he didn¡¯t believe in the explanation, but decided to not continue the topic. ¡°What are your plans then, sir Charles?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s retreat for now. We have to get back to the surface. After that¡­ I plan to kill off the elves there and lead an expedition to stop Minnalea from destroying the Dungeon Core.¡± ¡°It is a rash decision, sir. Why¡­ it could even start a war.¡± ¡°Start?! Start?! Start a goddamned war?! Don¡¯t you see?! We were already at war from the moment that elven b---!¡± Charles composed himself immediately. It was strangely artificial, like a brake attached to his mind. ¡°Speaking badly of royalty never ends well.¡± He mumbled quietly, his jaw clenched tight. ¡°From the moment these accursed elves tried to kill us and use this moment of weakness to destroy our - my - future!¡± He breathed heavily for a moment. ¡°There was no need to hesitate! The knives are already out, mage!¡± He nearly hissed, his hatred of the situation exceeding the fear of the magician. ¡°As you wish, sir. But let me remind you, that technically the princess didn¡¯t try to kill us. She could easily defend her actions as wanting us out of her way - for a time. What you¡¯re trying to do, sir, on the other way¡­ It could end badly. It can¡¯t be misinterpreted.¡± The old mage sighed, securing his strange helmet on a bald head. ¡°The truth orbs can only divine what happened in the past, not recognize future intentions. Our minds are fickle things like that.¡± ¡°Yes, yes I know. It doesn¡¯t matter in the end. The time for words is long past.¡± Charles spoke impatiently. ¡°Move out men, on the double! Gather in the first-floor forge room - right now!¡± He looked around. ¡°We need to avoid elven sentries. Sergeant, send some men to scout.¡± ¡°What if we encounter Luna Kingdom¡¯s forces, sir?¡± ¡°Retreat and return with reinforcements if they have a numerical advantage.¡± ¡°And if not?¡± ¡°Then slaughter them all.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± The man saluted and started giving orders. Soldiers in blue-gray uniforms started to move under his command. I felt another pull, this time from the hidden hospital room, guarded by the always-hungry Glass Progenitor. It seemed like my work on Non¡¯s body was nearly finished. Well, calling this crude butchery an operation felt overly pretentious¡­ but I used whatever tools were necessary for the job. And this revenant, this strange, intelligent undead, was a tool I wasn¡¯t keen on losing. Anyway - my focus returned since the coming-up part was going to be much more complicated. Cutting something off was easy. As it usually was with destruction. Creating however was another can of worms. Especially when I had to use my precious Anima to fill in the gaps. Knowledge. I didn¡¯t know how reliant I was on something like a smartphone or internet access to understand even the basics of science. At least I had no problems with replicating human limbs, considering the droves of adventurers that died in my dungeon and were summarily consumed. With their flesh turning into energy and experience I also acquired information on how they were built. While some weird restrictions stopped me from recreating them as they were before I still could build up from the sum of parts. That was how Lebirs, Bile-brain Golems, and even Decapitator came to be. Because of this, a prosthetic made from metal was a child¡¯s play. Putting in the wires instead of veins, substituting meat and fat with mineral wool and skin made up from thin iron sheets. Now the main problem. Even if I had enough knowledge, experience, and confidence to attach this metallic arm to a living, breathing human how would I make sure that it worked on an undead? Did they even have nerves to connect to? No idea. If they had, would I need to connect the prosthetic while using electrical impulses, or something completely different? No idea. Would I need to add something to her brain for the newly created limb to function correctly? Once again - no idea! Yeah, so... because of that I decided to just take this chance and entrust her future to my weird, greenly glowing magic. With this in mind, I tightened my grip on her body, countless mechanical appendages covering her flesh, making sure no slip-ups were possible... and started my work. The limb was lowered and fitted smoothly - like a missing part of the doll. I even managed to add some hook-like blades to the fingers without inhibiting her dexterity. They would spring out of the arm, like claws from the cat¡¯s paw, silent and deadly. I smiled. It was but a small touch, yet it still felt meaningful. And then I let my mana flow, the green glow intensifying, covering not only Non¡¯s newly created arm but also the rest of her body. She groaned, but my countless copper arms kept her steady. Then came a scream - along with a hoarse moan filled with pain and a tingle of pleasure. The energy surged, somehow changing my earlier creation, and giving the cold metal a semblance of life. It also stretched the metal, covering a part of Non¡¯s shoulder and becoming one with the undead¡¯s flesh. Another scream escaped the revenant¡¯s mouth as I watched with fascination how she was becoming one with the machine. After a second of staring, I knew what was bugging me - it reminded me of Roman gladiators! There was probably some kind of fancy, old name for it, but I didn¡¯t care. The important part was that Non was already whole! And with this, my forces received an upgrade! Feeling a bit giddy I released my iron (copper, really) grip. The revenant opened her eyes, before staring at the ceiling. [What are you waiting for?] I asked. [I managed to repair your arm. It should be alright now.] Her head turned, taking in the grey gleam of metal - the iron slowly turning darker and darker. She didn¡¯t smile, but there was a seriousness in her eyes. [N-new?] She stuttered over the line. [Yes, as good as new! Now, tell me how you feel!] Seeing as the appendages retreated she sat down on the table and, a moment later, took a few steps forward. Only to collapse immediately. [Hey! HEY! What happened?] I yelled in panic, my investment suddenly turning worthless. [H-heavy¡­] She grunted, her new arm stuck to the ground. [Ah¡­ now that you mention it making bones and skin entirely from iron maybe wasn¡¯t the best idea?] [Unwieldy.] She added. [H-hey! I was doing my best! I even added claws to your design! Really cool like!] [Claws?] [On the tips of the fingers¡­ I mean I made them, but the magic could have changed their properties. Just try to focus on the *ssshing* feeling!] I blabbed on. Non kneeled for a long moment before slowly standing up. I could see her muscles stretching, trying to find a balance between her left arm made from metal and her right one composed of skin, flesh, and bone. A second later she curled up her fist and from the tips of her other hand razor-sharp needles extended, glistening with poison. [Well, that¡¯s something new¡­] I mumbled, shocked by the sight. [I still prefer hooks, though.] [G-good.] Non answered while carefully examining her new weapons. This adjustment took her a few long minutes before her attention returned to the present. [E-enemy. Where.] [Hey, wait, wait. First, please tell me about your little...escapade. Then we get you some weapons. And then you can go and hunt my enemies, okay?] Asked in an infantile tone, hoping to get through her brusque facade. The revenant stopped, thinking. I could see the gears turning in her head. In the end, she acquiesced to my request. In about fifteen minutes I was exposed to the recollection of the world¡¯s worst storyteller. Her abrupt changes of pace, simply leaving out great parts of her adventurers and the need for literally forcing her to elaborate was absurdly difficult. I managed to assemble the truth piece by piece. There were still unclear and straight-up insane parts of what she told me, but I didn¡¯t have time to nitpick. The elves were getting deeper into the dungeon. My Lebirs, Ratlings, and Rat Beasts were doing whatever they could to slow them down, but it simply wasn¡¯t enough. What¡¯s worse Berserker was going after them, but his slow march was not even close to the tempo that the blonde princess imposed. I needed somebody to slow them down. A dexterous and strong fighter. I needed Non¡¯s aid. At least on the bright side, my drones already made a third-floor boss room and the Fake Core was being transferred there right now. This also allowed me to give Berserker Floor Guardian privileges and made him effectively immortal. You gain some, you lose some I guess. [From what I understand there could be some hunters coming after you?] She only nodded. Now, this was outside calculations. For a moment I felt the urge to throw her out, but that passed quickly. Non still had her uses. Not to mention her ability to speak and sneak was something that none of my other creatures possessed. [You still haven¡¯t fulfilled your part of the deal too.] I was, of course, talking about what she promised Guardian after turning her into the monster. [S-sorry. Will. Go.] She hung her head like a child. Now I felt bad for bullying her. Just for a moment, though. [No, don¡¯t bother. I have another proposition though.] Her ears perked at my suggestion. [There is a band of elves in my dungeon, demolishing level after level and being very naughty guests.] [N-naugh-ty.] [You see I would very much like it if somebody made sure they weren¡¯t going to bother me anymore. Would you be willing to take up this task?] [Y-yes. Non¡¯s. Home. N-new. H-home. Friends.] She jumped straight up, lifting her hands into the air. A clear sign that the assimilation is going nicely. After a second her face clouded. [B-but¡­] [What would be the problem?] [No. Weapon.] [Oh. You¡¯re right. That¡¯s not a problem.] While fancy stuff was beyond me, as long as I only needed to replicate something that sentients brought to my dungeon¡­ easy-peasy. Two daggers extremely similar to those that a rogue named Tinna once brought to my tunnels materialized on the floor. I only changed the color to a bit darker. Just to fit Non¡¯s style. She immediately picked them up, trying cuts and slashes. [Right. Good. Left. No.] With disappointment, she threw one of the daggers behind. Of course. Her new arm wasn¡¯t going to be the same as the old one. [What needs to change, then?] I asked, curiously not keen on simply guessing. Non scratched her head. [Thick-er.] [Thicker you say?] [N-not. Enough.] She nodded. [Hmmm¡­ how about this, then?] I asked, summoning the serrated dagger that elves sometimes used. The revenant examined it for a moment, attacking an invisible foe, before shaking her head. [No.] [Does it need to be a dagger?] [No.] [A sword then. Or rather¡­ a butcher¡¯s tool. It should suit you.] This time I summoned something different. Something, that was left by that accursed human and I couldn¡¯t fully absorb. It was similar, yet different from my cursed weapons. While the options I had were all of the grandiose kind - ¡°A Sword That Cuts Even Steel, Wielder Hands Included¡±, ¡°A Tower Shield That Stops Any Attack - Once, At The Cost of the Wielder¡¯s Life¡±, ¡±A Helmet That Allows to See In The Dark, But Makes Wielder Blind In The Sun¡±, ¡°A Dagger Which Takes Life, But Half of the Damage Is Transferred to the Wielder¡± and so on and so on... Nothing was really useful, so I wasn¡¯t really worried if sentients managed to get their greedy mitts on them. The butcher knife in question though¡­ A marvel. Its effect was simple - to bestow a regeneration and reinvigoration effect on a wielder in exchange for heightened aggression. By how the numbers worked I guessed that it had killed many more than my own cursed toys would, since by the virtue of being¡­ innocuous enough. But, to be used by an undead seemed perfect. It was also heavy enough for Non to wield it. And, most importantly, she seemed to like it! As whooshing sounds confirmed. [How is it?] [T-thick.] [Good. Are you ready then to visit our guests?] [Yes.] [Good. They¡¯re¡­ here.] I sent her their current location and she shadow-jumped immediately. I observed lazily as she appeared at the back of the advancing troop. The elves lost three of their people before even understanding they were under attack. Complacent, but understandable considering that their whole rear was covered by the silent knight¡¯s shield. A whiteish barrier hummed and moved with each step he took backward. Quite a skill, really. Two more lost their lives screaming in fear and confusion, their throats cut mercilessly. Before the rest arrived both the knight and my revenant were staring at each other. A second later Non sailed through the air, weapons ready to strike, only to bounce comically from the suddenly expanding shield. She got back up immediately, tilting her head in wonder. With a wide swing, Non attacked, her butcher knife nicking the barrier, but not breaking it down. A few more brutal hits followed, but there was still no effect. The rest of the elves noticed that something weird was going on and they started to turn back, prepared to deal with an assailant. [This thing blocked a powerful explosion.] I sent. [I don¡¯t think that you¡¯ll be able to break with just physical strength. Use your teleportation, girl.] Non nodded, before jumping a few steps back and throwing her butcher knife at the barrier. The silent knight steeled his arm, tensing at the incoming attack. Using this as a distraction the revenant jumped into the shadows once again, before appearing behind the human knight. Her dagger flew through the air like a snake, turning and moving. There was nothing more he could do¡­ but use his shoulder as a shield. With a grunt, the dagger dug deep into the flesh, the man¡¯s shield failing as he fell on his backside. A lovely *snickt* sound resounded as poisoned needles emerged from Non¡¯s fingertips. She came closer, a predator hunting her prey. But it came undone in a second. ¡°LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU BITCH!¡± A scream sounded and following it - a beam of light assaulted the revenant. If she was any of my other creatures this would be her end. But she wasn¡¯t. Without the slightest sound, she disappeared only to appear again a few meters back, her butcher knife already readied, while the dagger was still stuck in the knight¡¯s shoulder. There was an expression of curiosity on her face. ¡°What are you?¡± Asked Minnalea, while coming closer to her defender. ¡°An assassin from the Geinard Kingdom.¡± ¡°Geinard. Kingdom.¡± Non repeated her words, focusing on the hateful sounds. The princess however misunderstood her intention. ¡°Bah! So you are one of those blasphemers!¡± She spat on the ground. ¡°To think that one army of the undead is not enough for you heretics!¡± ¡°Heretic?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me! I can smell your undead, tainted nature even from here!¡± A wild sneer appeared on the otherwise beautiful face. ¡°I will clean the world of your kin. Body after body will disintegrate in my blessed light!¡± ¡°Weird.¡± ¡°Y-you! You bitch!¡± Minnalea glowed. An explosion of light followed, scorching both the ceiling and floors. ¡°Taste this!¡± ¡°What?¡± Non answered while attacking a few soldiers standing behind the elven princess. They defended desperately, their cries for help ignored by two women. ¡°Light.¡± She pointed at the Minnalea. ¡°Shadow.¡± She pointed at herself. ¡°Nobody. Wins.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what you think, heretic.¡± ¡°P-princess, no!¡± ¡°I AM BOTH LIGHT AND DARKNESS!¡± Her form blinked between black and white, strange energy focusing near a small space on the eastern part of my second floor. [Run?] Queried Non, while pointing at the mad elven princess. [Yeah! Of course, get back!] I shouted, wholly not amused by the perspective of having another part of my dungeon demolished. Non blinked away and Minnalea let out her aggression, resulting in pretty catastrophic consequences... 056 Uno As Non safely teleported away the elven princess spat out something I could only call a Vaporising Ray. The black and white colors surrounding her were compressed, then twisted together in a straight beam. It was unleashed through the tunnel, burning all opposition to ashes and quite literally unmaking parts of my dungeon - turning rock, sand, and brick into gas. Only an empty space was left behind, the air still hot and sizzling. She aimed her attack slightly downwards, so the destruction reached my third floor, punching through the level divide with ease and creating some kind of a ramp. The rest of my minions quickly backed off to what they perceived was a safe distance, staring daggers at the elves, but not stupid enough to attack. That was the Ratlings'' self-preservation instinct in the works, I guess. Their commander squeaked a few times, ordering the retreat, but his minions were still stalking the supposed winners of this engagement - if I could even call it that. While the remaining elven warriors barely sported any wounds - not counting the enemies eliminated by the bloodthirsty revenant - the same couldn¡¯t be said about their mental health. Gasps, whispers, and gazes full of fear focused on Minnalea - a clear indication of the unnaturalness of the power she unleashed. I noticed that a few of them were even erratically clutching their weapons. The elven royal in question was currently lying on the floor, gasping for breath. Her pale face and trembling hands induced panic in the surrounding soldiers. They both feared her and were afraid she would die. How curious. ¡°J-jake!¡± She whispered, her pained voice barely audible over the noise. ¡°H-how is he¡­ t-that damnable undead¡­¡± She clenched her jaw, swallowing loudly as her upper body was lifted and kept upright, by Agric Oakbound. He cradled Minnalea in his arms and, unlike his followers, his face was filled with concern, not primal fear. ¡°Your Highness¡­ how many times have I asked you to control your temper? The magic you wield is mighty, but not omnipotent.¡± He sighed heavily after speaking. ¡°J-jake¡­¡± Minnalea whispered, clumsily trying to move while ignoring the man¡¯s sermons. ¡°Take care of the knight.¡± He ordered softly, surrendering to her desire, but not even bothering to turn his head away. There was a certain doting quality in the way he touched the girl, not as a male, but rather as an older brother. A pair of Agric¡¯s subordinates instantly ran towards the human. His form was helplessly sprawled on the ground and a thick stream of blood was flowing from the wound made by Non¡¯s dagger. His helmet had already fallen off and Jake was currently busy clenching his teeth, trying not to scream, while clouded blue eyes and short brown hair sweaty with exertion were a clear indication of the pain he felt. ¡°Are you alright, sir?¡± Stupidly asked one of the soldiers, while the second one quickly opened a satchel on his waist. He pulled out a piece of white cloth and a small, translucent bottle. A moment later he started to disinfect the wound before attempting to use his bandages. Jake only grunted in response, his hands still clutching his trusty sword and a magical shield. To not let go even when facing death¡­ This was some powerful conviction coming from a mere human. ¡°It seems like he is mostly unharmed. At least by the explosion.¡± ¡°The dagger wound left by the undead seems okay too. I mean¡­¡± One of the soldiers winced. ¡°It splintered the bone, but there is no sign of infection.¡± ¡°What? Let me see.¡± ¡°Here.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. Strange. Even simple zombies or skeletons usually carry weapons covered in filth and rust. I was sure that powerful whatever-it-was would be even worse...¡± ¡°Yeah, but then again - the undead down here are just different. So in a way, this girl was not an exception.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Whatever the cause - the Princess¡¯s knight is clean.¡± ¡°That¡¯s all that matters in the end. I shudder what would happen if he died...¡± His companion nodded. ¡°Help me carry this chunk of metal. And don¡¯t touch his weapons. You don¡¯t want to know what happened to the last guy who did.¡± Now that these guys had mentioned it, why wasn¡¯t I producing some proper, tetanus-inducing weaponry? Why, indeed? I guess this all came down to the production method. Armaments were either born from my mana - which meant reproducing the human and elven swords, spears, axes, etc. And these were only rarely in a bad condition since in my dungeon - any dungeon to be precise - the state of one¡¯s weapon directly influenced their chances of survival. There were of course fools who charged with a club in hand while wearing pitiful rags, hoping that their luck would allow them to snatch something precious from my halls... but their armaments, like their lives, were simply of too low quality to be of any use. The other option I had for making weapons was the idiot-smith banging them out on his forge. Still, these items were coming out as good as new too, if of infuriatingly low quality. But, be it as they were, I did not have a lot of leeways to transport them into lower levels. The first floor was firmly under the grip of the sentients - it didn¡¯t matter if these were half-elves or humans. Anyway, the point was that these armaments were all new, and while turning them rusty was possible I felt it was also counterproductive. Especially since there was always an option of getting some manure and soaking them in. Wait... Did I really just plan on bringing a ton of shit into my dungeon? *sigh* Let¡¯s just¡­ delegate. I forced a small slab of stone to materialize, then sharpened my copper appendages and used them to scratch out a few pictures on its smooth surface. Simple ones - a pile of manure with a straight sword stabbed into it. As the last touch, a rat skull with bones underneath was added to the picture. The next step was to summon the Ratling Queen and try to convey my idea. She appeared instantly, flanked by her guard rats and listening intently to what I tried to tell her. Unlike the rest of her kin instead of fighting, she remained in the rear while providing moral support and a steady stream of new rats. Within a few minutes, her beady eyes brightened as she moved her head between the tablet and my copper appendages. It was like I get it, leave it to me! Then she squeaked loudly - her scream echoed by the surrounding Ratlings - and moved to grab the tablet. A while later and she was already triumphally leaving the chamber... I sure hoped that the rats would understand my message. Still, it was but an additional idea to enhance their prowess. I had many more, but not enough time or Anima to implement them all. Some of them were already in progress. The magicked plants were growing, the first of evolved - Berserker was clumsily chasing the invaders around, while other minions were building mechanical contraptions and discovering magic, searching for other ways to prosper and conquer. It was all going great. Snickering I turned my focus back to the surface, only to notice that Charles¡¯ men had already arrived. And they weren¡¯t wasting any time. The outpost was abuzz with activity - screams and cries to be exact. The humans were hunting elves - a few bodies were already strung high on the remaining walls as a warning, the rest scattered on the ground with fatal wounds carved on their backs. They were probably caught while trying to run. Only two groups of survivors were still battling the Geinard Kingdom soldiers. The bigger one was comprised of about thirty elves, desperately trying to defend the entrance into the dungeon. Against them a grim-faced phalanx marched, full of soldiers wearing blue-grey tabards, their spears poised to kill. They had archer support too and Charles Blueflame was leading the troops from the back, his eyes and hands soaked in reddish energy. The magic he emanated looked even wilder and sharper than before, Fireballs and Flamebolts taking out the defenders even before his soldiers came into the striking distance. I was watching as one of the attacks exploded under the enemy commander¡¯s feet - a tall, lanky elf with a permanent smile affixed to his face. Which quickly disappeared as he fell to the ground, confidence replaced with fear and suffering. He screamed, the face scalded by flames, the rest of his body in even worse shape. The leather armor he wore was mostly consumed by the magical inferno, while flames licked his legs and arms, cooking the flesh. He was still somehow alive - probably because two of his guards used their bodies to stop the majority of the explosion. Their fate was much worse - as they turned into scraps of meat. The commander survived but was completely immobilized, to which his rotund adjutant reacted immediately, kneeling and starting to chant. A small wisp of bright magic escaped his clenched hands and entered the elf¡¯s body. A healing power. What a waste. I stared greedily at the first real priest class I saw in action. ¡°What are you doing, humans?!¡± The adjutant was also scorched by the flames, but still very much alive. He screamed his lungs out, voice hoarse from pain and desperation. ¡°This is an act of war! The might of our country descend upon your heads! The Luna Kingdom will retaliate!¡± The troops ignored his outburst and continued to advance without a word, their eyes full of hatred. Silence ruled until the noble leading them shouted back with anger and indignation. ¡°An act of war, you say?¡± Flames danced near Charles¡¯ hand, like fickle fireflies. An interesting phenomenon I didn¡¯t see before. ¡°This works both ways, knave! How would you call an act of leaving a noble of Geinard Kingdom to certain death, then?¡± Charles¡¯ expression soured, as he continued his speech. ¡°An act of war, right?¡± He finished with a hiss. The half-elves'' demeanor changed, and both the leader and his aide suddenly grew solemn. It seemed like, for the first time, they understood that their lives were in jeopardy too. ¡°T-this has to be some sort of a mistake!¡± The tall elf yelled desperately, his barely-holding body cracking under pressure. ¡°We don¡¯t know anything about it! Let¡¯s stop and talk!¡± He pleaded. ¡°Your whole race is a mistake!¡± Jeered Blueflame. ¡°There will be no holding back! My flames will burn your very soul! Prepare for oblivion, cur!¡± ¡°At least spare the nobles! Let¡¯s be civilized! Don¡¯t burn all your bridges!¡± His cries fell on deaf ears. A few more magical projectiles escaped Charles¡¯s hands and decimated the defending elves. The time for talking had long passed. Following that, both sides of the conflict clashed, metal meeting metal while the flesh was gouged and cut. Even more screams filled the air, as the last elven band rushed to the rescue, adding to the already chaotic battlefield. It was a defensive battle, one for which the Luna Kingdom forces were completely unprepared, their short weapons no match for the spears, shields, and swords used by the humans. There was no lofty warcry being called out, no beautiful speeches - only an abattoir full of humans and elves desperately trying to kill each other, covered in sweat and blood. The solid formations broke and fighting devolved into a series of duels. I saw one of the grey-wearing soldiers using his tower shield to bash an advancing opponent, cold metal crushing the elf¡¯s nose, and red blood raining on the ground. The smaller enemy was sent flying, tumbling to the ground. As he lay there, stunned, the human lifted his armored foot to crush his head¡­ only to get interrupted by a charging elf whose weapon sunk between his shoulder plates, forcing the man to the knees. Before the elven attacker could capitalize on the damage a different Geinard Kingdom''s soldier bashed his brains in, only to get jumped by another crazed Lunar. They fought for a moment, the dodge-based movements against sturdy shield and spear defense. In only a few seconds long elven dagger left cuts on the human¡¯s exposed flesh. The grey soldier''s movements grew slower and slower until the enemy blade managed to bleed him dry. In turn, the killer was surrounded by two fresh combatants and instantly pierced by their hungry spears without a chance to recover. And so on. Chaos continued. No one begged for mercy and no quarter was given. Only a few gory minutes later I could easily tell the winners from the losers. Or rather living from the dead. Despite the ferociousness of their attack, human fatalities were minimal. They still paid the price of victory in blood, though. Smaller and larger cuts, sheared flesh, poisoned stabs, and more were present in most of the Geinard Kingdom forces. Being saddled with wounded who needed caring for was nearly as bad as losing the entire force, because of this the human forces were crippled. At least for the moment. Yet Charles Blueflame stood proudly amongst the corpses, staring at the battlefield. The red wisps were still present, but their ferociousness had already faded. Soon they would disappear completely. For now, the noble was giving out orders, commanding his forces to throw the dead into the dungeon and scavenge weapons, armor, and anything else soldiers deemed usable. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. It would take time before they finished, so I decided to check on my revenant. She was sitting on a bed, being all quiet and creepy, staring at the nearby wall. [How are you feeling, Non?] [Weapon. Lost.] She answered sadly. [That is not a problem.] I conjured another dagger. It was identical to the one that she used earlier. Non picked it up with pure joy, touching the sharp blade for a long while, before securing it on her waist. [I want you to attack the half-elves on the second floor at least a few more times.] [No.] [What?] I answered, not used to opposition. [Not. Geinard.] [Huh?] [Against. Oath.] [You mean the revenge thing that brought you to life?] She nodded seriously. [Does that mean that attacking those being the target has some consequences?] [Feels. Wrong.] [Could you describe it in more than two words?] I asked incredulously only to get a glance full of anger in return. [No.] [Oh, come on!] For the first time in a while, I felt this frustrated. Feeling her rejection I weighed my options. Lying would get me somewhere - after all, insisting that the elves were connected to the Geinard Kingdom should force her to move. But as the old adage says - cheaters never prosper. What was left - carrot and the stick I guess? The problem was I didn¡¯t know what would work on Non. She was here because of her revenge, but telling her about humans on the surface would only divert my forces. Moving her to the lower level and on the path of the invasion should put them in conflict too. And yet it would be counterintuitive to alienate a potential ally over something so trivial. Yes - trivial. The elven expedition was going deeper and deeper and their aim seemed to be the destruction of my core¡­ which was hidden on the first floor. The fake core was already readied, the chamber prepared, only the boss - Berserker - was still absent, slowly making his way down. It was unlikely that he managed to catch up with the invaders. Which meant I needed a substitute boss. Something strong enough to give the attackers trouble. Possibly even kill them. That would be good too. But I needed a monster powerful enough for them to believe that it was my last line of defense. My options were mostly rats, Bile-brain golems, Lebirs, and various smaller animal creations. Not much to choose from. After a moment I decided on an enhanced Rat Beast. These guys were a bit similar to Berserker - the real boss of the floor - with their burly physiques and aggressive behavior. The descriptor said something about mental regression, but I didn¡¯t need a genius planner - a muscle head would do just fine. With this idea in mind, I turned my attention to the third-floor boss room¡­ only to get interrupted. [Where?] Non asked, somehow feeling that I left her alone. There might¡¯ve been a small drop of remorse in that word too. [Umm¡­ I¡¯m currently summoning a substitute boss.] [Watch?] [Eh? You want to watch?] I stopped to think. [Why not? Teleport here.] With a nod, the revenant blinked away from the isolated room and reappeared in the shadows nearby. She looked around, noticing my Fake Core already safely nestled into the wall and busy converting most of it into copper. With the room''s high humidity, some of it was already turning green. She came closer, extending her hand and tracing the crystal¡¯s surfaces with blackened fingers. [You?] [In a sense.] I answered warily. Giving out information was always dangerous. To allies, to friends, to family. They could always turn on you, betray you - even in good faith. They were mostly a liability. And yet¡­ it was the first time in this world that I had someone to talk with. Non nodded sharply and stared at the substitute for a few more moments. Seemingly satisfied she lifted her head. [Make?] [Yes, yes don¡¯t hurry me.] I grumbled instantly. The revenant ignored my words and instead started staring around with an expectant expression. Or as much expectant expression as she could show on her cold face. I sighed and focused my mind. The magic churned and a Rat Beast appeared before us, its form still unstable. Drawing from Anima I started adding mass to the minion, the monster becoming burlier, its bones turning sturdy, and its face - even more animalistic. I didn¡¯t though it was possible. A bear-like rat was taking shape, with a comically small head on wide, strong shoulders. The green magic was making sure that the nerves, tendons, and brain matter were growing correctly. And then Non interrupted me. [Strong.] She commented. [Stupid.] I sent her a sour mental feeling. It was all that I could currently manage. [Weak.] She finished. An annoyance welled up in me. A feeling of if you can do better then don¡¯t just stand there! was transmitted before I could stop it, some of it spilling through our link. The small revenant tilted her head in surprise. [Help?] Non asked, and not waiting for my response - started to meddle. She lifted both of her hands, fingers slowly entering the half-shaped mass of flesh and bone. Some of my work was instantly undone, leaving muscle, but turning it lean and more focused on endurance than explosive strength. She started to weave, reminding me of how an orchestra conductor was shaking his baton during the concert. Each stroke added and took something from the beast. Its face turned more intelligent, with wild cunning hidden behind an expression of animal rage. The fur first turned black, then fell off completely leaving something similar to the naked mole-rat - similar to the ones I saw in Fallout games. Only a few sizes larger. The revenant took a few steps back. She critically looked at the effect of her meddling before taking a pondering posture. [What now?] I barely managed to speak, still focused on keeping the shape coherent. It was not yet finished. Not yet alive. Not complete. [Not. Enough.] She muttered, seemingly agreeing with my assessment. With a strange hesitation, she lifted the cursed butcher¡¯s cleaver from a sheath on her waist. Non observed it for the moment, before returning to her earlier position, fingers deeply embedded in the new creature¡¯s body. ¡°One. Need.¡± She muttered - more to herself than to me. The weapon started to vibrate, like a wild beast that couldn¡¯t wait to get free of its bonds. Non was not having any of that, however. She clenched her teeth, using both of her hands to cajole and threaten the cleaver. ¡°One!¡± She screamed. With a *weng* sound the cursed blade surrendered, slowly disappearing into the newly made boss creature. And it changed in response. The black skin became more pronounced and small plates of armor began growing on every free surface. A few moments later my former Rat Beast now resembled an armadillo covered in black, oily scales. I breathed with relief, but it seemed like the transformation wasn¡¯t over yet. Metal continued to grow, covering the front and rear legs with something similar to plate armor - only littered with small blades. Four grooves appeared on its stomach and were instantly covered in iron too, reminding me a bit of how the plane landing gear folded in movies. Much to my surprise the work of the blade still didn¡¯t end. Another groan of abused metal came from my creation and with a last, grand push a cleaver-like horn appeared on its head. I let it go, cutting the umbilical cord between us as the exhaustion left me feeling weak and tired. Reeling from exhaustion. Non had collapsed too, her body twitching on the floor, clearly out of control. Her pale face was however completely calm, black eyes wide open to observe the first moments of my new monster. [W-what was that, girl?] I gasped, my first real experience in creating life a shocking ordeal. It felt strange. Weird. Personal. Completely different from what I was doing before. And dangerously addicting. [New.] [I know it was new! I mean how the hell do you know so much about creating dungeon monsters?!] I screamed. [Don¡¯t. Know.] She answered calmly. [What do you mean don¡¯t know?! Then what was that?!] If I had fingers I would¡¯ve pointed at the new sub-boss slowly coming to life on the dungeon cold floor. It roared lazily, feeling the attention. [Weapon.] She said, but sensing my discontent continued her explanation. Slowly. [Desire. Live. Life. Power.] She stopped for a moment. [Freedom. Kill.] Seemingly satisfied she nodded to herself. [Answered.] [You know that I don¡¯t really understand what you just said¡­] I lamented. A moment later I stopped, a sudden bad premonition changing my words. [That was quite a lot of exertion. I hope it didn¡¯t drain my power too much.] With a heavy heart, I focused on my second floor¡­ And there it was. There it FUCKING was. My control over the floor was slowly slipping once again! It was an ethereal, weak feeling. For now at least. But it was clearly there! Fuck! It was time to dig deeper. Kill more creatures! And to rush my experiments! I grumbled once again before leaving but still didn¡¯t forget to use Analyze on my newest creation. Its description turned out¡­ interesting.
Armored Rat Beast of Thirst A mutated variant of a common Rat Beast - a powerful melee combatant in its own right. Standing at more than two meters in height and weighing a few hundred kilograms of pure aggression this armored creature is nothing more than a brutal animal. However, under the wild exterior hides cunning and intelligence focused on one purpose - killing its enemies. Unlike most of its cousins, the Armored Rat Beast rarely bites or scratches its victims. Instead, it focuses on stabbing with its blade-like horn and when possible turning into an armored ball of misery and death. It also often ends up trampling or even squashing smaller opponents, using every centimeter of its body to fight. One of the rare traits of this monster is its obsession with blood. It loves drinking it, spraying it around, bathing in it. This vital liquid has a rejuvenating effect but also enrages the Rat Beast, making it reckless and because of that - easier to kill. Threat level: C-
While not a boss-class monster it seemed rather powerful. Certainly enough for a third-floor Guardian¡­ if Berserker didn¡¯t exist. I didn¡¯t have any more time to admire the beast though since the elves started to move. My consciousness teleported back to the second floor while making sure that Non returned to her room. The silent knight was moving around while carrying Millanea, his wounds already healed, while two leaders - Agric and Ian were talking. ¡°Do we retreat or continue our delve?¡± Asked Ian seriously. ¡°Delve?¡± ¡°Please, don¡¯t argue semantics.¡± The mage waved his hand dismissively. ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why the elders appointed me on this mission. I¡¯m more of a bookworm. Certainly not one keen on such uncouth¡­ adventures.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± Agric¡¯s gaze suggestively wandered to the princess'' silhouette. ¡°Damn politics!¡± Ian cursed helplessly. ¡°Anyone with eyes can see that she has already chosen a partner!¡± ¡°The blood must be kept clean.¡± ¡°Bah. Primitive superstitions.¡± Agric only shrugged his arms in response. ¡°So? We go back or we go down?¡± Ian repeated his question. Instead of answering Agric started to kneel. ¡°What are you doing, by the Goddess?¡± The mage hissed. ¡°Quiet please.¡± The muscular elf put his ear to the ground. A few long moments later he started standing up. ¡°We go down.¡± ¡°Why? What did you hear?¡± ¡°Something is stalking us. Large, heavy. Probably powerful. A dungeon sweeper?¡± ¡°What?! B-but this place is young. Too young to build something like that from the ground up!¡± ¡°Forgotten Dungeon.¡± ¡°That can¡¯t be an answer to every question!¡± ¡°We already broke the rules.¡± Agric answered while staring at the destroyed floor. ¡°Haaaaah. I guess you¡¯re right. Going back won¡¯t work anyway since humans would grow suspicious of their leaders¡¯ disappearance.¡± Ian¡¯s back straightened. ¡°Then it''s a race - between us and the sweeper. We¡¯ll see if our little war party will manage to kill whatever boss is waiting for us on the third floor before it catches up.¡± He swallowed heavily. ¡°This place has only three floors, right?¡± ¡°Three, four or five.¡± ¡°What are our chances then?¡± ¡°The deeper we go the smaller they are.¡± Answered Agric, before jumping down to the third level. ¡°Hey! I KNOW THAT!¡± Ian did the same as his friend while complaining. The rest of the elves - about one hundred people - followed in their footsteps. Soon the sounds of the battle echoed on the lower level, as cunning Ratlings, large Bile-brain Golems, and loyal Lebirs clashed with their advance. Unlike before Minnalea was kept in the middle, safely carried in Jake¡¯s arms. The burden of battle had fallen on the shoulders of the common soldiers, their ranks thinned with each step. My halls were too narrow for the invaders to use their numerical advantage. Instead, my creatures made roadblock after roadblock, peppering them with spears and charging into melee, when they came closer. From the small tunnels, more and more Ratlings emerged, nipping at their heels or cutting through the armor they wore. A harassment tactic was being used by the rat commander - Ratling and half-elven blood spilling on the ground with every second. Not even half an hour had passed since the Luna Kingdom forces descended and the morale was already at an all-time low. The men chanted religious songs and freely used magic and weapons at their disposal. My minions were getting killed too, the enemy growing used to how they fought, but the zeal of the rats never waned. Another interruption came, though. [My lord! They¡¯re being born!] Guardian screamed through our link. [Who.] Asked Non with a bored tone. [The kobolds, girl! The kobolds! My care had borne fruit!] The schizophrenic vampire was ecstatic. It was easy to understand what his next words would be. [My liege, can you please get here? I want them to bask in your presence from the moment of their birth!] I sighed deeply. [Yes, yes. After all, there is nothing important going on, right?] [I-I am sorry¡­] He sniffed. [I-I just thought¡­] Damnation! He can¡¯t even shed tears! And yet I could feel his beaten puppy feeling seeping through the link. Worse - I knew that his lamenting wouldn¡¯t stop until I relented. The sentients were still battling through my halls not making a lot of progress so... [I¡¯m coming.] [Too.] Non mumbled, already recovered from her earlier meddling. [I sure hope you¡¯re not going to create any more freaky shit, Non.] I teased, but she remained silent and I could soon feel her growing confusion. It was sometimes hard to tell what level of her intelligence was. A human? Child? Small dog? Or worse? There was just so much missing inside that brain of hers. [Doesn¡¯t matter.] I shrugged. [Just remember to either ask me before you do anything or do it in a place where I can¡¯t see you, alright?] [Yes?] She teleported, escaping any longer discussion and my mind followed suit. In a cold, dark room a bunch of large eggs was slowly vibrating, preparing to hatch. Nearby an armored giant was fussing, walking from one place to another in hysteria. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, a bunch of wires being the only thing keeping him in place. [Soon, soon!] He sang, lowering his frame over the little things. From the corner of the room, I could sense a few Ratlings waiting and observing in mute wonder. Then, like they were listening to the silent command the egg¡¯s surface broke and the first of the kobolds emerged with a wild scream, its pale white flesh greeting the gloomy world. A few words popped into my mouth, seeing the newest dungeon¡¯s denizen. [What an ugly little thing¡­] 057 Uno It was a really ugly little thing. Its pale-looking claws had penetrated through the crunchy eggshell, the cracking sound echoing in the chamber. After that, a small, fierce snout appeared, more similar to a metal mask than to the head of a normal monster. A pair of clouded, slitted eyes glanced at the surroundings before focusing on Guardian¡¯s large frame hovering over it. ¡°Squeeeeee!¡± The kobold bellowed its lungs out while instinctively reaching out to the giant. It took a few, wobbly steps before falling face-first on the ground. And it was no wonder it did so - with an overgrown left arm, atrophied legs, and fragile-looking torso it was clear that something went wrong during its growth period. It squirmed and shouted as its small body was slowly crawling toward Guardian. My minion delicately scooped the kobold in his arms, before falling to his knees, waiting for the rest of the monsters to emerge. Soon the rest of the eggs began to hatch, and more white-scaled reptiles emerged. The air echoed with a strange chorus of cries, little monsters slowly making their way toward the biggest person in the room. Each of the kobolds carried the same mark of disability - their scales were sickly white, their bodies unusually fragile. Observing their elongated skulls, agile tails, and surprisingly dexterous fingers I wondered what exactly went wrong while wondering about the future. My musings were cut short by Non¡¯s comment. ¡°One.¡± She spoke while pointing her finger at an unhatched egg. [Is it dead? What should we do with it?] I wondered aloud, while already receiving new monster blueprints. The hatching granted me a pretty extensive amount of knowledge about their race. I now innately understood that they were a part of intelligent, tribal people. Similar and yet different from the Ratlings. The main noticeable problem with their physical makeup was the shared frailness of their flesh though. With no magical ability, no special - biological - ways of fighting like poison or camouflage, it seemed like I just acquired nothing more, but a bunch of freeloaders. What a disappointment. [We only need to wait, my lord. No need to get hasty.] Guardian asked in a tone even more pleading than usual. [Hmmm¡­ yes. In the meantime we need to decide their fate.] ¡°Weak. Kill.¡± Non¡¯s opinion on the matter was clear. [No! How can you say these things?!] ¡°Way. Of. Things.¡± She shrugged, ignoring the armored giant¡¯s outburst. After a moment of silence, she added. ¡°Die. Anyway.¡± [So is that your way of showing mercy?] I asked, amused. Something in my tone must¡¯ve struck the chord because the revenant stared at the mewling kobolds while adopting a focused expression. ¡°Mercy.¡± There was a question in her voice. A small, nearly undetectable feeling of uncertainty. As if to add to the chaos the last egg hatched. That in itself was a normal occurrence. However, differently from its brothers and sisters, it didn¡¯t choose to crawl into Guardian¡¯s direction, but instead focused on¡­ Non herself. With a weak cry, it stubbornly dragged its small and weak body toward the unmoving undead. I didn¡¯t know if the lack of the girl¡¯s reaction was because of shock, or indifference, yet the next occurrence answered that question. Guardian decided it was time to take action. He strode forward, his arm already full of little kobolds, packed like some strange, lizard bouquet. The giant extended his free hand to pick the small escapee only to be stopped by Non¡¯s metallic appendage. [What are you doing, girl?] He asked in confusion. [Let me pick it up. I need to start training them for my lord.] The undead slowly shook her head. ¡°Choice. Important.¡± [You can¡¯t do that! You just advised our lord to kill them all!] ¡°Choice.¡± [My lord?] [Let her have it.] I answered. My first course of action was to follow the revenant¡¯s advice. To kill them all and be done with it. But a moment later I asked myself a question. Why should I kill them? Was there anything gained from their death? Was I getting back any resources? Experience? Items? Was there any purpose in their deaths? Other than simple mercy given to those too weak for this world? And if so since when the feeling of mercy mattered to me? Their lives were insignificant, but not worthless. Their blueprints were already safely secured in my mind. As long as they remained in my chambers they didn¡¯t use any food nor water. Or any of the more important resources for that matter. Additionally, for some twisted reason, their mere existence was a breath of sanity in Guardian¡¯s life. What was even more important was that Non decided to adopt one as a pet. Or something. Which meant they had their uses¡­ Worried words broke through my contemplation. [My lord? Are you feeling fine?] [Hmmm? Yes. Why are you asking?] [You weren¡¯t answering my questions. I¡­ I feared that you had changed your mind.] [On what topic?] [Keeping the little ones alive.] [Why?] [Huh?] [Why would I do so?] [I could feel your disapproval, my lord.] The iron giant was still kneeling on the ground, his head lowered. [Even I know¡­ that they¡¯re weak. Small. Broken.] His free hand caressed one of the rowdier kobolds. It squealed in delight. [But because of this weakness, I know that they can be trained into your loyal servants. Like me.] ¡°Change.¡± It was Non¡¯s time to shine. [Could you please explain?] I asked, a bit annoyed at her single-word communication. ¡°Explain. Hard.¡± She stopped for a moment, picking up the wayward kobold. Unlike Guardian, she didn¡¯t do it gently. Instead, her metal fingers lifted it up by the scruff of its neck, observing its struggles and confused hissing. ¡°Change. Metal.¡± She pointed to the kobold¡¯s arms and legs. [Oh.] I immediately understood what she meant. [But doesn¡¯t that mean you need to wait for it to grow? Or does your metal have the ability to change its shape and volume according to the user, my lord?] [I don¡¯t remember having such a convenient ability.] [Then you¡¯ll have to take care of the little one for some time, girl. Become a mother.] I could hear soft laughter in the giant¡¯s voice. ¡°Non. Mother.¡± She wrestled with the idea for a moment. ¡°No.¡± A quick shake of her head followed, the black hair swinging in the air. ¡°Master. Disciple.¡± She stared even harder at the small, white kobold, now safely cradled in her arms. It hissed questioningly, not understanding what was being spoken in the slightest. [I¡¯ll train them anyway. These arms may be weak, but they¡¯re far from useless. In time they will grow into new defenders of our dungeon, my lord!] Guardian exclaimed happily. [Yes. Do that.] I agreed without any further fuss. Things were moving at a break-neck pace and I was starting to feel nervous. The half-elves were already in my dungeon, trying to destroy me, albeit focusing on the fake core. I hoped that my ruse would be enough to stop them¡­ The humans at the surface were busy reinforcing their little outpost, their patrols once again conquering the first floor and grinding the shit out of the trial located there. Besides that, I noticed a¡­ commotion. Something up there had the soldiers and workers scurrying about like ants with their homes on fire. I needed to check it out. As a sort of farewell, I used a quick Analyze to understand what this new addition to the dungeon signifies.
Kobold of the Pale Tribe Like all other kobolds (and goblins), these monsters are classified by their tribe - a unique way of addressing the adjustments to the local environment. This specific name comes from the white scales covering their bodies, but also a feeling of etherealness common to their kind. While weak physically and often riddled with disabilities (as an effect of cleansing the Corruption flowing in their veins) in exchange their bones and skulls are infused with metal, making them unnaturally sturdy. A normal kobold specialization lies in trap construction, yet this particular tribe seems to follow a different path, one of mechanical mastery and body enhancements. Their future is uncertain but bright. Threat level: E (unmodified)
Okay¡­ that was creepy. How in the hell did this description account for the decisions that were made just a moment ago?! Or was it more of a natural path that the kobolds would take even if left alone? They were under the influence of the Fake Core for a long bit of time after all¡­ No matter. Whatever the reason I had more important problems to take care of. My focus shifted up to the surface. The outdoors looked a bit different, signs of devastation mostly taken care of. The silvery trees and other shrubbery were slowly regrowing, a touch of metal in their bark and leaves being a clear sign of my influence. Half a dozen new tents had been erected someway from the compound, the armed guards nervously checking them out every few seconds. It seemed like they were more interested in what was happening inside than barring access to the various onlookers. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. My only means of scouting the surface were still only a few surviving cameras, so I couldn¡¯t exactly see what was happening inside. Thankfully only after half an hour passed two familiar figures emerged from the tent with grim expressions on their faces. Master Vincent, the helmeted mage, and Charles Blueflame were walking slowly toward the outpost¡¯s wall while exchanging words. I, of course, focused on listening in. ¡°So the reason is still unknown?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. There was no change in their look, no coughing, no external symptoms. One day they just¡­ fell asleep and never woke up.¡± ¡°You knew about the elven poison.¡± The mage interrupted. ¡°Curse of Sleep.¡± Charles nodded approvingly. ¡°Yes. That one. Don¡¯t you have any idea what this new ailment could be?¡± Master Vincent shook his head. ¡°I checked and checked again. They¡¯re just sleeping. None of the tests I brought back any results.¡± He stopped for a moment, scratching his chin. ¡°I did find one commonality though. Every single one of the ill soldiers was accompanying us when the princess released her poison.¡± ¡°Then-!¡± The old mage raised his hand, stopping Charles from speaking out. ¡°But it still doesn¡¯t make sense for this to be a reason for this malady anyway! Only some of them fell ill, after all! Why not all of us? Why not me, or you? There have to be differences! I thought it to be mana in our bodies, but that doesn¡¯t match either! About three-fourths of the bodyguards accompanying us were fine!¡± He stopped his machine-gun-like speech while breathing heavily. ¡°I simply don¡¯t know what the reason is.¡± The mage stopped speaking in a lower, and much more tired tone. ¡°Master Vincent...¡± ¡°And it is terrifying!¡± The old mage''s face twisted in fear, but he quickly controlled his expression. ¡°I will continue my tests. Poisons. Magic. Curses. If any of the patients wake up again you¡¯ll be the first to know.¡± He smiled tiredly. ¡°What is the chance that this illness started to spread because of the dungeon?¡± Charles asked worryingly. ¡°Considering that this place is a Forgotten Dungeon¡­ Who knows, really? The Lunars¡¯ past fate was the best example of not underestimating what kind of monstrosities can emerge from these halls. A new disease? Sure! Some kind of slow-acting poison? Why not! The forgotten curse? Possible! An incurable, soul-devouring parasite? Can be!¡± Violet-robed mage hung his head down. ¡°The only thing I can tell you for sure is that this illness is unlike anything I met before.¡± ¡°So we¡¯ll have to just wait?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡± ¡°I see¡­ just for a good measure - bind the patients to their beds.¡± ¡°Why, sir?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid that this malady did come from the depths of the dungeon.¡± Charles stopped for a moment, his eyes glancing at the sunset in the distance. ¡°And because of that some more¡­ dubious methods might have to be used. Like killing off the carriers for example. Or burning this whole place down.¡± Master Vincent massaged his temples. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll ask my pupils to start restraining them.¡± ¡°And I¡¯ll give the orders to the guards.¡± With a small nod, both of the men parted, one returning to the isolated tent he came from while the other walked towards the human outpost. I thought about their problem for a moment, but I don¡¯t think that any biological warfare weapons were being developed by my creatures. And even if - even if they did so - I was sure they would first ask me to deploy them. More like I hoped. Yet it was still not the most important matter. There were other problems to address. Like elves steadily cutting down my defenders and getting closer to the last room on the third floor. After the initial success of my Ratlings, the enemy reacted - changing their formation to more condensed and giving notice to the tunnels dotting the dungeon walls. The effect was clear to see - fewer elves died and more of my creatures bit the dust. On the other hand, the speed of their advance had fallen too. As a little pick-me-up, the surviving dark mage rats already caught up, helping their brethren in harassment. The egg-mechs were far too big to fit in though and instead backed up angrily stomping Berserker. At least I wasn¡¯t the only one having problems. ¡°How long until we arrive at the core?¡± Asked Ian while conjuring a wooden spear and sending it at the nearby rat. The monster¡¯s head popped like a squashed fruit before it fell on the floor. The rest retreated. ¡°No idea.¡± Agric shrugged. ¡°At least unlike the other floors, this one is pretty straightforward.¡± ¡°Yes, thank the Goddess for small boons.¡± I grumbled. My third-floor setup was far from finished. While I already populated every single room there weren¡¯t many tricks in place, baring the secret door just before the boss chamber. Hearing sentients call it easy wounded my pride more than I anticipated. There was, of course, the checkpoint filled with a few Electro-Touched Lebirs, but I didn¡¯t have a lot of faith in their resistance. Or rather, their chances would be far greater if the enemy still didn¡¯t have about eighty soldiers on their side - and that was not even counting the elven princess, her knight with a magical shield, the two leaders¡­ Yeah. They were fucked. I tried using the remaining time wisely, moving some Ratlings to raise the defenders¡¯ count, but it was mostly done for appearance¡¯s sake. The way down to the core room couldn¡¯t be too easy after all. It was the other way around - it had to be wrought with perils, the price for success had to be paid in blood. Otherwise, people would grow suspicious. Even the artificial (or should I say not sapient?) dungeon cores were programmed in such a way as to protect them from destruction. I couldn¡¯t do worse. To my surprise, the formerly rowdy undead started to suddenly fall in line. All Lebirs were quite stupid, but the Electro-Touched variant took the cake. While the rest of their brethren tried to keep together and sometimes even employed a small semblance of tactics (Captains being a praiseworthy exception) these guys simply ran in a straight line towards their target. Only the addition of the sudden arcs of electricity sometimes extending from their flesh made them more dangerous than their less advanced brethren. Now instead of chaotically moving from one place to the other, they were instead dividing themselves into small groups, searching for places to hide and ambush incoming soldiers. The room was barren and clean, but with a few ingenious moves, they managed to fit in various cracks or simply lie down on the floor, playing dead. A moment later another batch of Ratlings arrived while dragging behind some half-dead vegetation - which surprisingly managed to take reconnect with the ground in only a few seconds. The new rats were different from the rest, their brown, loose robes covering most of their bodies and faces. Leading them was a little bigger specimen, with arms and legs covered in¡­ roots? Their leader squeaked a few more times, his subordinates dragging even more greenery inside. The plants were quick at reattaching themselves, but their leaves and branches weren¡¯t looking that good. And yet there was something familiar about them... I focused on them and suddenly knowledge flooded into my mind. Handberries, that was their true name. A plant that was never before seen in this world¡­ grown in my own, private garden. With dark green, thick leaves and delicately looking branches, it was similar to its cousins growing above ground. It even had edible, if bitter, berries. There were a few unique qualities to its kind though. The first was how Handberry loved to grow in mana-rich locations. The second one was how its berries had little hooks, used to cling to anyone stupid enough to squeeze through between their bushes. And the third¡­ The Ratling leader squeaked once again and under his command, brown-robed rats cut their paws in one decisive, quick action. Then, after another squeak, they sprayed the red blood over the bushes. Handberries grew explosively following the amount of sucked-in liquid. I really, really hoped that the Ratlings used blood because water from the nearby river wasn¡¯t accessible. And I really hoped it wasn¡¯t some kind of a religious ritual¡­ In a few minutes, the formerly barren room was filled with plants, not only hiding the remaining Electro-Touched Lebirs but also providing a natural barrier against advancing elves. Finishing their job the brown-robed rats left one after another. A small jungle remained. The invaders arrived about twenty minutes later, their vanguard entering the room, before stopping. One of them went back, only to return with Ian and Agric a moment later. The two half-elves stared at the dark-green chamber for a moment, before snickering. ¡°It¡¯s a trap.¡± ¡°Yup, it¡¯s a trap all-right.¡± Smiled Ian. ¡°Then, can I ask you to do your druidic mumbo-jumbo and give us a way forward?¡± Agric bowed slightly. Ian, however, was angered by his jest, the elf¡¯s brown eyes turning into slits. ¡°How many times do I have to tell you? It¡¯s not that hard!¡± He raised his voice. ¡°Druidic magic is not the same as nature magic! I¡¯m not a priest! It would be like saying that a human light mage is equivalent to a healing priest!¡± ¡°Yesh, it¡¯s all mumbo-jumbo to me, anyway.¡± ¡°Damn brute¡­¡± Ian sighed, combing his girly black hair. ¡°Just stop talking, okay? I¡¯ll get even angrier if you don¡¯t. I get this shit from my family every day, you don¡¯t have to add in.¡± Agric grew serious immediately ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I forgot how your people are when it comes to these things.¡± He added in a quieter tone. The atmosphere turned somber until Ian smacked his bigger companion on the shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s not talk about it.¡± He smiled a bit forcibly. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it in the jiffy and we can continue our conquest.¡± He turned a bit serious. ¡°I guess the sweeper is still behind us?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Agric nodded. ¡°And it¡¯s gaining ground. Our tempo slowed too much. We might have to sacrifice some blood to speed up.¡± ¡°I see.¡± With confident moves, Ian walked forward, stopping a few meters before the impromptu jungle. He raised his arms, spreading them wide, and started to chant. A long string of words I wasn¡¯t able to understand continued for about 30 seconds until he ended the sentence in a stronger, commanding tone. And like they were listening to his speech my plants started wilting a short moment later, uncovering the Lebirs hidden in their gist. Of course¡­ the main trope of fantasy - elves and plants. How did I not predict this? Haaah¡­ ¡°Undead!¡± The elves shouted, noticing my forces. ¡°Archers! To the front!¡± Agric commanded, his subordinates surging forward. ¡°Pepper them with arrows!¡± The elves followed his words to the letter, speedily killing visible enemies. Lebirs fell in silence. After the first line of defense was decimated the Ratling commanders ordered a rabid counter-attack - their minds still struggling with the fact that the invaders could control nature. Both the undead and remaining rats ran forward haggardly, keen on tasting their enemies¡¯ blood. Yet most of them died even before reaching the melee range, only a few surviving long enough to deal at most superficial damage. It was a total defeat. The elves knew that too, cheering for a minute, before returning to their earlier, turtle-like formation. Their further advancement was pretty much unimpeded. Even the secret doors that I meticulously prepared were discovered, another ambush thwarted by a rain of arrows and shield magic from the barely recovered knight. Despite the pain visible on his face he still kept the white barrier up, barring the way for my Exploders, making them an easy target. Half an hour later they arrived in my final chamber, where the fake core was safely embedded in the wall - a black crystal in the sea of green copper. The room seemed uninhabited at first glance, the Armored Beast lying in wait, its black scales blending into shadows. ¡°Our target is in sight!¡± Reported one of the vanguards. ¡°What are your orders, commander?¡± ¡°We can end it right now.¡± Another spoke with passion. ¡°One arrow¡­ and it¡¯s done!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool.¡± Agric suddenly appeared at their backs. ¡°Do you think a common weapon can destroy a Dungeon Core?¡± He shook his head. ¡°That is why Princess Minnalea brought the Royal Family''s dagger with her.¡± ¡°To be truthful, powerful magic can do the trick too.¡± Added Ian, slowly glaring at the final chamber. ¡°It seems¡­ unfinished.¡± He said after a moment. ¡°Yes. But I am sure that a guardian beast waits somewhere in these shadows.¡± Grumbled the more muscular of the two elves. ¡°We will have to spill more elven blood to deal with it.¡± He sighed. ¡°No matter.¡± ¡°Sir?¡± ¡°Get the soldiers proficient in defense to move ahead. The rest of you follow¡­ and for Goddess¡¯ sake, fire your arrows as soon as the beast appears! Don''t wait for my orders!¡± ¡°¡°¡°Yes, sir!¡±¡±¡± Countless voices answered. ¡°Stop!¡± And yet another order came from the back, halting their attack. ¡°Princess, why are you here?¡± Agric tilted his head in surprise. ¡°Let Jake go first.¡± She spoke confidently. ¡°He¡¯ll stop the core¡¯s guardian and I¡¯ll deal the finishing blow.¡± ¡°But¡­ are you at your full strength, my lady?¡± ¡°Not quite¡­ but I¡¯ll manage if it¡¯s only a singular monster!¡± ¡°Princess, there is also a sweeper following in our footsteps. Is it not wiser to conserve your strength until we defeat it?¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Minnalea answered, clearly confused by something. ¡°The dungeon beasts are known to lose their drive when the core is destroyed!¡± ¡°That¡­ is not quite correct, my lady.¡± Ian was the one who chose to speak up after a moment of silence. ¡°While it¡¯s true in the context of normal monsters, those who were created with a higher purpose in mind may very well survive the destruction of their master, and pursue their original directives.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re not sure?¡± ¡°Nothing is certain when it comes to dungeons, my lady.¡± ¡°Then we take the chance. Who is to say that this chamber''s guardian won¡¯t surge forward at the same moment when we try to deal with our pursuer?¡± Silence once again followed her words. ¡°See? We fight.¡± ¡°Princess!¡± Agric coldly raised his voice. ¡°Allow my soldiers to go first. We¡¯ll defeat the beast and in the worst-case scenario - weaken it for your finishing strike!¡± He bowed deeply, asking for her permission. ¡°I do not wish to lose any more soldiers, commander.¡± Minnalea spoke softly. ¡°This is our duty. Please allow us the honor of the first strike.¡± For a long while, the muscular elf and the royalty stared into each other¡¯s eyes. There was silence. And then a sigh of resignation. ¡°Do as you wish.¡± ¡°Thank you, princess!¡± Agric saluted and then turned back while barking out the orders. A few minutes later about half of the soldiers followed their captain, while the rest quite literally blocked the tunnel with their bodies. A battle approached. In the safety of my real core, I trembled. This magical dagger seemed like trouble. Worse, like something I didn¡¯t plan for. Ah¡­ but there was no other choice now. Let¡¯s just say that I too liked to live dangerously. 058 Uno The soldiers cautiously trickled into the room under the guidance of their commander. Agric had chosen to lead them from the front, weapons kept at the ready, as his blue eyes scanned and analyzed the future battlefield. His subordinates followed behind the man¡¯s straight back in a condensed clump of leather armor, daggers, bows, and - most importantly - fear. They didn¡¯t know it yet, but bunching up was a mistake they were going to pay dearly for. The chamber they entered was a sufficiently terrifying place in my humble opinion. A strong four of out five. I even managed to spruce it up a bit, adding a nice, monstrous ambiance, each sound made by the invaders multiplied and deformed by the haunting echo. The room was much longer than wider, yet still leaving enough free space for ten soldiers to walk hand in hand. Ah, but that only concerned the part of the room that was bathed in light. As for the rest - on both other sides - it was instead hidden under the cloak of darkness, a perfect avenue of an attack. This arrangement created a clearly artificial carpet of light stretching from the entrance towards the far-off wall where my fake core was embedded. The lighting effect was created by using the Electrical Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling in such a way that their fruits were partially obstructed by ¡°naturally growing¡± stalactites. The floor and walls were made from a simple grey stone, but I splurged and added columns on the left and right of the carpet of light, trying to preserve the feeling of sanctity and importance I thought should be present in this place. This made the advancing soldiers look small and weak in comparison to the chamber they were in. And my fake core by proxy. ¡°Do you recognize the patterns on the pillars?¡± Murmured the princess and I reacted with surprise. What patterns? ¡°No, Your Highness. They seem familiar and at the same time foreign.¡± Ian was quick to answer, his eyes glued to the final room. My cameras too zoomed in on the closest column. They were covered in something that looked similar to the ancient script, with no real words, using something similar to Egyptian hieroglyphs or Chinese pictograms. There was however a feeling of everlasting dread and hopelessness infused into them. Just like... ¡°Are they connected to the Magitech Empire?¡± ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. They should be. A degree of change is to be expected though. The dungeons are known to introduce and mix elements of different cultures.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°Let us not forget that this place was once a human castle. Who knows what the core gained by disassembling its architecture.¡± ¡°I see.¡± While this relaxed exchange was taking place in the back the vanguard soldiers weren¡¯t having a good time. ¡°It¡¯s a trap.¡± Whispered one of them under his breath. ¡°No shit, genius.¡± ¡°Shut up and keep your eyes peeled.¡± Added another one. ¡°Keep the ranks! Archers ready your weapons!¡± ¡°Mages! Where are the mages?!¡± ¡°Jinji is in the back¡­¡± ¡°One of the earth mages got done by the rats! The other is in the middle of the defensive formation.¡± ¡°One of the fire throwers was held in reserve. He observes with the Princess! The remaining ones stand with us!¡± ¡°I dislike that term, you know?¡± A robed figure grumbled, the unruly reddish hair escaping his wide cap. ¡°Also, we left the least experienced one in the back. Believe me, he would cause more trouble than it was worth.¡± ¡°I understand. Nobody likes being put on fire by allies.¡± Murmured one of the more scarred soldiers. ¡°Keep it together, men.¡± Agric was one to silence the elves. ¡°You¡¯re not children! Act like it! Something is hiding in the shadows. Don¡¯t let it get a jump on you.¡± ¡°¡°¡°Captain!¡±¡±¡± ¡°These rooms always have a guardian. They usually represent the creatures that the Dungeon focuses on.¡± The leader scratched his chin for a moment. ¡°Considering what we saw thus far it could be either a rodent or an undead. Maybe a golem.¡± ¡°Or a combination of these.¡± The second fire mage added his face and figure hidden completely by the robe. ¡°I just hope it¡¯s not some kind of unkillable undead.¡± ¡°I think you will get your answer... SOON!¡± As Agric screamed out his final words my Armored Rat Beast lost its patience and silently jumped out of the shadows, a large and dark form gaining momentum in seconds. ¡°Look out---!¡± ¡°Wha-!¡± ¡°Fuuuu--!¡± The elves didn¡¯t have time to react, only their leader barely managed to get out of the charging beast¡¯s way. The man behind him wasn¡¯t as lucky, his chest immediately skewered and the body was dragged away by my monster. Two others were trampled, their bones thoroughly broken, while their screams joined the chorus as the temporary Guardian finished its charge. ¡°Graaaaaaaa!¡± The Armored Rat Beast roared its challenge, its brutal face lighting up with joy as it saw the elven ranks falling in confusion. It turned back slowly, small, beady eyes searching for a gap to exploit. Still staring at the soldiers in disdain it shook its horn, letting the impaled body fall on the ground and glistening its black scales with red blood. The wet *thump* with which their dead comrade hit the stones beneath seemed to enrage the remaining elves. They gripped their daggers even harder and charged forward while screaming insults in the air. Above their heads, a small cloud of arrows already targeted the black beast, falling on the overgrown rat like locusts. The vicious expressions of the archers turned to shock when instead of the satisfying sound of metal piercing flesh they heard only *tink*, *tink*, *tink* as the arrowheads helplessly fell on the ground, deflected by the monstrously strong scales. This slowed the frenzied charge somewhat, but not all of the attackers were deterred. A few of them jumped ahead, their powerful swings simply bouncing off the beast¡¯s hide. ¡°Why won¡¯t you die?!¡± Screamed one of them with fury, only to get instantly skewered by the bladed horn. ¡°Focus on the eyes and mouth!¡± Shouted another one, his life too ended in but a mere moment. ¡°Look out!¡± ¡°Dodge!¡± The beast moved and the soldiers were thrown into the air, their bones, and muscles broken by the mountain-like physique of the charging monster. Archers let loose another volley, hoping for a lucky strike more than anything else. The result was, however, the same as before, their arrows were no more effective than the thrown sticks. ¡°Scorch it!¡± Agric shouted and mages started to summon their flames. Just like with the Blueflame noble, they had to do it slowly and carefully, focusing on control more than power. Yet the Rat Beast was not a fool, recognizing the danger and quickly changing its target to the fire-wielders. Its clawed feet screeched on the stone as it forcibly turned a few hundred kilograms of muscle in place, reorienting itself towards the incoming magical attacks. ¡°Shit!¡± ¡°Block it!¡± ¡°Spears! Spears to the front!¡± The elves, on the other hand, were using their bodies and weapons to desperately try to stop the charging monster. ¡°Oooof---!¡± ¡°Gyaaaaaa!¡± ¡°My leg¡­ my fucking leg!¡± Yet one after the other they were simply thrown away, mangled flesh and bone left in the wake of the advancing beast. Powerful. Unopposable. Invincible. At least my creation seemed to look like that¡­ until one of the luckier warriors managed to cut the inner thigh of the Rat Beast, causing it to tumble and then fall to the ground in a great explosion of sound and dust. A few pillars were broken in the process, grey stone shooting out like shrapnel. This allowed the mages in the back to focus their fire. A fireball and flame arrow were created and thrown in the beast¡¯s direction nearly immediately. The explosion sounded, followed by the irate scream and slowly falling dust, that had risen once again. For a while the whole chamber was silent, the invaders holding their breath in a vain hope that their enemy was defeated. And, as if to break that expectation, a crazed roar echoed in the room. ¡°Graaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± I smiled. It was truly made of the sturdier stuff than the other monsters. This time the roar conveyed not only a challenge but also hatred and indignation. ¡°We kinda pissed it off, eh?¡± Mumbled one of the surviving soldiers. ¡°It bleeds. It can be killed.¡± ¡°Yea. But how many of us will die until we manage to do so?¡± ¡°Why the Princess isn¡¯t helping?!¡± ¡°Shut up. Follow orders.¡± ¡°Gather round!¡± Screamed Agric. ¡°Defensive formation. Soldiers! Aim for the joints! Archers! Focus on the eyes! Mages, keep the heat on! Blast it, no matter where it attacks!¡± ¡°We may kill some of our soldiers this way, Captain.¡± One of the fire-wielders spoke out. ¡°Then so be it.¡± He turned back, his eyes calm and thick with a sense of purpose. ¡°What is your name?¡± ¡°Eh? Me, sir?¡± The earth mage seemed a bit out of it, his youthful face covered in grime and blood. Not his own, though. ¡°Yeah, you soldier.¡± ¡°Sond. Sir.¡± ¡°Okay, listen up, private Sond. Can you destroy this place?¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°Ahhh¡­ I¡¯m asking if you can break down the flat terrain that this beast uses to kill us off.¡± Agric pointed at the nearest floor. ¡°You and your deceased friend already had done it once before.¡± Sond twitched for a moment at the mention of his former companion but managed to quickly regain control. ¡°In the battle against these undead and rats. Fucking rats.¡± Agric growled. ¡°Do you remember? I would like you to stop it from charging.¡± He stared at the younger elf, his voice already back to normal. The mage in question gulped heavily. ¡°Are we all going to die if I can¡¯t? Sir?¡± He asked in a trembling tone. ¡°No, of course, no.¡± The larger elf sighed loudly while clamping his hand on the subordinate¡¯s shoulder. ¡°But more of them will die. So don¡¯t screw up.¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Ahhhhhh¡­¡± ¡°Deep breaths.¡± ¡°Y-yesh¡­¡± ¡°So? Can you do it?¡± ¡°I-I¡¯ll try. I have a shield spell.¡± ¡°Most of the earth mages have one.¡± Nodded Agric. ¡°I can use some of the debris here to make small walls¡­ partitions. Hills. It should work.¡± He trembled a bit more. ¡°I think.¡± ¡°Then do it.¡± Agric turned his head. ¡°Hunber, Kijat, Erbac - guard the mage with your own lives.¡± He squinted. ¡°Understood?¡± ¡°YES, SIR!¡± ¡°Good. The second round starts now, eh?¡± ¡°Graaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± While the elves were preparing my Armored Rat Beast also wasn¡¯t wasting time. It stalked the darkness, searching for the best avenue of approach. Instead of attacking silently, however, it had chosen to announce its presence, the blood craze already taking hold of its sanity. With a burst of energy, it emerged from the darkness - a monstrously large rodent covered in black scales - and immediately charged toward the temporary elven formation. It was a simple plan really - to rely on superior speed and mass in order to cut down the amount of time that the enemy had to attack it. Unlike before, its enemies were ready - the fire mages were throwing their blazing magics, while the sole earth-wielder made it impossible to approach the formation freely. The earlier scuffle also left the beast not without wounds - two patches of melted scales decorating its left side - damage from the oppressive heat, a weak point for iron arrowheads and weapons. It was the start of a decent, bloody battle. One worth watching. And one which was cut short with a single, powerful word. ¡°Enough!¡± A woman¡¯s voice echoed in the chamber, her blonde hair reflecting the everpresent flames. ¡°Just die, monster!¡± At Minnalea¡¯s command, a beam of light appeared out of nowhere and cut the Armored Rat Beast in two¡­ thus ending the encounter. The flesh of the monster sizzled as it fell to the ground, an expression of unwillingness and fury still present on its brutal features. The elven survivors stared at the dead beast. Some with an expression of bitterness, others simply filled with joy. Slowly the soldiers started to cheer - at first quietly, only to finish with an overwhelmingly loud ovation. Their minds were filled with but a simple miracle of managing to wade through this deadly battle. The water mage was already busy with mending flesh and bone, bandaging the wounded, and cleaning up the survivors. In the meantime, Agric and Minnalea were having a little chat. I was listening in with curiosity, of course. ¡°Your Highness, what are you doing?!¡± ¡°Saving your life, of course.¡± She answered haughtily. The man sighed in response, slowly massaging the bridge of his nose. ¡°Firstly, we had everything under control.¡± ¡°Losing half of your squad meant that the battle was under control?!¡± ¡°Princess, were you a part of any other Dungeon subjugation party?¡± ¡°No, but how¡¯s that impor--¡± ¡°It is important.¡± Agric cut her off. He lifted one of his fingers. ¡°Firstly. We all.¡± He pointed towards the soldiers, mages, and archers. ¡°Every. Single. One. Of. Us.¡± He squinted his eyes. ¡°We are expendable. You are not.¡± ¡°But--!¡± ¡°Secondly.¡± He lifted another finger. ¡°Did you recover completely?¡± The muscular half-elf asked keenly, his eyes searching for any sign of weakness. ¡°I-I mostly recovered.¡± Minnalea stumbled a bit in her answer. ¡°And what do you mean by that, your Highness?¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± ¡°How many light beams are you capable of producing right now?¡± ¡°T-two?¡± Another sigh made Minnalea tremble. ¡°That¡¯s what I am talking about. You¡¯re our hidden weapon. Our strongest blade.¡± He stared at the rejoicing soldiers. ¡°Yes, a few more elves will live today. But what about tomorrow?¡± Agric tiredly turned his gaze back to the princess, who shuddered in response. ¡°Y-yes?¡± ¡°Thirdly. Did you consider that we have a sweeper on our tail? And that we all may be going to die down here anyway? Simply because you were too impatient?¡± ¡°I am strong enough to beat any monster in one, maybe two hits!¡± She declared proudly, her blonde hair swaying with every move. ¡°There are things out there¡­¡± Agric started talking before waving his hand. He gave up. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. What¡¯s done is done. Please, do your duty, so we may try to return. And who knows, maybe we even manage to avoid the sweeper.¡± He smiled bitterly and then bowed at which Minnalea nodded uncertainly, her steps leading her towards the fake, black core. I won¡¯t lie. I was terrified. This was one of the things that might one day end my existence. One of the fates that I was desperately trying to avoid. As she came closer a cold feeling of fear engulfed me more and more. Unconsciously my distress was transmitted to all the dungeon¡¯s denizens. And they reacted. The roars, squeaks, and pure emotion of fear filled the halls. ¡°Do you feel it?¡± Asked Ian, flanking the approaching Princess. ¡°Yes¡­ what is that?¡± She asked, her eyes wide open. ¡°Even though the dungeons aren¡¯t really alive¡­ they too fear death. And as you approach with a Royal Family¡¯s dagger - a tool of their destruction.¡± He stopped for a moment, the regret and sadness filling his young face. ¡°They wail. They scream. Sometimes I think that if they could¡­ they would beg.¡± ¡°Are they truly not sapient then?¡± Minnalea asked, her hand lifting a long, straight dagger to the light. It glimmered - at first glance but a simple weapon, if not for a small, reddish gem embedded in its hilt. Just like my fake core in the wall. ¡°Every time we extinguish one of them we try to ask.¡± His tone changed to a mask of a much older and much wiser being appearing on his face. Ian was reciting now, his words heavy with an ancient feeling. ¡°Is there no other way? Speak to us! Understand us! Oh, the light brought from the heavenly spheres! We do not want to waste your gifts. Answer. Scream out your purpose and role. Allow us to believe in a godly plan. Survive.¡± He ceased speaking, tensing his ears for an unheard answer. For one long moment, I wanted to answer. To cut this charade short. To speak with somebody else than my subservient monsters or brainwashed followers. To stop this damn loneliness of mine. But I didn¡¯t. The fear¡­ the terrifying visions of the second death didn¡¯t let me. And thus it was decided. Ian breathed out, turning towards Minnalea. ¡°Please, Princess. Do the honors.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She nodded crisply. ¡°I just need to lift it up and then plunge the blade into the dungeon core?¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t the metal break though?¡± She took another look at the weapon. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look very sturdy.¡± ¡°It is, however. There is old magic in the works here. One that we don¡¯t understand. One that we don¡¯t need to understand. Never.¡± He smiled weakly. ¡°This part always dampers my mood. I can¡¯t shake the feeling that what we are doing is simply murder.¡± ¡°What? But it killed Goddess knows how many people!¡± Minnalea disagreed loudly. ¡°After we invaded its home. After we are trying to kill it. So¡­ please - do it quickly.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Without any other warning, she lifted her weapon and struck the blade in the middle of the fake obsidian core. The dagger entered easily, its hilt slowly growing brighter and brighter. ¡°Is it broken?¡± Asked Minnalea. ¡°Nothing is happening.¡± ¡°No. It should start soon.¡± Something stirred in the dagger¡¯s handle. Something old. A greedy, ancient being. A monster. A devil. It yawned loudly. The invaders couldn¡¯t hear it. But I could. Then it opened its maw. Wider. Wider. And wider. Until the only thing that remained was the greedy, monstrous mouth and two small, bright eyes. A second passed and it bit, devouring the fake core in one sloppy chomp. Another second was lost and then - this part of me was gone - and I understood that this was a large, tragic mistake. The fake core was¡­ fake, but it was also part of me. My memories. My feelings. My dreams. And now it was irreplaceably destroyed. Then the pain came - like a wave - slowly strangling my mindscape with darkness, forcing me to retreat, to run, to hide. From one memory to another it tried to steal my very being as I fought against the current, slowly being dragged towards the still wide-open maw of the beast. [Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!] My mental scream came out unknowingly, enraging my followers and scaring both Non and Guardian. I fought. A sEcOnD aFtEr sEcOnD. Who knew for how long. It felt like minutes. It felt like years. One desperate fear against another desperate fear against the slowly consuming darkness darkness darkness The whole place shook, my senses curling up, like a kicked puppy. I yelped. I begged. Nobody heard me. But darkness darkness darkness Garbled words penetrated the fog of my consciousness. ¡°That is how a dungeon dies. And this is why I hate these jobs¡­¡± They faded away and when I thought that it was the real end a different, cold, soothing darkness came. And I lost my consciousness. Uno sometime later *BAM* A sound echoes¡­ somewhere. *BAM* It comes and goes. A simple thing, yet full of rage and longing. *BAM* Like an old clock, it regularly strikes the hour. Or was it a second? A minute? *BAM* What was even a concept of time, really? Especially here, in this soothing dark? *BAM* Wait. Was that the sound of my alarm clock? Do I need to go to school? To work? Huh? *BAM* I didn¡¯t remember setting such a vulgar and brutal-sounding soundtrack, though. *BAM* *ROAAAAAAAAR* Okay. Something seemed weird. *BAM* Okay, okay! I¡¯m waking up! Can¡¯t a dude sleep a bit longer on his free day? Sheesh. People today. Maybe five more minutes? *BAM* Okaaaaay! Fuck. How did I open my eyes again? Huh? Wait. Something¡­ something is not right. No¡­ eyes? *BAM* From where all this light had come? *BAM* And you! Who are you, you dam fucker, always banging on my doors? Just follow the noise¡­ Yes, just like that. Follow the noise, Uno. And kick his ass. *BAM* [Gotcha!] [Huh?] [What happened?] [My lord?!] A happy, screaming voice echoed in my brain. [What are--] [MY LORD! YOU¡¯RE SAFE! OH THANK THE UNFEELING GODS!] [Hey--] [I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE MY FATE! MY FATE TO BE ALONE AGAIN!] [Gua--] [THE HEAVENS ARE JUST! OH, MY LORD!] [WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?!] [Y-yes?] A small, squeaky voice answered my question. Much better. Have I drunk something? Could Dungeon Cores even have a hangover? Or two? At the same time? But more importantly... [What the hell happened? Where are you? Where is Non? What is going on in the dungeon? And what¡¯s the situation aboveground?] *BAM* [And what the fuck is that sound?!] [Ahhh¡­ That may need a longer explanation, my lord.] [Start with the sound. It¡¯s driving me insane. Or not. The overall situation. More important.] [Yes, yes. You see after the half-elves broke your sub-core we all kinda¡­ lost our minds. The Ratlings were most affected, pretty much pouncing on any enemy available. The undead¡­ simply stopped functioning. About three-fourths of them. The ranks of your minions are currently greatly reduced.] *BAM* [You still didn¡¯t tell me what this sound is. A clock? Did I install a clock in my time of madness?] [No! You were just sleeping, my lord. And I was just getting to it!] I could hear him swallowing dryly. Pretty impressive considering we were having a mental conversation. [After your assumed demise Berserker blocked the way out of the final chamber and started attacking the invaders.] [And?] [And he has been doing so ever since.] [Wait, what? More importantly - for how long was I out?] [About a week.] [SEVEN DAYS? He is at it for seven days?!] [Yes, my lord.] [I have to see it.] My focus turned toward the third floor. It moved slowly, like a rusted machine forced to work against its will. I still managed to turn it towards the loudest place underground and a curious sight had greeted me. A tunnel, blocked by an invisible wall, similar to one that the silent knight produced. Outside the protected space Berserker was slowly letting out punch, after punch, shaking the barrier, and the whole surrounding dungeon and thus producing the sound. Every few hundred or so attacks the elven princess - Minnalea - was counterattacking. A beam of light was summoned, cutting Berserker¡¯s flesh, only for it to completely regenerate a few moments later. She was red-eyed and panicked, nothing like the noble lady I remembered from a few days ago. I could hear curses muttered under her breath and symptoms of slowly setting panic. The other elves were trying their best to remain calm too, but none of their attacks had left a dent on the monster. Truly a creation I sacrificed a part of my soul to create. [For how long are they at it?] [Since your supposed demise, my lord.] [And¡­ why?] [Berserker tries to avenge you. That knight projects the shield to defend the survivors. The princess and the rest of the elves try to kill Berserker before their defense collapses.] [And how do you know that?] [I asked Non to scout for me.] [And why was that needed?] [There was commotion above and below ground. A good general knows the importance of good intelligence.] [I cannot disagree. So tell me. What¡¯s happening?] [That redhaired noble--] [Blueflame?] [Yes. I believe that is the name. I think he is getting hanged.] [What?!] Go up! Up, up, up! Gotta see it! 059 Uno My consciousness flew higher and higher, the speed of ascent more similar to drilling through the earth, than earlier soaring quickness. The minutes of traveling through the dirt passed slowly, so I started asking some important questions in the meantime. [Guardian, are you there?] I sent a mental message to my loyal minion. [Yes, my lord. What are your commands?] He answered quickly, not bothered in the slightest by my sudden communication. [I want to ask you a question.] [Then I will try to answer to the best of my abilities.] [Do you know anything about the anti-dungeon tool that the half-elves brought with them?] [Errr¡­ my lord, I wasn¡¯t present when the invaders attacked your sub-core. How would I know?] I nearly facepalmed. Of course, only I had access to cameras, my minions weren¡¯t privy to such things. Something that I might consider changing in the future. For now, a simple explanation would suffice. [The elven princess, Minnalea brought with her something that looked like a dagger with a red gem handle. They called it a Royal family¡¯s weapon or something like that.] I trembled for a moment, remembering the traumatizing feeling that came after she plunged it into my sub-core. [It¡­ broke a part of me. Devoured it, rather.] [I see¡­] [So? Any thoughts?] [I¡¯m not familiar with the methods employed by the Luna Kingdom or the elves in particular.] He answered with some hesitation. I inwardly nodded. They weren¡¯t even around when Guardian was turned into a vampire. [I can, however, say, that the most important ingredient of Dungeon binding practiced in my country has always been a dormant core.] He stopped for a moment. [Maybe the elves use the same principle?] [Are you suggesting that the red gem I saw was a former Dungeon?] I asked incredulously. A mental nod was my only answer. [This makes sense¡­] I muttered. There was a certain sense of familiarity, and sameness when confronted with the hungry being contained within. A shudder came through my invisible body. Would my kidnapped core be used for similar sinister purposes? The dagger was dangerous, that much was certain. I was, however, playing dead right now. Was a single item, no matter how powerful, really worth breaking that facade? I desperately needed time to grow. To learn. To rebuild my forces. It was better to play it safe. My focus dispersed as soon as I managed to arrive at the surface. If the slow rate at which I was currently moving was the only side effect of my sub-core destruction I would be more than willing to pay this price. A curious sight greeted me after emerging. Or rather when I took control over one of the surviving Devil Eye cameras. Pretty much the whole population of the outpost - a few hundred souls - was currently standing in a large clearing just beyond burned-down buildings. The civilians, adventurers, soldiers, and Order¡¯s troops were condensed into a homogeneous human mass, which to me looked no different than a bunch of sheep. Guarding them, or should I say - herding - was a small contingent of soldiers clad in black armor. Their choice of clothing would seem overly edgy and even comical in normal circumstances if not for the gloomy aura that they emanated - heavy enough to keep the commoners in line. A shabby-looking platform was erected close to the human mob, made mostly from the rough-hewn boards gathered from freshly cut silver trees, still wet with resin in some places. On top of it stood a large, muscular man with a commanding posture. He wore an easy-to-recognize hawk¡¯s helmet and expensive-looking black leather armor. A faint feeling of power radiated from his body, as his growling, deep words slowly spilled from the lower, open part of the mask. I knew him. Or should I say that Non knew him? One of the targets of her revenge, was the leader of the Geinard Kingdom''s special forces, arrogant Hawk, a powerful warrior in his own right. Lord Hawk was his name. Before him, under a light guard, stood a familiar figure. The red-eyed and red-haired noble was currently clenching his teeth and fists, listening intently to the droning hawk-man. Once again I could see small, nearly invisible wisps of flame dancing around his body. Now that was interesting... I stopped scouting and instead focused on simply listening to the speech. And just in time. ¡°...is thus guilty of allowing the property of the Geinard Kingdom to fall in the foreign hands. He is also guilty of damaging the relationship between our allies in these trying times.¡± The large man breathed out and in, his countenance telling me he was as bored as the people who were forced to listen. After a while, he continued. ¡°There are however bright points in Charles Blueflame''s administration of the Outpost currently called Silver Oasis. These consist of surviving the Fallen Tribes invasion without any aid, as well as helping the Royal Princess Agnes Geinard in her expedition. To that, I can also add keeping the military and defensive presence in the hands of our Kingdom, despite foreign influences.¡± The speaker straightened his back. ¡°Thus the verdict is as follows.¡± He bellowed and the rest of the human mob murmured in anticipation. No matter the times, the masses always craved entertainment. And seeing the powerful fall from the grace certainly counted as such. ¡°Charles Blueflame is to be stripped of his noble status, of his hereditary Blueflame bloodline, and the leadership of the Order of the Fates Untold.¡± The former noble clenched his fists even harder, his eyes never leaving the ground before him. ¡°However he is allowed to retain control over the Silver Oasis Outpost and the soldier contingent left to keep order and retain control over the former dungeon.¡± Only now I noticed familiar faces behind the outspoken man. The princess Agnes Geinard, tall, sad-looking Lone Mountain, and earth mage Peter. They seemed to accompany Lord Hawk on some official business. The silence followed as Charles raised his eyes to gaze at the one judging him. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife. ¡°Do you accept my verdict, Charles of the Silver Oasis?¡± The former noble opened his mouth not once but twice before swallowing hard and speaking out in a deep, hurt voice. ¡°I did only what I thought was necessary for the glory and survival of the Kingdom.¡± He continued with a raised tone. ¡°I used whatever could be used, according to our tenets!¡± ¡°As we do all.¡± The official immediately dismissed his claim. ¡°Yet you were judged and found lacking. Do you accept?¡± He repeated his question. ¡°I accept, Lord Hawk.¡± Charles shouted back loudly while whispering the rest of his words. ¡°May the Gods have mercy on your souls. Because I won¡¯t.¡± The anger, the fiery fireflies seemed to disappear and only a tired, disillusioned young man was left behind. ¡°Good. Guards, please return the outpost commander to his quarters. I still have a few questions to ask him. After the delve, of course.¡± The soldiers saluted and Charles was escorted out of the clearing. Then the man called Lord Hawk turned back to the audience. ¡°The members of the Order of the Fates Untold are ordered to return to the capital and await a new commander¡¯s orders.¡± He flashed a smile. ¡°Of course, those who want to follow your former leader may do so.¡± The Order soldiers mostly bowed slightly. I had a feeling that not many of them would remain. A shame. They probably had some of the more interesting skills and magical abilities I would love to experiment with¡­ ¡°While I can¡¯t order the Guild to leave let it be known that according to our past experiences, the destroyed dungeon will only produce a minuscule amount of monsters and items. Your presence would be welcomed at the other Geinard¡¯s Kingdom locations. Yet I understand if you can¡¯t make an informed decision with the disappearance of your Guild master.¡± Lord Hawk stared down the adventurers present and but a few were able to withstand his gaze. ¡°I will scout the dungeon and rescue any survivors in your stead.¡± Murmurs followed. ¡°That was not a question.¡± He added. ¡°Most of the soldiers are ordered to return too.¡± This announcement was met with a small ovation. It was clear that the troops stationed here disliked the post. ¡°Baring a small contingent of guards needed for an outpost of this size. You can draw lots.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have any control over merchants or mages which made this place home yet I would strongly recommend you to move into more secure and important locations.¡± He stopped, gauging the reactions of Outeles the merchant, and Master Vincent. Both of them seemed to ignore the contents of his speech. ¡°The dungeon has been destroyed.¡± ¡°And that is all.¡± The man finished his speech not mentioning anything to the frightened civilians. None of them, even bald Tom, dared to speak out despite outnumbering the black-clothed guards and simple soldiers by a dozen each. Being shooed away the rest of the freshly named outpost¡¯s population dispersed, returning to their duties - guarding, harvesting my first floor or rebuilding. Using this time a small delegation of the half-elves approached Lord Hawk, their faces full of discontent. ¡°What do you want?¡± The man asked grumpily, his weary tone a clear difference between a commanding tune he was singing earlier. ¡°We want to raise a protest against your verdict, Lord Hawk!¡± Their representative spoke out, his scarred face and a missing eye a clear sign of being a part of the earlier purge. ¡°The man in question murdered dozens of our brethren! Stripping him of the nobility is but a trifle! We demand death for death!¡± ¡°I think you¡¯re misunderstanding something, knife-ear.¡± The masked man growled in anger, while the elves took a step back, stunned by a sheer killing intent. ¡°Wha--?¡± ¡°I was not punishing Charles for decimating your forces.¡± A brutal smile appeared on his face. ¡°Your people were happily strolling on our land, filth! They knew the consequences!¡± He sneered. ¡°I punished him for allowing your princess to steal our Dungeon core.¡± ¡°Bu--!¡± ¡°And before you start mewling, know that according to your death-for-death ruling, I should stroll right into your Leafhill village and tear their Dungeon core out!¡± He said while putting a hand on the elf¡¯s shoulder and squeezing hard. ¡°Do. We. Understand. Each. Other?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Another squeeze came as the elven representative hissed in pain. ¡°Yes, I understand, human!¡± ¡°Good.¡± Lord Hawk slowly released his grip. ¡°Now get your cronies out of here, while I¡¯m still in a passable mood.¡± ¡°The Lunar King will hear of this.¡± ¡°Oh, I hope he does. In the meantime, I will be waiting for an apology.¡± Lord Hawk smiled crookedly. Yet as soon as the elven delegation left his vision it disappeared immediately, replaced by a calm, composed demeanor. ¡°Are they gone?¡± He asked seemingly in the air while keeping an aloof tone. ¡°A small group of them left immediately, probably to report back to their superiors. The rest still wait for something.¡± A black-robed man emerged from the nearby shadows. ¡°The princess is still alive it seems.¡± ¡°Agreed.¡± ¡°Was that necessary, teacher?¡± ¡°What specifically? The noble or the knife-ears?¡± ¡°Both.¡± Lord Hawk sighed audibly. ¡°That is why you still have much to learn, Shadow. Heh.¡± ¡°I would ask you to not snicker at my pseudonym.¡± ¡°Give me some wine, then.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± The self-proclaimed Shadow produced a wine sack out of nowhere. He threw it through the air and his companion caught it deftly. ¡°Now talk. What was that all about?¡± ¡°Let me ask you the question, then. Would any of your trainees be able to survive the Fallen Tribes invasion, beat back the elves, conquer most of the dungeon, and keep the half-elven princess at bay with only some mages and soldiers under their command?¡± Lord Hawk popped out the cork and noisily drank a few large gulps of liquid. Faced with the problem his companion kept quiet for a few minutes before hesitantly answering. ¡°Maybe? If I had my level and some of our resources¡­¡± ¡°And if you didn¡¯t?¡± ¡°Still, a maybe.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t bullshit me. I trained you. I know what you and your subordinates are capable of.¡± The larger man pointed his finger at Shadow. ¡°You are killers. Warriors. One of our Kingdom¡¯s hidden daggers. But you are no generals. Tactical know-how - yes, but leading armies? Not one of you knows how to do it. And that¡¯s why I gave him a choice.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Our Kingdom has generals...¡± ¡°Yes, Geinard Kingdom has strategists. Generals. Would you follow their orders though?¡± Shadow¡¯s silence was enough of an answer. ¡°He will be left here, alone, for about¡­ what? Half a year? Maybe, even more, that depends on how the situation develops.¡± Lord Hawk shrugged. ¡°For a noble used to power, to being in the center of attention, luxuries... staying out here would be akin to torture. After some time passes a certain organization will extend an invitation to him and a proposition to return what was unjustly taken from him.¡± He narrated. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°You want to bend him to our will?¡± Lord Hawk waved his hands. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so dramatic! Nothing so drastic. It¡¯s not like I can just kill off Agnes¡¯ lover, right? But a bit of poking should be okay.¡± He chuckled coldly. ¡°This will be mutually beneficial cooperation, after all.¡± His expression changed for a moment. A tremble, albeit mostly unnoticeably to bystanders. ¡°Besides it¡¯s not like I can do anything to one of Hekkan¡¯s bloodline. Exiled or not.¡± ¡°There is more.¡± Murmured Shadow. Lord Hawk raised his arms in a gesture of surrender. ¡°Of course. There is always more! Layers under layers.¡± He grunted. ¡°Did you feel the energy he was emanating?¡± ¡°That was him? At his level¡­ certainly unnatural.¡± ¡°Yes, I suppose he got some rare class during the delve. And you know how much we need any edge we can get.¡± ¡°That I can understand. Strength is power. Power is justice. And the elves?¡± ¡°These were my true feelings. Hate the fuckers. They enter our land, destroy our Dungeon core, and still want reparations. Like they somehow had given us a boon, or something.¡± Lord Hawk huffed in indignation. ¡°And the true motive?¡± His subordinate ignored the outburst, drinking a mouthful of the liquor instead. ¡°Since not all of them left in a hurry this means that the princess still lives.¡± The larger man¡¯s demeanor changed in an instant, the facade of hatred thrown out like every single mask before. ¡°And since Minnalea is their precious little experiment I would guess that one of their monsters guards her still.¡± ¡°We haven¡¯t found any traces though¡­¡± Lord Hawk shook his head in disappointment, sighing once again. ¡°Yes, yes I know¡­ It¡¯s just hard to imagine skills of such power to exist.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to. They do.¡± ¡°I see.¡± With a bow, Shadow disappeared in the darkness. ¡°I knew that the Geinard Kingdom was the right choice.¡± Lord Hawk mumbled to himself before draining the remaining liquor. As they finished their conversation I focused on the other part of the outpost. Something out there caught my attention. Still - the Silver Oasis, eh? I guess that was because of the trees? Would that mean I was a Silver Dungeon? Kinda tacky¡­ not that it was important to know how the sentient races called me. I shook off the random thoughts and turned my attention towards the place where Charles was being imprisoned. The mana there behaved strangely, not to mention that a small rock was thrown from the ground and produced a noise. After a few more tries a familiar figure appeared on the balcony. Truly a Romeo and Juliet situation, except in reverse - it was Agnes standing on the ground and Charles looking down at her from his tower. ¡°I did what I could.¡± She spoke sheepishly. ¡°I am not blaming you, princess.¡± The former noble answered in a wooden, cold tone. ¡°You!¡± A timid note was instantly gone from her voice. ¡°Call me by my name!¡± ¡°Pri--¡± ¡°You promised! Charles!¡± ¡°I---¡± A red halo appeared around the man quickly and immediately vanished as he controlled his emotions. He glanced at the surroundings, then, after a second of thought, jumped down near the princess. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Agnes. I¡¯m just tired.¡± ¡°I know that you are.¡± They walked a few meters in silence, the proud princess following just behind the man. In the end, he leaned against a freshly grown tree, the silver of its bark contrasting with his crimson hair and eyes. They seemed more vibrant than before. Charles stood in silence for a few long moments before slowly confiding in Agnes. ¡°You know I always wanted the best for my family.¡± A resigned sigh escaped his mouth. ¡°Blueflames.¡± He spoke with a wistful tone. ¡°What a heavy name.¡± ¡°I persevered. I tried my best, despite always being the weak one. The one who was not worthy. The one who was left to be forgotten. In the dust.¡± The red fireflies returned, slowly circling the angered man. ¡°And when I do what was best for our Kingdom - when I bleed for it, defending our people, our land...¡± He breathed in, before shouting his true emotions. ¡°This is how they repay me?!¡± ¡°Charles, you know it¡¯s not that simple¡­¡± Agnes said helplessly. ¡°The politics demand sacrifices. The people are shortsighted.¡± She grabbed his tensed shoulder. The man turned, his eyes shining with an otherwordly light. ¡°No.¡± He whispered, his fury suddenly turned into a cold, gleaming emotion. ¡°It¡¯s always the same. What I lack is power. Enough power to not be trampled like those civilians.¡± The former noble stared into the princess¡¯s eyes. ¡°This is also what you currently lack.¡± ¡°Yet wasn¡¯t that what you always pursued?¡± She admonished him calmly. ¡°Yes, but there was always hesitation in my steps.¡± He gazed at the bustling outpost. Silver Oasis. ¡°No longer.¡± ¡°You are a fool.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that why you like me?¡± The somber atmosphere dissipated with his frivolous words. ¡°Fool.¡± She repeated while pecking him with the lightest of kisses. He returned the attack and soon they were rolling on the ground, losing pieces of armor and clothing. The atmosphere turned far too pink for my tastes and my attention drifted away. I had more interesting things to observe than humans trying to reproduce. For example, the one they called Lord Hawk was preparing to delve into my defunct dungeon. Getting some rations and washing down the earlier wine took him only a moment and soon he walked down the halls like he owned the place. My traps and acidic plants were avoided with ease like the man was led by some invisible force. After a few minutes of such anger-inducing travel, he stopped just before the first-floor Trial room. I thought that he¡¯d try to compete in it, instead, he just sniffed the air while commenting aloud. ¡°A solo melee trial? Pretty rare. Still, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.¡± With a small nod, he continued speaking to nobody in particular. ¡°According to the report, there was also a smithing golem, the curious undead, and unique plants. And of course the rats.¡± His mouth under the hawk¡¯s helmet visor twisted in disgust. ¡°So¡­ incoherent. No matter. Let¡¯s check what¡¯s on the second floor then.¡± With a spring in his step, he turned back and jogged towards the second-floor stairway. Just like before the sparse traps and monsters were completely inconsequential before his graceful step. This time however he stopped after killing an Exploding Lebir, leaning over its decapitated body. He sniffed loudly and continued the commentary. ¡°Yes¡­ the smell of the elves is unmistakable. Even if they¡¯re mostly half-bloods.¡± His mouth twisted once again as he poked and prodded my dead creation. ¡°Now this thing is quite interesting. And undead clad in metal is common enough, but the way it reacted was curious. Not to mention I never saw this kind of metal. Hmm... I wonder. The report mentioned something about the monsters exploding. Let¡¯s get back some pieces of it - just in case.¡± Without any visible effort, he used his dagger to carve out pieces of the energized metal, while stowing them in one of the many sacks dangling from his waist. ¡°I really want to explore this floor, but duty comes before leisure.¡± He nodded sternly and sniffed the air once again. ¡°At least their princess is of pure blood. Easy to track.¡± Within the next fifteen minutes, the singular invader managed to follow the elven tracks down to the hole made by the earlier invaders¡¯ magic. Seeing the wanton destruction he only shook his head with a disappointed expression. ¡°Stupid.¡± Was a simple comment given. After jumping down he glanced towards the twisting tunnel but his head turned back as if drawn by some invisible force. ¡°What is this? Oh? Ooooh? Is that another Trial?¡± Lord Hawk seemed torn between following the trail and the direction where my Trial of Greed was located. ¡°Just for a minute. Maybe five. Nothing¡¯s going to happen in the meantime.¡± Despite said words, his legs still led him towards the elves, even while he glanced back every minute or so. ¡°It should be enough that I inform Agnes about it. Leave her to be its conqueror. Or even for that disgraced lover of hers.¡± His smile blossomed under the helmet as he sniffed the air once again. ¡°It¡¯s still good enough to know that it¡¯s here.¡± The smile turned into a sneer. ¡°Especially because the elves don¡¯t have that information.¡± After deciding on the course of action he started to run, devouring the distance at a worrying pace. I pinged Berserker and asked him to hurry, thus making sure that his enraged form started to wail on the barrier that separated him from his prey. The half-elves grew frantic in response, their lives suddenly in jeopardy. Despite his efforts, the silent knight, Jake, coughed out some blood but kept the barrier intact. Seeing this Minnalea scrambled to his side, desperately trying to keep him alive. The earlier light magic was gone, replaced by her babbling and the occasional ray of what I assumed was a healing spell. The princess seemed completely different from the high and mighty noble lady that invaded my dungeon a week prior. No longer did she wear clean and high-class robes, neither her hair was immaculately done, but instead, she sat on the dirty ground. Her eyes were red, arms trembled under the stress and pure exhaustion. Formerly delicate skin was now full of scratches and bruises, as all healing was used to keep her defender alive. She was but a shell of her former self. This seemed to reflect the state of every single elven survivor I was observing. A week of imprisonment reduced these proud soldiers to ragged beggars. Two of the leaders, Ian and Agric were standing in the corner, conversing in hushed voices. I, of course, started eavesdropping. ¡°Is it worth it?¡± ¡°Of course. Don¡¯t be a fool.¡± Ian¡¯s answer rang hollow. ¡°We¡¯re expendable, remember?¡± He wistfully whispered. ¡°It sounds weird coming from your mouth though.¡± Agric spoke sorrowfully, his gaze remaining on the lamenting princess. ¡°Don¡¯t you feel any pity?¡± His companion shook his head. ¡°What do you want from me?¡± He gritted his teeth. ¡°To admit that I¡¯m a hypocrite?¡± ¡°No, I---!¡± ¡°I know damn well that I like her¡­¡± He motioned towards Minnalea. ¡°Even if I¡¯m just a stallion in their fucking breeding farm.¡± His voice turned low, barely a whisper. ¡°But I¡¯ll very well compromise to avoid my fate.¡± ¡°I understand. But I don¡¯t approve.¡± ¡°Do you? Then why were you designated for this mission?¡± The larger man shook his hands. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Ian chuckled darkly. ¡°Let me guess. Somebody wants you dead?¡± A small, nearly imperceptible twitch was enough for the mage to continue. ¡°I don¡¯t care who you fucked, who you shamed, or who you angered. It doesn¡¯t matter. We all are expendable. So don¡¯t preach to me, friend.¡± These last words were meant to be prickly but sounded... fatigued. Desperate. ¡°We¡¯re all just trying to survive in this fucked up world.¡± ¡°Anyway.¡± Ian continued in a brighter tone. ¡°Something happened.¡± ¡°You mean this sudden attack?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You think it¡¯s the reinforcements?¡± The mage¡¯s gaze wandered to Minnalea. ¡°No. Too soon.¡± ¡°A third party then? Who? Fallen Tribes? Humans? Or our misguided elven compatriots?¡± ¡°Whoever this is I would prefer they didn¡¯t arrive here only to be splattered on the walls before our very eyes.¡± Ian answered tiredly, rubbing his reddened eyes... which a moment later widened in shock when he noticed a man standing by the barrier. ¡°Hello there, friend.¡± Lord Hawk waved happily, ignoring the raging Berserker. ¡°How are you doing? It¡¯s nice that you survived.¡± The last lines were a bit monotone, but the survivors ignored that detail. ¡°A rescue?!¡± Minnalea shouted excitedly. ¡°Good sir, please help us! Defeat the beast!¡± ¡°Yes, yes.¡± The black-armored man chuckled. His words once again turned formal. ¡°I am Hawk of the Geinard Kingdom and, according to the tenants of the Northern Kingdoms Alliance, I am obliged to help you.¡± ¡°Look out!¡± One of the elves shouted, as my mutated minion grew tired of the conversation and instead swung his large fist at the human¡­ yet the attack missed, as Lord Hawk dodged the hit with ease, his attention turning towards the dungeon boss. ¡°Curious.¡± He spoke, staring at the towering Ratman. ¡°Higher strength and intelligence pumped into a rat?¡± A roar of rage and another few swings were the only answer. The human lowered his stance, easily running between the beast¡¯s legs and touching the muscles on its back. ¡°Quite strong but otherwise unremarkable.¡± He sighed. ¡°A waste of resources. Why do dungeons do these things? How foolish.¡± I wasn¡¯t quite sure if Berserker understood the spoken language or if was it the opponent''s constant evasion that tugged at his patience but soon the area was full of dust, gravel, and roaring beast. This lasted about ten long minutes, Lord Hawk was constantly jumping back, avoiding the attack by a breadth of a hair, while his mouth was twisted in a curious expression. ¡°But the endurance¡­ not completely trash.¡± The invader unfastened his daggers, taking a familiar stance. ¡°Now, how¡¯s the resistance to damage?¡± With a ferocious grin, the human advanced faster than an eye could see. A second later Berserker was roaring in a different tone - pain slowly dominated the fury. This lasted only a moment though, as the wound regenerated, and quite humorous whack-a-mole ensued. Or it would be so if the victim of such a game wasn¡¯t my most powerful creation. ¡°Regeneration! Excellent!¡± Lord Hawk shouted in ecstasy between the furious stomps of Berserker. A few minutes later he was still untouched and the battle still raged. Something I deemed unbelievable. These were some completely inhuman amounts of endurance. How high was his level? Did the abilities given to humans by the system add this kind of advantage over monsters? I cursed my inability to gauge them, as I could do with my creations. Soon the human invader grew bored and used some kind of skill to attack Berserker. Or rather to try to kill him. He aimed at the head and in the middle of the chest, barely missing the heart and pinning the third-floor boss to the wall. After that, a long sigh escaped his mouth. ¡°Seeing what this Forgotten Dungeon was capable of really pisses me off.¡± He grumbled. ¡°Your Luna Kingdom owes us a lot right now. So much potential. Wasted.¡± The elves only stood there silently, hesitantly staring at their would-be rescuer. ¡°What?¡± Lord Hawk bellowed angrily. ¡°Disable that barrier and prepare to¡­---!!!¡± During his words Jake did as ordered, losing consciousness soon after. The human, however, had other problems. ¡°BY THE GODS, WHAT IS THIS SMELL?!¡± He yelled angrily while trying to cover his nose with a piece of cloth. ¡°Piss, shit, blood, sweat¡­ ugh¡­ you¡­¡± The one to step forward was Ian, his face a mask of dirt and blood. He bowed deeply, before starting the conversation. ¡°We were imprisoned in this hellhole for about a week. Our supplies wouldn¡¯t last, thus we were forced into some¡­ hard decisions.¡± ¡°What have you done, knife-ears?!¡± Bellowed Lord Hawk. ¡°Do you know this adage, sir?¡± Ian ignored the insults and continued his slow, steady words. ¡°If you have eighty people and supplies for two days¡­ then if you have only forty people they would last for four days?¡± ¡°You---!¡± ¡°Besides our race knows the wastelands well. We don¡¯t waste our¡­ bodily fluids in critical situations.¡± ¡°Stop---!¡± Lord Hawk seemed like he wanted to puke. ¡°The same goes for not wasting the Dungeon core Guardian. After skinning it, we drained the blood and¡­¡± ¡°J-just¡­ go.¡± The human gulped heavily. ¡°You just added a description to every single smell I don¡¯t want to identify.¡± After a few more moments of respite, he lifted his hand in the air. ¡°Before you return to the surface, tell me. What was your plan if I didn¡¯t arrive?¡± Ian only stared blankly for a few seconds, before he started answering. ¡°Our supplies should last us only about three more days.¡± He breathed in and out slowly. ¡°If nothing changed by that time then a plan was to swarm the beast, while the princess and her entourage escape to the surface.¡± ¡°And you are the part of the said entourage?¡± Sneered Lord Hawk. Once again it took the elf a few seconds to respond. ¡°No.¡± Was his simple answer. ¡°We - I - am expendable in this mission.¡± ¡°Wh--. No, I don¡¯t want to know. Go up, kid. And leave the core and whatever was left from the Dungeon Guardian to the sentries up top. I¡¯m not doing it for free, after all.¡± ¡°I¡¯m probably older than you, human.¡± ¡°Doubt it, but whatever.¡± With a shake of his head, Ian saluted tiredly before turning back to his surviving compatriots. ¡°You heard the man! Get your things and move! On the double!¡± After giving the orders he turned back towards the human. ¡°A word of warning, the beast will revive.¡± ¡°Yeah, of course, it will, it¡¯s a dungeon still, even without a core.¡± Lord Hawk answered in a confused tone. ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand.¡± Ian pointed at Berserker¡¯s body. ¡°It regenerates. Completely. Once we managed to blast its head off. We celebrated, thinking us free of the beast. Five minutes later it was back in the fight.¡± He shuddered. ¡°It tore apart a few of our men before we managed to put the barrier back up. You don¡¯t mess with the sweeper.¡± He mumbled the final words. ¡°Ah, sweeper an uncouth word for dungeon justice dispenser.¡± Lord Hawk sighed. ¡°The more I hear, the more I want to kill you all for wasting such a promising Dungeon core.¡± He shook his head in disappointment, a cold killing intent radiating from his body for a mere second. It was quick, but enough to freeze everybody in the place. ¡°T-the A-alliance--¡± Agric was the one to step in, his muscular figure looking somewhat small before the powerful human. ¡°Yes, yes I know.¡± Lord Hawk waved his hands, the freezing feeling disappearing like a breeze. ¡°Go up. Before I change my mind.¡± This time the elves weren¡¯t hesitating. In a span of a few minutes, they packed their things - including the cursed dagger, my destroyed sub-core, and remains of the Armored Rat Beast and evacuated. After Lord Hawk¡¯s clearing, there wasn¡¯t much to stand in their way and I decided to quietly let them leave. The mention of some unknown force guarding the princess was getting on my nerves, and - to tell the truth - I had something else to do. Unknowingly... I gained another level. All this death and destruction were worth something in the end. This meant a new playground. A new underground complex - and I just knew how to utilize it. My plan was to build a laboratory specializing in body modifications - and another sub-core focused on the job. Now¡­ where to start digging down? [Drones, I need your help.] I announced unnecessarily. It was building time! 059.5 That which is the most precious Ratling Queen minutes after receiving a divine tablet from the Creator The mother of the rat-kind, the Holy Priestess and sole Interpreter of His Will was currently racing down the branching tunnels in a rather unsightly fashion. Her hurried steps were directed towards the main chamber of the Secret Council. Queen¡¯s large body swayed with every step and rolls of fat on her chest thundered as she desperately ran ahead. Her sweaty form was traced by a group of followers carefully carrying a divine tablet bestowed upon the rats by their benevolent Creator. Despite barely being able to keep up with their ruler not a single one of the rat servants was thinking about complaining. Instead, they were elated with this newfound duty. Yes, the relic was heavy and unwieldy. Yes, they swayed dangerously with each step, not to mention how hard it was to fit it into the bending tunnels. Yes, the punishment for any scrape would mean a death sentence... And yet under all that sweat, grime, and pain of torn muscles, a clear pride in fulfilling the duty given by their Maker was shining through. A feeling of pure happiness in fulfilling their holy task. Ratling Queen, on the other hand, was panicking, her mind currently in disarray. It was a sudden, raw emotion of surprise, with the added spice of bitterness instead of joy. She knew that the change was coming. After a period of inactivity and development, the Ratlings'' resolve was finally going to be tested! The message she received wasn¡¯t clear yet - a longer, and much more detailed investigation would be needed to interpret its full meaning, not to mention a theological discussion between the faithful - but the sheer bloodthirstiness and heavy, cold feeling of danger contained within were easily recognizable, filling Ratling bodies hot with expectation. ¡°Squeeeeee!¡± She roared, failing to keep the boiling emotions hidden. Her cry was echoed by the other rats, curious snouts peeking out of the underground homes. As she moved through the common tunnels more and more of the Ratlings were getting in her way, squeaking with surprise and excitement. It was not often that the greatest of them walked these halls, not to mention the hurry and sharp intention she excluded. Ratling Queen didn¡¯t waste any time, squeaking aloud to her lesser kin, her regal voice silencing the crowds. ¡°Rejoice, my brethren! Rejoice! Our Creator had spoken! The change is upon us! The Great Crusade! The Great Culling! Spread the word! Gather the Secret Council!¡± She ordered noisily, her voice echoing off the tunnel walls. ¡°To the Great Hall, kindred! Join us in the hearing!¡± The surrounding rats stood still for a moment - stunned - before springing into motion like well well-oiled, ravenous machine. The air was full of excitement, the chattering Ratlings swirling energetically from one place to another, making final checks, fulfilling their duties or simply gossiping about the glorious future. The way forward was clear and Ratling Queen used that opening to stride ahead. Barely half of an hour had passed since she began her journey and it was just enough time to arrive at her destination. She slowed down, her large body entering the most important chamber of the underground empire with practiced dignity. The room has been enlarged and polished over many days by the loving claws of the rat artisans and filled with trophies of Ratkind conquests. Broken helmets, damaged weapons, and even cleaned bones were neatly placed on small pedestals to remind visitors about the important tenets of the rat race. Some represented the might of the rat warriors, their cunning, their unshaken belief in the Creator. Some were different - the only surviving mementos of scouts, mages, and artisans. Those, who laid their lives willingly for the strengthening of their kind. Others consisted of failed experiments, destroyed weapons, and seemingly brilliant ideas turned wrong. To remind the living that the path of progress was painful but rewarding. One would think that these items were exhibited around the chamber because of their importance to the Secret Council. They would be wrong. Neither were they here because it''s where their Queen gave her speeches. This room carried a much greater purpose. It was, after all, dug out by the then feeble claws of the Council to be that much closer to the Creator¡¯s real Core room. It was a holy site. A room of meditation and yearning. A room of promise. A material sign of the covenant between the Ratlings and their Maker. And another relic of their Creator was about to join those already present items. Just behind Ratling Queen''s silhouette, a heavily breathing entourage barrelled into the hall, carrying the blessed tablet with their trembling claws and battered backs. Despite pain and tiredness not one of them wanted for the burden to be lifted, their small, beady eyes glowing with fanatical purpose. Yet the end came for everything. Even for their blessed duty. A minute later they were ordered to put their load on the floor and rest. A few squeaks of protest escaped their snouts before a glare from their Mother quelled any thoughts of rebellion. They executed the task with great concentration, propping the tablet against the wall, and allowing the other rats to see its full glory. The images carved into it seemed simple, and yet there was a sense of sacrum present, a greater meaning hidden just beyond the lines as if waiting for the bright-eyed rat to uncover them. With a soft *thunk* the stone hit the ground and silence reigned, various gazes licking the relic with a mix of desire, awe, longing, and servitude. The time of reverence was cut short as a bunch of rat warriors appeared from seemingly nowhere, taking positions around the blessed object and tensing up, ready to defend it with their lives. Behind them a red-eyed Tactician arrived with another group of soldiers, blocking the door with their thick bodies. ¡°Mother.¡± He bowed deeply, his subordinates following the motion. ¡°It¡¯s good that you are here.¡± Ratling Queen smiled, her large form now safely tucked in a throne carved from stone. ¡°Make sure that no rat approaches the Relic of the Creator without our consent.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± He answered softly while motioning the warriors to keep their guard up. The next few minutes passed in silence as more and more rats arrived in the chamber. Some of them joined a swirling mass of the common Ratlings just beyond the doors. Others were let in by the strict guards and took their rightful place on little pedestals spread out in a circular pattern. A constant murmur of squeaks, growls, and roars filled the chamber with a familiar cadence, even the leaders of the Ratling race softly gossiping with each other while sending glances at the newest addition to the room. Soon Ratling Queen spoke aloud, silencing the noise. ¡°I think we should start now.¡± She breathed out heavily. ¡°I am disappointed that not all members of the Council deemed this meeting important enough to participate.¡± Her glaring gaze slid against a few empty seats and those filled with replacements. ¡°Mother, I believe that poor attendance is because of our Creator''s recent moves.¡± The red-eyed Tactician bowed deeply, his warm voice soothing Queen¡¯s anger. ¡°Berserker, Scout, Scientist, Mage, and Mechanic are already on the battlefield. I and Strategist will soon follow. Thankfully, our presence will be not needed until the last moment, due to Warp Acolytes¡¯ new abilities.¡± ¡°I see.¡± She mused for a moment before nodding sharply. ¡°We have no choice in the matter if it¡¯s our Creator¡¯s will. Yet this matter cannot wait. I hope that their replacements are good enough.¡± A wave of bows followed as the rats bent their knees, pledged fealty and touched the cold stone with their heads in a uniform reaction to her words. ¡°Now, now, children.¡± She chided them lightly. ¡°There is no need to bow and scrape. I know well of your loyalty, yet now I need your counsel.¡± Queen spoke, her large form looming over the assembled Ratlings. ¡°Our Creator had bestowed upon us this holy relic. I can sense that it was created with a higher purpose in mind. To lead us forward - into the future.¡± She swallowed dryly. ¡°But I cannot discern the path that it wants us to tread on, and thus I want to hear your opinions on the matter.¡± Her gaze traveled from one rat to another, her servants covering before fervent intensity visible in her eyes. ¡°So speak out. Grace me with your wisdom.¡± Those present turned their attention to the tablet. On it, a triangle with a pole sticking out of it was drawn, next to crudely carved skull and bones. The whole picture was simple, yet chaotic. The first thought of every Ratling present was composed of words What the hell is that?! before their fervent belief squashed this heretical notion. They squinted even harder, trying to discover a greater truth hidden beyond carved lines. And yet any outsider could point out a simple truth after seeing the picture. Uno was objectively... not good at drawing. These words were even a bit of an understatement. His work was reminiscent of children¡¯s doodles more than of anything else. Not coherent enough, not detailed enough, not thought out enough. Yet his fanatical rats were keen to interpret the message in the most grandiose fashion. The first one to answer was the Mechanic¡¯s replacement, his wide-eyed wonder clear in the spoken words. ¡°Yes-yes! This lowly one thinks the Grand Creator wants to convey war! Destruction! Death!¡± A small trace of saliva dripped down the rat¡¯s mouth. ¡°To wage war upon the surface!¡± An uproar came from the common Ratlings gathered outside, repeating the spoken words, while their chanting overwhelmed the chamber. ¡°War!¡± ¡°War!¡± ¡°War!¡± ¡°WAR!¡± ¡°SILENCE!¡± The Queen roared back, her voice immediately taking effect. ¡°I wanted interpretations, not delusions.¡± The rat in question shriveled up hearing her stinging words. ¡°Next one.¡± ¡°Yes-yes!¡± For another twenty minutes, various Ratlings were speaking out, yet not one of them managed to interpret the meaning of the tablet in a way that satisfied their ruler. With a deep sigh, the Queen¡¯s eyes rested on a silent Council member. ¡°What is your opinion on the matter, Strategist?¡± She asked flatly, already raising a hand to her brow. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The eyes of the rat in question suddenly brightened, his dull countenance changing into an overly energetic form. ¡±Calculating¡­ calculating¡­¡± He spoke out, his snout moving at a crazy speed. This lasted for a few minutes, the mumbles keeping surrounding councilors at the edges of their seats. A moment later he flashed a dumb smile and started speaking with a mechanical undertone. ¡°Prophecy 98% probability. Death 90% probability. War 85% probability. Change 70% probability.¡± Strategist swallowed, his eyes moving at frightening speeds, reading invisible lines. ¡°Change rising to 78% probability. Expansion 70% probability. Target¡­ target¡­ target not found. Not enough data.¡± The light in his eyes slowly faded and was instead replaced with a glazed expression. A moment later with a single motion, he curled up and started rocking back and forth, seemingly entering a catatonic state. Seeing that Strategist finished relaying his answer the rats present breathed out a collective sigh of relief. Only Tactician¡¯s face was scrunched in displeasure as he mumbled under his nose. ¡°Now I have to drag him back to the command center and stuff him full of powder. It¡¯s a small blessing that he is still somewhat useful, while high.¡± Shaking his head the red-eyed rat leaned over his companion. ¡°The things I do for the glory of the Creator¡­¡± ¡°It seems that not even his unique skill can help us with this matter.¡± Queen spoke out, a hint of regret and relief visible on her face. ¡°Still, we have other things to discuss. The tablet interpretation will be moved in time. For now, let¡¯s focus on more mundane tasks. Tell me what have you done, Ratlings. Tell me and fill me with pride.¡± ¡°¡°¡°Yes, Mother!¡±¡±¡± ¡°Crafter?¡± A Ratling wearing goggles on his head answered with a bright expression. ¡°The Great-Iron-Thingy is nearly ready-ready, Mother! Soon all will know the glory of Creator and Crafter!¡± He hissed happily. ¡°Good. Then we¡¯re on schedule.¡± ¡°Berserker?¡± ¡°Not present.¡± Tactician answered swiftly. ¡°Understood. I won¡¯t ask anything of you and Strategist.¡± The Ratling Queen smiled softly. ¡°Scientist?¡± She continued. ¡°This lowly one will answer in the Scientist¡¯s name, Mother!¡± A part of the speaker¡¯s skin has been burned by some substance, leaving only raw, reddened skin. ¡°How¡¯s the development of Green Pills?¡± ¡°A limited success had been achieved, oh Great One!¡± The maimed rat squeaked out. ¡°Most of our brethren are simply too fragile to withstand Master Scientist''s¡­ methods.¡± He swallowed dryly, then continued. ¡°I was informed that our team will search for suitable specimens on the battlefield.¡± ¡°Preposterous!¡± Shouted Tactician. ¡°Are you suggesting to use of our precious warpstone on the filthy sentients?!¡± ¡°It¡¯s reckless.¡± Agreed the Mage¡¯s substitute. ¡°We need that knowledge! It¡¯s better to gather-get them in a controlled environment!¡± Disagreed Scientist¡¯s follower. ¡°A blasphemy!¡± ¡°Waste of resources.¡± ¡°We are expected not to empower the surface races but beat them down!¡± ¡°Need to kill, not ssssstrenghten!¡± Agreed a small but brutal-looking Ratling. ¡°Philistines. There is no single way of fulfilling our mission.¡± The maimed rat spat out his words with disdain, looking expectantly at their leader. ¡°Silence.¡± One word from the Queen was once again enough to quell the warring parties. ¡°I agree with Scientist. We need that information. And we can always kill off the experiments later. The Tall-Ones are no match for our magical and scientific knowledge. You all saw it - how they live like animals. Without a purpose. Without a Creator¡¯s light.¡± ¡°Yes, Mother.¡± Both sides of the quarrel bowed, their expressions suddenly calm and tranquil. ¡°Mechanic?¡± ¡°This one will speak in the Master¡¯s name.¡± A slender rat with a few mechanical arms spoke out. ¡°The machines are ready. We are still lacking data, but we can work out the kinks on the real battlefield. Our warpstone consumption remains below the predicted level, which means more machines and more experiments to be done.¡± A wide smile appeared on his face. ¡°Soon our enemies will taste the might of the Mech-Driders!¡± ¡°Driders?¡± Mouthed Scientist''s substitute. ¡°As in spider-mechs?¡± His brow rose even higher. ¡°But they don¡¯t have enough legs?¡± ¡°We-we are still working on that! It¡¯s the vision that counts!¡± Sputtered metal-clad Ratling. ¡°Good.¡± Queen once again was forced to interrupt the councilors¡¯ exchange. ¡°We¡¯ll see how they behave on the battlefield.¡± With a nod, another rat was called out. ¡°Scout?¡± ¡°Abssssent.¡± A small, ordinary-looking rat answered the question. Despite the small size, a brutal, primal feeling was excluded from his figure. ¡°We sssssearch. Many thingssss up-there.¡± His claw pointed towards the ceiling. ¡°Tall-Onessssss, Tall-Sssssshort Onesssss, Un-Tasssssty Onessss. All above. New home. New thingssssss. For the Queen. For the Masssssster.¡± The hiss was unnerving to most people, yet the weird intonation didn¡¯t faze the Ratling leader in the slightest. ¡°Always working in the shadows for the betterment of rat-kind. Excellent.¡± Her gaze moved. ¡°Feeder?¡± A rat in a brown robe perked up. ¡°Master Feeder is currently communing with the new plants borne of our Creator.¡± He squeaked excitedly. ¡°There are many new variants of the existing species and even completely new ones.¡± ¡°Useful in defense?¡± Murmured Tactician. ¡°Yes, a few of them already have been identified! We also have candidates for new materials, weapons, poisons¡­ and food!¡± ¡°Capable of ssssssurviving beyond our home?¡± Hissed Scout¡¯s Ratling. ¡°We are testing that right now!¡± ¡°New materials?! Are they waterproof?¡± Added Crafter. ¡°We are also testing that.¡± ¡°Did you identify any poisons? We¡¯re always glad to get some new ones.¡± ¡°Paralytic and deadly variety were discovered for now. We are¡­ testing them at this moment.¡± ¡°Our newest counselor seems to be a bit lacking in the results department.¡± One of the rats sneered. ¡°Master Feeder said that the evolution of some species is not yet finished and the last-minute mana infusion from the Creator can completely change their behavior.¡± ¡°That means we only need to wait for good news, right?¡± Once again Queen decided to cut down the rising discontent. ¡°Yes, Mother!¡± ¡°It¡¯s Mage''s turn, then.¡± ¡°Mother.¡± A Ratling wearing a strange diadem with a green gem answered, his words slow and measured. ¡°The ranks of the Warp Acolytes swell with each day. We already managed to unlock minor offensive spells and defensive barriers.¡± ¡°Are you suggesting that there are offensive uses for the barriers?¡± Tactician interrupted the speaker with a strange expression on his face. The Mage¡¯s substitute stared at him for a few long seconds, before answering. ¡°We already managed to prove their offensive power. Unintentionally. Targeting seems to be a problem, though.¡± ¡°That¡¯s too bad.¡± ¡°Continuing.¡± The Warp Acolyte stopped speaking, collecting his thoughts. ¡°We also noticed a curious effect on the Creator¡¯s Un-Tasty Ones.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°They¡­ listen to us.¡± A murmur traveled through the gathering, rats whispering to one another. ¡°Because of this, we would like to formally request gathering a Un-Tasty One specimen from the surface.¡± ¡°Thissssss can be arranged.¡± Hissed the Scout¡¯s representative. ¡°Do you need an undamaged one?¡± He asked with a vicious expression. ¡°Complete dead and the torso should be enough to prove or disprove our theory.¡± ¡°Yesssss. Conssssider it done.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Is that all?¡± Asked Queen, her mood visibly lifted by the works of her children. ¡°There is one more thing we managed to do.¡± ¡°And that is? Don¡¯t keep me in suspense!¡± ¡°Our representative was sent to the expanse to test new communication magic. He survived the journey and managed to contact us. Mother, kindred rats, please enjoy¡­ the Snakey-Place!¡± His small figure roared as the green gem emanated sickly-looking light. The freshly cast magic coalesced into the air into a small, circular mirror. A second later it glazed over and¡­ a forest of cattails filling the barely visible cave appeared inside. ¡°Did we connect? This lowly rat needs to make a report!¡± A Ratling with silvery fur and beady eyes was looking straight into the magical projection. ¡°This one is called Wet Nose, and is currently employed as a scout and Glass Dragonfly rider!¡± A wide smile appeared on the rat¡¯s snout. ¡°And what are you seeing is a Snakey-Place! It¡¯s another dungeon, similar to ours. But it''s filled with snakes, instead of rats. Nasty, nasty snakes.¡± He mumbled the last words with hatred, as the collective gasp filled the room once again. Strangely, the rat in the projection didn¡¯t react to it in the slightest. ¡°We don¡¯t know for how long the Magey here will manage to transmit, so this lowly one will dive above the enslaved Dungeon Core of this place. Please observe!¡± The speaker quietened down, his tensed silhouette filling the lower part of the screen. Above him, the ceiling filled with bright crystals was suddenly replaced with a weird structure, composed of stone, metal, and strange, blood-filled runes. The whole thing was pulsing every second or so, like a big heart made from granite. It had a triangular, pyramid-like shape with a metal pole extending into the air from one of the sides. The vision changed, as the Dragonfly slowly flew over the structure. ¡°Shit! They know we¡¯re here!¡± A sudden shout had awoken the dazed audience, as the small armored figures swarmed out from the nearby burrows. Shouts in a foreign language filled the air as the few of them armed with ranged weapons tried to swat Ratlings out of the air. ¡°Crossbows! To the left! To the left!¡± A rat called Wet Nose was currently swerving to the side, desperately trying to change his mount direction. After a few tense moments, he managed to do so, eliciting shouts of praise from his impromptu audience. ¡°Hey are you okay, Magey?¡± He turned back, his eyes widening with concern. ¡°By the Creator! They got you?! Wait a moment¡­ there was a bandage here¡­ somewhere¡­¡± The transmission was cut short as the Warp Acolyte on the other side died or lost consciousness, leaving the councilor¡¯s substitute worried and red-faced. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry you had to see it. We will send another mage up there as soon as possible¡­¡± The rat¡¯s words trailed off as he noticed the strange atmosphere in the chamber. A total, complete silence. One of the guard-rats broke the calm. ¡°D-did¡­ did you all see what I saw?¡± ¡°The Crusade!¡± ¡°Our Creator had spoken!¡± ¡°Yes-yes!¡± ¡°Kill, maim, devour!¡± ¡°Snakey-Place, it¡¯s the Snakey-Place!¡± ¡°Hahahahaha!¡± The commotion continued for a long time, the rats suddenly understanding where the target of their expansion ought to be. A strange building housing the enslaved Dungeon Core seemed eerily similar to the tablet¡¯s picture, the message now seemingly obvious. The first Rat Crusade, called by the later historians as ¡°The Battle of Snakey-Place¡± was now in motion. Ratling Queen private chambers, sometime later The sole mother of the Ratling race barreled tiredly into the room, slowly sitting down on a king-sized bed made out of various furs and fabrics. It was a sign of her station, a rightly earned luxury, and yet right now it reminded her only of the heavy burden that came with leading her brethren. ¡°There is no other way now.¡± She lamented, her strong front non-existent in this private space. Only her Creator could hear her now and she knew that he would understand. ¡°The war is now set in stone. We will bleed for our faith and our future.¡± A small tear slowly formed and then fell on the ground in crushing silence. She sniffled, her bestial features smoothening suddenly. ¡°And to think I was so adamant, so foolhardy, believing that nothing could stop us. Thinking that our only way forward is to follow the bloody path of evolution¡­ Climbing the bodies of our predecessors.¡± Queen¡¯s beady eyes were filled with regret. ¡°Alas, it''s too late to change the direction. Our Creator had spoken. Who am I to argue?¡± She tiredly stared at her clawed hands. ¡°We have to sacrifice what is most important to us. To become strong. How is it that I don¡¯t mind being weak anymore?¡± The rest of her words were drowned in a sudden noise, as the small shadow appeared from the inner part of the chambers before darting toward the Ratling Queen¡¯s body. ¡°Mommy! Are you back? Was it hard to sit in the Council Room? The chairs are too hard for my butt! Was there anything interesting? Do you have anything yummy? I was bored!¡± A string of sentences exploded from the mouth of a small rat, as she clung to the gigantic form of her mother. ¡°My child¡­¡± ¡°Are you crying? Mom, why are you crying?¡± The small Ratling eyes glazed over immediately, hugging her parent with all the meager strength she could muster. ¡°It¡¯s nothing¡­¡± ¡°Mommy, why are you sad? Please, don¡¯t be sad!¡± The child continued. ¡°Shhh¡­¡± Ratling Queen slowly squeezed her daughter in a warm hug, eliciting squeals of joy from her progeny. ¡°Let us stay like this for a moment. Let me¡­ enjoy it.¡± ¡°Mommy¡­¡± Whispered the small child. ¡°Shhh¡­¡± ¡°Mommy, why are you so sad? Was it something I did? I will do better! I will be a great Rat Queen, just like you!¡± ¡°Mommy?¡± ¡°Stay like this, child.¡± A trembling breath left her lungs as she prepared words that could not be taken back. ¡°You¡­ will be going on a journey, little one.¡± ¡°Oh?!¡± A squeak of interest escaped the child¡¯s snout. ¡°When are we going, then, Mommy?¡± ¡°You¡­ misunderstand, child.¡± Ratling Queen hugged her child even harder. ¡°Mommy, I can¡¯t breathe!¡± ¡°You will be going on a journey, alone, my poor, little child.¡± ¡°Noooooo! Not without you!¡± ¡°Shh¡­¡± ¡°Mommy! Nooo!¡± The sounds of sobbing and cries echoed in the Queen¡¯s chambers that day, before quietening into despairing, tired silence. The duty came even before love and the little rat was bound to join the Ratling Crusade as a new Queen. Both she and her mother prayed for salvation, differently. None, but the Creator could hear them. Yet the God of Rats never cared. 060 Uno Despite preparing to leave and pretty much throwing the elven troop out Lord Hawk himself still roamed my boss''s room. With a steady gait, he walked from one half-broken wall to another, stopping by each column, trying to read or maybe just remember what was carved on them. His hands touched reliefs made by the Sculptor with strange reverence as he muttered quietly under his nose. ¡°Interesting. And weird. I remember similar designs¡­ But these look like a child¡¯s play when compared to the old masters, not to mention some unsightly influences marring the overall beauty.¡± He paused. ¡°And yet the feeling of pride and power is still present in the stone, even if the people it describes are long gone.¡± He closed his eyes, whistling a haunting tune under the mask. The melody swirled and danced for a few long moments, echoing off the chamber walls. Was it magical? I couldn¡¯t tell. Yet, despite no words being spoken I could feel the elation and longing contained within. Soon the tune came to an end, the human invader just swaying his head in denial like a beast shaking its fur dry. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. The past will remain but a memory.¡± His fingers clenched into a fist. For a long while, he simply stood there, contemplating in somber silence. I really wished he stopped and disappeared from my dungeon. Preferably right now. ¡°Gotta live in the present.¡± After saying these words Lord Hawk straightened his back, turning the attention towards slowly regenerating Berserker. ¡°It makes sense that more than five minutes are needed when the weapons are still lodged in its flesh, hmmm?¡± He squinted, observing my minion with interest. ¡°Remarkable. If I could mass-produce them¡­¡± His voice trailed into the darkness. With a sharp motion, he pulled out his weapons, the unmistakable sound of cut flesh and chopped bone filling the air. A moment later he shook them clean with a single, crisp movement. ¡°Too little, too late.¡± A mutter so quiet that it was nearly impossible to hear escaped his mouth. After saying these last, parting words Lord Hawk turned around, leaving my wounded monster behind. Berserker¡¯s heart was beating slowly, as his bones were mending and flesh was slowly regrowing. There was still some time left before he would be ready for action again, which was a blessing in disguise. The scary human would be out of the dungeon by then, leaving my last floor boss livid, but alive. His mood was of no consequence - only the peace returning to the dungeon mattered. I was glad that Lord Hawk ended his dilly-dallying. My drones were already trembling with excitement, a promise of work filling them with enthusiasm. This display of emotion was a rare thing from usually solemn diggers. Due to the lack of facial features and their puppet-like shapes, it was hard for them to convey their feelings clearly. Thus most of the time, they simply refrained from doing so. Yet right now they were stomping in place, raising their claw- and shovel-like arms in the air, while making a surprising amount of noise. My earlier declaration seemed to touch a certain chord in their minds, forcing them to announce their will to the world. That to build was their purpose. That they desperately wanted to create. And, last but not least, that after so much time had passed they had something to do. Only a single week had passed, by the way. Their single-minded desire was adorable to watch. Amongst them only Sculptor stood still, common looks hiding a mind much more complicated than his Anima Drone brethren. A sharp spectator would discover, however, that instead of the digging tools he was armed with knife-like metal fingers. And, while he appeared to be calmly waiting, these deadly appendages trembled from time to time, reflecting the Electrical Chandeliers light and betraying his agitated state of mind. Seeing the amount of work he put both into the boss chamber and the third-floor trial I was sure that he¡¯ll continue enriching my dungeon as soon as the pesky invaders leave the premises. And probably confuse the hell out of them with his weird reliefs. I had to put aside some free time to review them. My only worry was that he would wander off to the first or the second floor, where our enemies were sure to gather. Ah, but then again - Sculptor was an immortal existence within my dungeon. To change gears I started to plan where the fourth-floor entrance should be. My options were fairly limited: it had to be placed either in the Greed trial chambers, behind the boss golem, or by adding a secret door in the back of the Fake Core room. In the end, I decided that the latter would be the best. In case of discovery, I could always pretend that it was built before my destruction. Not to mention that according to sentients knowledge, the staircase was supposed to have a guardian beast standing in the way of any intruders. This role would be taken by Berserker as soon as he was able to, thus effectively blocking the humans from accessing my deepest and newest floor. Unless the real monsters like Lord Hawk decided to pay me a visit. This decision meant that my drones had to wait for invaders to trickle out of the third-floor tunnel, and - preferably - the whole dungeon before starting their work. It seemed like my choice of digging only a single serpentine route was not as correct as I thought at the beginning. In the future, I need to consider this problem more seriously. Adding secret tunnels or just crisscrossing them with larger amounts of subterranean roads was also an option. I still had some time to decide. At least with this turn of events, the humans and half-elves should leave me alone. I needed time to grow, to gather forces. And, most importantly, to understand this dangerous world I was thrown into. Gather intelligence. Plant spies. Before I was mostly ignoring the great outside but this simply couldn¡¯t continue. People like Lord Hawk were a danger I wasn¡¯t going to underestimate again. Comparing him to a dungeon monster... was he an A-class threat? S-class? Or¡­ *shudder* something even stronger? Even a simple intelligence net on a surface would be sufficient for now. As for operatives¡­ the undead were out of the question, same with my more monstrous creations. I guess the rats were the best choice. Small, smart, and adaptable. The evolution of their technical and magical know-how brought a grin to my face. The only problem I had with them was the worrying direction they were currently pursuing. My thoughts raced, as I planned for the future¡­ and then somebody disturbed my concentration by contacting me through a mental link. [Smell. Familiar. Enemy.] It was rare for Non to willingly communicate in this manner. She still much preferred talking over sending her thoughts away. I once asked her about it, and the revenant simply answered Human. Remain. I was merciful enough to not point out that there was nothing left in her that was considered human, with her half-metal, half-undead body, completely black eyes, and frenetic desire for revenge... [What is it?] I still answered, trying to delay the inevitable. Lord Hawk was one of the beings she had a grudge against. I remembered his description from before - a human so powerful, that the undead assassin had no choice but to escape before achieving her goal. Normally that would be a small matter, but Non¡¯s very existence was determined by fulfilling it, so I had to be a bit deceitful. [Enemy?] She asked again, her tone a bit confused. [Well, yes. There were some human adventurers and a bunch of elven ones too.] I said, trying to distract her. [Geinard.] It was curious how a mental message could be so full of hatred. [We already talked about it.] I fumed. [Hold it in long enough for the powerful ones to leave. After that I don¡¯t care about your little vengeance, just don¡¯t get caught!] [Smell. Stronger.] [Of course it is! Do you think humans sent some weaklings to save the expedition?] My mind was spinning, searching for facts, trying to convince Non before she did something irreversibly stupid. [It would end just like your journey to Shieldstar. The sentients are much stronger than you give them credit for.] [Powerful. Few.] [So what? These few are enough to thoroughly kick your ass! And one of them is right here! Don¡¯t be a child, and try to learn properly from your mistakes - knowing your strength and that of your enemy are the basics!] [Coward.] [Ha.] I scoffed. [Even if I am - so what?] A full force of my disdain hit her hard. [Did your so oh-not-cowardly-retreat into my home go any better? Escape and fight another day. You did that too!] Only the disagreeing silence answered my words, but I could feel that her confidence was shaken. So I continued my speech. [Let me ask you this - would you rather use any means necessary and fulfill your goal in the end, or rather fight honorably and die halfway?] My attention turned, slowly moving through the soil, rock, and tunnels of the dungeon. This new mode of transportation was pretty irritating, yet there was not much I could do about it at the moment. [They say that the revenge tastes best cold.] I continued my sermon. [Do you want to die in a blaze of glory, barely damaging the enemy? Or¡­] I stopped, keeping the tension up. [Or do you want to grow powerful and cripple them, destroy their hopes, and annihilate any strength that they possess?] I asked viciously. It was all an act, of course. While I didn¡¯t like sentients and their Dungeon Core enslaving agenda there was no hot emotion of revenge burning in my heart. I would exploit them when possible, kill and devour their mana whilst growing stronger. But to rule the world? Destroy humanity? Who cared about these? This was not personal in the slightest. Unlike what the revenant felt. A mental nod came back from Non¡¯s side. [Grow. Stronger.] She repeated obstinately. These few minutes were just enough for me to arrive at her location - the hidden room on the third floor, just beyond the Glass Progenitor¡¯s greedy tentacles and the underground lake. Much to my surprise, she wasn¡¯t alone. A small, pale lizard-like creature was currently desperately trying to avoid her jabbing fingers, twisting its body in an exhausted manner. The kobold, riiiiiight. I had pretty much already forgotten that these little fellows even existed. And, more importantly, that one of them stubbornly clung to the revenant girl. Out of sight, out of mind. Seeing her actions I mumbled, more to myself, than anyone else. [What the hell are you doing?] ¡°Training.¡± She answered serenely, still poking the barely dancing - should I say dodging? - lizard. ¡°Squeee!¡± It called out, begging for mercy, but the metal fingers didn¡¯t stop or even slow down in the slightest. Seeing that the kobold clenched its feeble hands and continued the ¡°training¡± that looked suspiciously similar to torture. On the bright side, the creature that chose Non as her caretaker was free of visible disabilities, unlike his brethren trained by Guardian. Yet his thin arms and legs, combined with fragile bones meant this didn¡¯t account for much. It was weak. Even an Anima Drone or a simple, unmodified Ratling would be able to beat it. Then again, for now, it was only a child. [How long since you started training this fellow?] I asked from idle curiosity. Non turned her head, brown, braided hair gleaming in the subdued light. ¡°Beginning.¡± She answered. This took me a moment to process. A half-minute later I continued the interrogation, my words subconsciously sharper. I could taste an incoming headache. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. [Wait. Do you want to tell me that you trained this kobold hatchling non-stop since last week?] ¡°Weak.¡± [That¡¯s beside the point! Still, it¡¯s unreasonable to keep him training without rest!] ¡°Why.¡± [Because it¡¯s not efficient!] Non shook her head in denial, her completely black eyes somehow following my figure, despite her current ethereal state. ¡°Eat. Not.¡± She spoke. ¡°Pee. Not.¡± [What about simple sleep, though? I know that technically their bodies don¡¯t need it, yet it¡¯s not necessarily true! A mental strain is as dangerous - if not more - as physical damage!] ¡°Rest.¡± [How much?] ¡°Three.¡± [Three hours a day?] Once again she shook her head. ¡°Minutes.¡± [Three¡­ minutes per hour?] I asked incredulously. A simple nod was my answer. [Are you insane?] ¡°Alive. Still.¡± She pointed at the creature, now lying on the ground with its tongue out. It gulped for air as its exhausted body trembled with each breath. The kobold seeing the undead¡¯s attention turning back to him squeaked weakly and tried to crawl away. Both I and Non observed his reaction with amusement. There was something cute in its desperation. The revenant strode forward, quickly pinning the creature to the ground. It fought her metal arm, but Non¡¯s body hid a surprising amount of strength, making the struggle completely futile. The kobold calmed down after a while, seeing as he wasn¡¯t forced into another training session. Instead, he curled up and went to sleep causing normally expressionless Non to lift her eyebrow. [See?] I asked. [Just let it rest for a few hours a day.] The revenant once again tilted her head in thought and nodded a minute later. I breathed out, noticing that Lord Hawk and other invaders already left the halls of my dungeon. Non¡¯s mad charge had been prevented and the consequent destruction delayed indefinitely. Great. With a smile on my face, I turned towards the fourth-floor entrance, where my drones were already hard at work, slowly digging downwards. Unlike the earlier levels, the soft soil had been already fully replaced by a much sturdier grey rock. It gave me hope to adequately protect my subterranean kingdom, and at the same time slowed excavation down to the crawl. A few more hours passed, as I worked on ideas on how to make my minions work faster. Yet all of them - explosives, drills, or even lasers were either impossible to create, too loud, or too dangerous. It would be bad if the surface races somehow discovered that a supposedly dead dungeon was still building floors. In the end, I decided to simply wait. Time was, after all, something that I had in droves at the moment. It was already the morning of the next day - according to my Evil Eye cameras - when a commotion above ground happened to gain my attention. People were shouting, soldiers - preparing their equipment, and Lord Hawk was currently talking with both Charles and Princess Agnes. Their faces looked a bit pale so I immediately started eavesdropping. ¡°...And because of that, we¡¯re going straight back to the capital, Princess.¡± The superhuman monster said while smiling faintly. ¡°I must ask you to gather your things, get your followers ready, and come with me, your Highness.¡± After sending a suspicious gaze his way Agnes opened up her mouth. ¡°Can you at least tell me the real reason, old man?¡± She purred like an angry cat. ¡°I too don¡¯t want to force you out of your love nest so soon, you know?¡± He joked lightly making both Agnes and Charles turn a bit red. ¡°How--?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the smell.¡± He laughed even harder while touching his nose with the tip of his finger. ¡°I surrender! I don¡¯t care anymore!¡± The girl only shook her head while sighing but her gaze refocused after a mere second. Her smiling eyes turned cold once again. ¡°The reason, then?¡± Lord Hawk reflected her change of tone immediately turning serious like his joking countenance was but an illusion. ¡°A message arrived from the capital.¡± He said in a hushed tone. ¡°He painted a pretty bad picture.¡± ¡°Details.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to spread panic.¡± Lord Hawk said while scratching his freshly shaven chin. ¡°It seems like the armies of the Three had been¡­ stopped.¡± ¡°Details, old man. Really... I¡¯m a Princess and I need to know this stuff!¡± She complained while keeping a cold expression. ¡°Yes, yes. Just remember that this needs to stay between us. The Green Succubus was stalled in Frist when her counter-offensive stumbled upon a large army of undead.¡± ¡°She is known for her mental magic, which is useless against the dead. But she can always fall back on the nature spells which is probably why she can still hold the fort. Frist is the closest battlefield - maybe we should reinforce.¡± Princess nodded while adding a few words. ¡°How¡¯s Iron Hand faring then?¡± ¡°Yorin started to rebuild Grode, but a massive horde of nature and elemental creatures took him by surprise.¡± ¡°Golems aren¡¯t very good at spotting enemies after all.¡± ¡°Currently they¡¯re being besieged. At least the walls had already been rebuilt by the old monster. He remains as obsessed with the order as always.¡± ¡°So he is safe then. Good.¡± With a gulp, she asked the last question. ¡°And how is Hekkan of Ash faring?¡± Hearing her words Charles also turned towards Lord Hawk with an interested gaze. ¡°The scouts are not sure.¡± A grumble escaped from both Agnes¡¯s and Charles¡¯s mouths. ¡°What they can say is that he is probably battling against some type of ice mage or similar ice creatures.¡± The older man continued in a soft tone. ¡°We knew that sending that fucking force of nature out there was equal to wiping Kojin out of the map. We hoped that by sending the Blueflame patriarch outwards we would contain the damage. Yet now it seems like our predictions were all wrong.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°The northern reaches are the Kingdom¡¯s richest grain province. Many farms have already been annihilated and many more will follow.¡± ¡°Our people will starve.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Is there no hope?¡± ¡°The king is mustering a militia army to beat either the undead or the nature creatures horde. It was not yet decided.¡± ¡°Many will die.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°This feels wrong.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Lord Hawk¡¯s tone turned dark. ¡°Using the lives of our soldiers, of those who need to be protected as a---¡± ¡°No, you misunderstand.¡± Agnes shook her head. ¡°I just find it weird that all three of our great generals found their match so quickly. Something like this hasn¡¯t happened in decades.¡± ¡°More like never.¡± ¡°Is there some greater, sinister force behind these events?¡± ¡°Girl¡­¡± Lord Hawk sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sure that both the court and the king are trying to work out this coincidence right now.¡± Agnes nodded, her short blond hair shaking. ¡°I understand. Does that mean we are to join the expeditionary force?¡± ¡°That is the plan. With your levels and the aid of my subordinates, there is nothing to fear.¡± The muscular man hesitated for a moment, before turning towards the former noble. ¡°Charles.¡± ¡°Yes, sir?¡± The red-haired man answered through his clenched teeth. ¡°Do you want to come with us?¡± After a moment of hesitation, Charles answered. ¡°Although the Patriarch is currently fighting on the battlefield I... must refuse. My place is here. I am no longer a Blueflame.¡± ¡°I see.¡± A fleeting smile appeared on Lord Hawk''s face. ¡°Since you want to stay in the Silver Oasis I¡¯ll let you on something good. On the third floor, I discovered a trial. Use it to become stronger.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± This time Charles¡¯s words were full of sincerity. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet. These fucking elves managed to wake the dungeon¡¯s sweeper. It¡¯s a high-level regenerating beast. Intelligent too. Much too strong for your level.¡± ¡°But--!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry Agnes, it should remain in the Core Room.¡± Lord Hawk immediately soothed her worries. ¡°And if by some twist of the gods will it would abandon it then just escape to the second floor. It can¡¯t pursue you.¡± ¡°Thank you for sharing your valuable knowledge, sir!¡± ¡°Haha, don¡¯t worry about it, little lover.¡± The man grinned under his helmet. ¡°I¡¯m sure that with time you would have discovered it yourself. I just sped up the process a bit.¡± ¡°Even if I did manage to do so, days, weeks, or even months would have passed by then. A power gained now belays power gained in the future.¡± Charles was still bowing deeply and remained in this position until Lord Hawk grunted approvingly and left the vicinity. As soon as he left the surroundings the red-haired man whispered. ¡°I just don¡¯t understand him.¡± ¡°Are you ready for goodbyes, Charles?¡± Agnes smiled sweetly. ¡°There still should be some time left.¡± He laughed crookedly. ¡°I like your enthusiasm.¡± They clasped each other¡¯s hands and departed. The soldiers were still screaming, supplies were being moved out, children were crying and civilians gazed at the ensuing chaos with wide yet dead eyes. Nothing immediately interesting was happening. I would rather watch stairs to the fourth level being carved by my drones than wait for something to happen on the surface. And I did. Two more weeks passed quickly as I observed the slow desolation of the Silver Oasis. More and more people were leaving, and the remaining soldiers and civilians were barely holding on. The former noble constantly led parties of his soldiers downstairs, sometimes even taking a few civilians along. They killed my monsters, and harvested meat, iron, leather, bone, and every single other useful thing that could be squeezed from the dungeon. I was observing the slow work of my drones while looking after the magical plants that sprouted on the third floor. Well, magical plants were a bit too grand a descriptor. There were six new types in total, one of them being a mutation of already existing species. The two most interesting additions were Azure Potato and Rock Fruit. The former was just that - a bright blue-colored potato plant. It grew underground and the edible part had a bit thicker skin. It carried a weak poison which when consumed led to stomach pains and diarrhea. This could be easily remedied by boiling the potato for extended periods, yet doing so also destroyed most of the nutrition contained within, lowering its usefulness as a type of food. The Rock Fruit reminded me of the coconuts from my old world. It was circular and brown, covered in thick hair. The outer part of it was pretty sturdy and contained both white plant flesh and the equivalent of coconut water. These fruits grew on something I could only describe as bamboo plants covered in short, bristly leaves. Unlike the potato, it didn¡¯t contain any poison¡­ it was only that the edible parts were unbelievably bitter and only poor or desperate would try eating them. On their own, both plants were barely passable as food crops - that is if one didn¡¯t mix the white coconut flesh with blue potato. As soon as the plant juices come into contact a miraculous reaction happens, neutralizing both the poison and awful taste. What remains is a nutritious white paste that could be boiled or even eaten raw. A clear success. With these additions to my dungeon, Ratlings could try their hand (claw?) at agriculture! To tell the truth, they were already working on the seeds, countless figures covered in brown robes were either darting around carrying supplies or presiding over strange rituals. Nothing to see there. The rest of the plants were more defense-oriented. For example, something that I called Spewing Root was a mutation of a carrot. It was mostly growing underground, with a periscope-like growth sticking out of the soil. The innocent-looking stick was in truth an organic dart gun. Its ammo was a breed of paralyzing needles that Spewing Root produced on demand. The older the plant was the more growths there would be. Still, there was only a single dart contained in each ¡°gun¡±, and any that were lost had to be replaced over time. The root itself was edible, rather good tasting, even. This time without any caveats. Clinging Thorns was a wood-devouring parasite ivy that evolved from a simple berry bush. It preferred to cover vertical surfaces, doors, chests, lost shields, etc. over normal soil. It could grow on living trees too. The thorns weren¡¯t poisonous but instead produced a maddening itch in places where they pierced the skin. Some berries could also be spotted among the thorns, tempting the adventurers stupid enough to reach for them. While small, and not very nutritious their taste was pretty unique since they contained minute traces of caffeine. Which was interesting, as I didn¡¯t notice anything that resembled coffee amongst the items used by the sentients. Of course, there was always a chance that those who gathered above my dungeon were of much too low station to have access to such luxuries. Then there was Compost Gem - a very gently named plant with a terrifying ability. It looked like a pumpkin - a small, obsidian-like fruit. When disturbed (which was surprisingly easy to do) it sprayed the surroundings with a disgustingly smelly liquid. Calling it a Skunk Plant would probably be better¡­ It was so overpowering that the victim continued to cough, vomit, and cry for hours after exposure. Not to mention that the aroma had to dissipate naturally... How do I know that? I saw brown-robed Ratlings make that mistake. The last one was a mutation of the plant called Spike Sundew. Unlike its above-ground cousin, my Dungeon Sundew was grey, had a rock-like camouflage, and preferred to live in tunnels, not open spaces, climbing along the walls and the ceiling. It also produced spikes when stepped on, skewering anyone standing close. Because of it, false doorways started to appear on the third floor of my dungeon. A few more days passed, as I observed Ratlings busying themselves with plants. They moved some of the specimens, groomed and culled others, working in what I could only describe as a zealous frenzy. Anima Drones weren¡¯t far behind, their constant clinking slowly crushed the stubborn rock, making space for rooms, tunnels, and - most importantly - my laboratories. This also meant that I could start on my new pet project - a half-living, half-mech hybrid a bit similar to how the last surviving Dwemer was depicted in Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind. The reason for it was simple - I needed a species with dextrous hands and at least mediocre intelligence. Which sadly disqualified both Ratlings and the undead. As to how I gained access to mechs? Well¡­ I can recreate anything that dies in my dungeon. And Ratling egg-mechs most certainly did! More importantly - I don¡¯t need to understand how something works if I was only stea--, I mean - copying it! These cranks, clockworks, handles - not important! The sliver of crystallized Anima in an engine-like machine - also not important! Copy it all! The only problem I had with it was how explosive it was¡­ But¡­ It¡¯s going to be fine! For sure! 061 Uno My Anima Drones were digging, full of enthusiasm and energy. After all this time the fourth floor, and my future laboratory were getting done, piece by piece, meter by meter. I started with a simple design - the main chamber containing a stairway in the middle and three large tunnels branching north, east, and west straight from the entrance room. The plan was to curve them in, creating a crisscrossing web of small rooms and big hallways. Right now the place looked rough, and uneven - like it was wrenched out from the surrounding stone by force, its walls lopsided, erratic, and wild. The iron picks decorated the underground surfaces with differently-sized holes, like ugly pockmarks on a grumpy teenager¡¯s face. They told a story of a fierce battle between my servants and the stubborn rock. Unlike before, the drones weren¡¯t focused on ironing out the details but instead blazed through, eager to prepare a workable space in the shortest amount of time possible. Only after this goal was achieved I would allow them to turn back and smooth any irritating irregularities out. During this frenetic work, many pieces of material ended up cluttering the ground, my machine-like digger puppets mostly ignoring them, sometimes crushing the rocks under their heavy feet. There was only one being who behaved differently, avoiding the obstacles with surprising agility - Sculptor was making his rounds very slowly and carefully, studying the bulging walls and sometimes leaning over a damaged stone. I observed him for a few long minutes, admiring his innate grace still shining through a utilitarian form. Sensing my attention he immediately pleaded for.. something. It took me a moment to understand, yet strong, straight emotion was relatively simple to decipher. [Leave the rest to you?] I muttered. He nodded quickly, the lack of facial features for once not an obstacle. [There is a lot of potential here?] A sigh escaped my mouth. It was nice that my creations were getting independent. I would only prefer a few more warlike characters to be born. Right now only Non and Berserker filled that quota, and the revenant wasn¡¯t even native to my dungeon. Strength was valued higher than artistry in this world. Those who starved had no need for inedible paintings and sculptures. For dance and music. It wouldn¡¯t fill their screaming, empty stomachs. Yet there was no need to strictly forbid his actions. He was born out of pacifistic drones, machines dedicated to building, not destroying. His sole purpose was to make my underground hauntingly beautiful. More importantly - I was the one who made him this way. Even if I was thinking it was a stupid idea right now, there was no need to let it all go to waste. [Do as you wish. I¡¯ll ask your brethren to give you some free space.] Sculptor bowed deeply, his metal knife-fingers dancing in anticipation. As soon as he was able he leaped forward and started to carve images into the stone. I expected a high-pitched sound to appear, yet instead, he worked with unnatural ease, cutting off pieces of hard rock like they were simple clay. I wondered for a moment if the same would happen with the invader¡¯s armor and flesh if they attacked this seemingly harmless puppet. [One more thing.] I added and Sculptor stood perfectly still, indicating his attention. [The theme of this floor is laboratory so try to keep within its confines, okay?] A fervent nod was Sculptor¡¯s answer. [You know what laboratory is, right?] I asked, not sure about the breadth of his knowledge. After a brief moment of silence, he strode ahead confidently¡­ and lifted his arms in a thumbs-up gesture! ¡­ Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. Shaking my head I switched gears, my mind cleared from the antics of this would-be comedian. I was observing his hardworking Anima Drone brethren - their picks tapped the walls with an innate rhythm, gouging deeper and deeper into the stone. A few more seconds passed as I listened to this weird melody and rested. Then I was ready to focus on my newest self-imposed task. Creating a new breed of minions. Concentrating I summoned the diagram of Ratling egg-mech and started to analyze it. The mechanisms inside looked complicated and advanced yet not in a modern way. It was a combination of levers, gears, and electrical cables. In the middle of it, a splinter of green energy was pulsating in a violent manner. I frowned. No wonder that when pushed too far the machine could frickin¡¯ explode! Yes¡­ Hmmm¡­ Right¡­ My eyes wandered around various metal parts, bone gears, and weird contraptions. Minutes passed, then hours, and I still had no idea how the whole thing worked. It was like studying a racing car engine. Yes, I can tell where exhaust or place to put water, or maybe even fuel was. But more than that? Who knows? Was that pipe needed? Was the pressure involved? If so by using liquid? Or maybe gas? Could I change the length of the metal wire connecting these largish parts, or completely replace them with some sturdier materials? Would the final effect explode? No idea! After lamenting about my ignorance for a long while I decided to grit my teeth, and continue with my original plan. I was not going for a complete redesign but rather chose to focus on adding external parts, thicker plating, and additional reactors. I was following the philosophy of more was better. Anyway. A single Ratling mech had only two legs and demanded an inhuman ability to balance when simply walking around. I couldn¡¯t even imagine how hard would it be to control it while running. Such a flaw was unacceptable - I needed servants that could fulfill delicate and dexterous tasks, without being forced to worry about falling on the asses every few seconds. The solution to the problem was simple - to thicken and extend the legs while adding two more in order to balance the whole structure. Yet there was another issue - I wasn¡¯t knowledgeable enough to introduce my changes into an already existing blueprint. After some pondering, I decided to simply mash the two mecha together, while also modifying their lower appendages to have joints instead of straight metal poles. Of course, I used Anima in the process, since an explosion happening on my lowest floor was something I wanted to avoid. The finished machine looked a bit similar to a spider - but obviously had only four iron legs instead of eight - with a slightly oval cockpit and skittery, disgusting movement. There was also a problematic fact that the levers used to maneuver the legs were fitted rather far apart, thus demanding a great reach from the pilot. Not to mention that the person riding on the top had to keep watch over all the blind spots too. The easy way to solve this problem was to simply remake the machine from the ground up¡­ but I was not very keen on wasting even more Anima on the damned thing. Something else would have to do. I already had an inkling of the solution. For now, I decided to postpone the issue, since there were more pressing matters to attend to. With the base already completed my next step was to cut away the upper pieces made from metal. The upper part of the mecha was unnecessary - first of all, unlike rats who were using it in the past, my plan included a fusion of flesh and machinery. Secondly, these defensive measures were just getting in the way since I didn¡¯t want my creation to be a frontline fighter. One may ask what they were getting in the way of? A pair of mechanical hands for example! Or rather a pair of simple graspers, each of them made from three long finger-like metal tubes. They were to be installed close to the front, allowing for a wide variety of dexterous movements. Once again Anima came to the rescue, adding and then attaching the new parts to an already existing blueprint. The twisting metal was something else, I watched with awe as it came to life and then simply¡­ clicked in place. It was something that I wasn¡¯t capable of doing on my own. And I wouldn¡¯t be able to do so for a long time. However, with each use of the capricious, green energy, I felt my control slowly slipping, the second floor becoming more rigid and harder to control. It was still on the level of inconvenience, yet I knew the symptoms well enough to fear them. Because of that, my plan changed. At first, my creation''s sole purpose was to be a helper, a servant, and an assistant. Yet along the way, I decided that some sort of defensive system would be absolutely needed. Just in case these greedy invaders would dare to breach the fourth level of my dungeon. I mused for a moment quickly deciding on a crystalized Anima as the source of both defense and offense. It was to be seen if my new minion would be able to utilize it correctly, but in the worst-case scenario, I could simply add a Ratling black mage to fill in the gaps. With an unseen, maniacal grin on my face, I continued to work. All around me, the Drones were rhythmically carving out the fourth floor. And a few more days passed in the blink of an eye. Knut 5th level warrior of Silver Oasis militia It was a long day. The leader of the militia and de facto noble overseer of the Oasis was mercilessly training his ragtag band of warriors while dragging them through the dungeon. A former dungeon to be exact. Not that the people being whipped and shouted at cared about such trivial information. Knut¡¯s muscles were seizing up from the exertion, years of living as an outcast in the Shieldstar¡¯s slums sure didn¡¯t prepare him for this draconic training. All the members present wheezed heavily and coughed their lungs out by the time their red-haired leader deemed it fit to stop running. The first floor might seem like a safe and clear location right now, yet it was clear that each meter of it was conquered through the blood and sweat of Geinard Kingdom soldiers and adventurers. Something that both the militia leader and the older guards didn¡¯t allow the new additions to forget. The levels were tasty though, so nobody complained about the rough treatment. Most of them came from either a criminal or civilian background and as such both pain and hunger were a common thing to endure. Each of the new recruits was even given a spear and a crude, wooden shield. They also wore a leather tabard without any heraldry - still, that big investment was a clear sign of the leader¡¯s trust. After all this equipment was much better than dirty daggers carried by thieves and vagabonds. Even constantly dissatisfied Knut recognized that. This change of status was a sudden blessing, manna from heaven - something that normal people would welcome with all their hearts. Yet some of them had thoughts much darker than the others. Power did that to people. They grew overconfident, greedy... It was especially true for Knut, but also for the pair of stone-faced grumpy siblings and an enormous hulking man simply called Big Jon. There were some who called him Dumb Jon, only to get their face kicked in at the first opportunity. The giant man might be stupid but he certainly remembered a slight. The run that the militia squad was forced to participate in was the last part of the excursion. It was supposed to build both muscle and willpower in the recruits. As the last people to leave the dungeon they were accompanied by Charles not-Blueflame himself. A part of the members disdained the man, thinking him a spoiled brat, yet there was no doubt about his personal power. This kept mouths shut. Fear was a powerful deterrent, after all. Knut sometimes dreamed about usurping the power in this little community of his and running daggers through anyone who dared to question him. Just like some nobles did. Yet these delusions remained as only distorted visions of an oxygen-starved mind. Not even he was foolish enough to stab the Princess¡¯s chosen. A voice wrested him from these idle thoughts. ¡°You¡¯ve done well, men. You can rest now.¡± Charles¡¯s small smile was a lantern in the darkness for the militia team. ¡°My lord, can we really?¡± One of the boot-lickers, as Knut called them, answered with a hopeful voice. To tell the truth, his emotions were shared by most of the recruits. ¡°Yes. As always food and water are waiting for you in the barracks.¡± Said barracks were a makeshift, large building made from roughly cut wood that housed both regular guards and improvised militia organization, that the leader of Silver Oasis was so busy creating. ¡°My lord, when we¡¯re going to push into the third floor?¡± Asked a sword-wielding soldier. He was one of his elders in the force, but Knut didn¡¯t really remember his name. ¡°Not for some time. According to Lord Hawk, there are things down there that would wipe us out in an instant.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± There was a glimpse of unwillingness on the man¡¯s face but his loyalty won out in the end. ¡°Any more questions?¡± A silence followed. ¡°No? Good. Dismissed.¡± Instantly losing interest the red-haired man turned back to his butler, who single-handedly ran the Silver Oasis settlement civilian administration. Most of the soldiers dispersed immediately, returning to their dormitory and crude cafeteria, where stew made from unknown meat was waiting for them. Knut, however, stayed in the back of the plaza, his large ears catching the gist of the conversation between Silver Oasis''s two most powerful men. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°How goes recruitment and training of the archers, Adam?¡± ¡°Rather good.¡± The butler answered curtly. ¡°You mean that we have a lot of volunteers, right? Not that they¡¯re any good?¡± A snarky tone could be easily heard in Charles¡¯s words. ¡°Yes, my lord. They are enthusiastic but some time will pass before their aim will get any better.¡± ¡°Do you think that some live practice would help?¡± ¡°That would be¡­ inadvisable.¡± The former noble sighed heavily. ¡°Yes. I guess you¡¯re right. I am too impatient. It¡¯s not like this is the capital and we have endless human resources to draw from.¡± After a moment of silence, he continued. ¡°Master Vincent still refuses to lend us any of his apprentices?¡± ¡°Not until we plan to go down to the lowest floor. It seems that the samples that Lord Hawk gathered earlier are currently requiring his full attention. He also took command over your comatose bodyguards.¡± ¡°Let him. It¡¯s not like our doctors know what happened to them. And why I am fine.¡± He combed his unruly hair. ¡°Not a single one out of his pupils wants to get some money on the side?¡± ¡°I would urge you to remember, master, that those who stayed behind in this place are the ones fanatically following in Master Vincent''s footsteps. They aren¡¯t easy to sway.¡± The old butler admonished. ¡°Yes, yes.¡± Charles conceded. As he did so, he noticed a militiaman loitering in the plaza. ¡°You.¡± The red-haired former noble squinted his eyes accusingly. ¡°Yes, you.¡± Seeing a weasel-like man squirm under scrutiny only raised his suspicion. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± ¡°Me, sir?¡± ¡°Of course! Who else? And no lies, please. I dislike having to order a flogging without a valid reason, you see.¡± Knut swallowed audibly, while crudely saluting with his fist. ¡°I-I, m-my lord, I was just waiting for my f-friend to arrive!¡± Seeing disbelief on the former noble¡¯s face he cursed mentally. ¡°I know that my f-face means that nobody will believe me, but really! Really! It¡¯s the truth!¡± He bowed deeply while continuing his whining. ¡°Please, let this old Knut go! This weak me won¡¯t survive flogging!¡± The man hummed, examining a cowering militia member before him. Knut was an average-looking man with a cunning, slim face. He wore his uniform sloppily, the thick leather tabard barely covering his vital points. Both the shield and the spear he carried were dirty and in a state of disrepair, despite drills in equipment maintenance every day. A conspicuous dagger dangled from his waist. He had a slick, oily black hair and black eyes. The Oasis leader was ready to decide his fate when a shout interrupted his next words. ¡°Heeeeey! Knuuuuut! I¡¯m late, sorry!¡± Another man arrived at the scene - a rather fat person wearing civilian clothing and sporting black hair with an innocent, pudgy face. ¡°Mudan! Thank the Gods!¡± The militiamen sniffed loudly. ¡°Please tell our lord that I¡¯m not a suspicious person!¡± The newcomer seemed shocked at the attention, seemingly only now noticing with whom Knut was having a conversation. ¡°Eh?! Master Charles¡­ How can this humble one help you?¡± Mudan¡¯s tone immediately turned servile, his face full of smiles. The former noble only waved his hands. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter now. Take your friend away. I will let it go this time.¡± He still glared at Knut suspiciously. ¡°Yes! Thank you!¡± ¡°We will take our leave!¡± The two suspicious characters left the noble¡¯s surroundings while bowing and scraping. However, as soon, as they left the premises their expression changed, growing sharper and angrier. ¡°What the fuck are you doing, you fool?¡± Snarled Mudan, his face losing earlier innocence. ¡°Do you want our operation to fail so badly?! Remember that you¡¯re so deep in this shit that you¡¯ll hang with us if we¡¯re ever caught!¡± ¡°Oh, shut up! I was trying to gather some intel! It could save our lives in the future!¡± ¡°As if your eavesdropping ever helped with anything when we still were in the city.¡± ¡°Pffft¡­ the only dungeons we were allowed to enter in Shieldstar were Meat Dungeons! And as lowly porters only! What possible secrets do you think I could snatch from low-level adventures in that place?¡± Knut scoffed. ¡°This is different. The people in power are just a few meters away.¡± They walked in silence for a moment, neither of them speaking despite swirling emotions. Mudan was the first one to cave. ¡°So?¡± ¡°So, what?¡± Teased Knut. ¡°What did you hear that was worth being flogged for? Remember, I saved you from the leader¡¯s wrath. That¡¯s got to be worth something.¡± Knut trembled. ¡°That guy is no joke. I was going to be flogged just for loitering around. No fucking joke.¡± He sighed. ¡°I heard from his own mouth that they¡¯re keeping out of the third floor until they manage to recruit another mage.¡± ¡°The old guy or his pupils don¡¯t want a slice of the pie?¡± ¡°They have something to keep them busy for now.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Mudan gulped audibly. ¡°So, we¡¯re doing it tonight?¡± ¡°Yes. See you near the entrance.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡± A few more hours passed and a group of black-clothed individuals gathered near the entrance into the dungeon. Amongst them were both Knut and Mudan but also Big Jon, and stone-faced siblings that most of the criminals called One and Two. They never shared their real names and even now mostly kept to themselves. After a few minutes, they were joined by four similar-looking characters. The newcomers were all muscular and carried thick blackjacks under their uniform grey cloaks. A small symbol of a hand could be seen, tattooed on their necks. ¡°These guys?!¡± Knut whispered angrily. Mudan only shrugged. ¡°There is a surprising lack of criminal element in this little town.¡± ¡°This place is more like a village!¡± ¡°Whatever. Anyway, the Family has sent these four enforcers to help us out. It would be in poor taste to refuse.¡± ¡°Even if we¡¯re the ones who did all of the prep work?!¡± ¡°Oh, stop being a child. It¡¯s not like you don¡¯t know what happens to those who refuse to deal with the Family.¡± ¡°I get it.¡± Knut whispered softly. ¡°It just doesn¡¯t sit well with me.¡± ¡°Understood. Now stop whining and let me deal with them.¡± His voice turned a bit louder. ¡°Hello, friends. My name is Mudan. This guy here is called Knut, that is Big Jon, and these ones are called One and Two.¡± He, in turn, pointed towards his companions. The slightly bigger newcomer leading the rest of the syndicate members nodded in response and answered in a raspy voice. ¡°Call me Silence. These guys are my helpers, there is no need to know their names.¡± Mudan flashed an irritated expression before returning to his former serene facade. ¡°I see. I assume you were briefed on the plan?¡± The cloaked man nodded again. ¡°The guards at the entrance have been bribed. Get in, go to the third floor, and snatch anything that looks interesting or expensive before the noble boy up here catches on. Then retreat immediately.¡± ¡°Good. Let¡¯s not waste any more time, then?¡± Five minutes later the group arrived at Uno¡¯s dungeon. The guards had already abandoned their posts so the way down was clear. The criminals hurried in, using that gap to descend, not noticing two pairs of eyes observing their movements. ¡°Which group is it?¡± Asked a gruff voice. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m counting how many of these rats are being thrown at the problem?¡± ¡°I think you do. It was ordered by the leader, after all.¡± ¡°Fine, killjoy. This should be the sixteenth team that went in.¡± ¡°Nobody returned?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°We¡¯re running out of the scum¡­¡± As they entered the first room, the occasional sleeping soldier or civilian could be seen along the walls. Some of them waved toward the incoming team, thinking them as reinforcements. Seeing the curious expression on Silence¡¯s face Mudan decided to speak up. ¡°These guys are here to prevent the dungeon from spawning any more creatures. The first floor is pretty much completely monster-free right now.¡± ¡°I see. Interesting way of doing it¡­ Hey, you seem knowledgeable - I heard that there was a trial located up here?¡± Mudan only shook his head. ¡°It is, but don¡¯t even think about attempting it¡­ The staircase down isn''t guarded. The trial room is.¡± Seeing the unwilling expression on the man¡¯s face he continued. ¡°While you could probably defeat the guards I don¡¯t think it¡¯s worth risking the wrath of Geinard Kingdom.¡± ¡°Hmmm? Aren¡¯t you exaggerating? Who would care about a little ruckus?¡± A dangerous smile appeared on Silence¡¯s face. ¡°Both Lord Hawk and Princess¡¯s lover, Charles covet this place.¡± ¡°Why the--? No, that doesn¡¯t matter.¡± The criminal¡¯s face paled a little. ¡°You¡¯re right, there is no need to garner even more enmity without a valid reason.¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you feel the same way, Silence.¡± The group beelined for the second-floor stairway, entering the Food Hall for a moment and then walking through a long hallway. Big Jon had to be warned to look out for the crudely hidden traps. About halfway though, a strange sight appeared on their left. ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Silence pointed at the metallic jungle. Mudan sighed. For a man called Silence, he sure speaks a lot. Wait. Maybe that name is intentional? Still, he couldn¡¯t just ignore questions from a member of the Family. ¡°This place has many names. Some call it Underground Forest, some Metal Garden. But most of us simply call it a fucking nightmare.¡± Knut nodded with a fierce expression. ¡°Do you see these small, yellow, dandelion-looking plants? They fuckin¡¯ explode and spew acid. They¡¯re fuckin¡¯ everywhere, and the weakest breeze or tremor can bathe your feet in it!¡± ¡°It hurts like hell.¡± Agreed Big Jon. ¡°These trees? Cute, silvery looking, right? Seem valuable, right?¡± He scoffed. ¡°Well, they are not! And what¡¯s worse their leaves are so sharp that they can take your finger right off!¡± ¡°Oh! And that right there is a new addition to the nightmare zone. That long, green thing - do you see it?¡± He pointed towards a liana hanging from the closest tree. ¡°Looks harmless enough, right? But the moment you walk under it the thing coils up and tries to strangle you. So never, and I mean never walk under one of these deathtraps alone.¡± ¡°I-I see.¡± Silence stuttered, taken aback by the fierce hatred that his companions emanated. There was wariness in his eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s not dilly-dally. The lower floors are much worse.¡± ¡°Oh. I see.¡± The cloaked Family leader answered in a faint tone. His expression lost the earlier light undertone, hardening with resolve. It seemed like he understood that this mission could be harder to finish than he expected. After dodging a few more traps they arrived at the staircase leading down. The boss room before it had been cleaned out, leaving only bare walls. Without waiting the group descended to the second floor, warily observing their surroundings. ¡°If you see a blue undead, fucking run.¡± Muttered Knut, his companions nodding fiercely. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°They explode. Like many things in this crazy dungeon.¡± The men behind Silence swallowed dryly, their hands inching closer to the weapons. ¡°Blues.¡± Big Jon spat with disgust. ¡°Kill fast.¡± Despite the warnings, all they could see was a long, menacing hallway. The group advanced slowly, members of the militia creating a makeshift shield wall, with their spears poking fearfully outside. A few moments later they arrived at the Central Pond Room, or, as the invaders called it - the Lake. The name persisted mostly because nobody that had entered the real Lake, where Glass Progenitor dwelled, returned to tell the tale. The group of humans stood in silence, taking in the sight of already regrown silvery trees. The pale light of Electrical Chandeliers was mirrored in the large pond taking most of the free space. ¡°Keep your eyes peeled!¡± Murmured Mudan. ¡°What are we looking for?¡± Asked Silence. ¡°Blue undead. Black undead. Rats. Big rats. And very big rats.¡± Knut counted, while the rest of the militiamen nodded. ¡°An¡¯ zombies.¡± Added Big Jon. ¡°Yes. Big, fucking zombies, clad in metal.¡± He spat on the ground. ¡°These are just things that we had seen. There could be something worse down here too.¡± ¡°Fuck!¡± It was a new voice. One of the brothers grittily spat out a curse. ¡°What now?¡± Knut¡¯s face paled before anything even happened. Something unexpected always meant trouble. ¡°Look at these.¡± The second brother answered, pointing his finger at a small bush with wide leaves growing in the vicinity. It had yellow, longish fruits growing on it. When they looked around it seemed like it seamlessly populated their surroundings. ¡°They weren¡¯t out here in the morning.¡± ¡°Yes¡­ This is bad, right?¡± ¡°Everything down here is bad. Should we retreat?¡± ¡°No!¡± An angry voice answered. Silence was staring at the militiamen with contempt. ¡°What are you afraid of? A simple plant? Cowards!¡± ¡°Big words for an adventurer still stinking of mother¡¯s milk.¡± Smirked Knut. ¡°Do you want to taste my blackjack, scum?¡± ¡°Calm down!¡± Mudan was forced to intervene. ¡°And I mean both you, Knut, and Silence!¡± His glare squashed the argument in the bud. ¡°Anything new discovered in the dungeon means trouble. Always. They¡¯re designed to test us, after all. So caution is advised. Required if you want to keep your life.¡± Silence nodded. ¡°Yes, but¡­¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t finished yet.¡± Glowered Mudan. ¡°On the other hand, we have already invested too much in this endeavor. Do you think that the guards we bribed will remain silent?¡± Knut''s eyes shifted uneasily. ¡°If we retreat now we¡¯ll be on the run and penniless!¡± ¡°I know¡­¡± ¡°We can only press on. Remain focused. Avoid trouble.¡± He nodded toward Big Jon and the two brothers. ¡°We¡¯re skirting the furthest edges of the room. Go east. There is a hole there, leading right to the third floor.¡± Following his directions, the group continued their journey pretty much unassailed. A few random undead accosted them on the way but leaderless they were easy prey for the militiamen. Their shields withstood the enemies¡¯ wild swings and spears turned the attackers into a piece of swiss cheese. After finishing them off the militiamen and members of the Family quickly looted the undead, gathering a few pieces of metal that weren¡¯t directly connected to their rotting flesh. This situation repeated a few times until slowly and carefully they inched near a large hole torn into the floor. Without a single word spoken their team came closer to it, peering into the dark abyss below. After a minute Silence decided to speak out. ¡°Do you know what the hell did that?¡± ¡°No. No idea. My guess is that Lord Hawk decided to quickly get to the lowest floor¡­ and this shit happened.¡± Mudan answered while wiping clean his sweaty brow. ¡°Fuck.¡± ¡°What level is that man, then?¡± ¡°Who knows?¡± Knut shrugged. ¡°Does it matter if he¡¯s a level twenty, forty, or sixty? We would die in a blink of an eye, anyway.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, but aren''t you curious?" ¡°Curiosity gets you killed.¡± Knut breathed out heavily. ¡°Listen¡­ have you seen Lord Hawk in person?¡± ¡°No, why are you asking?¡± ¡°Because I did. And for fuck¡¯s sake, believe me - you don¡¯t want to stand in the same room as him. A bloodthirsty beast, that''s what he is.¡± ¡°What? How did you come to this conclusion? I don''t know about the beasts or whatever, but isn''t he just a leader of the Kingdom''s elite warriors? A powerful man, but that''s all.¡± Silence was still unconvinced. ¡°Knut here has a special skill. One that is not really useful for a warrior. It¡¯s called Death¡¯s Intuition.¡± Mudan spoke slowly and quietly. The Family enforcers had to strain their ears to hear him. ¡°It allows him to sense how likely his death is.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°It was ringing like crazy when that fucking Lord Hawk was in the room.¡± A memory of that moment was enough to make Knut sweat bullets. ¡°I-I see¡­¡± ¡°Now, Big Jon, please tell me you didn¡¯t forget to bring the rope!¡± ¡°Forget.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Not!¡± A stupid grin appeared on the giant¡¯s face. ¡°Goddess sweaty tits! Don¡¯t scare me like that, you big oaf!¡± A brief bout of laughter filled the air above the makeshift third-floor entrance. Soon the criminals descended into the unknown. 062 Knut A mismatched group of criminals bunched up over the looming hole torn into the floor. Its sharp edges and the icy wind flowing from the lower level were enough to rob them of the courage to go on. As they stared into the abyss, Knut felt that this whole place (and situation) was unreal. Divorced from their everyday life. The militia exercises he was forced to participate in (as most of the men of recruitable age) made sure that none of the new members even looked in this direction. This deliberate avoidance was easy to notice and naturally, it kindled their curiosity - yet none of the trainees was stupid enough to ignore a direct order. Now Knut knew what they were steering clear of. He wished he didn¡¯t. The sight was just too much, even more so for the faint of heart. The blackness that filled the hollow was thick and greasy like oil, barely moving away when they shone a light over it. The dark carried a sinister vibe, something that all of them felt. It filled the criminals with dread, the fear of the unknown, as none of them (maybe not counting Big Jon) signed up in the hope of battling dangerous creatures! They planned to steal easily accessible loot or maybe just gather a few rare plants in addition to some valuable materials. They all knew that the Oasis helmet-waring mage paid a pretty penny for any discoveries. So did his disciples. Nothing had prepared them for this¡­ nightmare. Even if the place was only a mark left after a past battle it was still proof that an unknown monster capable of easily punching a hole through the rock existed somewhere underground. That kind of opponent wasn¡¯t something they wanted to encounter. To make matters worse both the Silver Oasis natives and the Family members were mentally exhausted. Sneaking their way downstairs and battling the dungeon creations took its toll. At least until now, no one had been hurt. Would it stay this way? The clock was ticking but rushing recklessly would only end up in a disaster. Knut¡¯s face scrunched in worry as he signaled Mudan. His friend nodded solemnly, then spoke aloud. ¡°Let¡¯s make a temporary camp around here. Refill your waterskins from the lake. It¡¯s safe, the earlier expeditions already tested it. Eat, drink, and recover. We will need our strength for the last push.¡± Most of the people present agreed with this notion, Silence¡¯s men being the only dissenters. ¡°I don¡¯t think there is any need for rest.¡± The syndicate leader pointed in the direction of the hole. His three cronies stood back, silently observing the situation. ¡°Our prize is down there! It¡¯s the last obstacle! We must press on!¡± He strode forward, his flushed face appearing just before the Silver Oasis party leader. ¡°I disagree.¡± Mudan answered calmly, observing Silence through his squinted eyes. ¡°We still have plenty of time and preserving our strength before facing the unknown should be a priority. We have only one shot on this. Of course, if you and your men want to pave the way forward, then please, be my guest.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Just don¡¯t come back crying when the monsters kick your ass.¡± ¡°Hmph. You sure are good at rhetoric for a petty criminal.¡± ¡°We all have our talents. And it¡¯s not like you have any right to complain. We¡¯re the ones battling and killing the monsters, while you folks leisurely follow behind us. Do you want to die so badly? Then go on, burn this excess energy off.¡± The pudgy thief huffed in annoyance and turned his attention towards Knut. His tone softened immediately. ¡°Can you please check our surroundings? The brothers will prepare our campsite and Big Jon will serve as a guard. We should also have a rope ready in place by the time you come back.¡± ¡°You know well enough that I specialize in moving unseen through towns and villages. Blending in the crowds. Using taverns to gather information. This¡­¡± Knut waved his hands in distaste pointing towards the rugged, grey surroundings. ¡°This is totally out of my expertise.¡± ¡°You know that we didn¡¯t have the time to gain the cooperation of a ranger. You¡¯re the only one of us with at least some experience in the matter.¡± The fatter man patted his friend¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We believe in you.¡± Knut hissed. ¡°And now you¡¯re piling up even more expectations¡­¡± Still, he complied. The slovenly militiaman shook his head as he left the spear and shield behind, he would be relying only on the dagger hanging from his waist. He decided that since he wasn¡¯t going far, he could always rely on his companions in case of trouble. At least there doesn¡¯t seem to be any danger around here. Knut slowly surveyed his surroundings. While the hole was centered around the middle of the tunnel, both left and right sides had some leeway, allowing a careful person to pass through unimpeded. Then, a moment later he froze, his fearless aura dissipating as he remembered that the Death¡¯s Intuition worked only when he was actually in danger of dying. Not a moment later, not a moment sooner. It also reacted to the killing intent of powerful creatures and people. Thankfully Knut managed to remember this important little detail after a few close encounters. And before strutting into the risky part of his journey. His form grew smaller as if chastising himself for the earlier bravado, the leather armor and helmet easily blending with the surroundings. Despite the reluctance to risk his life, Knut still took pride in his skills. How to move from one dark spot to another. How to breathe softly and never let his guard down. How to avoid dying. The minutes passed slowly. It felt like hours as he cautiously explored the eastern tunnel. Surprisingly the tunnel immediately beyond the hole was clear of hostiles. Only a few undead were wandering nearby randomly, patrolling the next intersection. Looking at their clumsy movements Knut released the breath he didn''t realize he was holding. Even if he was noticed these enemies would have a hard time following him over the narrow path. The thief hesitated then turned back. He was curious about what was located to the north and south of the patrolling creatures, but even his ability to stay hidden couldn¡¯t shield him from flesh-hungry undead. That was what he was taught, anyway. He didn¡¯t want to test the validity of these claims with his life on the line. Knut slowly moved along the rocky walls, traveling in the direction of the brightly lit camp. He managed to return much quicker, startling Big Jon as he emerged from the shadows. The darkness was plentiful near the damaged area, as the otherwise common chandeliers were rare in this area. The food had been already prepared. Knut sat down with relish, savoring the simple meal. ¡°So?¡± Mudan hovered nearby, his face beaded with perspiration. ¡°The hole is traversable. For most of us, anyway. I wouldn¡¯t count on Big Jon making it through without some kind of safeguard.¡± The giant grunted dismissively in response. ¡°On the bright side, we¡¯re pretty safe from the undead. They¡¯re much too clumsy to get around it.¡± ¡°The rats?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t see any.¡± ¡°Good.¡± ¡°What did you encounter out there?¡± Silence asked, inching a bit closer. ¡°Not much.¡± Knut shrugged. ¡°There is a crossing nearby, going north and south. Also, a few of the undead seem to be clumped over there. I would say they are guarding something but with the level of intelligence they displayed thus far it''s hard to tell." He shook his head. "Other than that, I didn¡¯t find anything interesting.¡± ¡°Too bad.¡± Murmured Family¡¯s leader. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you move deeper?¡± ¡°Because I treasure my skin?¡± Seeing the man¡¯s surprised reaction he continued in a bored tone. ¡°Listen, the undead are known to have the ability to detect living beings in their vicinity. Hiding in the dark won¡¯t do shit against it.¡± Knut stopped speaking just long enough to devour a spoonful of stew made from unidentified meat. ¡°Mhm¡­ this is good!¡± He gulped down another bite. His expression hardened. ¡°It¡¯s one of the reasons that this place gives me the creeps. Both the undead and the rats are my natural enemies. Their special abilities, their sense of smell, their ability to communicate. A nightmare for the rogues like me.¡± ¡°Still, we need to lean on your skills, Knut.¡± Mudan cut into the discussion, his childish face taking on a comically serious look. ¡°Yes, I know. There isn¡¯t much choice. Big Jon is out of the question, the brothers are our muscle, you¡¯re busy with planning, and the rest... doesn¡¯t really count.¡± Silence angrily snorted at the derision contained in these words and stomped away, but didn¡¯t disagree with the thief¡¯s analysis. With a tired sigh, the lanky man turned back to his friend. ¡°You want me to scout the lower level, right?¡± ¡°You¡¯re reading my mind!¡± ¡°Dammit.¡± Knut stewed in silence for a long while, silently considering running away before succumbing to the inevitable. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll do it. It¡¯s not like we have a choice. Make it big or die trying is our only option... Just make sure you¡¯ll raise my cut accordingly.¡± Seeing Mudan¡¯s quick nod a small smile appeared on the thief¡¯s face. ¡°Good. Get Big Jon started on a rope. One pull means get me out of here. Two pulls mean danger, and three pulls mean it¡¯s safe.¡± ¡°Right.¡± ¡°No problem.¡± Seeing everyone agree Knut unhurriedly emptied half of his bowl. His mother always told him to fill his stomach whenever possible, while his father scowled at this advice. Son, you¡¯ll survive a dagger to the gut only when your belly is empty. Knut was certainly his mother¡¯s son - if he had to risk his life, then he would do it on a full belly. ¡°You¡¯re not taking any of your weapons?¡± ¡°Same as the last time, they would only be a hindrance. My dagger has to suffice in a pinch.¡± He spat on the ground. ¡°These fancy spears and shields would work only if I had comrades to form a shield wall with. It¡¯s not like they taught us how to use them in a fight! It seems that kind of knowledge is reserved for nobles and their pets!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like it would make any difference. We didn¡¯t train long enough.¡± One of the usually silent brothers shot back, his eyes squinted as he readjusted to the camp''s brightness. His calm countenance visibly differed from red-faced Knut. ¡°That¡¯s not the point!¡± ¡°So what is the point of your little speech? Or are you just spewing out venom for the sake of it?¡± Asked the second brother, slowly inching closer from the surrounding darkness. ¡°That we¡¯re being used!¡± ¡°We get training, food, experience for free. Not to mention that nobody died thus far. What more do you want?¡± ¡°They¡¯re rearing us like one would a war animal! Why can¡¯t you see it? And besides¡­¡° Knut¡¯s eyes turned sharp, his hand wandering to the dagger on his waist. ¡±If you like it that much, then why are you even here? After this little operation finishes, we will be wanted men.¡± ¡°You have some gall¡­¡± The older of the brothers stepped forward, his cleanly shaven head visible in the flickering light. ¡°We have our own circumstances.¡± ¡°Oh? I wonder.¡± Knut hissed in response. ¡°Let¡¯s all calm down!¡± Mudan said, calmly stepping between the two sides. ¡°The deeper we go, the stronger monsters we will encounter. Don¡¯t waste your energy arguing. There are plenty of enemies out there!¡± ¡°I guess.¡± ¡°I can let it slide.¡± As the party returned to their posts, Knut was still mechanically shoveling the food into his mouth. Outwardly there was nothing wrong with him, yet right now his back was sticky with cold sweat. He felt his skill tingling - but not from the direction of the brothers or even Big Jon. No. It was the Family enforcers who elicited a response. They¡¯re fucking dangerous. Thinking about smashing me down just because of a random dispute. He thought. And what¡¯s worse, the moment we discover something valuable they¡¯re bound to just cut us loose and run. In the end, it doesn¡¯t matter if the third floor is safe or not¡­ He clenched his teeth. If the possession of the skill taught him anything, it was that the people who wanted to kill him had to be eliminated as fast as possible. In the case of Lord Hawk, he could only endure, but right now¡­ They¡¯re not leaving this place alive. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Asked Mudan, his pudgy face filled with worry. Knut knew the man long enough to understand that he was concerned about his scouting ability, not personal well-being. ¡°I¡¯ll manage.¡± He scoffed, refocusing himself. ¡°Is the rope ready?¡± ¡°Yes. Big Jon already secured it and one of the brothers checked the stability. It¡¯ll hold.¡± ¡°Good. Let¡¯s do it, then.¡± Showing bravado he wasn¡¯t feeling Knut marched towards the hole¡¯s edge. What followed was a slow and painful descent into the darkness. From start to finish, there were only a few meters and a few minutes until his legs touched the ground, but it was much longer. Unlike before, the floor wasn¡¯t made from smooth stone, but rather strange and springy¡­ things. *clang* As Knut stepped on them, a curse escaped his lips. ¡°Really? Copper fucking grass?¡± He looked around, noticing that the ground was covered in the brown plant, with the sharp knife-bushes growing near the walls. Not counting these a whole lot of unknown flora was happily growing in the lightless environment. Normally Knut would be ecstatic about the samples. New types of plants meant more money after they returned to the surface. Right now however a much simpler thought rattled inside his skull. Which of those fucking plants are dangerous? As an explorer, no matter how inexperienced, he knew that dungeons rarely made creatures and items that weren¡¯t lethal. Thus seeing the straight, whiteish trees growing near the walls, the varied bushes, and exotic flowers made him doubly cautious. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Step after step, clang after clang he moved over the coppery bed, first advancing west, where the tunnel seemed to expand in a large, silver-green area. The lights grew brighter as he hid behind a plant he recognized - a thick bush covered in sharp leaves. Knut poked his head out, his eyes widening at the sight of the organized movement in the room. There were dozens of rats wearing brown robes working away in the near-silence. Rarely one of them squeaked, ordering their brethren or the undead to finish some tasks. Amongst them, a sole figure drew his attention - a giant rat, half-covered in pulsating roots. The scout immediately dived back behind his cover. ¡°Shit! A leader-type monster!¡± He mumbled under his nose, trembling. ¡°Think, think, think! What did they say about them during training?¡± ¡°They lead other creatures - duh, obvious! Some are aggressive, others passive. Even the passive ones are territorial.¡± He gulped. ¡°There are those who manifest magic skills or magic-like abilities. Most of them are intelligent and capable of strengthening their subordinates.¡± His whisper turned even more frantic. ¡°But what do they do after the dungeon collapses? I don¡¯t remember¡­ I don¡¯t fuckin¡¯ remember!¡± He massaged his temples in panic. ¡°Calm. Calm. I need to be calm.¡± He poked his head out once again, only to notice the root-rat staring directly at him. A soundless scream escaped Knut¡¯s lips. ¡°Retreat!¡± Without any hesitation, he turned back and ran in the direction of the hole. His thoughts were galloping. Fuck that! A leader-type monster can lead the whole room towards us! We don¡¯t stand a chance! Seconds later he arrived, ready to pull the rope and inform his comrades about the danger. And then, preferably, get the fuck out of here. Then he stopped. ¡°Wait a moment.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t feel my skill feedback kicking in¡­¡± He thought. ¡°It means that the creature either ignored me or isn¡¯t powerful enough to do us harm.¡± Knut mused. ¡°Then I guess we¡¯re¡­ safe?¡± He stared at the brownish flora surrounding him. ¡°There is always the eastern route to scout too. It would be a shame if we retreated before getting something worthwhile out of this place.¡± The feeling of greed started to win out. ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡± The thief decided to bet on the other side of the tunnel. Slowly and methodically he avoided the copper grass, using the fallen boulders as impromptu platforms. His advance was completely silent. He also made sure to not step on one of the three Sundews lying flat on the ground, their smooth surfaces easily recognizable amongst the rubble and copper grass littering the place. Looking at them curiously, Knut threw a large rock on it only to wince as the plant¡¯s sharp spears attempted to skewer it. ¡°These fuckers are down here too, eh? I swear I¡¯ll find and strangle the guy that called them Sun-dews...¡± He mumbled to himself, remembering how some careless civilians had been hurt by the plant¡¯s equivalent growing on the surface. The tunnel he chose was curving southwards and ended up in a brightly lit room that contained a stairway leading upwards. Knut glanced at the chamber from far away, noticing that it had a much more civilized feel than the rest of the tunnels. ¡°I smell loot!¡± He mumbled happily but still had the presence of mind to retreat and gather his comrades before continuing. Turning back he failed to notice small green sprouts tracking his movement. Seeing their prey leaving before it entered the optimal range caused the little monsters to sulk, their barrels pointing sadly at the ground. Unaware, Knut returned to the rope and pulled it three times. The next half of an hour was spent with his companions slowly making their way down. The ever-present darkness present unnerved them, but at Knut¡¯s behest, no torch was lit. He quickly explained the dangers he encountered - mostly the rats he saw next door. Hearing that tale any voices of dissent (no matter how they longed for light) were immediately crushed. The team walked through the blackness in a single file, led by the slouched scout. ¡°I¡¯ll repeat it one more time. Step only where I step, move quietly, and, for Gods sake, do not touch anything!¡± He spoke, mainly looking at the Big Jon lumbering just behind him. The giant nodded in acceptance. Minutes later it was clear that Knut¡¯s warnings had fallen on deaf ears, the large man physically incapable of following the agile movements of the thief. Big Jon managed to barely dodge out of the way of Sundew¡¯s spears only to tumble right into the pressure plate of another. There was an ominous *click* as his foot landed in the middle of the plant, and with a powerful sound, sharp wooden spears emerged to pierce the incoming prey. The large warrior tried desperately to avoid the incoming attack, but his effort only partially paid off. His thigh was pierced anyway, both the trained muscle and throw-away leather armor a small obstacle for the bloodthirsty enemy. ¡°Gyaaaaaaa!¡± The giant bellowed, snapping the spears with sheer force and sending the carnivorous plant reeling back. ¡°Shut up!¡± Knut whispered angrily. The damage was done, however. A moment later Big Jon crashed on the floor, whimpering in pain. The copper grass floor reacted with a choir of metallic noises. In any other situation, the sound would feel poetic and peaceful. Right now they couldn¡¯t help but feel that the flora was jeering at them, celebrating the invader¡¯s demise. ¡°Fuck!¡± Silence swore while glancing back restlessly. Big Jon¡¯s screams echoed in the tunnel, which could bring unwanted trouble. The eyes of the criminals were turning colder and colder the more they looked at the fallen giant. ¡°If only you retards were competent enough to follow orders!¡± He gnashed his teeth. ¡°What are we going to do now?¡± Huffed Mudan, his face paler than ever. ¡°Let¡¯s just bandage the wound. Then cauterize it.¡± His fat friend flinched. ¡°Is it necessary?¡± ¡°Down here I would rather bet on the smell of cooked meat than blood.¡± Knut smiled grimly, heating his knife over the quickly lit-up torch. At the same time, Silence turned to him and spoke through the clenched teeth. ¡°We will go ahead.¡± His gaze was clearly focused on the skinny criminal, not Mudan, the nominal leader. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to follow.¡± ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ll stick with my guys.¡± ¡°It could get you killed.¡± Knut shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m good at running away.¡± In his mind, he added and not stupid enough to follow the guys who wanted to kill me before. ¡°Have it your way.¡± Silence stare lingered on him for a long while, until he turned back to his cronies. ¡°Let¡¯s go. Prepare your weapons.¡± On his command, the cloaked thugs slowly took out the blackjacks. Knut squinted his eyes. These were proper weapons, totally different from the shabby equipment given to the Oasis militia. ¡°Hmph.¡± One of the bald brothers snorted derisively. ¡°What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s all good, but if they wanted to have some blunt instruments, why not buy the Lightning Maces? They¡¯re magical, sturdy, and cheap.¡± He stared at the Family¡¯s thugs. ¡°Overall they should work much better when braving the underground.¡± Knut tilted his head. ¡°I guess you¡¯re right.¡± He observed the thugs'' confident stride. Their eyes were full of greed. He could nearly tell what were they thinking. It was not his problem. Shrugging, he turned his attention to the whimpering giant. ¡°Now, Jon, be a big boy and make sure you won¡¯t scream.¡± ¡°W-will it h-hurt?¡± ¡°Sadly, yes.¡± ¡°Then I don¡¯t wanna!¡± ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake! Don¡¯t be a child¡­¡± They conversed back and forth for a few long minutes until Knut managed to ¡°convince¡± Big Jon that there was no other way. Focused on the task ahead none of them noticed the slight rumble coming from their surroundings. With a cloth gag filling his mouth and bound hands, the large man looked like an animal ready for the slaughter. He gnashed his teeth in pain as the searing blade roasted the wounded leg. Normally there would be a lot more screaming and kicking, but the blood loss had already weakened the giant. The whole process lasted no more than a few seconds, his companion working quickly and precisely. A sickly sweet smell filled the air. The speed he worked at was not solely for Big Jon¡¯s benefit. As long as the odor of blood was present, not to mention the horrendous screams the giant tried to produce none of them were truly safe. By the time the blessed silence returned to the tunnel, the party noticed a sound growing in the distance. The copper grass clanged louder and louder, smashed by the hurrying feet. Because of the gruesome scene, the rest of the party reacted slowly to the approaching threat. The militiamen barely managed to enter in a defensive stance, their spears sticking out dangerously when the fastest of the arrivals shouted in a weak voice. ¡°S-stop! F-f-friendly¡­ we are friendly¡­¡± He gasped, the earlier run draining Silence¡¯s endurance. Not much has remained of his earlier confidence, with only one of his companions making it back alive. Their clothes were torn, and full of holes, while their skin bled from wounds made by cutting and piercing weapons. Seeing their state Knut¡¯s face twisted as he bellowed. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Where is the rest of your guys?¡± Silence ignored his question, his eyes darting around the place, before collapsing on the ground. His blackjack was nowhere to be seen, replaced with a worn dagger. After a while, he stopped gasping for air a bit of color returning to his face. He curled up, whimpering softly. ¡°Dammit, man!¡± Knut stood just above him, his face flickering. In the end, he unclenched his fist and turned towards the Family henchman standing nearby, motionless like a human-shaped statue. ¡°Can you tell me what happened?¡± There was a dangerous undertone in his voice. The man turned pale, his eyes dilating. Still, he swallowed his fears before answering. ¡°T-they¡¯re dead¡­ sp-p-plattered e-everywhere. S-slaughtered... KILLED!¡± He suddenly screamed. ¡°Hands r-re-reaching, pale fingers, h-hu-hungering faces. Hungering¡­ T-their hatred, their greed¡­ M-m-monsters...¡± The thug continued to repeat random words, a disjointed speech turning their blood cold. He was immersed in his personal nightmare for a few long minutes before quietening down, visibly deflating, and finishing the rant in a tiny, weak voice. ¡°Don¡¯t go. Don¡¯t leave me¡­ Please.¡± ¡°Fuck. What the hell happened?¡± Knut repeated his question in a much softer tone. ¡°Let me see.¡± Mudan hesitantly stepped forward, in a few calm movements checking the erratic man¡¯s eyes, hands, pulse, and nails. With care, he barely managed to extract something that looked like metal shrapnel from his arm, eliciting only a small yelp of pain. Immediately the blood started seeping from the wound, prompting him to bandage the poor sod. There was also a strange needle sticking out of his clothes, which was carefully extracted. After that he moved to clean Silence¡¯s wounds, finding him in a much better condition than he appeared at first. On the other hand, the shivers, dilated eyes, and small chuckles escaping his mouth told a different story about the criminal¡¯s psychological state. ¡°So?¡± Knut asked impatiently. ¡°Something tore them a new one.¡± ¡°I can see that. Details?¡± ¡°New monsters, probably? Some of them seem familiar though. The shrapnel is easy - these blue fuckers ambushed them. This explains the trauma.¡± Knut gulped loudly. He still remembered the first encounter the militia had with the exploding undead. They lost good men that day. ¡°What about the needle?¡± ¡°Now, that¡¯s a problem. I mean¡­ it''s coated in something, probably poison. No idea about how dangerous it is - and these chumps aren¡¯t in the position to tell us. We can only infer that it¡¯s bad.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not much to go on.¡± ¡°Well, yeah. But at least we know that there are at least two types of enemies out there.¡± ¡°True.¡± Their conversation was disrupted by loud wailing, alternating with bouts of a hysterical laugh. Silence was having a field day, screaming and kicking. ¡°Hyahahahahaha! We¡¯re going to die! A-all of usssss! Damned! Left in this underground grave!¡± This was too much for Knut, already angered beyond reason. ¡°Oh shut the fuck up!¡± A quick slap returned the Family¡¯s thug to his senses. ¡°Tell me what you saw and what happened to your companions.¡± The lanky man demanded with a cold expression on his face. His thought process had changed, degrading Silence¡¯s importance from a powerful enemy to a mere annoyance. ¡°Huhuhuhu¡­¡± The despairing man chuckled hollowly before raising his head to meet Knut¡¯s eyes. ¡°We¡¯re dead men walking. This place will never let us go. My people are dead. I am dead.¡± ¡°Can you please start making sense?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll see. You all will see.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re not going to work with us?¡± Knut cracked his knuckles. ¡°What¡¯s the point?¡± ¡°Then what do you want to do now?¡± Asked Mudan in a serious tone. ¡°Retreat!¡± Silence¡¯s answer was clear. ¡°Then do it. We¡¯ll go ahead.¡± Knut spoke at the same time as the Family¡¯s henchman. ¡°Are you stupid? We¡¯ll never manage to return on our own!¡± ¡°So?¡± The lanky militiaman smiled. ¡°What are you afraid of?¡± ¡°We will all die if we continue! It was a mistake to come here!¡± ¡°I disagree. You have already paved the way forward with your bodies. As long as we observe our surroundings and don¡¯t touch any weird stuff we should be fine.¡± His expression sharpened. ¡°Right?¡± Both the brothers and Big Jon nodded seriously. Mudan was also on board, his sweaty palms and pale face telling a tale of determination. On the other hand Silence and with the last of his subordinates were only staring wide-eyed at the sudden commotion. ¡°You¡¯re all insane.¡± He rasped. Knut ignored the trembling man. ¡°Big Jon, are you ready?¡± His comrade stood up with a grunt. ¡°Hurts. I¡¯ll get over it.¡± ¡°Give him a sip.¡± Mudan produced a leather flask from somewhere. ¡°It¡¯ll numb the pain. Just don¡¯t drink the whole thing. We may need it for later.¡± With a smile Big Jon swallowed a large portion of the liquid, ignoring Mudan¡¯s cries of protest. ¡°Good.¡± He flashed a wide smile, breathing out a nearly visible cloud of alcohol. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving.¡± Knut ordered while turning back to the Family¡¯s henchmen. ¡°Do you want to stay here, or follow us?¡± There was a trace of disdain hidden in his voice. Seemingly noticing it Silence grit his teeth. His eyes widened, darting between the rope and the back of the other criminals. ¡°W-we¡¯ll follow. You¡¯ll understand what we faced¡­¡± His voice trailed off, the small tremble coming over the man. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± The group moved slowly and methodically, with their shields prepared. Only a few minutes later they noticed the change - both the floor and the walls were now made from carved stone. While covered in vegetation there was an unmistakable intelligent design behind it. Following the Family¡¯s footsteps, they arrived in the stairway chamber and noticed marks of the earlier battle. Pieces of armor, cloth, and flesh were strewn about, the smell of blood overwhelming their senses. ¡°There!¡± Shouted Silence, recognizing the ¡°shooter¡± plants that were the cause of their demise. The team stiffened in worry, but no matter how long they waited, nothing happened in the end. The world stood still. The secret doors in the four corners of the room were already opened, revealing small, dark, alcoves void of anything interesting. The four vivid statues of humanoid figures standing in the chamber created an unholy ambiance even if each of them was damaged nearly beyond recognition. ¡°Let¡¯s get closer,¡± Knut mumbled, and the whole team moved while trying to maintain the shield wall formation. The tensions were running high as they walked step-by-step¡­ But once again - nothing happened. It was only when they arrived in the vicinity of the innocently looking plants that understanding appeared in their eyes. ¡°Little fuckers are spent.¡± Knut mused while nudging the weakly swaying plant with his feet. ¡°Seems like we¡¯re in luck.¡± ¡°Okay, people. Keep the shields up, we don¡¯t know what else is out here.¡± He ordered. ¡°Now, we have three ways to go.¡± He pointed to the ceiling. ¡°We can move up the stairs, which is a stupid move, as there should be some unknown Floor Guardian waiting for a snack.¡± The choir of grunts attested that the rest of the team had the same opinion. ¡°We can move back through the chamber where a leader-type creature had been spotted.¡± He grimaced. ¡°Which could bring a whole lot of shit on our heads.¡± ¡°Or¡­ we can go through there.¡± He pointed towards the ornate door surrounded by the statues of escapees twisted in various forms of panic. ¡°These options are not great. I know. We need to make an informed decision.¡± ¡°Our only real option is the door and you know it.¡± Mumbled Mudan. ¡°Yeah, but it gives me weird vibes.¡± ¡°Is it your ability speaking?¡± ¡°What? No. Just my intuition.¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing, then.¡± ¡°Sure. Sure. You can interpret it this way.¡± Knut waved his hand in defeat. ¡°Do as you wish¡­ Let¡¯s go.¡± The door was hard to open. It seemed like there was some kind of safety mechanism involved, trying to keep it closed. This didn¡¯t discourage them as they pushed and pushed, their combined effort slowly managing to force a small opening. One by one the humans slipped through before unavoidably it closed, temporarily trapping the adventurers in the next chamber. ¡°Whew. That wasn¡¯t so bad.¡± Knut spoke aloud, observing the ornately carved rock door. Yet when nobody answered he turned around full of worry. ¡°Hey, guys what are you¡­¡± His words trailed off. ¡°What the fuck is that? By the Belle sweaty tits!¡± He stared agape at the chamber, trembling in fear. ¡°By the Gods!¡± ¡°Ahhhh¡­ ahhh¡­¡± ¡°I told you, I told you¡­ you weren¡¯t listening! We¡¯re dead men walking!¡± Sounds of mewling, prayers, and pure horror assaulted his senses. Knut, however, didn¡¯t have time to reprimand his companions. He was busy staring at the room full of plants with eyes. Dozens of creepy eyeballs were filling every free space in the chamber, more and more of them noticing the intruders and turning to get a better look. Their unblinking stares weren¡¯t hostile nor friendly, just¡­ detached. Like a crazy mage observing an animal lying on the sacrificial table. The only thing that allowed Knut to keep his calm was the fact that his ability wasn¡¯t screaming out, which meant this situation wasn¡¯t lethal. Small comfort in this nightmare. Then, he noticed the blue box floating before him and screamed in surprise. ¡°A fucking Trial? Out here? By the mercy of the Gods¡­ WHY?¡± A moment later he added. ¡°The Trial of Greed¡­ I don¡¯t like the sound of that.¡± As he read through the explanation his face flushed between happy and terrified expressions. Something that a certain Dungeon Core observed with fascination. Knut mumbled. ¡°Trial of combat¡­ choose¡­ can¡¯t retreat¡­ two fights.¡± He corrected himself. ¡°At least two fights¡­ but then¡­ magical weapon. Armor. Haaah¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to die down here¡­ Am I right?¡± 063 Uno I peered over the third floor Trial in amusement. Somebody managed to reach it at last! Well, to tell the truth, it wasn¡¯t that big of a challenge. Yet for some reason, the adventurer teams seemed to avoid it. Come to think of it the same could be said about the whole third level. At this moment from three ways down humans had discovered only a single one. Both the ¡°true¡± staircase guarded by Flamecaller - the Ironflame Rat King (and his entourage), and the path leading under the Central Pond stalked by Guardian and his kobold minions were hidden from their sight. And it seemed like this state of affairs would persist as long as I didn¡¯t repair the hole left by the half-elven princess. It was an easy, unguarded way down, so why search for alternatives while it was available? I could certainly understand that notion - that laziness. The situation wasn¡¯t helped by the fact that the hole stuck out like a sore thumb, located smack dab in the middle of my second-floor eastern tunnel. Now that I think about it this might have added to the meekness of the explorers. I mean, anyone in his right mind would be worried about the monster (or, in this case - a person) capable of such destruction. Especially since the half-elves didn¡¯t describe the contents of their adventures to the humans - thus nobody in Silver Oasis knew the truth, Lord Hawk being the only exception. Still, it seemed like he didn¡¯t further share his information. Was it a lapse of judgment on his part, simple forgetfulness, or maybe a part of the larger plot? I shrugged. It wasn¡¯t important. There were more pressing matters I had to take care of. The most irritating one was this itchy feeling telling me time and time again to repair the damage done to the second floor as soon as possible. These ideas were probably a part of my Dungeon Core instincts. Right now it was easy to squash them, overruling the need with logic but the same couldn¡¯t be said about the future. Creating new minions and preparing the laboratory floor put a strain on my resources. It was only a matter of time before I was forced to surrender, stemming the flow of the intruders down to a manageable stream. Which in the process would announce to the world that I remained unbroken. It had been some time since I was declared dead and both of my shallowest floors were now being constantly raided. Or should I say that the first floor had been completely tamed and the excursion parties continued to spread their tendrils to the second floor? Most of the exploratory teams avoided moving east towards the glaring hole and instead focused on either farming my minions in the Central Pond Room or exploring the three other cardinal directions. Well¡­ right now only two of them remained, though. Since not a single human returned from the western tunnel (where always hungry Glass Progenitor was dwelling under the waves) that road of expansion was abandoned too. Despite the lack of information (or because of it?) the word of mouth ended up creating some otherworldy horrors much more interesting than those I had in stock. Still, the gossipers were uniform in claiming that some man-eating monster was behind the disappearances. They weren''t entirely wrong¡­ A combination of the tentacled monstrosity and Non¡¯s hatred towards the Geinard¡¯s Kingdom troops meant a zero survival rate for those foolish enough to explore the Underground Lake area. With two of the four paths barred, sentients turned their greedy gazes elsewhere. Their recon teams encountered heavy Lebir resistance to the north but that didn¡¯t dissuade them - it was even the other way around! Many prowling monsters meant better experience and loot after all - at least that was what the dungeon logic dictated. Not dying instantly was also a plus. Thus my guardposts defending Battery Devourer farms came under heavy fire. Still, unlike before they weren¡¯t critical to my effort. I already stockpiled more Crackling Maces than I could use so the rest of the monsters just kinda¡­ grew in silence? With time the resistance was broken¡­ and I couldn¡¯t stop laughing when I gazed at the exploration team¡¯s bitter faces. They battled away hordes of my monsters, braved dangers and collected scars only to be rewarded with a field full of Battery Devourers, the man-eating plants shaking happily at the sight of incoming prey. Unfortunately, they pushed through once again, the red-haired Charles showering the flora with his destructive magic. Most of the Devourers succumbed to the fire, their flammable stalks and leaves turning to ashes. Their demise pained me greatly, yet I knew that they would repopulate in time. Unbothered by the sentients who lost their drive when it became obvious that no grand treasure was hidden behind the backs of my guardians they would grow back or simply *pop* into existence. This result meant that the situation in the southern tunnels had changed. The minions out there were a combination of Ironflame Rats, Rat Temple Warriors (beasties skewed towards the fire element), and Tamed Glass Dragonflies who carried Ratling pilots. In the back, large numbers of Lebirs were stationed - just in case. They looked a bit different than the rest of my forces. Their armor was carved with what I remembered about runes¡­ which wasn¡¯t much. It was an experiment of sorts. When it wasn¡¯t working in bore-- I mean in desperation - I started to replace these mystic symbols with various shapes, adding a danger factor to their look. I was trying to check if adding these would produce high-level minions. Yet it turned out that the changes weren¡¯t enough, outside their fancy armor the performance in battle was pretty much the same, thus the experiment ended up in failure. I decided to keep them though - you never knew when they would come in handy. Even if half of them looked like rejects from Fallout or Wasteland series. Anyway, these halls were the current target of the Silver Oasis natives¡¯ expansion. Their adventuring teams - or should I call them militia squads? - smashed their heads against my defenses many times. Each of their visits was repelled by combined forces of Ironflame Rats led by their Temple Warrior brethren. The fire magic that invaders brought to the table proved more a detriment than help, my servants proving resistant or outright immune to its effects. Adding to this a constant harassment by the Dragonflies and their rock-throwing riders meant that no intrusion managed to make it past the first room - the grandly named Metallic Jungle. The place was full of silvery trees and other vegetation making it hard to keep a stable formation. The Ratlings of all types were able to strike without warning, their hit-and-run tactics impossible to avoid. Adding to it, pockets of Lebirs operated in small, cohesive teams, attacking and then retreating under the command of Ratlings'' Black Mages. Due to the difference in their performance, humans started to call them ¡°runic undead¡± and classified the monsters to be an advanced form of the Lebirs. I hoped that this recognition would propel them into becoming something more, alas both their strength and behavior didn¡¯t change. Yet. Interestingly, the rumors about the third floor had already spread - the knowledge about Berserker¡¯s appearance and powers were twisted by word of mouth but remained horrific enough to discourage most of the humans, leaving only stupid or desperate challengers to contend with. And that neatly led me back to the team of criminals currently imprisoned in the Trial room on the third level. They weren¡¯t the first to sneak into the dungeon in some senile hope to gain riches and power. On the contrary, they seem rather commonplace nowadays. All their predecessors ended up as fuel for my growth. These guys, however, were a bit different - be it by luck or skill they managed to reach the trial room. But, as the doors closed behind them a familiar sense of panic engulfed the chamber. The feeling of losing control. The eye plants were watching the intruders intently, each of them recording the posture, used weapons, their expressions, and droplets of sweat slowly dripping from their faces, nourishing the ground. After a beginning wave of emotion, the sentient who stayed in the middle of the room were warily staring at the surrounding flora. Luckily for them, none of these plants were combat-capable. After a few minutes of this type of psychological warfare, nothing happened so the high tension had naturally passed. The invaders were free to investigate what interested them - an invisible text, no doubt describing the Trial that stood before them. I was curious once again - it was clear that the contents of their magical blue boxes differed from those presented to me. There was something else at work here, something that I failed to grasp. Shrugging, I forced the Trial description to appear before me. It had been some time since I made this place and a refresher was in order.
Trial of Greed The trial encompasses the Hall of Eyes, Chamber of Daggers, Chamber of Swords, Chamber of Axes, Chamber of Spears, Chamber of Maces, Chamber of Shields, Chamber of Helmets, Chamber of Gauntlets, Chamber of Breastplates, Chamber of Greaves, the Great Greed Hallway and Cursed Golem Enclosure. The rules of the trial are as follows: - the challengers are allowed to walk into the Great Greed Hallway unmolested unless they dealt damage to non-hostile entities in the Hall of Eyes (in case of damage the curse-type punishments apply) - the challengers are allowed to enter any of the Chambers on the condition that they have to defeat the Golem inside to proceed - the Golems are armed with one piece of cursed equipment each - each defeated Golem adds its piece of equipment to the Cursed Golem, raising the difficulty - the main trial begins when the challengers open the Cursed Golem Enclosure or eliminate all auxiliary Golems - once challengers enter the Trial they cannot escape unless it¡¯s finished or all of them are dead
It was just like I remembered it¡­ or was it? I could sense small discrepancies - like some things were clearer or even changed in the time I wasn¡¯t looking. A few words here, a sentence there, and the meaning changed completely. I stared at the blue box like my gaze could bore holes into it. An avalanche of questions followed, all left unanswered. I could feel something - someone - smirking back at me with deranged, happy joy. With a shake of my head, the bright box dispersed into nothingness but the sense of wrongness remained. I felt it - the time was running out. Yet while the situation had changed - so what? I only needed to adapt and overcome, and - to tell the truth - what could this pathetic band of criminals even do to my honed war machines? I already decided that I¡¯ll survive, even against all the odds. Even if I have to¡­ With another shake, I clear my head and focus. The invaders, that¡¯s what¡¯s the most important right now. Where was I? Right, third floor, the Hall of Eyes, and the humans were¡­ here. Arguing. Why I was not surprised? ¡°We can¡¯t go back!¡± Knut bellowed, his teeth clenched. ¡°This place won¡¯t let us - read the description again, dammit!¡± ¡°But we need¡­ we must¡­ or we¡¯ll die!¡± Silence¡¯s tone was much too different from before. A broken man? Or just a good actor? I thought that I saw a flicker of coldness under his panicked expression. ¡°The Family¡¯s man isn¡¯t wrong, you know?¡± Mudan added his three cents to the discussion his eyes trembling each time they met the gaze of a camera. ¡°What do you want me to do? Search for a way out? I already checked! There isn¡¯t any!¡± ¡°Really? Even with your skills?¡± ¡°By the Belle¡¯s sweaty ass! I¡¯m no ranger! How many times do I have to repeat that?¡± The lanky man punched the wall, sending a wave of unease through the lidless eyes observing them. Yet the threshold of damage was not reached, so no retaliatory curse was activated. ¡°This place is far outside my knowledge. You all knew that. You all knew the risk.¡± ¡°I-I understand¡­¡± Mudan answered lifelessly, his earlier energy gone in a blink of an eye. ¡°Besides, did you even read the descriptor? The words of the World are saying that it''s guaranteed that we won¡¯t leave before finishing up this place. Which means facing the boss.¡± ¡°I was hoping for a better solution.¡± Muttered Mudan. ¡°Just thinking about facing the enemy as powerful as this mysterious roaming Guardian is enough to stop my fucking heart.¡± ¡°There isn¡¯t any other way, old friend. The moment we stepped into this room the decision had been made!¡± A heavy silence followed. It was Mudan who broke it with his solemn words. ¡°Then we¡¯ll have to try to barrel through. Just do enough to survive - I am happy with the path of the least resistance!¡± ¡°That still means beating one of the Golems and then the Boss.¡± The slim thief rapped his fingers against the stone. ¡°That¡¯s a tall order for a rag-tag team of militia¡­¡± ¡°Fightin¡¯!¡± Big Jon smiled, hobbling closer to the carved door leading deeper into the Trial. ¡°Wait! I said WAIT! You big, stupid log!¡± Knut shouted while running after his companion. Mudan, Silence, one of his minions, and the bald brothers were left behind, looking at each other in confusion. ¡°We better follow. I would prefer to leave this dreary room behind.¡± The fat man was sweating, his eyes glancing at the unblinking flora of the room. With a muffled sigh, he turned back to join his companions. With a small nod, both of the brothers gripped their weapons, hurriedly following. Stolen novel; please report. That left only Silence and his minion. ¡°Boss¡­¡± The subordinate whispered, his hand clutching the remaining blackjack. ¡°What are we going to do now?¡± ¡°Shit. Shit. Shit!¡± Silence lost his earlier panicked demeanor, returning to a sly and ruthless visage. With nervous movements, he stroked the daggers hidden on his body while his gaze wandered. ¡°We need something to show the Chief after the failure of this mission.¡± ¡°Failure? B-but we managed to discover the Trial. Isn¡¯t that enough?¡± ¡°And who do you think will monopolize this place? The Family? Other syndicates? Local criminals?¡± He snorted. ¡°Of course not! They¡¯re going to fall into the hands of the nobles. Blueflames, Geinards - they¡¯re all the same.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t stop that from happening¡­ even if we sabotage this team a secret that big won¡¯t stay hidden for long.¡± Silence started to bite his nails. ¡°But we can still profit. And with this, we¡¯ll acquire a means of survival.¡± ¡°From the sale of magicked weapons?¡± ¡°Yes. The descriptor hinted at these being available as a reward for defeating the Golems during the Trial.¡± ¡°A real magical weapon would go for a fortune¡­ especially since most of their production is limited to country-controlled dungeons. They rarely appear even on a black market.¡± ¡°True... That¡¯s our chance.¡± Silence¡¯s gaze landed on his subordinate. ¡°Whatever happens you just need to follow my orders. Understood?¡± ¡°Of course!¡± ¡°Then go - join the rest of the gang and see what this place hides from us. A Forgotten Dungeon¡¯s Trial¡­ I wonder what it hides?¡± A small chuckle escaped his lips. ¡°I need to think. In peace.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± As his subordinate left Silence¡¯s countenance changed once again. The sure and cold expression he sported melted instantly replaced with wide-eyed terror. ¡°We are fucked. I am fucked. They won¡¯t forgive me.¡± He sniffed. ¡°T-their eyes¡­ they begged to be saved.¡± He curled up on the ground. ¡°I c-couldn¡¯t help you, Hort. I-I am sorry. S-sorry¡­¡± His sobs continued for a few minutes. I learned that he knew both of the dead personally - and for many years. Hort and Numako were their names. Irrelevant. In the end, he just sat there, his eyes red from crying. And, like a switch was flipped, he sprung up, glaring at the surrounding cameras. ¡°What are you looking at, huh? WHAT ARE YOU LOOKIN¡¯ AT?¡± His red face and bared teeth seemed nearly¡­ monstrous. ¡°Do you see this fist?¡± He screamed, punching out. ¡°Do you see it? It¡¯s steady! Courageous! And it will blow all you fuckers away! The humans will be the ones to rule the day!¡± As he finished his rousing speech a small cough came from behind. Silence slowly turned back, only to see a confused face of Knut. ¡°Hi there¡­¡± He muttered awkwardly. Humans. I wanted to sigh in disappointment. Even during the greatest trial of their lives they can¡¯t help but betray, plot, and turn insane. Ah, but that was why it was so entertaining now, that I wasn¡¯t a part of their world. A moment later I observed as Silence and his subordinate (Knut in tow) joined the rest of the criminals gathered before a large, carved door. The Family¡¯s leader''s demeanor changed completely. Twitchy and embarrassed as he was the non-syndicated members stared at him with a mix of disgust and pity. Only, under that shell of weakness and madness, a sliver of cold intelligence slithered unnoticed. Shameless but effective - to use the rest of the party as meatshields and try to desperately survive. It was something I could understand. ¡°Now¡­ who wants to open these?¡± Knut pointed at the stone halves. I didn¡¯t bother with any traps or special activation conditions - these gates were purely physical obstacles. Normal. They were normal. Then again - after their creation Sculptor went a bit crazy, adding various pieces of his knowledge to the stone. And by ¡°knowledge¡± I mean a mumble of lore about Devils and Gods¡­ inspired by video games I played in my past life, sprinkled with a big dose of mythology. At least he tried to keep it thematic. The face of a middle-aged man with curly hair was carved into the gates with great precision, his madness-addled eyes staring intensely at the newcomers. He sported a bright smile, and two iron tear-shaped clappers were attached to his cheeks. Only I knew that it was supposed to be a depiction of Midas - a symbol of greed from Greek mythology. For the people of this world, it was only a creepy crying old man. ¡°Did you discover any traps?¡± ¡°None. But if they¡¯re magical then we¡¯re shit out of luck.¡± ¡°There is no need to hesitate.¡± Answered Mudan. ¡°The descriptor doesn¡¯t say anything about the traps, only a trial of combat, so¡­ let¡¯s believe in the System.¡± He took a deep breath and stepped forward, his hands landing on the clappers. He grasped them tightly, then started to pull with a subdued grunt. A second later a way ahead started to open. ¡°Slow!¡± Big Jon stomped ahead impatiently, grabbing the rough inner surface of the door. ¡°What are you doing!¡± Knut screamed once again but in the end - nothing happened. No trap, poison, or lightning activated. The gate opened and a large hallway - the Great Greed Hallway to be exact - appeared before the invaders, eleven more doors set on their left, and the biggest one - overlooked by a lonely arch - waited at the end. ¡°Well¡­ that was anti-climactic.¡± Rasped the lanky thief, relaxing his grip on the weapon. The spear hung down, mimicking its wielder''s mood. ¡°I wel-welcome this k-kind of trial.¡± Gasped Mudan, even sweatier than before.¡± Haaaaaa¡­ j-just with fewer d-doors. P-pretty p-please.¡± ¡°Haha. Yes, yes. Let¡¯s explore. Remember - do not touch anything if you value your fucking lives! I guess that behind each of these doors is a Golem. We don¡¯t want to face every single one of them because of someone''s grubby fingers, eh?¡± With a few affirmative nods, the rest of the party spread out, leaving only Silence and Mudan near the door. The former was trembling in fear, while the latter slowly regulated his breathing. It was clear now that the fat man opened the gates only to raise the group¡¯s morale. Which, admittedly, worked well enough. The place was pretty large, with a floor made from flat stones, exquisitely carved walls, and large amounts of Electrical Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It was bright, silent, and rather wide - a perfect arena for what was supposed to happen. And then I took another look at the scenes depicted in the carvings. Why? Sculptor, why? Why were you depicting the fucking God of War protagonist, Kratos, ripping his enemies apart? What the fuck? I mean, I remembered these scenes vividly, they left a lasting memory, their sheer brutality, and the innovative cruelty leaving a deep impression on a child like me¡­ but to make them a focus of this whole Colosseum? ¡°W-what is THAT?¡± And here it comes¡­ ¡°H-huh¡­ is this a story of some demigod fighting against the monsters?¡± ¡°A temple, then?¡± ¡°In the dungeon? Does it show a long-forgotten legend? Maybe a hero of old?¡± ¡°B-but¡­ they look so realistic! Here - you see how he rips out an eye from this cyclops?¡± ¡°Or how he cuts off their legs?¡± ¡°Or how these wings are getting pulled out by his sheer strength?¡± ¡°Marvellous!¡± The two usually silent brothers were laughing and constantly running from one scene to another, like people who saw comics or manga for the first time. It was Knut who returned them to reality. ¡°You know that this guy could be a Boss of the Trial, right?¡± These words put a damper on their mood. ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± ¡°Ah, but the descriptor said something about the Golems? Unless this thing is an advanced one?¡± ¡°It would be tough to survive, then.¡± ¡°Not to even mention being able to win against it.¡± Their exchange was interrupted by Mudan¡¯s loud clapping. ¡°Please return! We need to talk.¡± A few moments later the whole team understood the gist of the challenge. How the rooms were decorated with various types of weapons and armor, and how they had to choose from at least one, beat its guardian, and then defeat the Boss. So, of course, they started bickering, trying to pick the easiest opponent. ¡°I would say that Axes, Maces, Swords, and Spears are out of the question.¡± ¡°Why? A magical weapon like that would set us for life!¡± ¡°You do remember that to claim it we first need to beat its wielder, right?¡± ¡°We can do it!¡± ¡°Really¡­¡± Knut nursed his growing headache. ¡°How many Golems did you encounter?¡± ¡°Ummmm. None?¡± ¡°Then what makes you so fucking sure that you can beat it?¡± ¡°We have numbers! And our training!¡± ¡°They¡¯re not worth shit!¡± ¡°Hey, hey, what did you say?¡± ¡°You wanna go?¡± ¡°GENTLEMEN!¡± A loud voice interrupted the incoming scuffle. Too bad. It would be entertaining to see them beat each other senselessly in the depths of my dungeon. I could even let the winner go. Just kidding. ¡°We should go for a Helmet or a Dagger.¡± Mudan finally took part in the discussion, after remaining silent for a long time. ¡°Why?¡± Whined one of the brothers. ¡°The idea is - what kind of weapon or armor would be the easiest to contend with.¡± His hard gaze wandered from face to face. ¡°Not to bring back the best loot. Even with all of us present surviving the ordeal, we would still get a cut big enough to live comfortably for the rest of our lives.¡± ¡°And it¡¯s not a certainty that all of us will survive.¡± These words silenced the malcontents. ¡°As to whether we saw a Golem before¡­ Of course, we did!¡± ¡°Eh?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°When?¡± Mudan sighed, combing his sweaty hair. ¡°On the first floor, there is a Smith Golem, endlessly churning out weapons, armor, and various tools. Each of you was forced to observe him for a few hours.¡± He smiled. ¡°How the fuck did you forget that? Every fucking single one of you bothered me about it for weeks. Weeks!¡± The faces of the surrounding warriors grew paler as they averted their gazes. Only Silence and his minion stood in confused calmness. ¡°The past is the past, brother!¡± ¡°We remember now!¡± Mudan¡¯s face twisted in anger, quickly dimming, and then returning to his uninterested ¡°default state¡±. ¡°Whatever...¡± The collective sigh of relief nearly reignited his fury but the man somehow managed to keep it under wraps. ¡°Any----way. Assuming that they are the same type of monster, we can guess that they can wear armor, use weapons, are very strong, and are good at enduring enemy attacks but not very fast or agile. Their intelligence should also be questionable.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you remember?¡± ¡°Nu-uh.¡± ¡°Oh Gods, give me strength¡­¡± After drinking a small sip from his cantine, Mudan continued. ¡±Don¡¯t you remember when one of the Helmet Grandpa people tried to do his dumb experiment?¡± ¡°The one about messing with the Golem?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± The fat man waited for them to finish up yet seeing the shifty expressions he raised his hands in surrender and continued the story. ¡°They took some of his botched jobs from the finished pile back to the materials pile to find out how intelligent this thing was. And vice versa - a material was shuffled into the stuff ready to go.¡± ¡°The effect? Well, the dumb thing ignored the ingot and reforged the whole breastplate into a few swords¡­¡± His gaze wandered among the listeners. ¡°Ah, I remember the guy who had to donate the armor bitching about it!¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± ¡°So¡­ they¡¯re not very smart? ¡°It would seem so.¡± ¡°And¡­ how do we use that knowledge?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Ehhhhhh?¡± A collective sound of disappointment left the lungs of the party. ¡°Listen up, you dumb fucks!¡± Mudan was at the end of his patience. ¡°I won¡¯t make a strategy meeting about a foe we didn¡¯t even encounter and we have no intel on!¡± ¡°We can only guess! That and I want to make you all aware of what risks we are taking and what can be done to mitigate them! If you don¡¯t want to listen - fine! Let¡¯s get on with it! Vote: Dagger or Helmet. Even you lot should understand the difference between attack and defense.¡± ¡°Helmet.¡± ¡°Also Helmet.¡± ¡°Dagger.¡± ¡°Helmet.¡± A moment of confusion. ¡°D-dagger.¡± It was strange. For the first time, the brothers reacted differently. ¡°Dagger.¡± ¡°Helmet. The smaller chance to die, the better.¡± Silence mumbled under his nose, surprising not only his stogie but also the rest of the criminals. ¡°This means four for the Helmet and three for the Dagger. We¡¯re set.¡± ¡°Get ready!¡± Knut bellowed, preparing a defense formation. A shield wall with spears poking out like needles of an ill hedgehog. Another order and the sharp ends turned mostly in one direction. ¡°Do it.¡± Mudan nodded and the lanky man sprinted towards the carved door, pressing a marked button. For a moment nothing happened. Knut returned to the formation, lifting his gear and breathing loudly with excitement. Then the wall rumbled and a line appeared in the middle of a scene depicting Kratos slaughtering some of the Ares¡¯s soldiers. A second later big, metal-clad hand smashed the crack open. With a scream of protesting stone, the Golem walked into the light, freed from its tomb. Its look surprised both the invaders and me. Unlike the Idiot-Smith (which I should probably check on, no matter how uncomfortable it will be) the new monster wasn¡¯t covered in armor or flame-resistant ¡°flesh¡±. No. Instead, it sported a large, three-meter tall skeleton, with barely humanoid proportions. Large, strong legs were supported with wide feet, while three-pronged hands looked more like claws used to tear and cut than the fingers of a sentient creature. I would swallow the lack of armor, weapon, and even the obvious attempts to monsterify my design but one thing I couldn¡¯t stand - WHY THE FUCK DOES IT HAVE A GLOWING WEAK POINT? And. It¡¯s. Right. In. The. Middle. Of. It¡¯s. Fucking. Chest! I get it! Dungeon Cores were bound to be trainers and game masters designing a fair challenge to the sentients. I really, really get it. But I would love some reason. Some boundaries. As I seethed it was time to look at the second surprise - which wasn¡¯t as nasty as the first one but still made me rethink this whole idea of a Trial being a type of punishment.
Trial of Greed random reward has been generated and set! Trial of Greed - Helmet reward has been randomly generated. Trial of Greed - Helmet reward has been set to: Regenerating Helmet of Endless Hunger
[Analyze.] I mumbled, noticing that the Golem was wearing a small-ish piece of metal. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that it was similar to the medieval pot helmets, with an open front and flat upper part.
Regenerating Helmet of Endless Hunger A magical helmet made from mundane iron and enchanted with the boon of regeneration and the curse of hunger. The boon and the curse are connected and will activate simultaneously. Any biological entity wearing it will constantly regenerate damage, burns, destroyed organs, or lost limbs back to the last remembered form of the user. During the process of regeneration, the user will have to endure constant hunger pains and a desire to feed. Be it flesh, plant, or even rotten matter - all will be consumed to fuel the enchantment. This is a cursed item, thus its ownership can be only transferred after the current wielder has been killed or a sufficiently strong anti-curse magic has been used. Not wearable by dungeon creatures.
Now¡­ that was interesting. 064 Uno I mused about the new item kindly created by the third-floor trial. It was certainly an interesting thing - a useful tool filled with insidious poison. I learned that regeneration seemed to be a big deal in the world of Yana. The reason was simple - there weren¡¯t many reliable means of healing existing on this forsaken planet. Those available - like potions made by half-elves or rare light magic users, for example - were out of reach for a common man. This made starvation a small price to pay for keeping one¡¯s life. Or so it seemed. I chuckled. [I wonder if they¡¯ll still consider it as such when the ravenous hunger forces them to devour their friends and loved ones.] It was a perfect setup. But - more importantly - it was readily usable. [Hahahaha!] Maybe these Trials weren¡¯t so bad, after all? I wouldn¡¯t mind spreading this ¡°prize¡± around the globe, sowing chaos. As I was wasting time thinking, the world kept going. The Golem glowered over the invaders, its iron skeleton radiating a silent threat. Humans¡¯ only response was to clutch their weapons even harder, gulping down the excess saliva. This standstill continued for over a dozen seconds. After that the iron golem moved violently - like it broke an invisible collar - it lowered its body menacingly, looking like a sprinter preparing for a run. One of its arms was kept in the air, on the same level as its face. It was using it both as a makeshift shield, defending the vulnerable core, and like a spear, prepared to pierce anything that stood in its path. Then, with a horrible screech made by the metal striking the stone, it started to run. I could sense the hatred it stewed in, the outrage stemming from the knowledge that these dirty insects were invading its home. *bang* *bang* *bang* The noise echoed in the chamber as my monster came closer and closer. The adventurers¡¯ reaction was interesting. After the first moment of hesitation, instead of running away, they steeled their composure, even as their pitiful spears were clearly insufficient to deal with the danger. I could see their gritted teeth, a thick coating of sweat, and fearfully dilated eyes. Their bodies trembled, sensing approaching demise. And yet they stood against the giant comprised of metal and hatred. In the end, however, their resolve ended up untested. A loud order broke the stalemate. ¡°Scatter! Now, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± Knut¡¯s command immediately dispersed the formation turning it into a collection of fleeing individuals, each of them screaming and scrambling to avoid Golem¡¯s attack. They escaped, fueled by fear of death and adrenaline. All of them, but one. Big Jon was never fast or quick to react - his weight, slow thinking, and overall clumsiness only added to the equation. Still, in normal circumstances, he too would be able to run away, just like his companions did. Everybody forgot about one minor detail, though. His leg. It was still swollen, bandaged, and weak. I observed his struggle with a strange sense of schadenfreude. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The big man turned desperately, trying to sprint away from the danger only to grunt in pain instead. The barely closed wound split open, spilling red all over the ground. He crumbled to his knees, sounds of labored breathing filling the air. After a few curses spoken in a terse tone, Big Jon glanced at the damaged limb that betrayed him in the most important moment. Then, with teeth clenched so hard that they started bleeding, he rose again, using his spear as a crutch. He faced the approaching enemy, his face hardening with resolve. Or was it a simple resignation? He lifted his spear, intent on defending to the last. The few remaining seconds before the collision passed even slower, as I observed the animated monster clash with the large human. The result was easy to predict, as Big Jon¡¯s body was flung in the air, accompanied by scattered pieces of his weapon. A while later he hit the nearby wall and then slid down, leaving a trail of blood on the stone. At the same time, I could hear a loud crack, suggesting that he didn¡¯t come out of the fight unscathed. I predicted a few broken ribs at the very least. With his unfocused eyes and battered body - not to mention blood that seeped from every centimeter of his flesh - Big Jon looked more like a corpse than a living man. Yet he still drew breath. These humans really were like cockroaches... My Golem fared surprisingly worse, a piece of the enemy¡¯s spear somehow scratched the surface of its core. The creature howled angrily, just like a beast, spreading its arms in a menacing fashion. It took me by surprise, after all, most of my minions were unable to speak. How was it that this one was different? Despite my reaction, the fight continued, as the Golem started marching towards Big Jon, obviously keen on finishing the job. It was however interrupted a moment later by a flying dagger. ¡°Keep it busy!¡± Knut ordered, as he threw another weapon and succeded in redirecting the monster¡¯s attention. ¡°And for Brighton¡¯s sake, can somebody try to wake the giant up! We need him!¡± One of the brothers nodded fiercely before both of them surged forward, their spears striking the Golem¡¯s crossed arms. No damage was being inflicted but my monster focused on them nonetheless. The pair of criminals with their bald heads and the same faces looked like battle dolls trying to fulfill their master¡¯s command. Their battle felt strangely pleasing to the eye. The brothers exhibited unparalleled cooperation as they tried to poke a hole in the brightly lit heart of their opponent. When one of them came under fire, the other tried to bail him out by recklessly lashing out at the Golem. The iron machine hissed in annoyance - it wasn¡¯t having any of that, especially when its prey was just behind a corner. It swept from left to right with the metal claws, trying to draw blood and slow down the annoyingly nimble opponents. Yet the Golem was too big, too bulky, which made it hard to use quick, controlled movements thus allowing the agility to triumph over strength. It didn¡¯t help that the monster¡¯s attack was easy to predict, monotone even - and this weakness was easily picked up by its opponents. Their confidence grew as the fight progressed. I really hoped that it was just a tactic to make them slip up. Yet minutes passed by and the scales of victory started tipping in the invaders¡¯ favor. Knut and the brothers were keeping the giant busy, while the rest of the team - Mudan, Silence, and his remaining crony focused on waking up Big Jon. It was an arduous process, mostly comprised of smacking his face and shouting. Slowly he came to but some time would pass before he would be of any use. I was bored. My only choice was to watch, so I tried to use [Analyze] on the Trial¡¯s creation.
Cored Bile-brain Golem A metal skeleton piloted by a Bile-brain, one of the unholy abominations created in a Forgotten Dungeon. Its metal structure allows for dealing quick and powerful attacks, which coupled with a durable body creates a perfect killing machine. Too bad that the ¡°pilot¡± in charge of it struggles with even the most basic planning and is incapable of precise movements, lowering its performance to the level of a common beast. Additionally, unlike its dungeon-spawned brethren, this monster carries a glaring weakness - the glowing core, which provides it with energy. Destroying it will halt the golem¡¯s operation leaving Bile-brain open for attack. It can and will use weapons and armor if available, and is also capable of understanding basic commands. Threat level: E+
Wait, what? Why was it so weak? A big, brawny monster was classified by the System as barely stronger than a Ratling? How? I grew angry but the emotion soon cooled down. I had to see and judge the situation with my own eyes. Right now observing the Bile-brain was my only option. So I just started to watch. A few minutes later the situation cleared out. Even when I lacked body and experience, even when my knowledge about fighting was limited to games, movies, low-level invaders, and my imagination¡­ even then I could tell that something was wrong. The Golem reacted to spear pokes in an angry, animalistic fashion, backing off and then focusing on the person who attacked it. To make matters worse it was using the same two attacks - swiping left and then right with its claws. Even when it managed to corner one of the humans a swift dagger attack was enough for it to change the targets. There was some potential for damage when I was considering the Golem¡¯s first charge, yet right now - when it was being muddleheaded and surrounded by enemies - it was pretty much worthless. Just a big punching bag to be trampled on. It was a hopeless situation. Yet there was light in the darkness. A way out. As a dungeon monster, the Bile-brain Golem was capable of receiving commands, more so - the undead were able to hear them directly, unlike my Ratlings or other living thralls. I had to try... Hopefully, there wasn¡¯t some absurd rule in place, like ¡°the trial monsters are removed from your control¡± or similar bullshit. [Focus your attack on one opponent! Ignore the rest!] I commanded and the Bile-brain stopped, confusingly staring at the invaders. This, of course, elicited a bunch of responses. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Is it dying?¡± ¡°Something changed¡­ Look out!¡± Which quickly turned into unfounded confidence. ¡°Kill it! We¡¯re doing this shit!¡± ¡°Goddess, help us!¡± ¡°Uwaaaaah!¡± ¡°Use this chance! Charge!¡± Even coward Silence and his minion joined the fight, leaving only Mudan still fussing over Big Jon - all because of the growing chance of victory. Yet there was a malicious glint in Knut¡¯s eyes. He also noticed that the Family¡¯s enforcers left the burden of fighting on their shoulders. I nodded to myself. Humans remained the same, even in the direst circumstances. My attention however returned to the monster. It wasn¡¯t dying as invaders assumed but I could sense something weird from it. Was it¡­ confusion? Oh. Right. The instructions were unclear. It had no idea what to do. [Kill the bald one!] I specified, and a moment later Bile-brain turned its gaze towards the pair of brothers¡­ And then it just stood there - at least it was trying to block some of the incoming hits. The invaders noticed this change. ¡°What? What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Stay frosty, brother!¡± I hissed in annoyance. How stupid this thing could it be? [Attack only the bald human on your left. Ignore the rest!] I reiterated. This time the iron giant moved, its hesitation gone like it was never there. ¡°Dodge!¡± One of the criminals screamed as a Bile-brain claw left a mark on the nearby ground. ¡°Shit, shit, shit!¡± ¡°The daggers aren¡¯t working anymore!¡± Knut wheezed as Bile-brain ignored his assault. ¡°We need a solution!¡± ¡°Help!¡± ¡°H-hurry!¡± One attack came after another, each barely avoided by the gasping human. His brow was full of sweat, each breath - a battle. I smirked. It was clear that my creation was superior in the way of resilience. [Slow and steady wins the race.] A while later the claws connected, leaving a long wound on the human¡¯s chest. He screamed in pain, tumbling to the ground. His brother jumped in, the spear helplessly trying to pierce the Golem¡¯s core, only for the man to get smacked by its off-hand and sent flying... to the left of my minion. ¡°Gyaaaaaah!¡± Bile-brain hesitated, as it gazed at the wounded man lying before it, before turning its attention to the one that was trying to defend him. Seemingly making a decision it grunted and ignored the squirming man in favor of his companion. The Golem stomped away to continue its assault on the second brother. I grumbled, feeling a mounting headache. [What the hell are you doing?] My anger rippled through the dungeon, as I screamed out, seeing its idiotic actions. This sudden action forced the spectating monsters to curl up, afraid of my rage. Who were these monsters? Ratlings, of course. A bunch of them was peeking at the Trial chamber struggle because... why wouldn¡¯t they? I already gave up on analyzing their actions. [Take care of the bald one lying on the ground.] It was like controlling an old, rickety toy vending machine. All my commands were misinterpreted in the worst possible fashion. Murphy¡¯s Law? Some unjust godly intervention? Or just plain mechanical failure? Sighing, I wondered if Ratling Black Mages were experiencing the same problems. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The Golem slowly turned its menacing frame looming over the wounded man. It seemed like for this pile of bolts turning around was harder than running after its prey. Dozens of seconds passed before it finished. Mudan was still trying to wake up Big Jon, while Knut, Silence, and his crony were constantly assaulting the iron giant, hoping to deal some damage or just sway its attention. The brothers were out for the count, one bleeding heavily, and the other was still trying to gather his wits. A delicious situation. [What are you waiting for? Kill him!] I nudged the monster in the right direction. The irony of the situation wasn¡¯t lost on me, as I was spouting some truly villainous lines. The Bile-brain loomed closer and closer to the wounded man, its claws gleaming menacingly. ¡°S-stop¡­ STOP IT!¡± A scream came from the back, from the direction of the other brother. ¡°Stop it, please!¡± Tears were flowing freely on his face. Yet no begging would convince my minion to abandon its duty. *snikt* *gurgle* *snikt* *gurgll¡­* *snikt* *snikt* The human tried desperately to defend, but the sounds of struggle grew weaker and weaker until all that remained was the noise of metal piercing flesh. [Enough.] The Golem tilted its head in incomprehension. [I said... It''s enough. Kill the second bald one.] I ordered. My earlier ecstasy was already gone, only distaste remained. ¡°You FUCKING monster! I¡¯ll kill you! I¡¯LL KILL YOU!¡± The surviving sibling was raving mad, his eyes filled with hatred. He completely abandoned reason, sprinting towards his nemesis, the distance shrinking in mere seconds. My minion was happy for a challenge, its three-clawed hands ready to skewer the incoming human. For once a prey was coming to him, not the other way around. A collision happened, flesh and metal tearing and bruising. The Golem did skewer the incoming runner but not before paying the price for it. The criminal¡¯s spear also pierced true. Both the human and the monster reeled in pain, their screams echoing in the Trial chamber. The bald warrior was dead, his spine severed. He accomplished his revenge, though - the damage dealt was critical, Golem¡¯s core pulsing with excess energy trying to break away and explode. Still, the Bile-brain stood tall. It wasn¡¯t dead. Not yet anyway. The body of its opponent has been flicked away like a piece of trash. Then the Golem turned towards the remaining survivors without my input. It was angry and ready to rumble... Only to eat another surprise charge - this time made by a screaming and crying giant - Big Jon, to be exact. Unlike his predecessor, the giant¡¯s mass was enough to send them both fighters tumbling, a piece of a broken spear firmly lodged in the weak point of my minion. They both roared, hatred, pain, and simple rage melding together. ¡°Die! Just die!¡± Big Jon repeated these words, pushing the spear ever deeper, each attack temporarily paralyzing the Bile-brain. It squirmed under the weight, one of its arms already bent at an impossible angle. Still, its constant movement wasn¡¯t without merit as it managed to disarm the brute that had thrown it to the ground. Big Jon, undaunted by the enemy somehow managed to grab hold of the artifact helmet loosely attached to the Golem¡¯s head. After a moment of deliberation, he tore it off eliciting another roar of displeasure from the monster. It took him a while to recognize what he was holding. A moment later¡­ he used the helmet as a bashing weapon, beating the ever-living shit out of the Bile-brain. Which worked surprisingly well. The helmet was, after all, an artifact, even if it was made from the same material as my golem - iron. With unyielding strength, Big Jon lifted it and then smashed down. And again. And again. ¡°Die!¡± ¡°You!¡± ¡°Fuck!¡± ¡°Die!¡± ¡°Aaaaaaaaaaa!¡± Long after the Golem stopped moving the big fellow was still crying and smashing down on the Bile-brain¡¯s remains. His tears were mixing with the blood but he wasn¡¯t keen on stopping. ¡°It¡¯s enough.¡± Knut was the first to step forward, his hand resting on the giant¡¯s shoulder. ¡°No! No¡­ the brothers¡­ Avenge...¡± Sobbed Big Jon. ¡°It¡¯s enough. The monster is already dead. The brothers returned to the Gods too.¡± The lanky criminal didn¡¯t relent. ¡°Are sure it¡¯s safe? When he gets like that¡­¡± Mudan shuddered. ¡°Yes. He is just grieving right now.¡± Knut turned back. ¡°Right?¡± He asked with a somber voice. ¡°T-the m-monster is dead¡­¡± He looked up. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°The brothers¡¯ names? What were they?¡± ¡°Uhhhh¡­¡± ¡°Does anyone know?¡± ¡°I thought you Silver Oasis folks knew each other?¡± Jested Silence. ¡°Let¡¯s just call them Unnamed Brothers?¡± The rest of the humans continued the farce, afraid that Big Jon would suddenly snap. ¡°Right! It kind of does feel that way, right? The unsung heroes of the Geinard Kingdom!¡± ¡°Good.¡± After speaking these words Big Jon¡¯s movements slowed down, before stopping completely. He stared dumbly at the ichor-splattered helmet held in his hand before blinking and then... putting it on. ¡°Ah.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± ¡°Hey!¡± A series of exclamations sounded around him. ¡°What do you think you are doing, you big oaf?¡± Silence was the first one to react, his voice echoing with a dangerous tone. ¡°It¡¯s a magical artifact! It¡¯s worth more gold than you can ever imagine! You can¡¯t just¡­ put it on!¡± Knut glared at the Family¡¯s leader before adding his two cents. ¡°Please take it off.¡± He said while massaging his brow. ¡°You don¡¯t even know what it¡¯ll do.¡± His gaze quickly landed on the remains of his companions, before skittering away. ¡°B-but it¡¯s my p-prize?¡± The large man stuttered in response. ¡°For beating the metal man. Avenging friends.¡± ¡°I know. You did well. Now - nobody will take it from you, we¡¯re only going to take a look and return it promptly.¡± Mudan invited himself into conversation speaking in a soothing tone. His approach seemed to work as the giant grabbed the helmet in an attempt to take it off. But he couldn¡¯t. I giggled insanely. I was always wondering how the curse would manifest. How would it prevent people from forcibly changing their ownership. Now I knew. The show was just beginning, as the Big Jon¡¯s noticed that something was wrong. Slowly their friendly jests at his clumsiness turned into a genuine concern. ¡°Hey, hey, it¡¯s easy to take it off, you just grab here¡­ and¡­ w-why won¡¯t it come off?¡± ¡°Let me. You all are just--- what the hell! What is this?¡± Big Jon was also trying to help, yet even his strength wasn¡¯t enough to lift the stubborn piece of armor. ¡°Come on, oh come on! My gold!¡± ¡°Pull!¡± ¡°Goddamit!¡± ¡°Why-won¡¯t-it-let-go?¡± The invaders huffed and puffed, joining their forces to release their friend from the artifact¡¯s grasp. All in vain. After watching them struggle for a few minutes I grew bored. Just as I wondered if sending my Ratlings to deal with the humans would break the Trial a voice buzzed by my ear. [Prey. Little.] Non¡¯s mental voice was as solitary as her personality. [Be patient. There is an amusing party in the dungeon, but they¡¯re currently confined in the trial chambers.] [Can. Hunt.] [No. Leave them alone. If - and only if - they manage to survive I¡¯ll probably let them go.] [Waste.] [Right, my lord! Any creatures brazen enough to invade our home should be met with merciless retribution!] Guardian¡¯s voice was much louder than I remembered. Were those perks of being a parent? I snorted. [Good thing this is not a democracy, then.] After a while, I continued. [As I said, I have plans to stir trouble on the surface. Letting them know that a regenerating artifact can be acquired in my depths should tickle their greed.] A little hum escaped my mouth. [Of course, it¡¯s not only that. The side effects will be¡­ spectacular. I can only hope that they won¡¯t be discovered too early.] [Enough about me. How about your charges? I do hope you have some progress to report.] [Training. Not. Dead.] [I suppose it¡¯s a good thing, right?] [Resilient.] There was a sense of wonder contained in this short answer. Somehow I felt sorry for the little guy. [Small.] [How about you, Guardian?] [Yes! The kobolds are training with all their might, most of them already evolved into middle-rank monsters!] He boomed with pride. [What does that even mean?] [Dungeon kobolds, like some other species, have four forms - four stages of life. First, there is a Newborn (youngling), then an Adolescent, an Adult, and finally - an Elder. Each of them is progressively stronger, barring exceptions. My chi-, I mean, soldiers have already turned into Adolescents.] [Jealous.] [And why that knowledge didn¡¯t come to me naturally?] I grumbled. It was annoying to have something explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Guardian shut up for a moment before continuing cautiously. [Probably because my lord¡¯s dungeon is of a mechanical and undead type?] [But what about the rats?] I frowned, deep in thought. [They¡¯re not considered a proper dungeon race. I think.] [Oh, whatever. It¡¯s not like the kobolds will become a pillar of my strength¡­ Wait a moment¡­ the fourth floor¡­] I started murmuring, thinking about my newest creations. Would they too have stages of life? Were they considered mechanical or maybe organic creatures? My musing was cut short by an annoyed shout coming from the invaders. ¡°What the hell! What¡¯s with this stupid helmet!¡± Knut screamed, before sitting down on the ground in resignation. ¡°Yeah¡­ It¡¯s pointless.¡± Mudan joined him a moment later, leaving Silence and his crony as the only people still trying to bend the curse magic to their will. His gaze wandered to the two dead brothers. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we do something for them?¡± He hesitantly asked. ¡°We can only move them out of the way. The dungeon will claim their flesh. It¡¯s inevitable.¡± ¡°I thought it was dead.¡± ¡°It is.¡± Knut mused for a few long seconds. ¡°Even with the core gone some basic functions remain. Otherwise, this Trial would be already defunct.¡± ¡°I see. But¡­ let¡¯s just move them to the corner?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s.¡± Both of them delicately moved the mangled bodies of their companions to the back of the chamber and covered them with dirty blankets. With the deed done, all that remained was observing the struggles of the remaining survivors. ¡°What¡­ is¡­ that?¡± Despite his clear greed Silence could only relent. The artifact wasn¡¯t budging. ¡°I can¡¯t pry it off, boss.¡± His crony added. ¡°I know. Leave it be.¡± The man nodded, before whispering to himself. ¡°In the worst-case scenario, I¡¯ll just cut his head off and present it to the mages this way¡­¡± A dangerous flame flickered in his eyes. ¡°Do you have any idea why we can¡¯t remove his helmet?¡± Mudan asked. The lanky man frowned. ¡°Do you think I am some freaking walking library? I don¡¯t have an answer to every question you can ask!¡± ¡°Buuuuuut?¡± ¡°Argh! Fine!¡± After taking a deep breath, the criminal continued. ¡°I once heard about the weapons and armor which chose their master. That old crone talked about compatibility, character traits, and similar things. Most of the other oldies just laughed it up as plain old luck, the early bird gets the worm, and so on.¡± ¡°Are you suggesting it''s one of these legendary artifacts?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know! We are talking about legends! It could be true, or it could be not! Who am I to judge?¡± Knut stood up, pacing from one wall to another. ¡°It¡¯s not really important. What we need to know is what are its capabilities. Besides monstrous durability, of course.¡± ¡°Big Jon, do you feel any different, now that you¡¯re wearing this thing?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°I am a little¡­ hungry.¡± He answered calmly. ¡°I doubt that¡¯s the extent of the artifact¡¯s power. Hmmm¡­¡± ¡°Hungry¡­¡± ¡°Then just munch on a jerky or something and let me think.¡± A few more minutes passed in silence. ¡°No. I don¡¯t have enough information. Let¡¯s just focus on the present. The only thing we need to do right now is to beat the boss and then return safely to the surface.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not getting the dagger, then?¡± Mudan asked. ¡°Hell no. Did you see how strong that monster was, as soon as it reoriented itself? With only a freaking helmet artifact? A defensive one?¡± He spat on the ground. ¡°Do you really want to face one with an actual weapon?¡± Knut shook his head in thought. ¡°Remember, that the boss will be armed with a copy of whatever item these rooms contain. And there are only five of us left.¡± He glanced at the Family members and Big Jon. ¡°Not to mention we¡¯re not in the best condition.¡± ¡°So for now our aim is to just survive, right?¡± ¡°Yes. From a grand plan to this¡­ we sure have fallen on bad times, eh friend?¡± ¡°Tell me more.¡± A wry smile appeared on Mudan¡¯s face. ¡°How long are we going to rest?¡± Silence asked in a grumpy tone. ¡°The sooner we deal with the boss, the sooner we leave this place.¡± His gaze turned distant. ¡°I for one would sacrifice much for a chance to return to a normal life.¡± ¡°What is a normal life to a criminal?¡± Snorted Knut. ¡°Certainly not spelunking in these Goddess-forgotten wastes.¡± The Family¡¯s leader shot back. ¡°Let us go then. We will only grow weaker as time passes.¡± ¡°I used most of my bandages.¡± Added Mudan. His tone grew heavier. ¡°Big Jon¡¯s wounds won¡¯t close. The bleeding is not stopping no matter what I do.¡± ¡°I feel fine.¡± Grumbled the giant. ¡°Just a little bit¡­ hungry.¡± ¡°Eat jerky, then!¡± ¡°There is no more left, though¡­¡± ¡°What? I thought we had a full bag?¡± ¡°We had.¡± ¡°Did you eat every single piece?¡± ¡°I-I was hungry¡­¡± ¡°Are you retarded! Why did you do that? We will die from starvation!¡± ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± A loud sigh escaped Knut¡¯s mouth, as he waved his hand dismissively. ¡°It really doesn¡¯t matter. This battle should be our last. Just¡­ remember to not wear this copy of the artifact, all right?¡± His expression tensed. ¡°I am sure that both the mages and our not-noble ruler would be damn interested in any magical item we manage to scrounge from the dungeon.¡± ¡°This is our only way out.¡± Mumbled Mudan. ¡°We cannot fail.¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± ¡°Y-yes.¡± ¡°True. Let¡¯s do our best.¡± The rest of the team looked. ¡°What?¡± Silence scoffed. ¡°My will to live is as strong as yours.¡± Knut stared at him for a long while, before shrugging and then striding forward. He pushed a button without hesitation. The effect was immediate. The massive door lit up, and with a low rumble, something inside started to stir, slowly pushing back two slabs of rock. Like before a giant Golem appeared from the entrance, similar, yet different from the humans'' earlier opponent. Its skeletal structure was covered with stone, earth, dead flesh, and pieces of mismatched armor. On its head rested a copy of the Helmet. A blunt sword rested on its shoulder, while the air around it was filled with black gas - a visible effect of the curse. A small yellow orb pulsated on its chest, the weak point that the Trial forced on my creations. ¡°Oh fuck.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a boss, alright.¡± Mudan swallowed nervously. ¡°Let¡¯s try a tested strategy. I¡¯ll try to get its attention, while the rest of you will try to damage its core!¡± Knut was already giving out orders, his eyes trained on the slowly incoming opponent. ¡°It seems slower but also stronger than the earlier guy.¡± ¡°Not to mention that big fucking sword¡­¡± ¡°Remain calm! As long as we knock the orb out it should die like the other one!¡± ¡°Yea---! What the hell!¡± Ignoring the commotion (and his wounded leg) Big Jon started sprinting towards the Golem, his form surprisingly agile. ¡°What are you doing? You fuckin¡¯ stupid toooool!¡± ¡°Stoooooop!¡± Running like a man possessed he quickly managed to get past his comrades. I was expecting that he was being motivated by hatred or vengeance¡­ yet his red eyes burned with much simpler desire. ¡°Meat! Meat!¡± He chanted under his nose, coming closer and closer to the stoic Golem. A moment later a loud *smack* echoed in the chamber as he was sent back tumbling. A few seconds later he stopped moving, sprawled on the ground like a broken doll, large amounts of blood spilling into his surroundings. His chest had been dented, showing pieces of muscles, white bones, and even internal organs. ¡°Big Jooooon!¡± ¡°Damn it!¡± ¡°With a wound like that he is already dead¡­¡± ¡°Focus on the present! We need to take this monster down!¡± Their reactions showed how numb the invaders felt. They quickly ignored their dying companion, and instead spread out trying to confuse my minion. I grinned. The same tactic wasn¡¯t going to work twice. [Focus on the black-clothed human. The smaller one.] I ordered my Cursed Golem. Or Bile-cursed Golem as my [Analyze] called it. Its mind seemed quicker than its lesser brethren but the difference wasn¡¯t that big. My tactic this time was different. I aimed for slowly whittling their power before going in for the kill. I didn¡¯t have much choice in this matter. Knut was much too nimble to eliminate quickly, Mudan was a non-entity in this fight, Big Jon was already out, Silence was another target on my list and it was his subordinate that looked the most tired and haggard. Not to mention his lack of skill. This process of elimination left me with the first candidate to be assaulted. The eyes of the invaders widened as my minion started swinging its sword in a single direction, slowly cornering the black-clothed man. ¡°Boss, help me!¡± ¡°It¡¯s too fast!¡± ¡°Dodge!¡± ¡°Raaaaaaa!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to dieeeee!¡± The chaotic battlefield only grew more confusing as Knut tried to climb the Golem¡¯s back, in a futile attempt to get a stab at its core. Silence and Mudan courageously pestered the monster, their attacks barely scratching its armor. Silence¡¯s minion tried to run away, but with the Trial¡¯s limited space there wasn¡¯t much he could do. Instead, he tried to avoid the falling blade, each attack draining his stamina. In the end, he slowed down enough that the blunted piece of iron caved his shoulder in. It sent him reeling, blood, and urine mixing on the ground. The man couldn¡¯t even speak from the pain, his mouth opened in a noiseless scream. As he gasped for air gazing at the looming death something happened. Someone happened. ¡°MEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!¡± Big Jon sailed through the air, weaponless, with only animalistic hunger visible in his eyes. He collided with my minion, sending it tumbling. The momentum threw Knut away, yet he somehow managed to land safely. Silence¡¯s minion wasn¡¯t so lucky as the monster¡¯s large feet smashed one of his legs to a pulp. ¡°Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± ¡°MEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!¡± Two screams constantly tore at the air. The battle continued. 065 Uno It was fun. There was chaos, screams, and spurting blood. The battle continued unimpeded as my Golem kept smacking around its undying opponent, each hit it delivered painting the surrounding walls red. I could hear Big Jon¡¯s bones breaking over and over and a moment later they were slowly snapping back in place. The giant human - or maybe just a primal beast that remained in his place - howled and screamed while continuing his assault on my iron servant. The rest of surviving adventurers - Knut, Mudan, Silence, and his crippled follower - were currently busy huddling in the corner, observing the developing situation. They reeked of fear, sweating heavily and trying to breathe as quietly as humanly possible. Scared and desperate, that was how I would describe them. Yet it was said desperation that often pushed humans when all seemed lost. There were whispers exchanged in the dark - Knut and Mudan slowly rose, a flame of hope reignited in their eyes. Sadly I couldn¡¯t hear the contents of their conversation due to Big Jon¡¯s obnoxiously loud screams. ¡°Meat!¡± ¡°Give!¡± ¡°More FLESH!¡± ¡°More BONE!¡± ¡°And sweet, delicious MARROW!¡± ¡°Fooooooood, here I come!¡± ¡°AN¡¯ EAT¡­ EVER¡¯TING!¡± The big man¡¯s words were turning less and less coherent as he accumulated the damage. Minutes later his weapon and armor broke, ground down under his crazed assault and the Golem¡¯s unforgiving retaliation. In the end, Big Jon was forced to use his fists to attack, his flesh reforming after each successful strike. He ignored the fact that his bones and nails weren¡¯t strong enough to break through the Bile-brain¡¯s armor and continued fighting. It was only after some time that I understood his aim - or was it just a simple instinct? While it was true that the metal chest plate, greaves, and helmet worn by his enemy were sturdy enough to stop most of the hits, they weren¡¯t completely covering the Golem¡¯s body. Noticing that flaw Big Jon¡¯s fingers were continuously digging deeper and deeper. He discovered a weakness with each attack while searching for a way to crush the wildly pulsating Golem¡¯s core hidden underneath the metal. [What are you doing?] A frown appeared on my face as I started to get angry. There should be no need to micromanage this fight. According to my knowledge, the trial monsters were much stronger than this rag-tag band of adventurers. [Just pick him up and then throw him away!] The monster followed the command to the letter, lifting Big Jon like my old world¡¯s wrestler, and then chucked him away in a grandiose fashion. I breathed with relief. We had gained a few seconds of respite before that meat-devouring madman would return. I had to think of a solution. The way this fight was going Big Jon was sure to beat my monster and then devour his companions. I had other plans, though. My contemplation was cut short by a suspicious noise. *CLANG* ...which came from Big Jon¡¯s direction. I re-focused on the bloodied walls only to giggle with glee at the developing situation. While I didn¡¯t plan for it there was no need to discard any advantages. The humans mirrored my reaction - in a less pleased fashion. ¡°Oh, shit¡­¡± ¡°Goddess preserve us!¡± ¡°Are you fucking kidding me? Two of them?¡± With a loud rumble, the second pair of doors opened, and the stone door revealed a stout silhouette. It was another Golem - this time armed with a menacing bastard sword. It was quite long at 85 centimeters, with a sleek and clean blade. Yet under that mundane shell radiated a subdued aura of power. A moment later a blue box appeared before my eyes.
Trial of Greed random reward has been generated and set! Trial of Greed - Sword reward has been randomly generated. Trial of Greed - Sword reward has been set to: Berserker¡¯s Blood Sword
Now it was clear what happened. Big Jon¡¯s flying body accidentally pressed the button, letting another of my servants in. A lucky coincidence I wasn¡¯t planning for. [Analyze.] I mumbled, interested in the Trial¡¯s newest creation.
Berserker¡¯s Blood Sword A magical weapon forged from mundane iron and enchanted with an ability to greatly increase cutting power when bathed in blood. At the same time, the curse placed on it forces the wielder in direct contact with the blade into a powerful rage at the sight of blood - turning him/her into an unstoppable killing machine. Any biological entity equipping the weapon will be immune to psychological effects but also unable to make a distinction between allies and enemies when enraged. The battle rage lasts a maximum of 10 minutes. After the berserk state ends the user¡¯s physical abilities will be weakened. It is however possible to immediately enforce another bout of rage. This is a cursed item, thus its ownership can be only transferred after the current wielder has been killed or a sufficiently strong anti-curse magic has been used. Not usable by dungeon creatures. Warning! Equipping the item results in a forcible change of class!
Oh. That kind of power was certainly interesting. And, more importantly, it was also strangely compatible with the helmet. One would heal the wielder, keeping him or her alive, while the other would make sure that all obstacles in the user¡¯s way were destroyed. These items were perfect. It would be nice to accidentally send a few pieces to the human side¡­ and watch the carnage. Now the only question was should I let one of the survivors leave, or should I rather push the introduction back in time? As I was trying to decide the battle continued. Big Jon was trying to ignore the freshly added enemy, trying instead to rush towards the Trial¡¯s Boss in a hunger-induced rage. This was a stupid move. Even my iron dolls were able to land a hit on such a predictable target. *slash* A sickly sound of metal cutting flesh resounded in the chamber as the cursed sword bit into the adventurer¡¯s shoulder. Even Big Jon¡¯s thick bones had no choice but to snap under the Golem¡¯s strength. Not to mention that the blade turned out strong enough to carve the giant up even without activating its blessing. ¡°Gyaaaaaaaaa!¡± Big Jon screamed like a wounded animal. At the same time, I made up my mind. The humans were going to get their present. Full of resolve I returned to observing the battlefield. On the other end of the hall, my Trial Boss was currently hunting the three remaining criminals. Silence¡¯s subordinate had been already disposed of, his head smashed open like a watermelon. ¡°Dodge!¡± Knut screamed, his voice already hoarse. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake! Now!¡± He fell flat on the ground, and - a moment later - my Boss¡¯s claws swooshed over his head. Black-clothed Silence standing behind him wasn¡¯t as fast, the attack successfully drawing red blood. ¡°Argh!¡± He yelled while flailing around. [Pursue the black one!] I ordered, seeing my Golem obsessed with Knut. He was pretty good at drawing the monster¡¯s aggression. [Always go for the wounded one!] The minion stopped glaring at Silence, whose face turned completely pale¡­ And then stomped away to gang up on Big Jon¡­ Of course. Of course, this stupid piece of shit would interpret everything literally. [Stop.] I spoke coldly. [Good. Now go back and fucking squash the black-robed human!] The iron man turned in unhesitantly and started, once again, pursuing his enemy. ¡°Look out!¡± ¡°It¡¯s coming back!¡± ¡°Gods¡­¡± ¡°We can¡¯t defeat it!¡± ¡°Then try to confuse it!¡± ¡°And how we should do that?¡± ¡°Uhhh¡­¡± ¡°It had problems with choosing its target! Let¡¯s just¡­ run around!¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t we just dodging?¡± ¡°How the fuck are we supposed to win?¡± [A valid, if somewhat shortsighted tactic. If I wasn¡¯t here to give orders, I mean.] I murmured, my anger quickly cooling down. The three surviving humans started to dodge the Golem¡¯s attacks, their figures flicked in and out like ghosts. They changed places every second, moving dangerously close to the monster. My servant turned its head left and right, claws poised to strike, yet it was still not able to attack. This situation persisted for a few more minutes accompanied by Big Jon¡¯s screams as he was being hacked apart. This (unsurprisingly) strained the survivors¡¯ nerves. ¡°H-how m-much l-lon-ger?¡± Gasped Silence, his legs already trembling from exhaustion. ¡°M-move! D-don¡¯t t-talk!¡± Knut answered angrily, barely avoiding another wide sweep of the claws. [And here we have it.] I nodded. [Were they seriously trying to compete in endurance against an iron doll? A mechanical contraption?] I held my head. [Now. Who will be the first to take the fall?] Seconds passed and the one to slip up was the person in the worst physical condition. The one who didn¡¯t even have any strength left to speak. Mudan. He comically tripped on flat ground, barely managing to lift his head before the Golem kicked him as one would do with an overly fat ball. It was nice. It meant my servants were learning. ¡°Aaaaaaaaaaaah!¡± A long, tearful scream resounded as Mudan sailed through the air before hitting the ground a few meters away. His body tumbled three more times and then collided with a nearby wall. He stopped, and collapsed in a heap of twitching flesh, blood, and urine. ¡°Mudan! May the Gods curse you, monster!¡± Knut shouted, breathing heavily. His daggers were prepared to strike the enemy. ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± Asked Silence, his face even paler than before. ¡°We need to go on the offensive. It¡¯s the only way to survive.¡± ¡°Are you retarded? There are only two¡­ three of us.¡± ¡°I know. That¡¯s why we need to focus on the weaker opponent. If we just wait, then our fate will be sealed.¡± The lanky man smiled grimly. ¡°I¡¯ll try to distract this fucker. You help Big Jon with his foe.¡± ¡°Hell no!¡± Silence glanced at the bloodied, yet still energetically screaming giant. ¡°He will attack me too!¡± ¡°I will gladly trade, then.¡± ¡°Fuck. Fuck.¡± The Family¡¯s leader''s eyes were swimming. ¡°The clock is ticking.¡± Knut reminded him while avoiding the Golem¡¯s lukewarm strike. ¡°Is it giving us time to decide?¡± He muttered, his eyes squinted in suspicion. ¡°Are they intelligent?¡± The black-clothed man straightened his back. A shallow wound bled on his chest. ¡°Get to Big Jon. I¡¯ll try to buy you as much time as I can.¡± Knut patted him on the shoulder. ¡°If we survive I¡¯m buying everyone a mug of beer!¡± Silence brushed off his hand. ¡°You wish.¡± He scoffed, before grumpily whispering. ¡°I¡¯m more of a wine guy.¡± ¡°Haha, that¡¯s the spirit!¡± With a wide, mad smile Knut rushed towards the bloodied giant. There was hope in his eyes, a wild energy present in his step. And strike he did, his sudden attack nearly severing the Golem¡¯s arm, as he lodged the blades in it, using the metal as leverage. My minion was instantly forced to defend. Under all the armor there were weak, human-like bones hidden, after all. [Yes. This will do.] I had decided who was going to become prey and who would emerge as a sole survivor. [Do it now.] I ordered. [Decapitate him! With flair!] The suppressed Golem stopped retreating from Knut¡¯s wild attacks, instead choosing to compress its body a bit. The daggers bounced helplessly from the armor, leaving only scratches on their surface. After resisting the attack my minion sprung forward, ignoring the attacker and instantly reducing the distance to its target. A scream of warning followed behind its back, it was however much too late. The Golem put the sword in a two-handed grip, and - with a single swift motion - swung it from left to right, cutting the flesh, bone, and spraying blood everywhere. The world stopped. A sound of metal hitting the ground remained in the air for a few seconds, before Big Jon¡¯s body fell. His severed head slowly rolled near Knut¡¯s foot. [Perfect. I didn¡¯t know such a level of control was achievable.] I was proud of my accomplishment, even if I was only giving orders. ¡°Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!¡± Knut screamed in a broken voice, before collecting himself and reaching for his friend¡¯s severed head. Death wasn¡¯t merciful to his former companion, his mouth and eyes were open, full of hungry rage. ¡°You will be avenged.¡± The man mouthed quietly. His dark moment was cut short when a struggling voice cut the air. ¡°H-help meee!¡± Silence was currently being pressed by the Boss Golem, his injuries mounting. His earlier bravado was already gone. ¡°I-I can¡¯t take it anymore! I¡¯m sorry!¡± He screamed before rapidly retreating. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Hidden behind him was barely conscious Mudan, his battered body hastily lifted in a half-sitting position. Now, that the Family¡¯s leader had run away he would be easy prey for my monsters. This sight enraged Knut. He gnashed his teeth before taking off Big Jon¡¯s cursed helmet. Then, with a sad expression, he returned the severed head to the floor. ¡°There is no other way.¡± I could hear him whisper. ¡°With this¡­ I¡¯ll be stronger.¡± ¡°First, take control of the sword.¡± ¡°Second, destroy the big Golem.¡± ¡°Third, murder the coward.¡± ¡°Fourth¡­ save Mudan.¡± After saying so he put the cursed helmet on. [Hook, line, and sinker.] I smiled. Unlike his dead friend, Knut wasn¡¯t immediately turned into a beast. I saw some changes - constantly gritted teeth and dry gums, for example, but nothing serious. Not yet. After donning the magical tool he charged my sword Golem without any hesitation, his lean body curled up in a crouched running position. The iron servant hesitated, not knowing how to react when deprived of my direct control. It tried to do an overhead swing, only to miss atrociously, leaving only a few harmless sparks on the ground. Knut managed to use that opening wisely, his body climbing the opponent like some parkour expert. Yet, just as his daggers claimed the Golem¡¯s core, one of the opponent''s claws also found its target, tearing Knut¡¯s chest all the way through. It landed straight in the middle, piercing the sternum and damaging his internal organs. ¡°Guh!¡± A single, gurgling scream escaped Knut¡¯s mouth before my Golem slowly collapsed before him. [Was it a conscious decision or some kind of a self-destructive urge?] I wondered as my cameras worked hard at recording this cruel battle. [Should I show it to Guardian and his kobolds? They specialize in direct combat, right? Hmmm¡­] Unaware of becoming a center of my attention Knut breathed out slowly, observing his disappearing wound. His eyes widened in a sudden realization. ¡°This artifact¡­ what it grants¡­ isn¡¯t¡¯ that an immortal body?¡± He mumbled, before suddenly shouting out in pain. ¡°Y-you?¡± Blood dripped from his mouth. ¡°S-sorry¡­ it¡¯s the only way to survive.¡± A bloodied dagger was buried in his heart, Silence¡¯s pale fingers clamped on the handle. ¡°As long as I have the helmet¡­ Somehow¡­ I will escape this place.¡± ¡°T-there is a second one, you f-fool!¡± Knut sputtered, red blood flowing from his lips. ¡°I know. But I still need something to have my freedom back, right?¡± ¡°W-what are y-you talking¡­¡± The lanky criminal fell to his knees before finishing his sentence. A red pool spread around his body. ¡°Now, to slit his throat¡­ just to be sure.¡± Silence did the deed without hesitation. It was clearly not his first time. Then his gaze turned to the slowly advancing Boss Golem. ¡°And now¡­ for the finale.¡± He smiled, a small tic appearing in the corner of his mouth. ¡°The blade should be magical too, considering how easily it cut off the big guy¡¯s head.¡± He picked it up and then¡­ just stood there, shocked. ¡°Wha-what the hell is this!¡± He let out a surprised scream. ¡°M-my class! What does¡­¡± His eyes widened as he looked at the invisible screen. ¡°B-berserker? No way... NO! I refuse! I don¡¯t want this! M-my future!¡± He shouted to nobody in particular before throwing away the Blood Sword, acting like this act would mean something. A moment later he froze as the blade hovered about three meters from him, before falling to the ground with a loud *clang*. When he took a step back the weapon lying on the ground suddenly dragged its metal body towards him, retaining the distance. ¡°No! I don¡¯t want to live my whole life with this cursed thing in my hand!¡± He roared, glaring at the slowly moving weapon. ¡°It¡¯s good that you don¡¯t need to, then.¡± A raspy voice came from behind before two daggers were embedded in Silence¡¯s eyes. ¡°Gyaaaa!¡± His scream was short and painful, the last member of the syndicate flopping to the ground like a discarded piece of meat. ¡°T-that was close.¡± Knut mumbled, touching his throat wound. The skin and flesh were still raw, slowly mending under his fingers. ¡°Even with the aid of the skill, I was too late to react. If not for this¡­ thing.¡± He touched the helmet comfortably resting on his head. A moment later his gaze turned to the sword. ¡°And here goes another one. A Berserker class, eh? If I heard it right¡­¡± ¡°What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡± A wry smile appeared on his face. He surged forward and then picked up the item. ¡°Argh.¡± ¡°That stings¡­¡± He muttered, clicking his teeth. ¡°Now, the effects.¡± ¡°My class really had been changed. Berserker. I like the feeling it carries. Anything more that¡¯s new? A skill. Right. Overhead swing. Doesn¡¯t seem too impressive, but at least it¡¯s straightforward.¡± Knut¡¯s gaze followed the slowly advancing Golem. ¡°This place¡­ is it truly dead? The magical items, new and dangerous monsters¡­ Or am I just a fool and all Forgotten Dungeons are this crazy?¡± He grumbled. ¡°Not that it matters anymore.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just dance.¡± As he started to run I ordered my minion, caution no longer necessary. [Kill him, Golem.] The monster lowered its center of mass, before sprinting in Knut¡¯s direction. The metal appendages struck the floor in a hypnotic rhythm. Despite his own high speed, the monster¡¯s target easily managed to evade, throwing his body away from the Golem¡¯s attack. A moment later the chamber trembled with the noise of torn metal, my servant ramming straight into the nearby wall. Using this gap Knut charged ahead, his weapon cutting with ease through the Golem¡¯s armor. Just as he smiled widely a sudden backhand broke his nose, before throwing him away. ¡°Fuck! It still hurts!¡± He screamed, instinctively raising his hand to wipe out the blood. And then his eyes fixated on it, his pupils growing larger and larger before a loud roar escaped Knut¡¯s chest. ¡°BLOOOOOD!¡± ¡°WHY IS THIS HAPPENING!¡± ¡°I-I¡­ CAN¡¯T! CAN¡¯T!¡± ¡°S-SWORD! NO!¡± He took a deep breath, recognizing Golem¡¯s figure in the distance.¡±ENEMY! KILLLLLLL!¡± Then his gaze suddenly focused, teeth bared like a wild animal. The earlier cautiousness was gone, replaced with unadulterated rage. He ran straight towards the monster, throwing away any tactics or planning. In a few seconds, my servant and the crazed adventurer collided with each other, sword tearing the iron and claws piercing the flesh. Knut howled like a beast, trying to cut out pieces of the Golem¡¯s flesh, his mad rush chipping away more and more metal parts. At the same time, he stuck close to the monster, not letting it free its right claw and strike again. The Golem¡¯s left claw was however free to continue its attacks, trying to blindly tear the human apart, to damage some important organs, and bleed him dry. It succeeded in shredding the flesh only for the damage to get offset by the helmet¡¯s healing. This stalemate continued for twenty more seconds, while metal and human pieces were starting to pile up on the floor. My Boss Golem roared as Knut cut off its arm completely and when his sword started to shear iron closer and closer to its core. It barely managed to lift the enraged opponent into the air, likely remembering my earlier lessons. A while later Knut also flew through the air, a surprisingly common occurrence in this battle. The bleeding piece of flesh that was formerly an adventurer landed on the floor with a wet sound. For a second I thought that this was it, that the battle was done, and all the humans were dead. Then the berserker twitched violently before slowly getting back up, cut muscles, and broken bones returning to their places with a sickening, slimy noise. [Seeing all this¡­ I wonder who is the real monster.] I mused, calmly observing the artificially made calamity. [This much power should be enough. When he returns to the surface my protection will be guaranteed. After all¡­ despite their unnatural sturdiness, these berserkers of mine are far from immortal.] As I spoke the battle commenced again, Knut slowly cornering the remaining Golem with his rage-fueled attacks. His swings were wild and quick, often resorting to trading a wound for a wound. Yet it was an effective tactic. Without any weapon but its claws and already heavily damaged my minion didn¡¯t even last three minutes, turning into mangled pieces of metal strewn about on the battlefield. The doors to the Trial opened again. The fight was won. Yet Knut was not done. He knelt on the floor, before releasing his grip on the weapon. The sword fell to the floor with a loud clang as its master gulped down the cold, underground air. Then he stood up, his reddened eyes turned towards the only other survivor - heavily bleeding Mundan, crumpled on the floor. The fat man''s face was scrunched in a painful expression, yet he still managed to whisper a few words of encouragement. ¡°Ha-haaaa¡­ W-we somehow made it, friend. Help me bandage the wounds.¡± He stopped speaking for a moment, his eyes clouded with pain. ¡°I¡¯m l-losing a lot of blood here¡­¡± His pleading took a higher note when he saw raw hunger in Knut¡¯s eyes. ¡°K-Knut? F-f-friend? W-what is going on?¡± Walking closer in an ominous silence the lanky, half-naked adventurer stared at his best friend before growling a few words under his nose. ¡°Momma always said that the best meat is fresh meat. No matter where it came from.¡± ¡°W-what?¡± ¡°W-what are you doing?¡± ¡°Please, oh Gods!¡± I closed my eyes. A loud, panicked scream was cut short by repeated sounds of bashing, bones breaking, and then¡­ ...then it was only slurping and gnawing. Seconds passed, then minutes. I waited patiently. [Kill.] Non whispered in my ear not once or twice. I always responded the same. [No. He is needed for my future.] In the end, it took nearly an hour before Knut came back to his senses. And then even more hours passed as he cried, self-mutilated his body, devoured the flesh of the dead, and then cried again. It was a rather boring experience. At least I learned that it was pretty hard for a man to decapitate himself. And that the cut-off limbs could still be regenerated. Leaving all that behind I was staring at Knut, who just sat there, in the middle of my Trial Room, staring at the wall. I was afraid that I broke him. He kept me in suspense for a few more minutes before rising lazily from the bloodied floor. His hand was already gripping the magical sword. ¡°A Cannibal Berserker, you say?¡± He barely mouthed, his tone devoid of feeling. Only now I understood that he was watching the system¡¯s blue box. ¡°I guess I deserve it. And to think I never believed in divine punishments...¡± ¡°What¡­ what should I do?¡± ¡°Everyone is dead. Even this worm of a man.¡± He spat down on the floor, where Silence¡¯s body once lied, now replaced by a few pieces of flesh and bone. ¡°Should I just¡­ head for the surface? The trial is over. Our reward... ¡° He glared at the second helmet, lying innocently on the floor. ¡°Our reward dispensed.¡± ¡°Should I die too?¡± He mused. ¡°Or¡­ maybe¡­ revenge? On whom?¡± ¡°Wait.¡± He paced from one part of the room to another. ¡°Were we set up? This whole expedition - it was too easy.¡± Color returned to his face, a perspective of purpose suddenly animating his body. ¡°And I heard that we weren¡¯t the only ones with such plans.¡± Knut stopped, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember. ¡°Was I¡­ a fool?¡± He glanced at the bloodied Trial Chamber. ¡°There is no other way. I can always die later. Let¡¯s return to the surface and check if there is a trap waiting.¡± With a low hum, he collected the second helmet and retreated to the second floor. His way back was quick and painless, my monsters ordered to avoid his path. He used pieces of cloth and leather to cover his bloodied flesh and easily emerged on the first floor only to be immediately accosted by the patrolling guards. Their accusatory tones easily broke through the man''s self-control, forcing him to draw his weapon. Long story short - he had been captured but not before slaughtering or maiming two dozens of guards. It was Master Vincent who ended up ending his rampage. In the beginning mage master just blew the adventurer up, angry at the wasted time. However, when he observed the regeneration first-hand his eyes had changed. A magicked iron was brought out, one I would very much like getting my hands on, and Knut was skilfully cornered and then chained. After that, he was dragged into the prison, away from my surface cameras. Too bad. I was curious about the experiments they would subject him to. At least the incursions to the third floor had been stopped. The second-floor battles still continued, though - the humans were clashing with my Ratlings pretty much every two days. I understood that they weren¡¯t only exploring but also grinding levels¡­ so I focused on my own power-leveling. On the fourth floor, new rooms were being dug out by my Anima Drones, and sarcophagi made from green glass were being constructed. A large tank full of slime-like food solution was also added to the plans and already connected to my network of tubes. It would be needed soon. The days passed, my minions battling the invaders away while humans bustled on the surface like a colony of monstrous insects. I didn¡¯t know what was happening up there, as most of the important meetings were conducted under the outpost roofs. This continued for some time until one-day not-noble Charles went for a picnic, probably bored with the low-class environment he was confined to. Anyway, I was watching as he enjoyed the silvery trees and bronze grass while sipping on some expensive wine. A few guards were stationed around him, their presence noticeable yet conveniently out of hearing range. Apart from that, only silver-haired butler Adam was allowed nearby, a stack of papers resting in his hands. ¡°So are you saying that the dwarven outpost at the Snake Pit dungeon had stopped answering our calls?¡± ¡°Yes, master.¡± The old man nodded serenely. ¡°Our iron caravans returned after hailing them for a few days. They barely had enough provisions to do so. The dwarven territory is off-limits to our people, so it¡¯s hard to tell what actually happened. It could be a change in their internal politics, some catastrophe, or even a plague. All that we know is that no more snake meat will arrive in the predictable future.¡± ¡°Are our diplomats in the Holds saying anything?¡± ¡°No, nothing.¡± ¡°Dammit. How are caravans sent to the Kingdom, then?¡± ¡°Its too risky for small merchants and we don¡¯t have anything enticing to the large companies. Nobody in their right mind will undertake this long journey only to move some iron, rat meat, or third-rate magical tools.¡± ¡°The Lightning Maces aren¡¯t selling? Why?¡± ¡°It seems like information about their limited capacity had been somehow leaked.¡± ¡°Haaaah¡­ What is Outeles even doing?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think putting a Dross merchant in charge is a good solution, master.¡± ¡°There are no other choices! The only human resources that are constantly flowing in are lowborn peasants and the capital''s scum!¡± Charles shouted, before slamming his hand on the table. ¡°There is no noble or merchant stupid enough to journey here!¡± ¡°I apologize for upsetting you, master.¡± The former noble waved his hand. ¡°No, it''s not your fault. I had spoken too much.¡± He gulped down another glass of wine. ¡°How goes procuring food in the Silver Oasis dungeon, then?¡± ¡°Master Vincent¡¯s apprentices have some limited success.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°The first floor was a complete letdown. The rat meat and some green plant growing on the walls were all that we could get.¡± ¡°Are they even safe to consume?¡± ¡°During the attack, some of the civilians ate them, yet none of them feel ill¡­ at least at the moment. Their nutritional value is however very low. ¡± ¡°I understand. Speaking of ill, how are my bodyguards?¡± ¡°No changes, master. They remain in deep sleep.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been weeks from the assassination attempt¡­ how are they even still alive?¡± Charles shook his head before motioning Adam to continue. ¡°On the second floor, we had some success. A few interesting and edible plants had been found. None of them are tasty or filling, but with the number of bellies we have to fill¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take what I can get.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Adam flipped the page. ¡°We found some kind of yellow berries, there were also hard, rock-like fruits with both plant flesh and water inside¡­¡± Adam stopped talking before sighing deeply. ¡°And?¡± ¡°And a weird, rotten smelling obsidian plant with green, fleshy insides.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ now I wonder what remains on the third floor.¡± Charles smiled wearily. ¡°The prisoner said that there was a whole community of rats farming down there. Can you imagine that?¡± ¡°Master¡­¡± ¡°Yes, yes I know. Too dangerous.¡± A bitter expression appeared on Charles¡¯s face. ¡°Anyway, any more news extracted from our prisoner?¡± ¡°Master Vincent said he talked.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°But he is not coherent. Some things he says¡­ They¡¯re not possible.¡± ¡°Still¡­ a new class.¡± ¡°Master¡­ any Cannibal class should be forbidden.¡± Adam¡¯s face hardened into an unreadable expression. ¡°We do what we must to survive, though.¡± ¡°Master¡­¡± Charles waved his hand in dismissal once again. ¡°Yes, yes¡­ what¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Please, don¡¯t change the topic!¡± ¡°No¡­ the earth¡­ it moved?¡± As he said so I also felt something. A slow, deep rumbling of a mental voice. [Master¡­ where¡­ master.] [Who are you?] I asked immediately. [Servants¡­] [And who are you exactly? And where are you? Show yourself! Show yourself before me!] [Yeeeees¡­] The ground trembled again, and then... I saw them. Or rather, I saw a part of a human outpost building bulging out and then spraying pieces of stone and wood everywhere. Screams of panic followed as a monstrous hand appeared, clutching the building. A three-meter tall figure slowly rose from the ruins, its muscular and humanoid shape reminding me of¡­ something. [Analyze.] I muttered.
Abhuman Gigantic Anima Lifeform AGAL¡¯s are a middle ground between humans and monsters - capable of acquiring a class, yet remaining outside the sentient races boundary. They¡¯re large, powerful humanoids created after ingesting large amounts of Anima and changing in accordance with the core-less human tendency. They¡¯re intelligent enough to both use tools and understand simple commands. Their social structure and ability to use magic are currently unknown, as no individual has ever evolved. While these specimens are effectively dungeon monsters, their offspring will not necessarily be so. Their mere existence is a slight to the system aNd I LoVe iT. Threat level: Sentients don¡¯t have a threat level
Wait. Wait. Wait. If I¡¯ll ignore all the other weird stuff and even Gangria¡¯s unmistakable allusion there was one thing I wasn¡¯t going to just silently agree on. [Hey, hey, hey! They¡¯re clearly Ogryns! What the hell do you mean by AGAL¡¯s?] I screamed mentally in the ether. My complaints had some effect as the box blurred, some words changing, before becoming readable again.
Ogrekin Ogrekin are a middle ground between humans and monsters - capable of acquiring a class, yet remaining outside the sentient races boundary. They¡¯re large, powerful humanoids created after ingesting large amounts of Anima and changing in accordance with the core-less human tendency. They¡¯re intelligent enough to both use tools and understand simple commands. Their social structure and ability to use magic are currently unknown, as no individual has ever evolved. While these specimens are effectively dungeon monsters, their offspring will not necessarily be so. Their existence is evidence of the system''s corruption. Threat level: Sentients don¡¯t have a threat level
[No! No! It¡¯s not correct! Not Ogrekin! Ogryns! OGRYNS!] I shouted again only to get completely ignored. The Analyze window remained unchanged. [Moving¡­ hard¡­] A slothful, deep voice broke through my ruminations as I returned my attention to the human anthill. Which was currently on fire and under the assault of five gigantic figures. Or so it seemed at first. The Ogreking seemed just¡­ clumsy, constantly falling down and adding to the overall confusion. Why do I always get the stupid minions? [Don¡¯t move.] I ordered, only to see their large figures trying to stop with legs still in the air. And with their sense of balance... They fell one after another, demolishing another building. [Sorry¡­] [Just¡­ try to blend in with the humans, fulfill their orders, imitate them! From now on you¡¯re ordinary humans! You don¡¯t know anything else!] I quickly ordered before courageously retreating from the surface. It was an old and well-known tactic of sending a hot potato straight to your neighbor! 065.5 Unlucky Tobil Rockstriker outpost leader of Snake Pits dungeon Tobil was having a really bad day. He could even venture a guess that it was one of the worst times of his life. And that meant something. While leading a band of dwarves in ass-end of nowhere was already a hateful chore, the fact that each one of them was an oathbreaker only made it worse. Despite being a part of the lowly caste himself it didn¡¯t mollify his distaste. At first, his experiences with the worst of the worst were terrible. And it continued to be that way for quite some time. Thankfully a few broken bones and squashed noses later the situation improved and he somehow turned into an unquestionable leader of the small settlement. His strength, cunning, and ability to deal with unexpected trouble made many of his subordinates wonder what was the pre-Debt profession of their scarred commander. There wasn¡¯t a man or woman courageous enough to risk asking, though. The Snake Pits weren¡¯t manned by a dwarven clan, like it was normally done, but instead by a collection of various individuals chosen from the oathbreakers caste - a practice that was followed when guarding underground holds of small importance. The dwarves sent here were unruly folk, but after getting a taste of Tobil¡¯s disciplining they quickly fell in line. A sense of camaraderie and duty was born amongst them, even if at least half of the inmates weren¡¯t simply shouldering the Debt - instead, they were the ones who knowingly broke the olden laws, forcing their sins on the shoulders of their children and kinsmen alike. Shaming their ancestors¡¯ hard work. This solidarity of transgressors kept them afloat even in the worst of circumstances. They were thieves, thugs, corrupt officials, liars, conmen, murderers, rebels¡­ And they had nowhere else to go, hovering one step from oblivion. One more sin was enough to turn them into hated outcasts. The Dwarven Holds society had them exiled and the only way for their children to return was to fulfill their duty or die trying. Preferably both. This punishment would continue until the Debt was fully repaid and their kin were returned to the underground nation of Dwarven Holds. Ancient magic made sure that no one was free from these rules. Not heroes, not merchants, not kings. Snake Pits outpost was a rugged, self-contained society. A dirty, hopeless place where monster attacks were common and blood was spilled day after day. A hole in the ground where the local inhabitants carved a piece of safety from the constantly shifting world of an enslaved Dungeon Core. Worse. It had become a home to Tobil and his brothers. And they would die before allowing anyone to take it from them. *BOOOOOOOOOOM* A loud noise echoed, forcing a few short figures to immediately start racing to the wall, evaluating the extent of the damage. They cursed and spat, rough, calloused fingers tracing the ever-enlarging cracks in the stone and creaking material of a large, wooden door. ¡°Hold it, hold it, ya fuckers!¡± ¡°Get the nails ready, munchkins!¡± ¡°Not many left...¡± ¡°Then I¡¯ll keep the door in place with yer teeth! Nails, I say!¡± ¡°Ya, ya¡­¡± The constant noise in the background returned Tobil to reality, ending his self-pitying session. He grunted, as his gaze focused on a frayed map laid down on a shaky table before him. The dungeon they were in charge of wasn¡¯t that big, yet with only one hundred fifty dwarves under his command, it was hard to get trustworthy information about what was happening out there. Especially since nearly half of them were dead or unaccounted for. The rest were confined in this makeshift fort, forced to await their doom. Only a few scouts remained out in the open, barely avoiding the monster patrols, every now and then their dying screams echoed outside the stronghold, weighing on his conscience and adding to rising impatience. These were men and women he had trained and it hurt to lose them - even if most of his subordinates believed that blood spilled in a righteous cause would lessen their Debt. For their commander, the Debt didn¡¯t matter. The job he was entrusted with did. Tobil squinted his black eyes in hesitation, intentionally ignoring the sounds of battle. A few more dwarves were hunted while he waited, planned, hoping for a chance that may never happen. The oathbreakers would rather die than see their home destroyed, but to fall in a line of duty was an acceptable sacrifice. In a moment the noise would stop, squashed by a constant chittering of these filthy rats. The indignity of all this... Of all the monsters in existence, they were being slaughtered by ancestor-damned rats! ¡°We¡¯re getting fucked over.¡± Muttered one of his captains, only to get silenced by a bloodshot glare. ¡°I know that, ya basterd!¡± Tobil huffed. ¡°What I want to know is how a bunch of lowly monsters is using tactics against us.¡± ¡°Tactics!¡± The other captain grumbled, his face full of disgust. ¡°Only weaklings need tactics!¡± ¡°Fer¡¯ yer ancestors¡¯ hairy asses! Tactics are nuthin¡¯! They have a freakin¡¯ air fleet!¡± ¡°Bah! These are only overgrown dragonflies, boss!¡± Protested one of the subordinates. ¡°If it was only that then I wouldn¡¯t be so worried, ya daft tool!¡± The dwarf¡¯s clenched fist hit the table, adding to the already existing cracks. ¡°They¡¯re not divin¡¯ and scratchin¡¯ us as a proper monster should!¡± One of the men present gnashed his teeth in anger. ¡°Nay! They go and drop bombs, rocks, and other weird sheite!¡± ¡°Not good.¡± ¡°Ya right.¡± ¡°Damn goblins!¡± ¡°Wut? They not goblins, though?¡± ¡°It¡¯s always the goblins¡¯ fault, though. Creepy green little buggers!¡± ¡°Ay, the goblins be bad business!¡± ¡°Kill them!¡± ¡°Oy! What are you old fucks even talkin¡¯ about?¡± Tobil growled, instantly silencing his subordinates. ¡°These are no goblins, but weirdo rats!¡± He bellowed. ¡°But the goblins are surely¡­¡± ¡°Oh shut up ya crazy old git, before I¡¯ll throw you out to feed the Core!¡± ¡°Aye, aye, boss¡­¡± His subordinate instantly deflated in response. ¡°Like I was sayin¡¯, before bein¡¯ rudely interrupted¡­¡± Tobil¡¯s eyes searched the surroundings for inspiration. ¡°We¡¯re properly fucked, ain¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Yes¡­ yes, we are¡­¡± Gasping with anger, the outpost leader hit the innocent table once again. ¡°THAT¡¯S NOT IT! Ya moron!¡± A slew of laughing voices surrounded him as the cleanly shaven dwarves, each with grey tattoos visible on their head almost spat out their lungs. Amongst them, the commander¡¯s stout figure wearing menacing bone armor stood out even in the eyes of an outsider. An eye-catching small emblem of a hand holding a hammer was stuck to his chest - a widely recognized symbol of Dwarven Holds. Tobil¡¯s rugged skin was decorated by a large number of scars and tattoos, yet his monstrous impression was softened by a wide grin that seemed to split the man¡¯s wrinkled face. *BOOOOOOOOM* The loud noise followed by angry screams and creaking wood returned the dwarven leadership to reality. Four stout figures followed their commander¡¯s footsteps as he returned to the crude map lying on the table in the center of the room. ¡°Enough jokes, ya idiots. What is the state of supplies, Grummit?¡± A small, yet sturdy dwarf strode forward to answer the question. ¡°It¡¯s no good, boss. We can afford to survive for a few more days. Up to a full week, maybe a week ¡®n a half if we ration our food. At least the water isn¡¯t an issue.¡± ¡°Thank the ancestors for the well¡­¡± ¡°Thank the boss, ya dolt! Also¡­ weren¡¯t you the one who said it wasn¡¯t needed?¡± Grummit''s wrinkly face turned even uglier as he observed his comrades. ¡°H-ha-ha-ha!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t try to laugh it off!¡± The small dwarf huffed in annoyance. ¡°Anyway, the ancestors are tellin¡¯ us to rally out!¡± Screamed one of his companions, a pale dwarf missing an eye. ¡°Shut yer trap, Hind!¡± ¡°But... boss!¡± ¡°Ya want the Debt to grow even heavier on yer¡¯ kin shoulders?¡± ¡°Why? We¡¯re planning on fightin¡¯ and dyin¡¯ in the name of the Holds!¡± Hind¡¯s pale face turned red, highlighting a spiderweb of scars spread on his face. ¡°Yer an old dwarf and yet so stupid¡­ No wonder ya got so easily dumped in here.¡± ¡°Boss!¡± ¡°What is our purpose out here, eh gits?¡± Tobil sighed before glaring at the rest of his subordinates. ¡°To protect our stuff?¡± One of them shyly answered. ¡°To get rid of the Debt!¡± ¡°To fill our role as sacred defenders of the Dwarven Holds.¡± With a sudden nod, their leader stood up once again. ¡°Yes. We¡¯re bound to defend this place. Do you morons think that simply dying without achieving anything would be allowed? That it would alleviate our burden? Huh?¡± His red-hot anger surged violently from the small figure, forcing Tobil¡¯s subordinates to take a few steps back, the powerful warriors avoiding his black, heartless gaze like children caught by their parents. ¡°T-then¡­ what can we do, boss?¡± Sniffed one of them. ¡°Maybe we can send some dorfs to the nearest outpost? To warn them about these ratties n¡¯ stuff?¡± Another added. ¡°No. We can¡¯t.¡± The room drowned in silence, and after a moment Tobil sighed loudly when nobody dared to ask ¡°why¡±. ¡°Remember your oath. We are to defend this place. To never take one step outside unless ordered to.¡± He gazed at every one of the captains before scratching his grey tattoo in annoyance. ¡°Anyone breaking the pact would turn into a black-faced outcast. And you know damn well that no proper dwarf will listen to a word from the outcasts!¡± ¡°Then at least we¡¯ll die honorably¡­ Try n¡¯ take as many as we can with us.¡± Murmured Hind. Another captain spat a thick glob of saliva on the ground. ¡°Our sacrifice will be less with the cost of losing this place to the monsters takin¡¯ to account.¡± ¡°And worse¡­ not warnin¡¯ the folks at home.¡± ¡°Shame¡­ shame on us.¡± ¡°That was what I was thinking about, lads.¡± Tobil¡¯s black eyes once again bore deep in his subordinate¡¯s skulls. ¡°Any ideas?¡± *BOOOOOOOOM* Another explosion shook the air. A cloud of dust rose, before slowly falling on the ground as the defenders scrambled to keep the doors closed. The amount of debris and furniture blocking the way in was enough to stop their enemies, yet the living battering ram of the rats did not stop for even a moment. The atmosphere turned solemn, as the dwarven leadership became fully aware of the hopeless future. Yet despite his words, Tobil¡¯s burden didn¡¯t feel any less. ¡°Maybe we should sortie in a blaze of glory?¡± ¡°Ya! That¡¯s better than slowly starving to death.¡± ¡°Aye, aye.¡± ¡°I agree. The Debt and the ancestors will look proudly on our sacrifice.¡± ¡°No. There is no need. We still have a chance.¡± Tobil¡¯s cold words cut the depressing atmosphere, returning the light of life to the eyes of his subordinates. ¡°Boss! What¡¯s yer plan?¡± ¡°Show us the way.¡± ¡°We need to hold on.¡± ¡°But for what?¡± ¡°Dying on an empty stomach isn¡¯t fair!¡± ¡°Grummit? Can you guess?¡± Tobil¡¯s attention turned to his chief quartermaster. Feeling the pressure, the small dwarf started to murmur under his nose. ¡°A few days? Which one will it be? Under the ground, it all kinda meshes together...¡± His eyes suddenly widened. ¡°The merchant! The yellow--, I mean the bureaucratic caste representative! He¡¯ll be coming to check on Snake Pits outpost in three days!¡± His words broke the dam, as all the people present started to talk at once. The sudden influx of hope was just too much, their emotions getting rowdier and rowdier. Some of the wilder-eyed dwarves even called for a drink. Tobil¡¯s black eyes were quietly observing his happily bouncing companions. *BOOOOOOOOM* Another attack at the gates sobered the captains and their warriors. While there was a light at the end of the tunnel they were still forced into dire straights. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Ahem.¡± Tobil coughed, focusing their attention. ¡°Any questions?¡± Hind was the only one to raise his hand. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°I guess the plan is to rescue the yellow-face and then escort him an¡¯ his surviving guards back to the outpost¡¯s border, right?¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± ¡°How will we know that they even make it that far? The monsters hate our guts an¡¯ attack on sight. What if they¡¯ll get their throats slit the moment they appear? What then, boss?¡± A murmur of agreeing voices followed the scarred dwarf words. ¡°We don¡¯t.¡± Tobil sighed loudly. ¡°I won¡¯t lie - it¡¯s a gamble. And yet...¡± The armored dwarf left the innermost room of the forts. He walked to the crumbling barricade and peeked through one of the cracks. ¡°Out there, these monsters patiently wait for our demise. They attacked with cunning and had shown the discipline rarely seen in their kind.¡± ¡°We already lost nearly half of our number to various traps and ambushes. They murdered our brothers and sisters with methodical precision. The unknown is always dangerous. We need to bring word about them to our leaders.¡± Tobil stopped talking, glaring at the rats visible in the distance. ¡°Or the Dwarven Holds may very well share our fate in the future.¡± Behind him, a wall of grey-faced dwarves kneaded the handles of their weapons in a bright red silence. They wore only snake-skin vests and were armed mostly with clubs, stone axes, and spears. And yet there was a feeling of unity rare in even the most experienced formations. ¡°You asked why are we gambling our lives on a chance, Hind.¡± The black-eyed dwarf continued. ¡°It¡¯s simple. Considering their cunning, do you think they¡¯ll risk that any of the inspectors will get away?¡± ¡°I think not.¡± ¡°They will wait until Blirust and his entourage enter the outpost and then, and only then they¡¯ll strike.¡± A cruel smile appeared on Tobil¡¯s face. ¡°We will use this to our advantage, escort the inspector out of this place¡­ or die trying.¡± ¡°And¡­ if yer wrong, boss?¡± Hind still pressed on. ¡°If we¡¯ll wait for nothing, or if the ratties strike before we can help the yellow-face?¡± ¡°I think you didn¡¯t hear me correctly, friend.¡± ¡°As I said before¡­ we¡¯ll do it. OR DIE TRYING!¡± Tobil glared at his subordinates, not only four captains but also the rest of the surviving dwarves. ¡°I won¡¯t promise you survival. We¡¯re far beyond it at this point. I won¡¯t promise you glory - you¡¯ll be the ones to earn it. What I can promise you is to deal the greatest blow to our enemies. To shatter their plans and lay waste to their warriors. And to redeem ourselves to our ancestors.¡± He took a large breath. ¡°ARE YOU WITH ME?¡± ¡°¡±¡±YES!¡±¡±¡± ¡°CHILDREN OF STONE! SOON WE¡¯LL MEET OUR ANCESTORS!¡± ¡°¡±¡±WE WILL MEET THEM PROUDLY!¡±¡±¡± ¡°FOR THE DWARVEN HOLDS!¡± ¡°¡±¡±FOR THE HOLDS!¡±¡±¡± The chanting continued as Tobil heated his audience, before continuing in a slow and low voice. ¡°Return to your posts. I will tell you when your sacrifice will be needed.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°Aye, aye!¡± ¡°We will serve!¡± ¡°Ya!¡± The various voices answered and soon the only ones remaining were four captains and the outpost leader. Despite tiredness, there were fires of devotion burning brightly in their eyes. ¡°Boss¡­ no. Leader.¡± Hind was the one to break the silence. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°I humbly beg¡­ is there no way for you to survive?¡± ¡°H-hey, what are you saying, stupid?¡± Other captains quickly tried to silence their comrades, their faces instantly turned fearful. They all remembered the last time that somebody asked this question. Weirdly enough Tobil¡¯s reaction was mild, the words producing only a tired smile on his face. ¡°My companions in the Cursed Legion were the same.¡± A quiet gasp of shock wandered the room as the wide-eyed dwarves understood who stood before them. ¡°They thought that by saving me something grand would happen.¡° He rapped his fingers on the wall. ¡°And yet here I am. An oathbreaker. They wasted their lives in vain. And¡­ I am tired. Tired of running. Of giving orders that get others killed. Of always being more important, of being the one that has to survive and then collect the pieces.¡± ¡°B-but¡­ leader! We may need you - the Holds may need you! The Cursed Legion veterans are pillars---¡± Grummit''s speech was interrupted by a steely Tobil¡¯s voice. ¡°I am a grey-face, like you. I abandoned my path and I had given my new oath willingly. If this place falls, we will finish our last duty. We will warn the dwarven people about the powerful evil that stirs in this place.¡± The leader¡¯s black eyes stared into the darkness. ¡°May ancestors give us the strength to weather another disaster.¡± ¡°Ancestors give us strength.¡± ¡°Ancestors give us strength.¡± ¡°Ancestors give us strength.¡± ¡°Ancestors give us strength.¡± His subordinates solemnly repeated his last words. *** Three days had passed since that moment, the dwarven fort barely keeping the horde of the monsters out. Every so often a Ratling would find a crack big enough to squeeze through and a bloody battle would ensue before it would be plugged for good. The constant danger kept the dwarves on their toes, exhausting them physically and mentally despite Tobil¡¯s efforts to rotate his warriors and save their strength. Morale started to sink, only to rise again when on the fourth day a small caravan of fifteen dwarves had been sighted on the horizon. Amongst them, the yellow tattoos of Blirust were especially eye-catching, especially when compared to dark brown lines drawn on the faces of his escorts. Both bureaucrats and warriors had their colors so they were easily recognized. The caravan consisted of two wagons, each pulled by an earth horse - a calm and strong species of herbivore lizards used as beasts of burden in the Dwarven Holds. Around them, warriors marched in a loose formation, clad in iron armor and wielding battleaxes and shields, unlike oathbreakers. ¡°Prepare the ladders!¡± ¡°Get your weapons!¡± ¡°Quickly, drink whatever water and ale you can get your hands on!¡± ¡°Get your rations!¡± ¡°Team one, to me!¡± ¡°Fours, where are you, fours?¡± Contrary to the caravan''s lazy advance, the fort was buzzing with activity. The four captains were preparing their attack squads, their roles had already been discussed hundreds of times. The snake-skin-clad oathbreakers were returning to life, the prospect of the ultimate sacrifice giving them strength. ¡°Quickly, quickly! I can see movement!¡± Screamed one of the lookouts. ¡°Team one to four, respond!¡± Tombil roared, overcoming the chaos. ¡°Team one, ready!¡± ¡°Two, in position!¡± ¡°Three can whoop some rattie ass!¡± ¡°Team four. Ready to kill, leader.¡± ¡°Good!¡± Tobil closed his eyes, calming his breathing as the surrounding noise slowly faded to nothing. What remained were hundreds of eyes hungrily staring at his face. ¡°GO! DEFEND THE CARAVAN! MAKE YOUR ANCESTORS PROUD!¡± He screamed, before pushing the ceiling stone block out of the way. The stone screamed as he forced his way out, the thick muscle prevailing over the stubborn material. This way of leaving the fort was only possible for his kind - both accomplished stonemasons and monstrously strong warriors. All around him, the other dwarves were doing the same, effectively dismantling the fort¡¯s upper level and surging forward like a wave of angry locusts. The caravan stopped, surprised by the sudden and incomprehensible action of their brethren. Its leader, Blirust, stood up from his seat and shouted a few questions into the air, only to be met with silence. Nobody wasted breath on answering them, and soon the lead bureaucrat would know why. Around them, hungry eyes started to appear in the surrounding greenery one after the other. Hundreds of them. The yellow-tattooed dwarf instantly knew that something had gone wrong in the outpost. He might be young, but anyone traveling through the wastes had to deal with bandits, monsters, and undead. Those who couldn¡¯t react quickly simply died. That was how he had risen to this position, despite his age. ¡°Defensive positions!¡± He turned and screamed orders to his guards, a dozen veterans quickly abandoning the supplies to surround the first carriage. One of his subordinates wasn¡¯t quick enough as the wave of rats dragged him out of the seat and into the bushes. Soon his screams turned to gurgles and then quietened down completely. ¡°Tsk.¡± Blirust shook his head. It was a good dwarf that died. It would be hard to replace him. The first attack came like the sea tide, churning hatred, and madness at them and left as suddenly. None of his warriors were even scratched. Instead, they started to relax, trading banter and jokes. Even the chief inspector like himself smiled, stroking his perfectly shaven chin. ¡°Now I see why the grey-folk are so frantic. Too bad these things are no danger to a fully armored dwarf.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Yes, inspector. We¡¯re not like these weaklings!¡± His guard leader laughed proudly, hitting the iron breastplate a bit too hard for the Blirust''s ears. ¡°Hoh. They¡¯re attacking again! Let¡¯s spill some blood!¡± Shouted the warrior, seeing the greenery moving once again. This time however what surged from the bushes were not common enemies, but rather strange machines and large, dwarf-sized rat monsters. The former could be described as egg-like contraptions with arms replaced with sharp spikes. They moved jerkily along the battlefield, a green sheen sometimes radiating from within the shell. The latter were large rats with heads armored with bone and spiky metal gauntlets tied to their upper and lower limbs. Their preferred way of attack seemed to be to charge straight at the closest enemy. Despite the rabid advance of their enemies, the dwarven defense hasn¡¯t broken at the first strike, at most some of the warriors had their insides shaken. Their counter-attack sunk many battleaxes in the rat flesh, eliciting a wave of screams. On the defenders¡¯ side, one could only hear the sound of laboring breathing. They were like a wall of lumberjacks slowly cutting down the encroaching forest. That was however the moment that the machines were waiting for. With their clumsy movements, they were mostly ignored by the dwarves, who instead tried to break the armored rats¡¯ morale. It was a mistake. The egg-like machines surged ahead, suddenly gaining the grace and momentum they lacked a moment before. An attentive observer would notice that the sickly green sheen they were emanating had risen in intensity. Too bad nobody had time to appreciate this sudden change as the machines bounced, and flew through the air, aiming at the heads of the unsuspecting foes to pierce them with their sharp appendages. Most of them missed their mark, the screech of metal being the only effect of the assault. A few of them managed to pierce dwarven armor, drawing blood. In retaliation, the eggs were smashed¡­ and they exploded, easily breaking iron, flesh, and bone. The air was filled with smoke and dust, reducing visibility to a meter or two at most. ¡°My leg! My leg! Aaaaaahh¡­¡± Screams and sounds of begging filled the air as the chaos continued. ¡°I can¡¯t see! My eyes. Can somebody? My eyes!¡± ¡°Oh, ancestors! Save me!¡± ¡°Retreat! Re-----!¡± *gurgle* ¡°We¡¯re doomed.¡± Murmured Blirust, squeezing his dagger in a pudgy fist. ¡°What even are those?¡± One of the machines noticed the young chief inspector and drunkenly stumbled towards him. It would normally be funny, even adorable, if not for the knowledge of what it could do. As he helplessly watched the monster getting closer a small prayer escaped his lips. ¡°Ancestors give me strength.¡± Blirust took a stance and charged forward, only to stop as an armored figure emerged from the smoke, before running ahead and kicking the monster away. The enemy rotated a few times in the air before falling to the ground and exploding in a fiery blaze. ¡°Defend the caravan! Save the browns and yellows!¡± Shouted the man and snake-skin-clad figures started to appear behind him, joining the fray. After a quick look, the dwarf clad in the bone armor turned towards the chief inspector. ¡°Come on, friend. We don¡¯t have much time. They will regroup and counter-attack. We still haven¡¯t forced them to commit all their forces.¡± ¡°Thanks for the rescue¡­ Tobil?¡± ¡°Yup, that¡¯s me.¡± ¡°Who are they?¡± ¡°The monsters who now control this outpost. We call them Rats or Ratties, depending on who you ask. They can use tools, and magic, and have bigger and meaner mutated variants.¡± Tobil stopped to give a few more orders, the screams and squeaks in the surroundings never stopping. ¡°We need to get you out. You and your surviving guards. This place is lost.¡± ¡°No, no¡­ wait. We can stop them. You are stopping them, right?¡± ¡°This? You call this stopping?¡± The outpost leader looked at the Blirust with a strange gaze. ¡°We¡¯re bleeding people to simply hold them back. There are more of them, they have their weird machines and a lot of nasty surprises.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No. What we¡¯re doing now is dying so you can get out.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go. Don¡¯t waste any more of my time.¡± ¡°Wait, what are you¡­ You can¡¯t just...¡± ¡°This is non-negotiable. Sorry.¡± Tobil sighed heavily, before slugging the other dwarf right in the head with his hammer. Blirust fell instantly, losing consciousness. The bone-clad warrior checked his pulse before calling out. ¡°Hind!¡± ¡°Yes, boss!¡± A bloodied dwarf emerged from the dust cloud that surrounded them. ¡°Carry the inspector.¡± ¡°Ya!¡± One-eyed man huffed, lifting the body. ¡°This fat-ass¡­ eat less, ya parasite!¡± ¡°Grummit!¡± ¡°Here!¡± ¡°How many guards survived?¡± ¡°Three.¡± ¡°Fuck. Warriors my ass.¡± Tobil massaged his head in annoyance. ¡°No matter. Get the earth horses loose and group them up. Saddle the warriors, I¡¯ll get Blirust out.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± The oathbreakers worked like a well-oiled machine, moving people and trading blows with the enemy. However, even the endless courage was nothing in the face of pure violence. ¡°Boss, the big un¡¯ is here!¡± ¡°Shit! It¡¯s too fast!¡± ¡°What are ya orders?¡± Tobil¡¯s face twisted in a bitter expression. ¡°Half of the soldiers will retreat to the fort! The rest escort the earth horses!¡± ¡°Ya heard it here, team one and two - the fort is yours! Move it, people!¡± ¡°Haha, we will meet soon, brothers!¡± ¡°May ancestors remember us!¡± ¡°Team three and four, go! NOW!¡± The sounds of battle turned quieter and quieter as the dwarven soldiers fled in silence. Their comrades were giving their lives at this very moment just so they could get the warning out. They mourned, but there were no tears. Their companions¡¯ Debt was paid with lives. With blood. It was a good death to have. It may be even enough to repay it in full. ¡°Ancestors give us strength.¡± The murmured prayer came and went across the ranks. The world seemed hostile and dark, their small figures quickly moving through the bushes and rot-smelling swamps. The reeds swayed softly, completely uncaring just like what happened half an hour ago was just a fever dream. In the next 30 minutes, the inspector woke up, still trying to get rid of the confusion. He just sat there for a moment, contemplating. Then his eyes turned to the bone-clad figure walking nearby. ¡°You know that I can get you killed for that? Attacking an official means death.¡± A slight chuckle escaped from under Tobil¡¯s helmet. ¡°Why are you laughing? Are you turning insane? It¡¯s your life we¡¯re talking about!¡± ¡°No.¡± The outpost leader took a big breath. ¡°But you see, threatening violence on dead men walking is just that funny.¡± ¡°What?¡± Blirust blurted out, before turning his head, only to meet dozens of frigid gazes. The surviving oathbreakers were covered in blood, dirt, and sweat. But that was not important. What defined them at this moment was their piercing eyes. They focused on both him and the surroundings, ready to instantly sacrifice their lives. The atmosphere they excluded silenced even the normally boastful warriors, their iron armor making them look like scared turtles. ¡°I see.¡± The yellow-tattooed dwarf exhaled. ¡°You¡¯re not coming back with us?¡± ¡°Our place is here.¡± ¡°It will be your grave.¡± ¡°The oath I¡¯ve - we have all - taken is clear.¡± ¡°I can free you from it. I have this power. If what you told me - if what I saw is real, then you¡¯ll be needed elsewhere. And your men too.¡± ¡°We will need to open a second underground front. A second Cursed Legion will be called into being. And we will need warriors. Leaders.¡± The dwarf quietly continued, trying to convince Tobil. ¡°You can¡¯t just die here.¡± Another chuckle escaped Tobil¡¯s lips. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± ¡°There are exact words that my subordinates told me before the battle.¡± ¡°Then¡­?¡± ¡°No. I will not abandon my men once again.¡± ¡°I can pardon all of you¡­¡± ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°What are you---¡± ¡°We are already surrounded.¡± Tobil turned to his troops. ¡°PREPARE TO FIGHT!¡± ¡°Ancestors protect.¡± ¡°And you¡­ get to safety while we¡¯re distracting them.¡± Bone-clad warrior strode forward, without waiting for an answer. ¡°COME OUT, BEASTS! COME AND TASTE OUR WEAPONS!¡± His warriors screamed in defiance, adding to the cacophony. ¡°COME, MEET THE CHILDREN OF THE MOUNTAINS!¡± From the surrounding darkness, countless rats emerged, rank after rank. Those armored in bone, those armed with spearthrowers, those riding their unstable machines and violent dragonflies. Their eyes resting on the survivors were full of hatred and desire. Yet they stood in eerie silence as if waiting for something. The dwarves were prepared this time, getting into formation, drinking, and eating whatever was left of their supplies. And praying to their ancestors. Soon a loud, rhythmical sound could be heard. *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* A large, two-meter-tall rat emerged, completely armored in bone, flanked by its lesser kin. Unlike them, it didn¡¯t need any artificial gauntlets or spikes - even its monstrous tail was more like a huge ball on chains than a normal appendage. It stared down at the oathbreakers as if sizing them up. ¡°Aren¡¯t you one ugly fucker!¡± Laughed Tobil. ¡°Let¡¯s go for one last dance! Charge, men! CHARGE! Let¡¯s proudly meet our ancestors!¡± The last battle of the Snake Pits started with this order, the dwarves bleeding themselves dry on an uncountable tide of enemies. It took a whole hour before the last of the defenders had fallen, a hole-riddled body joining his brethren on the ground. Not all of them were dead, though. Those still alive were dragged deep, deep into the dungeon, and close to the underground river, where a pulley system was being installed. But before the dwarven prisoners were shipped out another transport was being retrieved. Crates full of a strange, green ore, radiating a sickly glow. 066 Uno After my quick escape, I spent the next few hours on the fourth floor, observing the changes. Some of my minions were still bumbling around, ensuring that every uneven wall, off-center pillar, or unplanned hole in the floor was taken care of. Amongst them the silvery-grey figure of Sculptor zoomed from wall to wall, repairing any cracks it found and then immediately carving a new part of the story, adding it to those already depicted on the other stone canvas. Like the third floor, which was mostly covered in greenery by this point, the fourth level started to acquire its specific theme. Its unique feeling combined hospital coldness with the gloom of a graveyard. Or maybe rather the solemness of a tomb? Each of the similarly sized rooms spread around the area was fitted with a sepulcher-like structure built in the middle of it. In the beginning, I wanted to create a bunch of glass tubes extending from the floor to the ceiling, filled with rejuvenating liquid, and prepared to both contain and keep their prisoners alive. In the end, it proved too impractical to implement - especially when it came to putting things in and then taking them out. I compromised my vision and made them simpler, focusing instead on creating a bunch of stone sarcophagi with an easily accessible cover and a small, glass window buried in its upper part. Attached to them was a bunch of wires and smaller tubes, providing oxygen, food, and water, while at the same time removing any waste. Their presence looked a bit out of the place but I was pretty sure that the sentients wouldn¡¯t be able to understand their purpose. Or so I hoped. Sculptor left the insides of the rooms alone, focusing instead on the entrance and the corridors leading into them. This gave them a truly desolate and utilitarian look. Adding to the atmosphere each chamber had a heavy, iron door separating it from the outside. This sobriety contrasted with the outside walls, where every single free space, baring the floor, was filled with pictogram depictions of operations and experiments... if they were sculpted by a person who only heard about them. They reminded me of Aztec sacrificial ceremonies with beating hearts torn from the victim¡¯s chest while barbaric priests and their servants chanted praises to their thirsty god. Yesh. At least Sculptor decided to include this level''s inhabitants in the pictures instead of replacing them with humans. I squinted my eyes trying to compare the monsters themselves with their descriptions. A few minutes later I was forced to conclude that it did a great job immortalizing them into the stone. My newest creations were half-mechanical, and half-organic, with a generous dose of Anima thrown in the mix. Their lower halves resembled spiders and were made from metal. Their pedipalps were replaced by human-like hands. There was also a pair of sharp utensils usually safely tucked under their iron carapace. The upper part of the creature was comprised of an overgrown lizard, looking a bit similar to the kobolds. Most of the specimens had scales in varying colors, ranging from brown, through the grey and even black, with rare brighter hues sometimes appearing. Their faces were longer and more animalistic than their kobold cousins with sharp teeth and small, reptilian eyes. Both their legs and tail were atrophied and completely assimilated into the metal parts, their bones, and muscles seamlessly turning into levers, wires, and clockwork. However, their most unique feature was the fact they possessed four arms - two bigger, meaner ones located in the upper torso, and two smaller, more delicate ones, growing from the stomach area. In the beginning, the system was confused about their creation, yet since then the description stabilized, reading as follows:
Spider-walker Butcher A distant cousin of the Kobold race, these Spider-walkers had adapted to working closely with machines, in the end even joining their very flesh with the unfeeling metal. Such a union would be normally impossible, yet was made real due to the intervention of a Dungeon Core. While weak and small these abominations are capable of working in groups, using their deep anatomical knowledge to attack and defend by targetting other creatures¡¯ weak points. Due to the circumstances of their birth, it¡¯s hard for them to exist outside the dungeon and they can¡¯t reproduce naturally. The Butcher variant shows great curiosity to both the outside world and their closest surroundings. They¡¯re easily amused yet hard to distract, focusing their efforts on understanding the surrounding world. Threat level: F+
Besides these guys two more variants emerged, Spider-walker Soldiers and Spider-walker Generals with threat levels E- and D respectively, the latter was even capable of casting enhancement magic. It was all good, if not for a small caveat. They were freakin¡¯ tiny! Even the Generals were at most one meter in height! Thankfully I wasn¡¯t planning to use them as a defensive force, yet I couldn¡¯t feel some disappointment seeing my freshly born creations. I knew that size was not everything, yet it certainly had its advantages. Shaking my head I left the Spider-walkers to their own devices. I had to gather some specimens for them to experiment on. They had to be alive too. Bummer. Before leaving I inspected the deepest of my floors, noticing that maybe - just maybe, leaving the stairs up in the middle of my hospital rooms wasn¡¯t the best idea. The upper floor was patrolled by the nigh-indestructible Berserker yet I couldn¡¯t guarantee that some rats wouldn¡¯t slip by. Pun intended. I scanned the sleek floors with my gaze and ordered the western and northern entrances to be barricaded, the Drones already starting to fill the blanks. This would force any visitors to go east, then north, and either trudge through the arena or walk in a big circle, leaving me ample time to prepare a welcoming committee. Satisfied with my work I drifted to the second floor, focusing my attention on both human soldiers and Guardian¡¯s little kindergarten. The former tried desperately to break the stalemate, battling mostly the Ratlings and their subordinate Lebirs. At this point, it just felt like an exercise in futility, the Geinard Kingdom''s army rarely losing ground or even soldiers. My troops continued to counter-attack, yet it was clear that they were being continuously pushed back and forced to retreat away from the staircase. Sometimes they managed to gain ground only to lose it hours later. My grip on the second floor was still strong yet I already could feel it slipping. It was only a matter of time. The humans were learning. New tactics were thought of daily. Their alchemists managed to harvest the first floor¡¯s Fiery Dandelions, making use of their acids. Besides them some robed individuals - probably Master Vincent¡¯s pupils - were flinging their magic, gaining levels at the cost of my defenders¡¯ demise, growing ever more powerful. Worst of all the soldiers¡¯ tactics and cooperation grew constantly, with each scar and fierce battle. I smiled bitterly. Dungeons were created as places of training and advancement. As resource sites. And, despite my best efforts, it seemed like I was fulfilling that role splendidly. My attention turned elsewhere. In their hall hidden under the second-floor lake, Pale Tribe Kobolds were still training. Their hissing voices were full of pain and tiredness. And, as my spectral form arrived nearby, I could hear them better and better. Entering the chamber proper I noticed that something unusual was going on. Most of the kobolds were lying on the ground, their bruised bodies sprawled helplessly. In the middle of this meat pile, two scaled youths were crouching, catching their breath, while glaring at each other in a show of silent determination. I glanced at them briefly but quickly changed my target. The kobolds of the Pale Tribe had changed since my last visit. Not only did their bodies grow larger and more muscular, but their disfigurations had also become more pronounced. Each of them had a small, grotesque stump replacing either their arm or a leg. Most dealt with it by using crude prosthetics - those with damaged legs focused on making a transition between metal and flesh as comfortable as possible, gaining some speed and agility. The metal arms were used to increase defense or damage by incorporating either spikes, blades, and other tools of destruction or shields. ¡°Stand up!¡± A stern voice echoed off the walls, stirring up the surroundings. ¡°Stand up and continue your battle, soldiers! Do you think your enemies will wait for you!¡± A singular pained hiss answered Guardian¡¯s speech, only to be joined by a second one. ¡°Y-yessss, Leader.¡± They responded in unison. The two kobolds were desperately trying to stand up, their bodies bloodied and battered. One of them was using a two-handed staff, covered with metal on both ends. The second challenger wielded a club together with a shield attached to his metallic arm. Both were using a crude breastplate, helmet, and short, leather pants with iron plates as part of their uniform. The metal was forged in a utilitarian and practical way - which somehow felt familiar. It was also too crudely made to be considered useful for my other creations. ¡°Prepare¡­¡± ¡°Fight!¡± At Guardian¡¯s command, two exhausted reptiles straightened their backs, only to slowly drudge closer, their metal legs visibly chafing with each step. Out of the blue, the kobold armed with the staff started to twirl it, smacking the opponent¡¯s head. The shield wielder covered its face and weathered the blows, coming closer and closer, with its weapon poised to strike. I used this time to observe the surroundings a bit more carefully. A few kobolds were already conscious, either sprawled on the ground or leaning against the nearby walls while gasping for air. They observed the battle with crazed intensity, murmuring under their noses, comparing strategies, counter-attacks, and gambles made by the combatants. All this felt like a sports meet combined with a gladiatorial arena. ¡°Haaa!¡± With a shout of effort, the slightly slimmer kobold managed to surprise its opponent with a low sweep, its wooden staff aimed to break the enemy¡¯s balance. The peanut gallery voices grew louder, their opinion easy to discern - that this was a winning move. Yet the reality betrayed everyone¡¯s expectations as the shield-wielder jumped into the air, before smashing down on its unsuspecting opponent. Its club smacked the iron helmet, producing a loud sound before sending the attacked kobold to the ground. It desperately tried to get up, but its battered body refused to cooperate. After a few seconds of struggling, the staff-wielder surrendered. ¡°We have a winner.¡± Rumbled Guardian, while coming closer to check on the fallen kobold. After a few minutes, he spoke with relief. ¡°You¡¯ll be alright, no broken bones, no damaged organs. Thank our Lord for your sturdiness. It is a gift rarely given.¡± He hummed. ¡°Now go, rest with the others.¡± ¡°Y-yessss, fa-... Leader! I will do ssssso.¡± The loser hissed while lowering its head. The already conscious kobolds guided it to the resting part of the chamber. In that part of the hall, a collection of blankets and clothes was spread on the ground, looking like they were mostly stolen from the human outpost or defeated adventurers. Nearby a small bonfire was providing light and warmth. ¡°With this battle, you¡¯ve become a leader of the tribe!¡± Guardian coughed, yet continued his speech. The weary lizard straightened its back in response. ¡°In the name of our Lord, the Dungeon Core Uno, I hereby name you a Kobold Sergeant and leader of the Pale Tribe Kobolds! Wear this name with pride, until you¡¯ll earn a more illustrious title!¡± ¡°Hisss!¡± ¡°Hissssss!¡± ¡°Hiss!¡± The rest of the kobolds cheered loudly, bringing a toothy smile to the exhausted winner¡¯s face. Guardian stepped back, leaving the newly appointed leader to its companions¡¯ embrace, as they smacked its back and hugged each other in a display of camaraderie. Even the runner-up seemed like it was okay with the ruling, its shoulders shaking from laughing too much at a joke. [Are you satisfied with your toys?] I sent grumpily to Guardian. [My Lord!] He sputtered. [They are not toys! These are elite warriors I trained with utmost care!] [Did you?] [Yes!] [What would happen if I ordered you to use them to attack the invading humans?] [I-I¡­ I would follow that order gladly, my Lord!]. [And then they would all die, right?] Guardian took a deep breath, his gaze landing on the celebrating reptiles. The closest of them noticed his unnatural stillness. ¡°Are you alright, Leader?¡± ¡°Do you need to ressssst?¡± They asked while tugging at his armor. [They would gladly die for your glory¡­ my Lord.] He answered, his hands balling into fists. ¡°Leave me for now. Rest.¡± He spoke at the same time. ¡°B-but¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s an order!¡± ¡°¡±¡°Yesssss ssssssir!¡±¡±¡± Despite their unease, the kobolds followed Guardian¡¯s directions and started to settle down near the fire. [No matter how strong you think they are¡­] I muttered. [Their physical defects are just too much. No agility, no speed. Even if you train them, there is a wall that they simply can¡¯t overcome.] [Hard work will be rewarded, my Lord! That¡¯s what I was teaching them!] [And yet you created not soldiers but toys.] I pressed on. Was I jealous of his family? Maybe. This was however a dungeon - and the dungeon creatures needed to be useful or perish. I needed warriors, not children. [They would die to the weakest of the invaders. Is that the role you want for them? An experience fodder?] [N-no! I¡­ I¡­ Y-you are r-right, my Lord.] Guardian¡¯s voice cracked and then his gaze turned steely like suddenly his whole personality changed. [Shall I dispose of these failures, then?] He picked up a nearby sword, which unlike the rest had a working edge. His words distorted, a chorus speaking instead of a single voice. [[[My mistake shall be washed with their blood!]]]] His large form charged forward before I had time to process his words. [[[No failure. Never again.]]] With each large step, Guardian¡¯s figure came closer and closer to where the kobolds were celebrating. ¡°Prepare yourself!¡± He shouted. ¡°Enemy attack!¡± Deformed creatures reacted quickly, if still somewhat clumsily, barely believing their caretaker would attack them. The first hit struck metal with a loud clang, and a bronze-scaled kobold with a shield was sent flying. A blow came back in response, the wooden staff bouncing helplessly from the Guardian¡¯s armored form. [Do not kill them!] I shouted quickly. [Even trash can be recycled to better serve my plans!] [[[What?]]] [That¡¯s an order!] I screamed, using his own language. Guardian stopped his movements, startling the surrounding reptiles. The kobolds used that time to reform their ranks, still unsure about what was happening. [M-my Lord!] He barely squeezed a small whisper. [I-I knew i-it was just a t-test!] I shook my head. If not for your madness¡­ I would¡¯ve gone with it. Yet these creatures are clearly his mental anchor. Then the hard way it is. [Sure. Continue the battle. Teach them the endurance that a real soldier needs.] [What are your plans, my Lord?] [They need to get enhanced. For now, focus on their strength and endurance.] I nodded to myself. [Then, when the first ones are ready send them down to the fourth level. But inform me first! I¡¯ll tell the Butchers to take them in.] [B-butchers, my Lord?] His voice trembled. [It¡¯s just a name. They¡¯re a part of the medical crew I¡¯m cultivating on the lower floors. They¡¯re healers. Don¡¯t worry.] At least this way I¡¯ll be able to kill two birds with one stone. [Y-yes! Thank you!] With a silent nod, I cut the link and instead observed the one-sided massacre. Guardian was now using the flat side of his blade, either sending the hissing kobolds in the air or bashing them down. ¡°Vigilance is the key!¡± He screamed. ¡°Never forgo the sentries! It will cost you blood or lives!¡± Despite his overwhelming power, the kobold tribe didn¡¯t relent, their battle cries filling the air. It was a useless struggle, their opponent was untiring and heavily armored. Yet they persevered. Maybe there was some hope for them after all. Only time will tell. Soon only one figure was left standing - it was of course Guardian. His large frame stood out amongst the bodies, broken weapons, and spilled provisions. His face was hidden behind the helmet, yet I could swear that he was smiling. My invisible form was just leaving the room when I heard his words. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Our mighty and benevolent ruler, the Dungeon Core Uno bestowed upon me a secret containing your future! You will be trained and strengthened until the invaders will tremble at your mere sight! Rejoice, soldiers!¡± What followed was a wave of hissing, screaming, and shouts of dedication coming from the slowly recovering kobolds. ¡°And to prepare you for it we will conduct this type of training every day! Surprise attacks, strength training, and endurance training are on the menu!¡± This time the shouts were much less enthusiastic. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, the dungeon will heal your wounds!¡± Only silence followed the last statement. I wished I could float a little faster. After that embarrassment, I was ready to leave the second floor and continue back to the surface... yet something drew my attention. There was a discrepancy I could sense but it took me a while to understand what it was. I noticed a small, nearly invisible tube sticking out from the Central Pond Room water. It wavered slightly from time to time, swaying on a non-existent wind. Normally one would think it was just a lonely reed, growing in the muddy ground¡­ Yet as a creator of this place, I knew that no reeds grew here! It was suspicious¡­ so suspicious. Diving under the brown pond waters allowed me to discover the perpetrator - if I could even name it so¡­ because draped in dark, loose clothing was a small kobold. It was staring with its unblinking eyes at the nearby human soldiers. Most of its focus was diverted between invaders wearing robes or carrying glass vials. I was sure who this little scoundrel belonged to at a glance. [Non¡­ what the hell is your pupil doing on the second floor, so close to the humans?] What came back was a wave of annoyance, like someone waved her hands at me in dismissal. The damn revenant girl was getting better at word-less communication. [That¡¯s not an answer. Do you want us to get killed?] I hissed. [Training.] She spewed out one word like that explained anything... [I can see that! I was asking about why your wannabe ninja is training in the most dangerous place in my dungeon?] [Danger. Good.] A moment of silence passed as she continued in a questioning tone. [Ninja.] [That¡¯s not what¡¯s important!] A feeling of disagreement washed over me. I sighed loudly. How was it that a dungeon monster like her was so annoying to deal with? Sometimes it was like talking with a child. [A ninja is a type of stealth-oriented assassin and spy using short swords, poisons, and throwing weapons. Happy?] Another emotion, this time of satisfaction and wonder, was an answer. [Now¡­ Get your disciple back. And, for the future, I forbid it from appearing close to the invaders unless I distinctly tell you so!] An ethereal sigh was her answer before Non suddenly appeared from the creature¡¯s shadow, snatching the black-clothed kobold. It struggled for a moment only to disappear nearly immediately. The waters turned turbulent only to quieten down immediately. No invader discovered anything. Next, Non asked a single question. [Me.] Thankfully I was getting better at the subtle art of ¡°Non¡¯s interpretation¡±. [Not yet.] My answer came and I could hear her attention shift. [There is time and place for everything.] I continued and could feel some of her enthusiasm returning. [It shouldn¡¯t be long before my second-floor succumbs to the more¡­ base impulses of this body.] I harrumphed. To say it was irritating was an understatement. [At that time I would need your help with snatching a few individuals.] [By that moment the cat would be already out of the bag. After all only active dungeons heal their damaged walls and floors.] [Kill.] [No. I will need them alive. But you can hunt them. A bit of fear never killed anybody.] A feeling of disappointment returned but I could also feel a raw excitement of a beast that was about to be let free from its leash. Soon after Non¡¯s presence reappeared in her quarters with black-clothed kobold safely secured. The little guy was trembling, desperately trying to escape his Revenant master¡¯s clutches. It was of course a futile endeavor. Ignoring its struggles I started moving. And then I stopped. [You can even train on the little guy. Your kidnapping skills I mean.] Not waiting for an answer I floated up. A familiar sight greeted my eyes - the first floor of my dungeon. It had changed tremendously since the last time I was here. Not only there was a collapsed section to the east but also my earlier ¡°elite¡± monsters - Jailer Jonathan and Decapitator were kept from spawning by a constant stream of invaders. The castle rooms had been turned into makeshift barracks, where human soldiers and adventurers rested. Even worse, the Conservatory, where I planted some of the more dangerous plants had a wood-laden trail through the middle of it, allowing for unobstructed traffic. Pale-faced and robed individuals were hopping between my Fiery Dandelions, Knife Bushes, and Copper Grass, taking samples and noting things in their leather-bound journals. Guarding them was a small group of barely equipped militia, armed with wooden shields and crude spears. Each of them sported a small kite shield emblem - the symbol of the Geinard Kingdom. South from the Trial of Single Combat, a small line was forming, human warriors waiting for a chance to gain a level or even a unique skill. The Lebir Spar-masters glared at the challengers with an air of superiority, yet the compulsion to test their mettle had long overcome their hatred for the living. I shook my head. If my plan won¡¯t succeed I would end up just like these fools. A slave to my nature, forced to live the rest of my life as a tool. Never. I would rather die. With teeth clenched I moved northward, to glance upon the idiot-smith, a Bile-brain Golem that I left some time ago in charge of a forge. Its work was sloppy and disappointing. Despite this, I still decided to check its work. Who knew, maybe the clumsy fool improved in some way. What I found was¡­ curious. The room was much crowdier than I remembered. Most of the people present were simple carriers, stealing smith¡¯s supply of ingots and even finished weapons and armor. To my surprise, the Bile-brain ignored them unless they took too much, at which point it¡­ boinked them. Yeah¡­ No deadly attack, no bout of rage, just a little love tap on their heads, to which they reacted in a similarly pacifistic fashion, returning the ingots to their place. This was¡­ uncanny. There was cooperation here, something that I didn¡¯t account for. Besides peasants milling about, there was a single figure dressed in robes, with a small notebook kept at the ready. With his balding head, small goatee, and squinting shortsighted eyes, he looked like a perfect stereotype of a nerdy scholar. Each time my idiot-smith was doing something out of the norm, like avoiding the humans walking around or changing the way it worked the forge, another out-of-breath murmur was leaving the robed individual''s mouth. He kept gasping about ¡°self-correcting routines¡± and ¡°ability to learn¡±, yet I didn¡¯t see anything too strange about my creation. Especially considering it wasn¡¯t a robot, but a living (but not breathing) abomination. Additionally, a very stupid one. Shaking my head I turned to see the effects of its work. Unlike humans, the idiot-smith was able to sense my presence and immediately stopped working, thus spreading chaos amongst its human ¡®servants¡¯. The robed individual also reacted, its screams turning to higher and higher octaves as I ordered the Bile-brain to lift some of the weapons and armor into the air. It complied and lower-than-average were presented to me. I looked them over, making the smith twist some of the more complicated ones from side to side. Not much time had passed since I left it alone¡­ and there was some progress. Surprising. The Bile-brain was trying to overcome a lack of creativity by trying out different designs. I wondered where it had found them, but various pieces spread about in the room answered my question. Humans were feeding my creation, trying to enhance it¡­ Strange, yet understandable. It was producing arrowheads, spearheads, small metal shields, swords, axeheads, breastplates, gauntlets, greaves, and more. After surveying the most outstanding pieces (which were of much worse quality than those worn by the soldiers on the second floor) I started to communicate with the forge monster. I was no smith, but pointing out a few places where iron was too thick or too thin was enough to get it started. The idiot-smith returned to its work with a flurry of enthusiasm and a breath of relief coming from the surrounding humans. At some point in time a group of reinforcements arrived from the surface - no big hitters though, only poorly armed militia¡­ wearing armor and weapons made by my Bile-brain. Oh. Now that I thought about it Guardian¡¯s kobolds were also using idiot-smith¡¯s designs. I wonder¡­ how did they move them through the second floor? A few seconds later I noticed a Ratling tunnel behind the electric forge and a few more hidden here and there. After wasting some more time I was sure that these entrances were a part of the underground network encompassing the entirety of my dungeon. Smart. The commotion quietened down, while the robed individual was breathing down the smith''s neck, glaring with anticipation at its newest work. I shook my head and left the room going straight to the surface. My Evil eyes were somehow still alive, and a few more were even sprouting here and there, unlike earlier, when I was forced to seed them manually. Out of those new ones, only three managed to survive, their gross appearance being a reason for destruction. One specimen had been even replanted into a flower pot by some eccentric mage. I lost connection to it but I could still sense its location. What a shame that was - I was curious about what they were doing in their laboratory. Most of the silvery trees and Sundews ended up cut or uprooted and the freed space was immediately turned into fields of corn and wheat, with some root vegetables growing on the side. I was surprised as they weren¡¯t here the last time I checked. The guards were especially vigilant around the fields, which was easy to understand considering the Kingdom faced a famine. It wasn¡¯t my intention to provide for the human invaders though... At least there was a silver lining to the whole situation as the latest catastrophe with the Ogrekin forced the outpost leader to relocate his office to the outside. It was a funny coincidence too. The four former bodyguard warriors were kept in a makeshift hospital some ways from the central buildings. Yet just before their change, they were moved to prison, which was just next to Mages Tower (which was, by the way - not a tower), Charles¡¯ quarters, office, barracks, and canteen. These big guys literally tore both the ceilings and walls apart while trying to get free and escape downwards to my dungeon. This meant a whole lot of trampling, screaming, and good, jolly destruction. Nobody died though. Ogrekin were trying to escape, not kill and normal humans were smart enough to avoid them. There were some broken bones, and bruises but nothing too life-threatening. How do I know this? Because everybody and their mother were talking about it! I guess that living in a god-forsaken outpost in the middle of nowhere kinda cut on the amount of possible gossip. Before Charles and his old butler, Adam arrived at their terrace I was already informed that my half-monsters started to get accepted by the community, which was a large improvement over my expectations of them getting mercilessly slaughtered on sight. I guess ordering them to stand down helped. Ogrekin still had guards milling around them but wore no chains, and the public consensus about them seemed to be ¡°stupid but helpful gigantic boys¡±. It also seemed like their ¡°official¡± name was changed to ¡°half-giants¡±. I was still a bit sore about the system not recognizing Ogryns¡­ but what can a core do? Anyway, while I listened to the latest rumors Charles and his servant arrived. The former sat down behind his desk and began moving some of the papers around. His face looked a bit pale, his red eyes and hair also changed and were now more similar to spilled blood than earlier carrot-like color. He was sweating, even though the temperature was far from scorching. After a few moments, Adam couldn¡¯t endure it anymore and started to speak. ¡°Are you alright, Master?¡± His worried gaze scanned Charles¡¯ face. ¡°Do you still have trouble sleeping?¡± ¡°It¡¯s hard to sleep when it¡¯s so hot, you know.¡± The man in question mumbled back, wiping his forehead. ¡°Your state keeps worsening, then?¡± ¡°Yes, but I can¡¯t really call this an illness, now can I?¡± A wry smile appeared on the redhead¡¯s face. ¡°Master Vincent says it¡¯s no magical disease.¡± ¡°Then what about common ones? How about getting an opinion of one of the capital¡¯s doctors?¡± ¡°Haha! Good joke! Did you already forget I lost my nobility? Do you think they would ride all this way here just to check on some no-name with no money? Ha?¡± Charles shouted, his skin quickly turning tomato red. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I upset you, Master.¡± Adam said while bowing deeply. After taking a few deep breaths the former noble spoke in an even tone. ¡°No, it is I who should apologize. I don¡¯t know what came over me¡­ Sorry.¡± ¡°Now, can we focus on the present?¡± Charles immediately changed the topic of conversation. ¡±Start with the half-giants. What are mages saying?¡± ¡°Nothing new, Master. Truth to be told we can only speculate. Their bones and muscles seemed thicker, and even their heads and eyes turned bigger, yet their intelligence only decreased as a result. They¡¯re like five-year-olds, constantly needing to be reminded about what to do and when to stop.¡± He grunted. ¡°On the other hand, their strength seems monstrous, they can easily break iron poles and lift wooden logs.¡± ¡°Anything more?¡± ¡°They seem to barely remember their families¡­ even if their wives and children try whatever they can to remind them.¡± ¡°Haaaaah.¡± ¡°Also¡­ there is another request from Master Vincent for a half-giant... autopsy.¡± He finished with a grimace. ¡°My answer remains the same - no!¡± Charles roared, his hands hitting the desk in rage. I noticed small, smoldering holes were left in the wood. ¡°These are loyal servants, who were guarding me with their lives and I won¡¯t have any of these robed fuckers cutting them open just to satisfy their sick curiosity! It¡¯s not up for discussion!¡± ¡°I see.¡± Adam answered, meticulously crossing out something in his notebook. I noticed that a small, satisfied smile appeared on his face. A moment passed before the former noble calmed down, his tone nearly returning to normal. ¡°What about the other thing I asked you about?¡± ¡°Your siblings, Master?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Charles answered while closing his eyes. ¡°According to my sources, your father sent them with our Ancestor, Iron Hand, and Green Succubus.¡± ¡°Let me guess, Akkan was forced on Hekkan of Ash, to strengthen our familial relationship, Souldi followed Iron Hand, and Kinth was sent after Green Succubus to try to woo her?¡± ¡°To the letter, Master.¡± ¡°And what of their fates?¡± ¡°Unknown, Master. Our sources are¡­ conflicted. The only thing they can confirm is that all three forts - Kojin, Grode, and Frist had fallen silent.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not all, is it?¡± Charles asked, his red eyes staring sharply at the servant. ¡°Yes. Kojin is reportedly shrouded in clashing fire and water magics, creating a hellish death zone. It is unlikely that anyone other than Hekkan survived.¡± ¡°Even my brother with his famous blue flame? Blueflame¡¯s blood carries resistance that others lack, right? Tell me it is so!¡± The red-haired mage''s voice trembled. ¡°Unless the Ancestor intervened directly¡­¡± Adam let his voice trail into nothingness. For a moment both the servant and his master just stood there, a heavy silence smothering the air between them. A much paler Charles spoke in a hoarse voice. ¡°How about Grode then?¡± ¡°The battle in the fortress and its surroundings still rages, the spies reporting inhuman figures slaughtering each other and then instantly reforming. Not much more is known at the moment. Anyone foolish enough to come closer gets attacked by both sides.¡± ¡°So the golem master met his match? Curses¡­¡± After taking a deep breath he continued. ¡±How about Frist? It¡¯s the closest location and the one I¡¯m most interested in. After all, Agness went to reinforce them, right? With Lord Hawk no less.¡± Adam once again shook his head. ¡°Our scouts report a large army of undead near Frist. Skeletons, zombies, ghouls, and large abominations have been reported so far. We predict that there are vampires, liches, and maybe even other restless dead monsters hidden amongst them.¡± ¡°I-It¡¯s like¡­ like somebody intentionally created counters to Geinard Kingdom¡¯s powerhouses.¡± The former noble murmured under his nose. ¡°It¡¯s not like we were hiding them, so it could be anyone, really.¡± ¡°But there is no motive!¡± He grumbled. ¡°We have no neighbors deranged enough to sic monsters on our land. If one country in the Northern Kingdoms Alliance crumbles all of us will follow!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand it! I just don¡¯t!¡± ¡°Gods damn whoever was responsible.¡± ¡°Monstrous times bore monstrous creations, Master.¡± Adam added. ¡°I know that, but it still doesn¡¯t make any sense. Even if it was some cult or a single perpetrator there is no way to force monstrous armies into marching without power! At this point wouldn¡¯t it be easier to just attack us directly?¡± ¡°Enough. I will only grow angrier if we¡¯ll continue this topic.¡± ¡°As you wish, Master.¡± ¡°What about Agness, then? Do you have any news?¡± Charles stood up from his desk, his figure looking unusually frail at the wooden outpost backdrop. He turned towards the fields, his hands clenched on the railing. ¡°Or my brother?¡± He added after a moment of consideration. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°I-I see¡­¡± ¡°The scouts noticed that the undead are still fighting, so not all is lost.¡± ¡°Unlike the dungeon¡¯s servants, they¡¯re not coordinated in the slightest and the reports confirm that they barely function as an army. As long as Frist walls still stand our soldiers may have a chance.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Once again a thick, dark silence descended between the two men. Both of them stared into the horizon, each of them immersed in their thoughts. [What I would give to peek into that head of yours, mage.] I mumbled under my nose. And Charles suddenly reacted. ¡°Were you saying something?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ no, Master?¡± ¡°Is that so? I could swear I heard a whisper of something¡­ inhuman.¡± ¡°How¡¯s your condition, Master? Is it getting worse?¡± ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not getting crazy! I¡¯m not hearing voices!¡± ¡°As you say.¡± ¡°Adam!¡± Charles turned, staring at his smirking subordinate before bursting into a laugh himself. A second later his grey-haired servant joined, filling the damp silence and brightening the atmosphere. ¡°Haaa¡­ haaa¡­¡± ¡°T-that was good.¡± ¡°Y-yes. It was ages since I laughed in this God-forgotten place.¡± ¡°As you say, Master.¡± ¡°Do you want to hear another crazy idea?¡± ¡°Please enlighten me, Master.¡± ¡°I was thinking about our outpost. Our future. About the things we found. One of these things is the food that was transplanted into the outpost¡¯s fields. Blue Root, was it called?¡± ¡°Are you talking about the small, blue plant that we discovered underground? Then yes.¡± Oh, so humans had already discovered my Azure Potatoes? Too bad... ¡°Add to this the training chamber, an infinite amount of metal, weapons, and armor, and even how we can get magical weapons and armor!¡± ¡°Truly Brighton has blessed us.¡± Nodded Adam. ¡°Yes, maybe. My idea is a bit different.¡± ¡°I¡¯m all ears, Master.¡± ¡°What if this dungeon is still alive?¡± WHAT? ¡°What?¡± ¡°Hahaha, I was waiting for that reaction!¡± Charles grinned happily. ¡°Think about it! The creatures underground aren¡¯t growing weaker and more complacent! On the contrary! They¡¯re trying out new tactics and even sometimes manage to push our forces away!¡± ¡°It has been documented that some of the dungeon-born monsters are fiercely territorial, Master.¡± ¡°Then how about this third-floor boss that got even Lord Hawk scared? Why hasn¡¯t it already escaped?¡± ¡°Normal dungeons and especially Forgotten Dungeon types seem to inspire the loyalty of their monsters even after their core¡¯s death. That too is proven.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a tough nut to crack. How do you explain the still-growing dungeon¡¯s area of influence? Even after its supposed destruction?¡± At this point, I was completely in Adam¡¯s logic camp. You tell him, old man! ¡°It¡¯s a Forgotten Dungeon. Or it was. It will probably grow, much like nails and hair grow even after the death of a person. It may be similar.¡± ¡°Ugh¡­ gross¡­¡± [Yeah, you tell him! There is nothing wrong with my dead dungeon, you dunce!] My mental voice turned out unnecessarily loud. ¡°Huh?¡± Charles stopped his hand-waving and grew silent. ¡°Master? What it is?¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing, nothing¡­ Just hearing things, again.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try to get a doctor from the capital.¡± Adam¡¯s face turned sour. ¡°Don¡¯t bother.¡± Charles smiled. ¡°And how is the production and training of that going?¡± ¡°What are you talking abo--... Ahh! Do you mean that?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Adam quickly scanned their vicinity before he started his report in a hushed tone. ¡°The first¡­ product is already done. The combat tests were promising. Very promising. We¡¯re currently closely working with Master¡¯s Vincent apprentices to find out the best activation and deactivation triggers.¡± ¡°Do you have enough supplies?¡± A quick nod followed. ¡°Yes. There is a constant flow of materials we¡¯re currently¡­ employing. Especially since their quality doesn¡¯t matter in the end.¡± ¡°True.¡± ¡°Master.¡± Adam hesitated, his face turning worried before he controlled his emotions. ¡°Spit it out.¡± ¡°Is this project of yours really necessary?¡± Charles chuckled weakly. ¡°Yes, sadly it is. When all is said and done only one thing matters. Power. Strength to not be trampled. Strength to survive.¡± ¡°Strength to protect those we love.¡± He added in a whisper. ¡°Without it we are nothing.¡± ¡°For such power, any price is right, even if I had to sell my soul.¡± ¡°I understand, Master.¡± ¡°Good, because I need some rest.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Try to cobble up some armor and weapons for the half-giants. I have a feeling we¡¯re going to need them in the future.¡± As his form vanished from my sight I was left to digest this new knowledge. Only to get interrupted. I was getting an intruder signal¡­ on the second floor, near the Underground Lake, where Glass Progenitor lived. That was normal. The fact it was coming from behind the lake¡­ near the river - wasn¡¯t. 067 Uno I was moving down, floating as fast as I could. The second floor was still like a blaring alarm, the sensation of an outsider appearing in a place where intrusion shouldn¡¯t be possible scorching my mind. It was weird. Unusual. Worrying. Normally ants wandering my halls felt insignificant and unseen. Simply a part of my inner ecosystem - just... doing their thing. Even their constant battles were just an annoyance, nothing more. A rumbling in my metaphorical stomach. Yet this feeling was different. Strong. On the bright side, at least the intensity helped me quickly figure out the source. In hindsight, it should be easy to predict since these aggressors came from the only other entrance into my domain - the underground river. An entrance that I completely ignored thus far. Maybe I should feel lucky that the invasion from this blind spot happened only now? My heart grew colder as I considered my options. Sending Non or Guardian to hold the line was the best I could think of. Especially since the revenant was living just across the lake and could instantly teleport through the nearby shadows. That left one question - how strong were the opponents? I was quickly given an answer as one of the outsiders faded from existence. It was then swiftly devoured by the dungeon. In other words - it had been killed. A moment later I felt a familiar sensation - I was acquiring knowledge about the enemy. It was some kind of¡­ snake. Yes, it felt just right. A small, brownish creature, with fangs full of venom. One death was not enough for a complete blueprint, but I was slowly getting there. Soon another death followed, and another one. This was good. It meant that my staple creatures - Ratlings and Lebirs - were strong enough to defend the second entrance. I whistled with relief but continued my journey. There was always a chance that something could go wrong and a personal touch would be needed. Soon my translucent figure passed Glass Progenitor¡¯s lake and arrived at the source of the disturbance. And¡­ a strange sight greeted me. I was expecting a battlefield, full of furious creatures and crackling magic, bodies strewn everywhere. What greeted me was a mix between a butcher shop and a bazaar¡­ The small clearing near the river proper had been enlarged tenfold, and the stone chipped away by the patient workers. This created a large harbor plaza with piers and massive wooden constructions reaching up to the ceiling. Around it, a whole bunch of Ratlings were milling about between various shabby structures squeaking, hauling items, bags, and even some squirming creatures. Near the water, a small butchery was constructed - if a simple wooden square complete with a sturdy table even could be called so. It was just big enough to allow easy work¡­ and work constantly it did, taking care of a constant stream of snakes that were being hauled inside. In the middle of it stood two Lebirs, banged up and lacking legs but still capable enough to kill any provided prey. They expertly caught wriggling prisoners, stabbed them through the eye, and then threw the remains into a large basket nearby. When filled a few Ratlings dragged it off to a nearby bloodied pit and dumped its contents on the ground, where dungeon magic did its thing greedily devouring the messy contents. After a while, I noticed that both Lebirs had a small Ratling Black Mage sitting on their shoulder, waving its hands like some kind of a furry conductor. Each of them was a picture of concentration, up to a small tongue licking a chaffed upper lip, painting a disturbingly human expression. As I watched them work another thing drew my attention. A screeching transport had arrived at the harbor. Or should I say¡­ how the hell I didn¡¯t notice this thing straight away? The Ratlings - because who, but them - managed to construct a whole railway-like structure directly under the river ceiling. It was a rickety thing, groaning and shaking with each use yet somehow remaining whole. Large logs were fitted into mined-out openings and then reinforced with metal. The structure showed signs of being remade again and again. Unlike the dull brown of common wood, the materials showed a silvery sheen, similar to the trees growing in my aura. I began to suspect that the ongoing deforestation wasn¡¯t completely humanity¡¯s fault. Under the scaffolding, I spied two ¡°rails¡± with small grooves carved into their upper section. They were connected, creating a monstrously long oval allowing the ¡°train cars¡± to continue their endless journey. The hazardous construction continued into the distance, eventually disappearing behind the river rapids and the cold fog they emitted. I couldn¡¯t even imagine the amount of ratpower that went into completing this task. For all that I knew the second station of this wooden railroad could be hundreds of meters or even kilometers away! A moment passed and something slowly emerged from the darkness while clacking and clocking. It was another haphazard thing, a platform with barely any free space, no safety railings, and - right in the middle - a big wheel with rods sticking out on all sides. A group of Ratlings was toiling away, pushing the central piece forward and, by the extension of a complicated gear system, the rest of the contraption. It reminded me of a Wheel of Pain I once saw in a Conan movie. There was some difference, though. For one the slaves were replaced with willing laborers. At least I thought they were willing. Nobody was cracking a whip above their heads, although there was some shouting to keep the rhythm. Each of them certainly looked bigger, more muscular, and overall more savage than the rest of the rat crew. The strange vehicle was filled to the brim with thick, green ropes spread chaotically on the ground. At least I thought they were ropes until one hissed in pain and tried to lift its enormous head only to get bonked by a nearby Ratling... and then promptly subdued by a syringe-wielding individual. His needle weapon looked incredibly thick and crude but did its job. This commotion managed to throw the wagon into an unsteady swing. Reacting to that the Ratling leader gave a sharp command, his feathered cap swaying on the wind. Ratling laborers were ordered to stop, their large bodies slowly grounding to a halt. A wave of grunts followed and soon both the harbor-bound rats and the crew stared pleadingly at the ceiling gears, whose teeth started to vibrate dangerously. Thankfully it was an empty scare. After a few minutes, the mechanism settled in, and the journey resumed, safely delivering the cargo into my dungeon. At the same time, enough small snakes were sacrificed so that I could start making them on my own. Their stats or description wasn¡¯t anything special though¡­ so why bother?
Dirt Snake A common creature adapted to living underground. Its coloration is most commonly grey or brown thus the name. Uses venomous fangs and quick coiling and jumping techniques to ambush its prey - which consists mainly of small animals. While not able to see in the darkness these reptiles can use their thermal imagining organs to detect creatures up to five meters away, making them nearly impossible to ambush. With low intelligence and overall strength, they are mostly considered a pests to be exterminated by the underground dwellers. Some consider them a delicacy or a material for making valuable clothing. They live in small swarms of five to ten individuals. Threat level: E
I materialized one, creating a commotion amongst the Ratlings, and waved my hand to stop the needless butchering. Moreso these creatures were too weak to help me with gaining another floor. Not sure if it was about their weak souls, laughable individual power, or something else¡­ but I knew for sure that killing them off wasn¡¯t helping. The lead Ratling bowed, surprisingly understanding my intentions, but continued killing off reptiles. I prepared to stop this wasteful behavior before noticing that this time butchered flesh wasn¡¯t dumped on the ground but rather carried into the tunnels, presumably to feed the ever-growing rat population. I could¡­ help with that. With a flourish, a few snake eggs were summoned from nothing, the Ratlings dancing a small happy dance before dragging them away. It was heartwarmingly interesting. Rats and snakes, what could go wrong? Bah. Seeing the amount of work they put into this little operation I was sure that Dirt Snakes would quickly end up domesticated. Especially since they were now dungeon-born creatures. My attention was quickly taken by the big serpents being slaughtered, their drugged-up bodies offering no resistance to Lebir cleavers. I began consuming more meaty chunks of knowledge. The feeling was¡­ exhilarating. I kinda understood why my less intelligent dungeon core brethren pursued new creatures with such passion. There was some heavy conditioning being done in the shadows. Even I had to fight back against the overwhelming feeling of wanting more and more. Clearing my head I focused on the new creatures. It would take some time to fully comprehend their internal structure, seeing as I already sensed how much more complicated and, most importantly, inherently magical they were. I had time, though. The earlier ¡°rail car¡± left the station, this time taking a full contingent of Ratling mages, warriors, and workers. No new Ratling types were added to my internal library, so my best guess was that they were taught, not born that way. This stirred my curiosity. How did they tick? Should I invite some of them to my fourth floor? This feeling quickly faded however as I saw something strange being transported onboard the incoming vehicle. There were unconscious little people - maybe children? - lying face down on the wooden floor. Most of them seemed bruised, cut, and bloodied. A clear sign of fighting or some other catastrophe. As far as I could tell most of them still drew breath but each of the prisoners was overzealously tied up with ropes. Oi. Now I was really curious. What did these rats do? Did they conquer a settlement or something like that? Maybe they defeated an adventurer party? Ambushed a patrol? It was scathing - the lack of knowledge. My earlier tries to claim the flowing water had always failed. There was something strange and different with how the water behaved, bits that I could claim instantly flowing away, slipping from my grasp. It was useless. An exercise in futility. A natural barrier that was a dungeon¡¯s natural enemy. One, that I already acknowledged in my mind. Now, however, that I was sure that something interesting was hiding beyond the horizon¡­ the situation changed. I tried once again with a gambler¡¯s mindset that today was going to be different. It was not like I had anything to lose. In the beginning, it went as usual. I pushed my presence out, and small pieces of dungeon aura began clinging to the water. They quickly broke off, carried away by the strong current. My reaction was to desperately stop these droplets, which in turn created small whirlpools here and there, where my power collided with the natural flow. It felt bad. Like clinging to the gymnastic ladder bad. Muscle-tearing bad. This tug of war continued for a few minutes before I ultimately surrendered. With a roar, I let go, the aura scattering away in an instant. My energy drained I elected to lie on the ground, staring at the ceiling. Another defeat. It chafed. A bit dazed I threw some of my remaining energy towards the roof and the shabby construction that clung to it. I was expecting the vigor of water to wash it away in a matter of minutes. And then it didn¡¯t. For a moment I just stared, not believing my eyes. Then, suddenly full of energy, I floated upward and started pushing. It took me a few hours but the effects were clear. On the good side, I could spread my dungeon aura through the Ratling construction. Maybe it was the material used or simply their deference to my domain¡­ it didn¡¯t matter. I had an avenue of expansion and, if worse came to worst, even escape. On the bad side, the speed of expansion was terrible. After the initial jump, and gaining control over the harbor area I was adding only a few centimeters per ten minutes to my domain. At least once started it was turned into an automatic process. Now I only had to wait. And that had given me some time to examine my newest prisoners. They weren¡¯t - as I assumed at the beginning - children but rather small, sturdy, tattooed adults. In any fantasy world, they would be classified as dwarves, gnomes, or hobbits. Their stocky build and the number of scars meant dwarves in my book. They were a motley bunch, mostly wearing leather and rough cloth, most dirtied with smudges of filth, blood, and sweat. I noticed cleaner parts remaining where they once wore armor. Both men and women were clean-shaven and burly, their muscles bulging and hands full of calluses. Another distinct feature they shared were tattoos decorating their faces. Each of them had one, with different colors and shapes, full of meanings that seemed to ripple just under the surface. I could also sense a touch of magic about them - I was unclear about the specifics, though. Whoever they were - the same booze-hounds that many stories depicted, or something wholly different didn¡¯t matter in the end. I had another role planned for them, one that mostly disregarded what they were. As the first candidates in my Anima experiments, they only needed to feel and breathe. There was a different problem I needed to consider. How to transport them to the fourth floor? A direct route was going right through the adventurer¡¯s outpost in the Central Pond Room. It was also the most unreliable since in order to keep secrecy I had to temporarily drive them out from the second floor. The next idea was to enlarge some of the Ratling tunnels to drag the prisoners straight into the laboratory floor. Which was immediately shot down by the rats. After interpreting a few minutes of pantomime - where was Ratling Queen when you needed her? - I understood that it was deemed impossible. The amount of work would be humongous but that wasn¡¯t the real problem. It was the other tunnels that made it hard to realize. My dungeon had more holes than Swiss cheese, all of them planned, reinforced, and heavily utilized. All of them with little to no leeway. Widening one could break the supports of another, causing a domino effect and claiming countless rat lives. And, more importantly, compromising the integrity of my dungeon. I wasn¡¯t sure of the exact consequences but considering how eager humans tried to exploit the hole in the second floor... So no. That option was also out of the question. My mind whirled as I searched for other possibilities. And during this brainstorm of mine Non teleported in, checking the commotion. Her part metal, part flesh form materialized from the darkness, as she gracefully strolled close to my newest prisoners. Trailing behind her was the small ninja kobold, its reptilian face overwhelmed with the amount of bustle present. It tried to keep its eyes on the surroundings, twitching at every random movement and noise. Its mistress stopped a few meters ahead, Ratling laborers giving her free reign over the hissing prisoners. Her armored fingers touched and squeezed every protesting animal, checking the thickness of the scales and potency of the venom gland. She shook her head in disappointment before trudging on. Her only reaction to the sight of the unconscious dwarves was a glare of disdain. I breathed out. Geinard Kingdom seemed the revenant¡¯s only target so I was spared from preventing a slaughter. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Now that I thought about it¡­ [Non, are you capable of teleporting these dwarves down to the fourth floor?] I asked hopefully. I noticed that she always hauled the little kobold with her, so it should be possible. An answer to my problem could be hidden in clear sight! The metal-clad revenant changed her direction, leaving a livid green snake to its captors. Her iron boots struck the floor in a calm rhythm as she came closer to the figures lying on the ground. She crouched down, her hands poking and prodding. [Non¡­ they¡¯re not food.] She answered with a nod. A moment later her hands slipped under a brown-tattooed dwarf lifting him from the ground. There wasn¡¯t even a single grunt of exertion coming from the undead despite her filigree figure. Non¡¯s face scrunched in displeasure before she unceremoniously dropped his burden to the ground. The dwarf landed face-first, but the potent drugs kept him sedated. [Hey! Can¡¯t you be more delicate?] I scolded my monster. [They¡¯re valuable research samples!] After she waved me off I continued questioning. [So? Can you do it?] [Can¡¯t.] She sent crisply. [What? Why? Can you be more specific? It¡¯s certainly within your abilities since you lug that kobold everywhere.] The revenant stared up at the ceiling for a moment before sending [Fat.] back to me. Now, that she explained the restrictions it seemed easy to understand. Logical even. She could drag only a limited mass through the shadows - the question was where did that limit lie. My gaze darted between ninja kobold and a pile of dwarven prisoners. What if¡­ [Non.] [Mhm?] [If I¡­ trimmed the smallest of the dwarves. Would that be enough to drag them through?] She suddenly looked much more interested, a cruel glint in her eye. The revenant turned back to the unconscious figures. She strolled closer, slowly observing their faces and sometimes even lifting them up. [Non?] I asked again, gazing at her cautiously. She ignored me and continued her examination. After fifteen minutes of prodding and tense silence, my undead pointed toward the gold-faced dwarf. [Small.] [I see.] With a mental nod, I sent orders to the surrounding Ratlings. Their contents were simple yet cruel. Cut off the arms and legs of the gold-faced dwarf. Remember to cauterize the wounds. I decreed. For my experiments, it was enough that he was alive - as long as his heart was beating and his mind worked I would be satisfied. Keeping the patient alive was something that my whole fourth floor was dedicated to after all. The rats moved with purpose, some of them dragging the Lebir butcher closer, others preparing red-hot iron. As I idly wondered about when the Ratlings made a bonfire and if a fire burning underground was truly safe, the chosen dwarf was moved to an impromptu table, his torso and limbs secured. And then, without needless preparation or torture, the deed was done. Even heavily drugged the victim felt enough pain to hoarsely scream before falling back into an unfeeling slumber. A blessing in disguise. His blood was surprisingly red when it hissed away, evaporated by searing metal. All that remained from the person was a trunk-looking torso. The smell of burnt flesh was still lingering in the air when Non teleported closer, her fingers tracing the wounds. The revenant grinned and licked her lips, before placing a hand on the immobilized dwarf¡¯s chest. And then both she and her baggage sunk into the shadows. A few minutes later I confirmed their arrival on the fourth floor. There was no time to waste. In a fantasy setting dwarves were described as sturdy, stubborn folk but who knew how they developed on Yana? There was no need to take any chances. I immediately ordered my Butchers to move the patient into a sarcophagus and start testing procedures. Their excited clacking slowly disappeared in the distance as I spoke to Non. [Do you need any rest, or can you take another volunteer with you?] [Ready.] [Good. From what I¡¯ve seen most of those captured are rather bulky. That leaves maybe three or four subjects of small enough mass. Please move them as soon as possible. I¡¯ll give orders to the rats to prepare the prisoners.] [Mhm.] With a nod, Non left the laboratory floor. I was about to leave when something drew my attention. One of the testing beds was already filled. How? As I floated closer a reptilian face relaxed in a deep sleep could be seen through the small, round window. Ah. Yes. The first of Guardian¡¯s subordinates. That was fast. I was sure that even with the draconian training he was doing it would take weeks if not months before they were considered ready. So either this little one was a sacrifice or a rare genius. Knowing my boss''s monster attitude, it was probably the latter. Still, that didn¡¯t matter. Another batch of orders was sent and a dozen of Butchers crowded the room. It was a new, curious thing they were instructed to do, and seeking knowledge was in their very nature. To reinforce a living being with metal - and not kill it in the process? It was so¡­ fascinating! There was more excited chittering, clanging metal noises, and sounds of flesh being broken and then remade. The Butchers bickered with each other, proposing new treatments and interesting developments. I consciously cut that noise off. Now, where was I¡­ right. It was all good and dandy, but there was still a whole slew of prisoners waiting to be transported and processed. They could survive on drugs and gruel only for a limited amount of time. I guess I should work on some distractions to push the humans out from the second floor, at least temporarily. Even thirty minutes would be enough. I had enough ratpower to drag them through, the only thing I needed was a chance. Preferably an outside intervention. So I gave my orders and then¡­ waited. It might be a paranoid desire at this point but I didn¡¯t want to show any more of my hidden cards. Charles was already questioning what was happening and whether I was really dead. There was no need to add to this suspicion. The days passed slowly. I observed the human militia, adventurers, and mages duking it out with my creatures and cautiously gathering both food and materials. They still didn¡¯t shy away from rat meat or harvesting the underground plants¡­ I was listening in on their conversations. About how the Silver Oasis was their second chance at life. About how the capital was full of starving people and some turned to cannibalism. About the armies being constantly sent to the borders, the soldiers rarely returning home. About the opulence of nobles and merchants. About the constant stream of refugees that enlarged their already bloated population. These people loved gossip, didn¡¯t they? A week passed and then a few days more, while I was listening to this nonsense. It was driving me insane. The dwarves were growing weaker and my chance was slipping. Nothing changed with the militia¡¯s talks about the last breakfast, the new training, or the suspicious lack of new caravans. Non was also going crazy, her incursions to the surface growing longer and riskier. She didn¡¯t kill anyone, just as I ordered her, but the strain was getting worse and worse. It was only a matter of time before she exploded. At least my Butchers were hard at work already finishing their experiments on the few unlucky Kobolds. The creatures stood now at 1.5 meters with layers and layers of metal laid upon them. No trace of the lizard remained, completely encased in a suit of armor powered by an Anima shard located in a large pack situated on their back, making it a bit similar to how oxygen tanks looked. These new creatures lugged an oversized halberd - a crudely made but completely functional weapon - and whatever they lost in speed they made up in sheer durability. The system called them Mechanical Dragoons for some reason¡­ even though they weren¡¯t using mounts. Their description was as follows:
Mechanical Dragoon A member of the kobold Pale Tribe irreversibly joined with armor and machinery, creating a clockwork exoskeleton grafted onto its flesh. The armor¡¯s power is drawn from the ever-replenishing shard of Anima, making it both durable and powerful. The cost is however the sheer mass of the creature, reducing its speed to ungodly levels. Mechanical Dragoons remain living, breathing creatures feeding on dungeon mana when available, but also not avoiding water and solid foods. Many of their organs were ¡°improved¡± throughout the operation, granting them unique abilities. The kobolds remain a highly sociable species, using their power in concert with other altered and unaltered tribesmen thus raising the threat level even higher. Threat level: C
Y-yeah¡­ a level C threat. Hell, Glass Progenitor, the large tentacle monster living under the second-floor lake was a B--! As was my unique Regenerator Mutant roaming the third floor! What was his name? . .. ¡­ Right! Berserker! Anyway - the system was suggesting that a critical mass of these guys was a little less dangerous than the most powerful creatures residing in my innards. Now that was a bit of a game-changer. I still couldn¡¯t exactly imagine them taking on literal monsters like Lord Hawk, Geinard Kingdom''s ultra-powerful general, and leader of the humbly named Hawks¡­ Some secret organization that was, if one could easily trace its founder! Yet killing off mages and warriors upstairs suddenly stopped looking like such a ridiculous idea. If one wanted short-term gains, that is. Anyway, more power was always better. No arguing with that. The slow dripping time was now being interrupted by new Dragoons being dropped out of the operating table and increasingly nervous gossip of the farmer militia. It¡­ wasn¡¯t bad by any means if one ignored cranky Non ghosting about the whole place. Only hours passed... And then it happened. One of the mounted scouts that Charles employed along the way was running himself ragged, trying to reach the outpost¡¯s gates. ¡°Important message! Important message! Make way! Make wayyyyyyyyyy!¡± He screamed, his face pale and sweaty. Sentries recognized the man and let him through without much fuss. Charles was already there, his red hair and eyes staring intently at the gasping messenger. ¡°So? What happened?¡± He asked calmly. ¡°T-the undead sire!¡± The commoner wheezed. ¡°T-the undead are coming! A-and t-they¡¯re pursuing a band of refugees!¡± ¡°Gods damn them.¡± Charles cursed. ¡°So that¡¯s why we weren¡¯t getting any reinforcements. Brighton only knows how many of them have already joined the ranks of the dead¡­¡± ¡°How many?¡± As the mage asked his silver-haired butler, Adam arrived nearby and was already organizing soldiers and scribes. ¡°A-a dozen, m-maybe two, sire!¡± ¡°Shit.¡± He breathed out before yelling. ¡°Prepare the archers, gather cavalry and infantry! Get the half-giants ready, just in case!¡± ¡°S-sire?¡± The messenger stuttered. ¡°I¡¯m no sire.¡± Charles said and the commoner paled in fright. ¡°And another thing.¡± ¡°Y-yes?¡± ¡°There is never only one or two dozen undead.¡± The commotion continued as more and more soldiers poured out of the outpost, into the nearby field. Soon a basic formation was ready, with armored professional warriors in the middle, militia infantry on the flanks, and archers with spellcaster support - waiting behind them. The heavy soldiers in the center were armed with two-handed weapons - mostly swords but with a hammer or ax thrown in the mix. The militia was sporting wooden shields and crude spears, with a dagger on each soldier¡¯s waist and simple leather armor covering their torso. Nonetheless, every single one of them was proudly bearing a grey and dark-blue kite shield symbol of the Geinard Kingdom. About twenty horsemen were standing at the ready, their shining new long lances and scale armor in stark contrast to the well-used equipment carried by the rest of the army. The support units were a mixed bag. A few mages in violet and red robes stood in a chaotic group turning their nose at the nearby archers. Most of them chatted in low tones, oblivious to sergeants shouting orders. Archers were as poorly armed as militia, with rough short bows and leather armor barely covering their torsos. Recognizable helmets made by idiot-smith were sitting uncomfortably on their heads. Their nervous swallowing and sweating showed a lack of experience or maybe just confidence. The field was silent like the whole world held its breath, awaiting the coming battle. Soon the calm was broken, as the soldiers started getting restless, gossiping about the future, joking, or just praying. Another thirty minutes passed until Charles emerged from his residence, wearing a humble chain shirt, armored pants, and a helmet painted red. He mounted up, slowly moving toward the front of his army. The cavalry unit followed him like a group of bodyguards. He gazed into the distance, where I could only just see a cloud of dust. In the coming minutes, more and more scouts arrived, each of them with the same news. A group of humans was running from the undead, slated soon to arrive. Charles closed his eyes, scratching his chin as he conversed with the last of the mounted arrivals. ¡°I see. Go back into the outpost and rest.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°And before you go¡­ any news about the rest of the scouts?¡± The messy-haired messenger shook his head. ¡°The last communication was about them reaching out to a group of refugees. Then, silence.¡± ¡°I understand. Dismissed.¡± The red-haired mage hummed under his nose. ¡°Master?¡± Adam, his old butler appeared a bit worried. ¡°Are you okay? The troops are waiting.¡± ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡± ¡°About what? The situation seems pretty clear.¡± ¡°Is it?¡± He chuckled darkly. ¡°Scouts are missing, and at least three distinct groups of refugees are being herded into our ranks. What¡¯s more, no caravan or patrol managed to reach us in a week.¡± ¡°I would say that it¡¯s very much not pretty clear.¡± ¡°Forgive this old servant.¡± Adam bowed his head deeply. ¡°I did not want to overreach.¡± ¡°Oh, stow it. I am not a noble anymore, you can relax. No need for keeping up the face shtick.¡± ¡°Master.¡± Minutes passed and the clouds of dust transformed into recognizable silhouettes. As the scouts described each of the three visible groups was comprised of pitful rag-wearing refugees being pursued by a group of skeletal undead. Most of the dead were naked, with their fingers sharpened into cutting tools but amongst them, I saw two or three with pieces of flesh remaining. Those were armored and armed, bellowing commands and hurrying other monsters. The refugees were clad in sand-covered clothes, desperately jogging forward. Some of them were clutching their belongings, others carried small bundles - either with valuables or¡­ children. Their gait was slow and painful with stiff movements that only a person on the brink of death could make. ¡°Skeletons and skeleton commanders.¡± Charles murmured under his breath. ¡°Are they trying to drive refugees into our lines to wreak confusion? Something doesn¡¯t add up.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not even a hundred undead¡­ any Kingdom¡¯s patrol would be able to dispatch or avoid them. Skeletons are pretty stupid, after all. What I am not seeing?¡± ¡°Leader?¡± A rough voice had interrupted his musings. One of the better-equipped cavalries trotted closer. ¡°Yes, commander?¡± ¡°Permission to engage the enemy and rescue these poor civilians.¡± Charles¡¯ brew rose. ¡°Never took you for a merciful man, commander.¡± ¡°Noblesse oblige and all that crap.¡± The cavalry leader smiled under his mustache. ¡°Besides no better way to test my subordinates. Blood must be spilled. Preferably the enemy blood.¡± ¡°That¡¯s more like it. Permission granted. Just¡­ be careful.¡± ¡°Careful is my second name!¡± The smile transformed into a huge grin, as the large man turned back. ¡°Ready weapons!¡± He bellowed. ¡°Let¡¯s smack the deadies, and rescue a few damsels in distress!¡± ¡°Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± His troops rushed ahead, slowly raising their speed. Soon a steady clatter of hooves filled the battlefield. Cavalry closed in, their lances poised to strike. Undead braced, their chaotic ranks suddenly gained order, yet lack of armor or weapons turned the attempt pitiful instead of dangerous. A moment later the dead and the living clashed, sending waves of dust and thunderous screech noise of metal meeting bone in the air. The human squad had run through the enemy, instantly eliminating about half of them. Still, many remained, their arms torn apart and bodies smashed. A living army would have routed at this moment. But this was no living army. ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± A booming voice of the commander echoed on the wasteland. ¡°Get the refugees out of here! We¡¯ll let the infantry have their glory!¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± ¡°Sure!¡± ¡°Flint, go and ask the women to follow!¡± Laughing gleefully a scarred veteran trotted closer to the refugee on the front, one carrying a small bundle that I surmised was her child. He ignored his horse''s nervous neighing and leaned closer. ¡°My lady, can I offer you a seat behind me? We¡¯ll get you and your child to safety.¡± He waited for a moment, but no answer came back. The woman was just staring at him, her face hidden behind the rags. ¡°My lady?¡± As he came even closer the woman reacted. She threw her baby straight at the soldier, before screeching. It was an infuriated, inhuman voice that left her throat. Cavalryman instinctually caught the flying ¡°baby¡± only to have it unpack in a sort of spider-like skeletal abomination with long legs and arms and a small torso¡­ which immediately reoriented itself and sunk its teeth in the cavalryman¡¯s face, tearing off the flesh. As he screamed the same scene played out around the man, people getting thrown out their horses in a desperate bid to break free of their enemy¡¯s attack. The remaining soldiers were torn between helping their comrades and running away. Seconds passed and the decision has been made for them. The rest of the ¡°refugees¡± took off their rags, revealing their true forms - leathery skin, white eyes, and claw-like fingers. ¡°Zombies!¡± Shouted a soldier before he was overwhelmed by a sudden charge and dragged from his mount. It took only moments before humans were annihilated. ¡°No! No. Dammit¡­ no¡­ these were good soldiers! By Brighton¡¯s beard, they will pay!¡± Charles cursed. ¡°They will pay...¡± He repeated, his red eyes squinted, observing the rest of the suspicious refugees. ¡°No way around it.¡± He grunted, before riding up to the front of his army. He dismounted a lone figure against the slowly advancing enemy. ¡°Get the horse.¡± ¡°Sir!¡± A soldier saluted and grabbed the reins. ¡°I am no sir.¡± Charles scowled and, in the same breath, a low chant started flowing from his mouth. Unlike earlier, it wasn¡¯t structured magic, a repeat of words without a true meaning behind them. No. Right now Charles was muttering to the growing flame in his hand. Explaining, convincing it. Communicating. It was new. It was exhilarating to hear. As I listened, something resonated in my soul. The words he spoke were also sent to me. Asking for aid. Asking for power. And both the flame and I answered, growing in power, a small fire swelling to an enormous proportion. A second and third soon appeared, slowly rotating in place. The dead noticed the change, and their disguise was thrown to the wind. Three armies collapsed on a lone man threatening to smash him to pieces. And then¡­ they stopped. ¡°GREATER FIREBALL!¡± The mage shouted and the flames sprung to life. A fiery trail was left behind each of them before a second later an explosion brightened the sky. And another. And another one. The temperature rose as I observed what could be only described as small bombs slowly fading from existence. They left only scorched bones and melted metal in their wake. The oh-so-scary undead were mostly erased from the face of the earth by a single spell. Some of the zombies and skeletons remained, lacking limbs or large parts of the flesh. They stubbornly stuttered forward, their hatred for living forcing them into an unwinnable battle. I could nearly hear the collective swallowing of the army left behind the red-eyed mage. There was some kind of aura spilling from the man, making it hard for anyone to approach. ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± The fire demon screamed. ¡°Kill them! Kill them all! Avenge your fallen brethren!¡± A hoarse voice filled with malice shocked humans into action. ¡°Charge!¡± ¡°With me, soldiers!¡± ¡°Shower them with magic!¡± ¡°Archers! Fi-----re!¡± And amongst the warriors, I could hear small whispers of awe. Songs of terror. ¡°Follow the Fire God!¡± ¡°Follow the Blueflame!¡± ¡°Follow the Red Death!¡± Humans surged like a hungry ocean, decimating the remaining enemies. And in the middle of this surge, a lone person was standing - like a rock fearfully avoided by the flowing river. Yet somebody broke the unspoken barrier. Adam slowly walked closer before shouting. ¡°Master!¡± ¡°What!¡± A rough answer came back, the mage¡¯s face red and strained. I could see a green flame flickering in his eyes. The red of his hair and eyes also turned more vivid. More alive. Charles¡¯ servant swallowed dryly before speaking out. ¡°The scouts report another group approaching the outpost.¡± ¡°Good. Just point me in the right direction.¡± He growled. ¡°I am positively itching for more targets.¡± ¡°That would be problematic, Master.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because this group is flying Princess Agnes'' colors.¡± ¡°So¡­ are you saying that they¡¯re like these people?¡± Charles casually pointed toward the glassed floor and scorched zombie remains. ¡°And that they¡¯re too being pursued by the undead?¡± ¡°Y-yes. A-and there are a lot of them. We noticed ghouls, abominations, and many types of skeletons. Vampires are probable, but shouldn¡¯t be a problem during the day.¡± ¡°Haaaaaah.¡± Charles relaxed, and his hair stopped glowing. ¡°Time to greet my fiance, then. Prepare the army after they¡¯ll clean up here. I¡¯ll aid you where it is possible.¡± He paused. ¡°And ask Master Vincent for help. We¡¯re saving royalty, so the old mage should pull his weight.¡± ¡°By your command!¡± 068 Uno I had mixed feelings. While I had screwed the pooch - as I had got a bit too much into observing Charles and his little army shenanigans than was healthy aaaaand, in the process, completely forgot about my brilliant plan - the situation as a whole wasn¡¯t unsalvageable. Above my dungeon, the Geinard Kingdom forces were preparing to stop another undead attack, which gave me a chance to finish transferring the dwarven prisoners. The few I had moved with Non¡¯s help were of the ¡°trimmable¡± kind. The rest were to be moved in an ordinary fashion. This time I would ignore the humans and instead focus on doing what needed to be done. And if - and only if - I was quick enough there should be enough time left to observe the latter part of the battle. That was under the assumption that the humans weren¡¯t going to get utterly crushed. As for the reason why? I just couldn¡¯t help myself. Observing the outpost''s workings was an addicting activity, like watching a popular series on TV. In my past life, I tended to binge on these things. Except here all the actors were real people, there was way too much drama for my taste, and you couldn¡¯t change the channel at all. So¡­ it was nothing like the television I remembered. I blame the lack of meaningful entertainment in my underground hellhole. That problem aside I had something even more terrifying to worry about. This¡­ unconscious resonance in response to Charles¡¯ chanting. I had lent him my power - but the process and consent to do so were outside my control. This made me wary - especially since my current ¡°condition¡± could be connected to any unexplainable phenomena. Worse still - the sickly green flame flickering in his eyes was hauntingly similar to the color of the Anima¡­ my first reaction was to kill the red-haired mage and nip the problem in the bud. And I would¡¯ve done so if he wasn¡¯t the outpost¡¯s leader. The consequences of eliminating him weren¡¯t something I was ready to face. Yet. Scary human warriors like Lord Hawk were much too fresh in my memory. I needed a contingency to counter them, yet my lack of power made most of the attempts to defend myself meaningless. And what was worse a dungeon core cannot run. An endless loop. There was nothing more I could do about it at the moment but wait. So instead of agonizing again and again over the things I had no control over, I focused on finishing preparations while doing what could be done. My invisible form soundlessly floated down to the second floor. The rats were already waiting, small, burly figures of dwarven prisoners safely tied to the wooden boards. Each of them was carried by two dozen Ratlings, creating a comical sight of a plank levitating just above the ground. Close to the Central Pond Room teams of Lebirs were led by Ratling Black Mages, poised to strike. Their haphazardly armored bodies stood as still as only the dead could, a flicker of magic burning steadily in their eyes. Each was armed with a shield and electrified mace. Non and her kobold ninja were also ready. In this battle, their role would be a crucial one - to stop enemies from calling an alarm. Surprisingly, I couldn¡¯t sense any tension from the revenant¡¯s back. She was touching her pitch-black daggers, caressing their sharp blades. A calm and solemn figure - as always. Now, that I thought about it discerning anything from Non¡¯s wooden expression wasn¡¯t easily done - unless she was showing her blind hate for the Geinard Kingdom or its citizens. While humans had rescinded much of their presence on the second floor, there was one obstacle we had to get rid of to retain control. A sole runner traveled between the first and second floor every fifteen or so minutes. It was a young lad, with a stubble of a beard, wearing a mismatched set of militia armor. He had to be killed or otherwise incapacitated to give me a chance to succeed. This act, coupled with the elimination of the soldiers based on the second floor, would buy me enough time to transport our prisoners into the waiting claws of the Butchers. Even if the outpost forces prematurely discovered the attack they would still have their hands full with the undead invasion, thus delaying their response. It was a foolproof plan. I hummed under my nose, a half-forgotten melody hauntingly twisting in the nothingness. It was time. One last look at the surface showed two armies poised to strike, and a small group of Geinard Kingdom soldiers barely making it into Charles¡¯ defensive formation before the clash. Amongst them, a few figures seemed hurt, or maybe just unconscious - it was hard to tell. My curiosity peaked, yet I forced myself to retreat. It wouldn¡¯t be wise to repeat my last mistake. I¡¯ll slowly get to the bottom of it afterward. If they were still alive, that is. The human soldiers on the second floor were a small group, about a dozen militia and a grumpy veteran serving as their leader. They huddled against a small fire and gazed into the black from behind temporary barricades, their tired eyes scanning the surroundings with fear. Electrical Chandeliers were still hanging from the ceiling here and there but most of these had been destroyed by the half-elven princess'' rampage. I hadn¡¯t restored them - true to the ruse I was trying to propagate - and the darkness worked in my favor as Lebirs and Ratlings slowly crept closer and closer, their figures impossible to discern. It was only when the runner arrived, his youthful face reddened by the sprint, that I had given the order to attack. [Kill them all.] My disembodied voice echoed in the skulls of the surrounding creatures. And darkness moved, responding to my words. Their charge began silently, gaining momentum before a single scream cut through the air. ¡°Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!¡± One of the militias glanced around at just the right moment, noticing the advancing monsters. ¡°E-enemy attack!¡± He quickly reached for his weapon, bracing the spear against the ground. Just like how they were taught at the drilling ground I observed too many times to count. All around the soldier other panicked voices and yells echoed as humans scrambled to defend themselves. The runner¡¯s reaction was different. After a second of confusion and terror, he turned on his heels, intending to climb up and warn the first-floor team. It was a noble action, one that was cut short by the Non¡¯s appearance from the nearby shadows. She stood before the young man and the staircase, her half-metallic face sporting a rare ugly grin. ¡°A-an undead!¡± The youth screamed, drawing the attention of the commanding soldier. ¡°Gods curse you, demon.¡± The scarred warrior spat on the ground, before shooting out a series of commands. ¡°Jarn and Solden, with me! The rest hold your ground for as long as possible!¡± ¡°Sir!¡± ¡°Sir!¡± ¡°We¡¯re dead men walking anyway, so spare no blood or sweat! We¡¯ve gotta give this lad a chance to warn the others.¡± ¡°¡°Understood!¡±¡± His bodyguards answered in unison. ¡°Now lads! Charge! For the Geinard Kingdom!¡± His words were calm and collected, yet a strange conviction was burning in his eyes. This only made Non more livid, as her grin widened into a full-fledged deranged smile. With a casual swipe, she left a cut on the boy¡¯s leg. Cursing, he tumbled to the ground, clutching the wound. It was an artful stroke - deep enough to impair mobility yet shallow enough to not let him bleed out. A torturer¡¯s cut. ¡°Shit!¡± The veteran cursed bitterly as the humans charged the undead girl. His subordinates called their gods, full of hatred instead of admiration for professional work. Barbarians. Non¡¯s lithe form twirled between incoming spears, her daggers smashing into them with strength measured just enough to change their trajectory. She dodged the attacks perfectly only to get assaulted by the veteran soldier. ¡°Shield bash!¡± He shouted and the scrappy shield responded, the skill reinforcing the metal¡¯s endurance and enhancing his forward momentum. Non¡¯s head turned unnaturally, her wide smile still showing hauntingly white teeth. With a light *hup* she extended her hand¡­ and jumped. I could hear her flesh and iron body protesting when the revenant¡¯s palm landed on the incoming wall. Using the momentum she flew above the charging enemy and gracefully landed on the ground. The human soldier stopped his attack. He gasped for air, sweat trickling on his scarred face. He then turned heavily - it was a painfully slow movement, yet not a single attack had landed on his defenseless back. He spat on the ground ¡°The bitch¡¯s toying with us, lads!¡± His subordinates only panted in response, their wary eyes and trembling hands grasping for respite. ¡°To me! Defensive formation!¡± Heeding the command two soldiers returned to the veteran¡¯s side. Unlike the rest, he wore not simple leather armor, but one enhanced with pieces of iron. Under his metal helmet, I could see calculating eyes and clenched jaw. His rugged physique might¡¯ve been considered handsome in some barbaric way. Non had ignored their preparations, instead glancing at the battle between Lebirs and the rest of the militia. The undead had already arrived at the defensive positions and were slugging it out with the remaining soldiers. Their fight was uninspired and boring, maces impacting shields, spears sometimes finding purchase in the armor or flesh of the attackers. Due to makeshift barricades, the defenders were currently in the lead, blackish blood being spilled much more often than its red counterpart. A few of the Ratling Black Mages sent their spells into the midst of battle, the bolts of green energy more often hitting their allies than enemies. Yet while the Lebirs simply shrugged off the magic humans weren¡¯t so resilient. Their leather armor sizzled with every stopped shot, an acrid smell spreading in the air. I could see their exhaustion, their rising despair as the first wave of skills managed to take down only a few of my creatures, the rest swarming their positions. Our victory was only a question of time now. Non understood that too, as she turned knowingly to her three opponents. A mocking grin remained on her face, taunting the soldiers. The veteran leading them cursed under his nose. His black eyes hardened even more as he surveyed the battlefield. Cries for help and screams were coming from behind the revenant¡¯s back and he could do nothing. He spat on the ground, before making up his mind. ¡°Solden¡­ Jarn.¡± ¡°Sir!¡± ¡°Run. I¡¯ll hold her off for as long as I can. Get the message out, even if it¡¯s the last thing you¡¯ll do.¡± Both soldiers blinked in confusion. ¡°B-but¡­ sir¡­¡± ¡°No backtalking! I said run, and you will RUN, soldier!¡± He roared the last few words while dashing towards the undead. Non¡¯s reaction was lax - a predator meeting her prey - as she strolled to meet the human¡¯s charge. Behind the veteran¡¯s back, I could see shock and confusion mixing on the young faces before they were replaced by a cold conviction. With a sharp nod, the humans turned and ran, still clutching their weapons in hand. I grumbled. It was the revenant¡¯s role to stop any stragglers¡­ and she was already going off the script. [Non¡­ catch them for me, please.] She nodded, grinning even wider. It was uncanny. [Know.] Her steps gained momentum before turning into a run. It took seconds for the distance to disappear completely. The human soldier stepped forward with his left foot. His left hand kept the shield up, while a great deal of strength was focused into a piercing strike targetting Non¡¯s head. The attack was swift and merciless, nearly piercing her eye¡­ yet the undead girl simply slid onto her knees, before disappearing within the warrior¡¯s shadow. The veteran blinked a few times, before sheepishly looking around. Then his face lighted up with a terrible understanding as he turned back and shouted at the top of his lungs. ¡°Dodge! She¡¯s coming for you! Dodge¡­ oh¡­ Brighton have mercy!¡± His warning came too late. The two soldiers in question were currently climbing the stairs, one of them kicking away the bleeding runner. While the shout startled them, they never saw Non coming. From the ceiling, a patch of shadow darkened momentarily, before spewing the revenant out, face-first. She laughed soundlessly, before plunging her daggers into her victims¡¯ necks, spilling an ungodly amount of blood on the floor. After an acrobatic landing, she tilted her head in mute wonder. One of the humans was still breathing, his earlier stumble saving him from certain death. The dagger instead of severing the throat and the spine left a deep wound on his chest, nearly cutting through his ribs. The human - Jarn, was it? - touched the injury with a trembling hand, his eyes looking pitifully toward the black-clothed undead. ¡°P-please¡­¡± Jarn stuttered only to fall on his back after Non¡¯s sudden kick. ¡°Aarrrrrgh!¡± He screamed in pain, before turning silent as the dagger found purchase in his eye. ¡°You monster!¡± Rumbled the only surviving human, the veteran¡¯s eyes now red with rage and sorrow. ¡°You¡¯ll pay for that!¡± He uttered, before charging once again. I shook my head. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. It didn¡¯t work the first time, why should it play out differently now? The revenant worked on retrieving her dagger, a disgusting noise accompanying her attempts to dislodge it from the dead flesh. At last, with a wet sound, she managed to wiggle it free, before she turned towards the approaching enemy. This time Non didn¡¯t sneak into the shadows to avoid him but took the attack in stride. Metal screeched as her dagger blocked the incoming spearhead, the force of momentum sending it flying. A jab from her other dagger was blocked by the shield, small indentations appearing on its surface. My dungeon¡¯s craftsmanship was clearly superior to whatever humans had access to on the surface. Clang after clang sounded in the air, as Non went ham on the shield, the veteran crying out in pain when his defense simply¡­ broke. The metal shield cracked under the abuse and the revenant¡¯s dagger tasted blood once again. It slipped under the defender¡¯s hand and bit deep into his stomach. As a final act of defiance, the veteran swung his spear shaft wide, smacking right into Non¡¯s face, bruising it, and forcing her away. A moment later he crumbled down, pain and exhaustion forcing him to his knees. The revenant touched her jaw, and a small dribble of blackish blood trickled down her chin. She rubbed it between her fingers as she closed on the defeated man. ¡°Do it!¡± He shouted, full of defiance, and nearly out of breath. ¡°Do it, you monster! My fate is meaningless! More will come! And with time our Kingdom will prevail!¡± Non actually stopped for a moment, before lowering her weapons. There was a moment of respite, the terrified silence broken only by the sound of labored breathing. Non closed her eyes, momentarily calming down. A second later her glare colder than ice landed on the angry soldier. ¡°Geinard. Kingdom. DIES!¡± She spelled out as her two daggers were stabbed through the enemy¡¯s eyes, directly piercing his brain. The veteran¡¯s death was quick and painless, his body tensing up before slumping down weakly. With a loud *clang* both spear and shield fell on the ground. Behind Non¡¯s back, the sole surviving human was slowly dragging his body away from the embodiment of death while pathetically whimpering. A trail of blood and urine marked his passage. Seeing this I broke free from my reverie. There was always something cathartic in seeing my creatures fight. And win, preferably. A shot of dopamine felt good, after all. Even if I lacked the body to produce it intensely observing the actions of others was the only way to experience the thrill of a battle and exhaustion that came afterward. Was that a reaction of a phantom organ? Or was I just turning crazy? In these few seconds, Non¡¯s attention turned back to the wounded runner. [No! Stop!] I quickly chided her. [Just knock him out! The Butchers require more bodies for their experiments.] The undead girl seemed to consider something for a brief moment before continuing her menacing stride. ¡°No¡­ nho¡­ no¡­ please! P-phlease!¡± The young man was scared out of his mind, gibbering something about mercy. His face was covered in snot and tears, with patches of his companion¡¯s blood filling in the rest presented a pathetic sight. Non came closer and lifted him by the hair. The runner screamed, half from pain, half in fear, and stared at the pale face of the revenant. She too glanced at her victim, before grabbing a dagger from her waist and slowly slicing his throat. The boy gurgled, his eyes growing wider at the perceived wrong before his taut muscles turned weak. After making sure of his demise Non threw the body on the ground like a sack of potatoes, splattering the red blood all around her. At the same moment, I recovered from the shock. [What the hell, Non?] I yelled, still not believing her insubordination. [That was valuable research material! What did you kill him for?] The undead glared at the unmoving corpse before uttering a few words in the ether. ¡°Kingdom.¡± ¡°Revenge.¡± She spoke haughtily, not using the mental link, and after a small pause, she finished with¡­ ¡°Death.¡± Then her form slowly disappeared in the nearby shadows - much different from how she was moving during the battle. Instead of violent jumps and twists, there was a feeling of serenity attached to the darkness surrounding her. The little kobold ninja followed, after shaking his head at the remaining carnage. I cringed at my stupidity. This was certainly a blind spot. Non was a contracted monster. In some ways she and Guardian were similar - an outside force repurposed to do my bidding. Yet, even for a moment, I shouldn¡¯t forget that they had their own motivations and opinions. The revenant¡¯s sole purpose remained a desire to wipe out the Geinard Kingdom for her perceived wrongs. Whether it was true or not didn¡¯t matter at this point. Her reason d''¨ºtre was destruction. She had nothing else left. I had hoped her new pet might turn out to be a port in the storm, alas¡­ It seemed like Guardian¡¯s bonding with the tribe was just a fluke. An oddity. Not to mention she had been rescued and left in my care by the mad goddess Gangria¡­ Her creepy twin form still sometimes floats up in my memory, no matter how much I avoid thinking about her. Anyway¡­ This could turn out badly. A precise tool was a blessing, a tool with free will¡­ not so much. It seemed like some of the orders given to the Butchers had to be changed. And that meant that fresh bodies should arrive down there as soon as it was possible. [What are you waiting for?] I shouted mentally, as rats and Lebirs were standing still, helpless and unsure what to do. [Get a move on! Hurry! Transport the prisoners¡­ now!] [Somebody take care of the bodies.] The dungeon should rather quickly devour the already dead soldiers, yet I wasn¡¯t sure if it would be quick enough. Non¡¯s dagger wounds were hard to mistake for Lebir maces or Ratling spearthrowers. There was no need to leave anything to chance. My words created a storm of activity, floating boards dragged here and there - both with bodies and scavenged items. A few minutes later rat caravan had already left the second floor and continued even deeper. And that meant¡­ that I had a chance to watch what was going on the surface! Grinning, my form ascended, slowly floating upwards toward the battle I knew that was taking place out there. And oh boy¡­ things were already in full swing. It took me a few minutes, but I managed to get a good look at the battlefield. The human forces were holding. Their flanks filled with militia adopted a Roman-like shield wall formation and were currently doing two things: poking their enemies with spears and desperately trying to hold on. All around the human outpost was a large moat with sharpened spikes every meter or two. Instead of water, some strange alchemical solution shimmered inside, its purpose unknown. What I did understand was the fact that the undead were actively avoiding the thing, even the dumb, basic ones. Holy water then? Or something more sinister? Something to consider if the humans ever used it underground. It didn¡¯t matter right now, though, as a large part of the outpost lacked this defense - and it was there that humans decided to make their stand. Bashing against the defenders was a veritable sea of skeletons and zombies trying to use their sheer mass to overwhelm the living. For now, the battle here seemed at a standstill. The random attacks were destroying some undead but more and more were coming to fill in the gaps. I was disturbed by a lack of more advanced variants, but soon I saw where they concentrated - in the center, where Geinard Kingdom elite heavy troops were fighting back. These soldiers rarely appeared in my dungeon, probably because most halls and stairways were simply too small to contain them. Clad in iron armor and wielding devastating two-handed weapons they stood near each other, swinging away against the tide. Like farmers during harvest. Most of the enemies died instantly, a rare zombie or skeleton crawling forward, only to get crushed by an armored boot a moment later. Even the advanced variants in the army of the dead - undead knights, wights, or grotesque zombies stood no chance, their uncoordinated attacks simply breaking on the unyielding will humans were demonstrating. Even so, I could see a glance of tiredness, a moment of hesitation, here and there. Despite their training, despite their equipment, they were only human. And with time they would falter and die. From behind these living walls, a few mages and a whole bunch of archers rained hell on the incoming enemies. While arrows rarely did more than incapacitate or inconvenience the dead, surging magical energies seemed much more destructive. Colorful elements shaved off forces of the advancing undead, yet I didn¡¯t see my favorite red-haired mage amongst the casters. My search was interrupted by a few abominations that appeared from behind the nearby hills, their large, bloated forms easily sticking out against the enemy mass. Each of them carried a twisted, haphazardly made iron-encrusted club. If the earlier enemies were considered cannon fodder, these giants¡¯ purpose was only to hit and hit hard. The humans reacted with increased activity and soon a runner, not dissimilar to the one killed by Non, was sent into the outpost. In the meantime mages redoubled their efforts, this time focusing on the larger threats, yet their attacks managed only to slow them down. The faces of the robed individuals turned pale when defensive shields blinked into existence above the undead army. ¡°Liches!¡± Somebody yelled. ¡°They have damn liches in their ranks!¡± ¡°Where are they? Can anyone give visual confirmation?¡± Another asked. ¡°Our scouts saw nothing!¡± ¡°Mana search also comes up as negative!¡± ¡°Then they¡¯re either hidden somewhere away, or they¡¯re using visibility obscuring spells¡­¡± ¡°What can we do?¡± ¡°At least they¡¯re not bombarding us¡­ yet.¡± ¡°Commander, your orders?¡± One of the robed mages turned his head towards the heavily decorated soldier standing nearby. ¡°T-that¡¯s¡­ I have no experience in magical warfare.¡± He stammered out. ¡°What can you suggest?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± The mage mused before falling silent. They both twitched when the outpost¡¯s doors nearly exploded under a powerful swing. *BAM* With an angry swagger, a familiar figure emerged, his red eyes and hair easily recognizable from any distance. Charles was speaking to somebody, his voice raised in annoyance. ¡°No! You¡¯re not allowed to leave. And don¡¯t give me this shit about important business! You¡¯re carrying my unconscious fianc?e and I¡¯m not letting you simply take her away!¡± ¡°Will all due respect.¡± Another figure emerged, this one wearing black robes, with brown hair and eyes. A familiar face. ¡°It is in a Geinard Kingdom¡¯s best interest to deliver Princess to the capital, unharmed and untouched.¡± ¡°And why is that?¡± ¡°Like I said before, sir. A me--... An outpost overseer is not privy to such information.¡± The black-robed mage said, while covertly summoning a wisp of darkness in his hand. An annoying tone, annoying magic¡­ It took me a moment, but a face aligned with the name. The haughty mage¡¯s name was Peter. A common-born earth and shadow mage serving Princess Agnes as bodyguard cum advisor. ¡°You! I will deal with you in a moment.¡± Charles turned towards the other leaders. ¡°How¡¯s the situation?¡± ¡°We have big ones coming for our defensive line.¡± The soldier spoke in a gruff tone. ¡°And enemy mages are making it difficult to snipe them down.¡± Added the wizard. ¡°In this scenario, there is only one answer.¡± Charles¡¯ red eyes glared at the battlefield. ¡°Overwhelming firepower.¡± ¡°Sir!¡± ¡°Sir?¡± ¡°With all due respect¡­ these undead mages aren¡¯t common weaklings.¡± Peter¡¯s sour voice came out from behind. ¡°A powerful magus would be needed to overwhelm their defenses.¡± ¡°I am well aware of it.¡± Charles grinned. ¡°Arrogance¡­¡± Peter whispered, before throwing the black dart conjured in his hand. It flew true and exploded right in the face of the red-haired mage. ¡°Wha!¡± ¡°Traitor!¡± The voices around Peter screamed in shock but the black-robed mage simply stared, before starting his speech. ¡°As Charles - the outpost overseer - was interrupting the proceedings needed to save the Geinard Kingdom, I Peter took it upon myself to depose his tyrannical rule. As the first order of business--¡± The rest of his words broke away when Charles¡¯ unharmed figure appeared from the darkness. Not waiting for a counterattack Peter started chanting again. ¡°STOP!¡± A furious roar from Charles interrupted his spell, and then... lifted him in the air, and threw the man on the ground. ¡°Argh!¡± He landed heavily and yelled in pain, before forcing his screams down and staring at the glowering former noble. ¡°H-how can you control elements directly? Y-you! What level are you?!¡± The mage screamed hysterically. Instead of answering red-haired mage pushed his arms forward, before gathering mana into them, a small, volatile flame responding to his call. He breathed in and out, focusing on enlarging the fire dancing on his palms. At the same time, I felt a familiar pulling and the pure red had been tainted with a foul green color. Yet the magic kept increasing its volume, sucking mana out of me and Charles both. Its greedy growth only stopped when a human-sized orb floated above the former noble¡¯s head. ¡°W-wha¡­ w-what is that!¡± Peter screamed once again, this time the other mages joining the chorus and scrambling out of the way. ¡°It¡¯s unstable!¡± ¡°R-run!¡± ¡°H-how is he controlling that thing?¡± A crazy grin appeared on Charles¡¯ face. ¡°Now, what were you saying earlier about leaving the outpost behind and hiding in Shieldstar?¡± His level words turned accusatory, as he spoke to Peter. ¡°N-n-n¡­¡± ¡°What were you saying about it being a noble affair, huh? YOU COMMONER SCUM?¡± ¡°A-aaaaaah!¡± ¡°I want him in chains when I come back. Move Agnes into a better chamber and get the healers to look after her. I want to know what is ailing her.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± The surrounding soldiers saluted, their gazes still following the oversized fireball. The people scrambled out of the way, the fiery inferno dancing on Charles¡¯ palms. From my perspective, he looked kinda funny - a red-haired guy with his arms stretched forward, pushing the levitating ball of death. Nobody in the human army laughed though. I guess the temperature made it hard to do so. Even now I could see Charles¡¯ lips turning dry and cracked. I also turned out to be the only witness to his rambling monologue. ¡°There he comes, to my house, to my refuge, and tells me - me! - that Agnes¡¯ business is not my business! That it¡¯s a noble affair and I am no longer a noble. The gall of this dimwitted cretin is¡­ Arrrrrgh!¡± ¡°I am, for better or worse, her fianc?e. She¡¯s the only one that didn¡¯t abandon me to the wolves. The only one who sees Charles, not a son of Blueflame. Or a breeding horse.¡± His jaw clenched angrily. ¡°I will not let her out of my reach anymore. Kingdom be damned!¡± ¡°Focus, focus, focus. One thing after another. Little steps. The first order of business is to send this Firebomb into enemy ranks.¡± He chuckled darkly. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it be called Greater Firebomb, or something, considering the amount of mana I pumped inside?¡± The said spell wobbled and began tearing at the seams, small wisps of flame breaking free from the overall oval shape. These actively tried to attack anyone coming close, their desire to burn clear even over the distance. Yet somehow they avoided the caster, not that it made any difference. Charles¡¯ clothes and skin were singed by simply standing close to the inferno. ¡°Now how should I do it?¡± The mage mused, ignoring the eye-drying heat. ¡°I should probably push it through the ranks¡­¡± [Or lob it like a grenade.] I added unconsciously. ¡°Or lob it like¡­ a bomb.¡± He repeated after me. We both blinked in confusion before Charles grinned again. ¡°Yes. Yes! That works!¡± The earlier comical posture had been replaced by another one, not much better. This time he kneeled, changing his hands into claws and moving them behind his head. The ball of death followed his motions. And then he jumped up and I had experienced the coolest overhead throw of my life. With a gracious inevitability, the Firebomb traveled up in the sky before landing in the middle of the undead army. What followed was a large explosion, deafening and blinding anyone stupid enough to gaze upon it. It didn¡¯t have the ¡°nuclear mushroom¡± shape, instead, the flames spread circularly, burning and melting everything along the way. My hazy memory likened it to a ¡°Bouncing Betty¡± explosion, only magnified a hundredfold. Except shrapnel had been replaced with fire wisps which exploded on contact. The lich''s shields only made the attack worse - rather than letting it land on the ground and then explode, the damage radius had been enlarged because the burst happened in the air. It had swept both magical defenses and enemy soldiers under it in a grandiose fashion. The battlefield grew silent, a large crater remaining where abominations had been spotted. The earth melted into a glassed ring, where the temperature was still hellishly high. Human forces stared with fanatical eyes at heavily breathing Charles, their murmurs of awe and fear combining into a background hum. The dead didn¡¯t care. After a respite, they funneled through the remaining ¡°safe¡± passages. Their hunger and hatred knew no bounds. No simple fiery destruction would be enough to stop them. The intelligence behind them maybe could be intimidated but these simple creatures knew not of such things. ¡°That felt good.¡± Charles mumbled under his nose. ¡°Nothing works out the frustration better than wanton destruction.¡± After noticing the gazes he raised his voice. ¡°Focus on the chokepoints. The magic should hold for at least an hour. If the situation turns for the worse send another runner.¡± ¡°Sir!¡± ¡°Dismissed.¡± The mage shook his hand weakly before stumbling back to the outpost. The human army concentrated their efforts on stopping the undead, the heavy weapon users mingling with shield and spear-bearing infantry. The ranged forces redoubled their efforts, defenders¡¯ attacks doing some real damage now, that enemy magicians kept their heads down. Even the brainless horde attack turned out a bit languid, masses of bodies being thrown against the humans now seeming like an afterthought. In the meanwhile, Charles¡¯ steps grew heavier and steadier the closer he came to his home. His strained gaze turned into a glare as he transformed into a much more intimidating and authoritative figure. He threw open the doors inside with a loud bang. ¡°Grab that worm Peter and move him to the interrogation room!¡± ¡°Master, is that wise?¡± His silver-haired butler, Adam, interjected. ¡°There are things in life I refuse to let go of, old man.¡± He smiled bitterly. ¡°It is time to take a stand.¡± Charles continued in a quieter voice. ¡°It¡¯s not only for myself but for people around me. The Geinard Kingdom is falling apart. Now we must decide - will we throw our lives away for the nation that treats us like tools, or are we going to forge our own path?¡± ¡°Are you sure it is the only way?¡± ¡°Sure? Gangria¡¯s sweaty ass, no! But the change is coming whether we¡¯re ready or not. I can feel it in the air.¡± Adam¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°M-master¡­ what level are you now?¡± He whispered questioningly. ¡°It¡¯s strange, you know.¡± Charles stopped near the entrance, staring at the ground. ¡°These days my level simply¡­ rises by itself. It did so about 30 minutes ago too.¡± Seeing the confused face of his servant the red-eyed mage sighed. ¡°I¡¯m level 21.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ ooooh. And the class?¡± ¡°Tainted Fire User.¡± 069 Uno My plan had - for once - gone without a hitch and the new patients had been safely distributed between various operating theatres. The Butchers chittered over unconscious dwarves but their preparations were already in full swing. Amongst them, a large number of Ratlings squirmed and screeched, psyched to begin gruesome work. The earlier batch of prisoners had their absent limbs replaced with metal. It was a curious technique more complicated than I expected. Unlike what I thought their arms and legs weren¡¯t made from solid metal (mostly due to weight constraints) instead, my doctors had attached stick-like appendages surrounded with a thin grid of sheet metal. It still weighed a ton but was apparently bearable to their fleshy bodies¡­ or what they were transformed into. The techniques used included Anima infusions and installing a few additional organs. Nothing too outrageous. At least it was so until I asked the Butchers for additional anti-undead features. This whipped the creatures into a frenzy, their discussions reaching a whole new level of creepy. Besides that a new group of Dragoons had been completed, their armored figures milling uncertainly on the laboratory floor. Thick armor and reinforced flesh combined with small figures had given them a dwarf-like feeling. The slow, lumbering pace the changed kobolds kept only reinforced this idea. And all was well¡­ Not counting one, simple problem. The future. Due to how my second floor was constructed (not to mention how I was losing control over it) I had to repeat these attacks each time a new batch of prisoners arrived from the underground river. What happened once, could be dismissed as a coincidence. Twice - a stroke of bad luck. But any more than that? Yeah¡­ On the one hand, I knew that hiding my survival forever was impossible. It would be different if my location had been abandoned, yet the pesky humans were using my depths to gather resources. And, like with any interaction, accidents happen. It was inevitable. On the other hand, my forces had grown in strength and I wasn¡¯t as defenseless as before. Yet even with that gained might, we were still too weak to stand against this world¡¯s most powerful inhabitants. Not counting Lord Hawk, even the half-elven princess had been a pain in the backside with all her specialized dungeon-killing magic and artifacts. This narrowed down my options. Especially after my ability to avoid being killed became common knowledge. A Dungeon Core cannot move by itself. It had the freedom to grow and create creatures and even a whole different world underground, yet it was destined to never have contact with the surface. Moreso it only journeyed deeper and deeper, with each built floor. That was a constant. An immutable truth. In the interest of survival, I had to either forge alliances or¡­ overthrow that common sense. Or maybe just do both. That was however a plan for the future. Right now my attention turned back to the operating theatre. The yipping and yapping of the creatures achieved a peak of its crescendo, which signaled something worth my time. A golden-faced dwarf was the first one to finish the enhancement procedures. What remained was more similar to the Dragoons than to the sentient races - a figure with armor-like limbs and copper wires spreading from the gouged chest into every possible direction. Pieces of the metal chest plate, gauntlets, and graves awaited nearby. Most of his organs had been either replaced or augmented and countless scars decorated his tanned skin - a silent witness to the amount of work the Butchers invested in this creature. His eyes were open but vacant, the constant pain and abuse already destroying his rebellious spirit. Only flesh remained. Flesh and metal. I observed as a helmet was cautiously fitted on his head, the metal rails mounted on the neck instantly snapping together with an audible click. It was a simple, flat-headed iron bucket with two long openings for eyes and a few holes punched near the wearer¡¯s mouth. More metal had been embedded in the flesh, prepared to accept other pieces of armor. The experiment was ready. The surrounding monsters held their breath, as the most important part of the process began. The Mechanical Gem - my secondary heart - was taken out from its decorated box. Both Ratlings and the Butchers stood at the attention, lowering their heads in reverence as it was being brought closer to the prisoner. After a moment of hesitation, the container was put on the ground and its cover opened, spilling the radiance outward. Slowly a blue-skinned rat carrying the crystal changed its grip, lifting it in the air, and then inserted the item into an opening left in the middle of the dwarf¡¯s chest. With a satisfying sound, both pieces joined perfectly. As it slid in an unknown feeling swelled in my chest. There was a... connection. My mind swirled excitedly and inadvertently I began to read the creature¡¯s memory, taking it for myself. There was a lot to digest. Memories of halls decorated in gold and stone. Of a hierarchical society that had cast away weakness like one would a faulty sword. Of the constant threat of monsters or greedy surfacers. Disdain for those who abandoned their ancestors and their hallowed ways. Numbers, feelings, desires. And¡­ a name - Hune Copperoot. I could feel myself change, the dwarven sensibilities merging with my mind. After the flood of memories came the ability to move. My vision shifted suddenly and I experienced a bewildering discrepancy. I could see the dwarven body and I was the one piloting it. I forced his - my - hand to move and an iron fist appeared in the corner of my vision. After a moment of awe, my monstrous servant freed it from the chains, giving me a full range of motions. It was great. It was exhilarating. I could temporarily inhabit some of my other creations, yet with this body¡­ with this body, there was a way out of my predicament! The underground cities awaited, and my ancestors were looking over me with pride, keen to see the things that I would accomplish! The things I could teach them! As I marveled in silence, the connection grew hotter and hotter, my subservient gem searching for something to... attach itself to. Something that the dwarf in question was clearly lacking. I could feel his feeble mind trying to desperately fight back as the greenish fire ravaged every centimeter of the stocky body. It was a futile struggle. The crystalline heart vibrated quicker and quicker searching for something and failing to find it. The host¡¯s neural pathways were burning, quickly reaching the limits of flesh and soul. The pain was unbearable, some of it even spilling into my main core. I grit my teeth, trying to understand, and desperately working to remain whole. I was not going to lose this chance, ancestors damn it! ¡°Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!¡± An animalistic scream left the dwarf¡¯s mouth, his eyelids fluttering wide open and formerly dull eyes filling with dread. He started spasming, his reinforced limbs barely kept in place by operating theatre restraints. The hand I freed earlier only made matters worse, the metal gauntlet suddenly focused on breaking the golden dwarf¡¯s skull. It was trying to kill itself to escape the pain... At least the surrounding monsters reacted immediately, stopping the victim¡¯s movements. Seconds passed and the dwarf stopped screaming, his golden face relaxing, not even a shred of intelligence remaining in his wide-open eyes. With an ominous ding, the Mechanical Gem fell on the ground, refusing to connect with what remained of my victim. Nothing worked, no matter how I tried, or how the blue-skinned Ratling busied himself. There was simply nothing left to connect to. I sighed. It was not quite the result I was expecting. My experiment to create an avatar of some sort resulted in a complete failure. At least the flesh survived, so it should be somewhat usable. I scanned the resulting creature, and the System¡¯s description seemed to only confirm my suspicions.
Soulscoured Puppet A former sapient creature subjected to inhuman torture, ending in the absence of will and an independent soul. The resulting residue is completely dependent on received orders and dungeon mana. It can be however repurposed to function outside the depths that spawned it. The Puppet remains indistinguishable from other sapient beings and retains the skills and magical abilities that it was capable of before the change, the only exception being the ability to speak or write. It is still however able to understand speech. Due to extensive remodeling, the physical strength and reflexes of the Puppet had been greatly enhanced. Threat level: dependent on the base model
After reading the analysis, I frowned. Torture was never the goal, only the shortest path to achieving an acceptable result. Progress often demanded sacrifices and I was more than willing to provide them. I left the laboratories while Butchers freed the failure from the restraints and replaced it with another specimen. When you don¡¯t succeed in the beginning, try again, and again. It may be a definition of insanity, yet sometimes it works anyway. Curious, huh? That was however enough for now. My creatures worked busily in the depths, so it was time to observe how the surface was faring. The intensity of the Mechanical Gem merging with another patient seemed to lessen with distance, which had a bit to do with my decision. Anyway - only a few hours had passed since the last battle. Two remaining roads into the outpost had been blocked by militia and their prickly spears. Spread amongst them were heavily armored Geinard Kingdom''s soldiers, mostly content to keep watch over their inferiors. Rarely they elected to dive into the ranks of the dead army, spreading destruction in their wake. Behind the hardy shield wall, a few of the mages bombarded mindlessly advancing undead. The archers were absent, their figures visible far in the back, moving busily between suspiciously bubbling vats and another group of mages. These spellcasters seemed more gritty and mad-eyed, their wild gesticulation earning them the suspicion of the surrounding soldiers. Most of them carried various vials and containers on their waist, with everpresent smudges of chemicals visible on their clothes. A few dragged still kicking undead creatures towards a grim-looking place. The dissecting table looked the same above and below the surface, huh? It seemed like these mages were of the alchemist¡¯s type. This world¡¯s equivalent of scientists. Or should I say, mad scientists? This had only drawn more of my attention, the liquid they were peddling turning more and more interesting. I wasn¡¯t the only one thinking so, as a group of Ratlings crouched nearby, their snouts trembling with anticipation. It seemed like I wasn¡¯t the only one thinking about borrowing a few drops¡­ While I mused, the atmosphere suddenly changed. Even though it was still midday, the air turned colder and biting, unnatural clouds covering the sky. The advancing undead suddenly stopped, before retreating, leaving a veritable carpet of broken bones and decaying flesh in their wake. ¡°Reform the ranks!¡± I heard the commanding officer scream. ¡°Prepare for an attack! Replace the shield-bearers!¡± ¡°Heavy infantry to the back! Regroup!¡± ¡°Archers! At the ready!¡± ¡°Send a runner to inform Master Charles!¡± There was a shuffle, as the Geinard Kingdom army strained and flexed like a living thing, the fresh troops moving to the front, while the rest waited nearby. The faces of soldiers were full of concentration, their hands tightly gripping the handles of their weapons. Some were praying quietly, others glared with hatred at the enemy. Most simply waited with a quiet conviction in their tired eyes. The tension in the air turned and twisted, and then dispersed immediately when a familiar voice echoed in the air, followed by the sound of violently opened doors. *BAM* The words spoken grew harsher and louder, followed by a noise of harsh footsteps - and Charles¡¯ figure appeared, clad in a red haze, his teeth and hands clenched in silent fury. Following behind him was a silver-haired servant, Adam. ¡°Master! Please, stop!¡± He gasped, and seeing the red-haired mage keeping his pace, he turned back to the outpost proper. ¡°What are you waiting for? Get the healers and clean bandages! And for Gods mercy, somebody stem the bleeding! We can¡¯t have him dying before we get all the answers.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°Yes, at once!¡± Grunts of acknowledgment followed his statement, and a second later Adam was back to chastising his hotheaded lord. ¡°Master Charles! Please! Observe some decorum!¡± ¡°I do not care.¡± Charles bellowed, his rigid footsteps portraying the man¡¯s fury. ¡°You heard the fucker as well as I did. This is not an illness of the flesh but a magical construct. A vile, volatile thing.¡± ¡°They dared¡­ they dared to touch her!¡± The mana churned and swelled all around him, the temperature growing higher with every second. The red-eyed mage seethed with rage, ignoring Adam¡¯s increasingly bright and sweaty face. ¡°We¡¯ll fight fire with fire then¡­ Get me Master Vincent. I need counsel.¡± ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary.¡± A calm voice came from behind, as an aged wizard in a violet robe and ridiculous helmet appeared from behind. Unlike Charles¡¯ his steps were slow and steady, the magic much less pronounced. It was a curious thing to observe. ¡°Young man¡­¡± The old mage frowned, which was easy to see despite most parts of his wrinkled face being covered by armor. ¡°I am not an expert on everything magical just because I am an older spellcaster than you¡­¡± ¡°And yet the majority of your research covers old magic artifacts and spells. You¡¯re the closest thing we have to an expert!¡± The older man yelled, gesticulating wildly. ¡°Good.¡± The mage grumbled. ¡°Good. So be it then - as an expert, my answer will be simple.¡± He shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t know. It is not even because it¡¯s old magic but rather because the way it was made is so unique¡­ An original magical spell in this day and age - cobbled from knowledge about blood, charm, and nature magic. Simply marvelous.¡± The old wizard smiled helplessly. ¡°It is not a marvel, but a simple abomination, mage!¡± Charles glared at him while baring his teeth. ¡°Still¡­ it¡¯s a familiar thing. I don¡¯t know why.¡± ¡°It should be.¡± Master Vincent nodded. ¡°After all Blueflames are not the only ancient family in existence.¡± ¡°House Verdant!¡± The red-haired mage hissed. ¡°These twice-cursed monsters!¡± ¡°I wonder. To my knowledge, their magi should be incapable of creating such brilliant spells. They lack both power and understanding of mana, not to mention willpower and levels needed to enter the field of system-less magic.¡± ¡°Then¡­ who? My rage needs an outlet - do not test me, old man!¡± Charles snarled. ¡°My best guess would be the ancient lord of Nature.¡± The old mage¡¯s voice unconsciously turned quieter in a show of reverence. Or fear. ¡°Princess Agnes went to reinforce her forces, after all. It makes sense.¡± ¡°B-but¡­ why would Green Succubus--¡± ¡°Lady Green.¡± Master Vincent interrupted. ¡°Please try to keep decorum. Walls have ears.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Huffed Charles. ¡°Ancient lord or not - if she cursed my beloved then she needs to die!¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Master! Please...¡± Adam¡¯s trembling voice chided the hot-blooded youth. The flames surrounding him grew thinner, as he looked up, at the sky. For a split second, I saw tears forming in his eyes, only to immediately evaporate due to heat. ¡°Then what I am supposed to do, Adam?¡± He spoke aloud. ¡°Just wait until the spell consumes her whole? Unable to do anything to stand against the strong, like always?¡± ¡°Do you have anything to add, Master Vincent? What are our chances?¡± ¡°As I mentioned¡­ it is complicated and powerful magic. We need to work out its innards, analyze the structure, and devise a solution. This takes time, and it is a process I cannot rush.¡± He shook his head sadly. ¡°Then we just... wait? That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°We are already doing what is humanly possible. A few of my apprentices are supporting the war effort, and defending the outpost. I simply cannot order them to go back. Nothing short of divine intervention would make this process go faster.¡± ¡°Divine intervention, you say¡­¡± Charles mumbled quietly, his red eyes squinting in reflection. ¡°Fine.¡± He grumbled. ¡°FINE.¡± ¡°I have a few more ideas. But remember¡­¡± Master Vincent¡¯s tone lowered, turning into a hoarse whisper. ¡°We¡¯re far over our heads. We can slow it down¡­ but stopping the parasite completely, or destroying it?¡± Vincent shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s beyond mortal reach.¡± The fire mage turned crimson red as he bared his teeth, stifling his anger. A few deep breaths later he managed to answer. ¡°T-thank you for that. I¡­¡± He stared silently at the rows of soldiers. ¡°I don¡¯t have much beyond her. Keep up doing what you can.¡± ¡°Yes, I will. Remember, the girl is dear to me too. Do you need any help with these?¡± He nodded towards the quietly waiting undead legion. ¡°No. I am more than enough. It¡¯s a good way to relax. I¡¯m always angry nowadays.¡± ¡°I see.¡± The old mage hesitated for a moment before swallowing his words. ¡°Don¡¯t overdo it.¡± He said instead. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry.¡± Charles glared at the undead creatures. ¡°I¡¯ll be just fine.¡± With a solemn nod, Master Vincent turned around and left for the frontlines, his steady steps slowly growing quieter and quieter. Moments later a few of the soldiers and mages approached the red-haired outpost leader. ¡°Master Charles!¡± ¡°Sir!¡± ¡°Leader!¡± There was a chorus of voices. Be it an officer or wizard, all of them showed reverence, their eyes full of pride and faith. ¡°What is the situation?¡± ¡°Reporting: the undead have retreated. Our forces are barely spent and ready to continue fighting.¡± ¡°Our mages are mostly available too. We can either provide cover or bombard the enemy.¡± ¡°Archers are waiting for orders. We stopped the attack since normal arrows were proven ineffective.¡± A leather-clad officer grimaced in annoyance. ¡°A few of Master¡¯s Vincent apprentices shared their anti-undead solution. We¡¯re ready to rain death on these abominations!¡± ¡°Good. Good. Send runners to get half-giants ready and prepare the undying ones.¡± ¡°Sir!¡± ¡°Acknowledged. But¡­ is that really necessary?¡± ¡°Yes, sir - could we not? They give me the creeps!¡± ¡°It might be. It might be not. I have a bad feeling. We need to prepare for any eventuality.¡± Charles scratched his chin. ¡±Do you know what their retreat means?¡± His gaze danced between surrounding officers. Seeing that nobody spoke, he sighed. ¡°The undead crave death of the living. It¡¯s their reason to exist. Usually, they¡¯ll stop at nothing to taste our flesh and blood. To see us screaming in fear.¡± ¡°Yet now they retreated. Do you know why?¡± ¡°B-because they found another target?¡± Charles mused for a moment. ¡°Maybe. A more probable explanation would be the appearance of a superior undead who took command over their forces. Just like those liches before.¡± The fire mage''s tone turned colder. ¡°We don¡¯t know who or what the opponent is, thus we should remain cautious. And be prepared to use whatever we can.¡± ¡°As you wish!¡± ¡°Now¡­ let¡¯s give them a taste of magic since they are so bunched up.¡± Charles smiled and waltzed closer to the frontline, the soldiers parting before him. He stopped in clear sight of the enemy, only a few shieldbearers keeping watch over the carpet of bone and flesh spread before them. ¡°Give me some room.¡± He ordered and surrounding troops quickly retreated, a thin line of knights replacing their comrades, sharpened swords and axes kept at the ready. ¡°Good.¡± Charles nodded before spreading one, and then another hand. He slowly chanted, thick and heavy words condensing under his nose. Then, in a commanding tone, he spoke. ¡°Greater Fireball¡±. A swirling flame rested on his palm before he repeated his words and another one appeared on the second one. These baseball-sized constructs didn¡¯t look that dangerous at first sight, yet they excluded a sense of pressure that made humans around the red-haired mage tremble. A greenish light blinked in Charles¡¯s eyes as he spoke again. ¡°Devour flames.¡± And suddenly the fires disappeared¡­ but the pressure was still there. ¡°F-f-firebomb.¡± He spat through his clenched teeth, a familiar reddish-green human-sized magic reappearing before him. Like before it almost immediately started to fray on the edges, the framework too weak to contain its explosive power. ¡°I-i-imbue FLAMES!¡± Charles roared in the end and the death ball before him¡­ changed. It was no longer a simple red orb, containing compressed destruction. It excluded sickly green malice instead - a hungry, monstrous feeling, resembling a rabid animal. It spun around its axis, the fire wisps no longer trying to break the form endowed upon them. They remained intertwined with flame magic, gleefully waiting to be unleashed. ¡°How beautiful¡­¡± Charles whispered, gazing at his creation. The flames danced in response to his words, like hunting dogs waiting for their master¡¯s command. ¡°Go!¡± He screamed. ¡°Show me your power!¡± His reaction was completely disproportionate to what seemed like a basketball-like overhead shot. It felt as perfectly silly as before. I guess the awe factor depended on the observer, as the surrounding soldiers weren¡¯t laughing at all, their wide, reddened eyes full of fear and pride. In the meantime, the corrupted Firebomb slowly sailed through the air before reaching the highest point of its parabola. This elicited a response. A giant shield appeared in the air, poised to intercept the attack, and, from the ranks of the undead army, a deep voice spoke in an ancient language. ¡°Oh, how the Geinard Kingdom has fallen. Attacking without a warning? And with such parlor tricks?¡± The humans simply stared in silence, clearly incapable of understanding the words of this new enemy. Somehow, I didn¡¯t have the same problem. ¡°Weak and cowardly! That¡¯s what you have become! How fitting that you¡¯ll join my army and find a greater purpose after death!¡± A small, black-robed figure appeared at the back of the undead horde. With a gnarled staff in its hand and a few black-clad knights nearby, it was clearly the supposed commander. The being pointed at the incoming attack while shaking in rage. Its face looked completely mummified - like its body was preserved for decades in some desert crypt, completely different from half-decomposed skeletons or zombies. The undead mage sported a creepy grin and cold, blue mana was escaping its half-closed eyelids. Unlike me, humans knew who they were facing. ¡°It¡¯s an Elder Lich! Prepare mana shields!¡± ¡°Skirmish formation! Magical attack incoming!¡± ¡°Fallen Knightage is here too! May the Gods have mercy!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t blaspheme, just get the Giants ready!¡± The human army turned into a hive of activity while both Charles and I were simply watching the slowly descending attack. On my side, it was just an onlooker¡¯s curiosity, yet the red-haired mage sported a nihilistic expression as he observed the enemy¡¯s actions. ¡°Disperse!¡± Ordered the Elder Lich, his hands glowing with magic. In addition to the shield, a long shadow bolt has sprung from its skeletal fingers intercepting the Firebomb. It guided the attack in the middle of flames before shouting. ¡°Disappear!¡± Yet the flames simply devoured incoming dark magic. Seconds later Charles¡¯ magic touched the mana shield and all hell broke loose. The primary explosion broke magical protection, and a moment later rain of secondary projectiles showered the undead army with tainted flames. Just like before the dead were helpless against the onslaught, the flesh and bone surrendering to ruthless heat. For a few moments, the silence reigned on the battlefield. Then a roar of anger shook the heavens. ¡°YOU WORMS!¡± The Elder Lich screamed, its voice shrill and piercing. ¡°YOU DARE TO RESIST? YOU DARE TO WASTE MY PAWNS? I WAS GOING TO BE MERCIFUL, I WAS GOING TO MAKE YOUR DEATH QUICK AND PAINLESS!¡± It quietened down, bitter, blue mana spilling out from its empty eye sockets. ¡°But no more.¡± I shook my head. The theatrics were all fine and dandy but when nobody understood what you were talking about the whole drama seemed a bit pointless. This opinion wasn¡¯t shared by the human forces, though. Even if they didn¡¯t understand the words, the tone behind them was pretty obvious. They reacted in the only way possible - reinforcing their defense. The Geinard Kingdom shieldbearers tricked forward, taking their place beside armored knights. Archers and mages left the safety of the outpost and formed craggy lines behind their comrades. Amongst them, officers and sergeants were shouting commands and obscenities, directing soldiers to reinforce weak points, and changing their line formation to an inverted triangle. In the deepest part of the triangle stood Charles, his aura rolling down to the ground like a red sea. The people around him were trying to get back, the leather boots of the closest warriors already smoking. Compared to the hustle and bustle of the human army the undead were moving closer like a mindless wave, some failing to avoid the raging inferno, others squeezing and pushing, all to reach the living. The Elder Lich intoned a chant in the language even I couldn¡¯t comprehend, the magic bending to its will like a tamed beast. Unlike Charles¡¯ lively spells its intent was slow and cruel. Soon a large number of skeletons gathered behind enemy lines, clacking and trembling. They desperately fought the spell to leave and freely attack the humans. It took a few minutes, but the undead stopped its chant and glared at the milling bones. His leathery face split in a smile, as it spoke a single word. ¡°Empower.¡± The dead responded, their skeletal remains slowly starting to merge, forming larger and thicker bones. A few moments later I saw that snouts, tailbones, and large cartilages were formed. An animalistic form emerged from the chaos, a monstrous beast called from beyond the grave. Once again humans were quick to react, plastering a name onto the unknown. ¡°Greater Skeletal Beasts! Get the news to the commander!¡± The frontline officers shouted, their panicked screams propelling runners to greater speeds. Chasing them was Charles¡¯ energetic roar. ¡°Don¡¯t dawdle! Release half-giants!¡± The ground trembled, as large, skeletal monstrosities tried to push through the dead army. Slowly but surely they made way, trampling smaller undead in their wake. Following them were small - five to six soldiers - squads of the black-plated knights. They moved with a sense of purpose and wielded two-handed weapons, just like their Geinard Kingdom counterparts. Both mage and archer squads took this time to send a few welcoming packages toward the marching undead. Their accuracy left much to desire but the attacks still managed to slow the advance down or even straight up kill a few of the aggressors. Even the frontline soldiers changed their tactics, focusing more on pushing back the enemy, instead of killing them off. I could hear their leaders yelling until their voices turned hoarse. ¡°Keep them at bay!¡± ¡°Use the blunt end!¡± ¡°Shield warriors to the front!¡± ¡°Keep at it! Reinforcements are on the way!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t let them break through!¡± THUD, THUD, THUD The slow, rhythmic noise of iron striking stone came from the human side, eliciting shouts of happiness from the soldiers. A moment later four large figures appeared from the newly built shed, their forms clad in haphazardly attached metal plates and random parts of iron armor. Ogrekin, or as the humans called them - half-giants - wielded iron-studded clubs and wooden shields, both seemingly fashioned from farming implements or maybe even parts of a building. Their three-meter-tall figures loomed over the rest of the human warriors. ¡°Bad?¡± One of them spoke. ¡°Bad. Guys.¡± ¡°We. Smash.¡± ¡°Smash?¡± Grinned the third one. ¡°Boss?¡± All of the ogrekin stared at the nervous-looking officer standing nearby. To his credit, the man stuttered only for a second, before answering. ¡°Y-yes! We need you to smash these undead!¡± He swallowed heavily. ¡°And please try to avoid trampling your allies!¡± ¡°Smash. Baddies.¡± One of the ogrekin nodded sagely. ¡°Avoid. Small. Peps.¡± Added the second one. ¡°We. Play.¡± Cheered the third. ¡°No, no you need to kill the enemies, not play!¡± The confused officer rebuked. ¡°We¡¯re on a battlefield, not in the playground!¡± ¡°Play.¡± ¡°Smash.¡± ¡°Same.¡± ¡°Same.¡± With stupid grins, the half-giants started to run, yelling with simple happiness. Their armor clanged with each step, as humans desperately dove out of the way to avoid getting trampled. ¡°Make way, make way!¡± The officers screamed at the top of their lungs. ¡°Prepare to retreat!¡± ¡°Fold the line!¡± Their eyes were glued to sprinting ogrekin. Not much time had passed before, and with enormous noise, the four of them collided with the undead forces. They went in like a hot knife through the butter, smashing and kicking the surrounding enemies. Zombies and skeletons were either torn asunder or ground down by their weapons and heavy bodies. The slaughter continued for a minute or two - until their momentum stopped completely and they were forced to focus on defense. Humans made sure that the pieces of armor strapped to their legs and waist were of superb quality as most enemies could reach no further. Each of the half-giants simply stood with their legs spread apart and swooped the ground with the iron club. The battle stabilized, the undead being cleaned up at the same rate as they were arriving. There was still a veritable sea of them, but I could already see the end of this encounter. Or it would be so, if not for the elite Skeletal Beasts and black-clad knights that were due to join the fray any second now. Not to mention the Elder Lich in the back was being suspiciously quiet at the moment. The spell it cast seemed to take a lot of energy, thinning the amount of fog escaping through its eyes. Charles seemed to share my opinion, as he observed enemy lines with sharp focus, leaving the actual defense to his subordinates. While the half-giants rampaged on the frontlines a bunch of wooden carts had been moved from the outpost¡¯s interior. The people pulling them seemed spooked but slowly managed to create a shabby line behind their own troops. I was curious, though it was hard to ascertain what was going on with these things. A human-sized cart, with a hole in the upper part, and some iron chains attached in the back. They had a familiar magic signature like many other things born in my dungeon, yet it might¡¯ve been just the silvery wood used in their construction¡­ As I mused the battle progressed - ogrekin clashed at last with the elite undead. ¡°Bad. Dogs!¡± The left one screamed, grinding the Skeletal Beast to the ground, a simple overhead swing breaking its false life. Another Beast attacked a moment later, latching onto Ogrekin¡¯s lowered hand. It was lifted in the air, as the half-giant moved around erratically. The dead knights followed with their heavy swords, axes, and hammers smashing unceremoniously into the armored leg like a woodcutter would do with a stubborn tree. Only this time the tree sometimes squashed back. ¡°Help him!¡± The frontline officers bellowed and a few groups of soldiers surged forward, clashing with the dead. Their eyes were full of fear, yet determined, and soon I understood why. Most of the humans either missed black-plated knights completely or had their attacks blocked, leaving them open to a counterattack. It was something that the normal undead couldn¡¯t do but seemed easy for their elites. Red blood was spilled on the ground again and again as shouts of exertion, fear, and pain filled the air. Human soldiers refused to retreat. It was not a completely one-sided affair though, as here and there undead knights were cut and smashed, their withered flesh bared for all to see. One even had their head caved in, a dribble of black pus trickling down his armor even after it smashed the offender to bits. These were pinpricks, however, a trashing of wounded animals beset by predators. And Charles knew that. ¡°At this pace, we¡¯re going to lose.¡± He mumbled before shouting in a husky voice. ¡°Surge and retreat!¡± His words were repeated by the commanding officers. A moment later the defensive line had been broken - intentionally - and a sea of soldiers collided with their enemies. It was a quick and bloody affair, charging troops using their mass and red-eyed desperation to push back incoming undead. After an ear-rending noise of clashing iron, bone, and flesh filled the air, momentum slowed down and the dead took their due. ¡°Hold!¡± The commanders shouted - even as each second of fighting was paid in blood. ¡°Hold, sons of the Kingdom!¡± ¡°HOLD!¡± Their screams cut the air as humans bled and crushed their enemies in return. Ten long seconds later another order came, rough and tense. ¡°Retreat! Help those who can walk, leave the heavily wounded!¡± The soldiers listened, their eyes hard and helpless, as the screams of those left behind were chasing their backs. Ravenous undead took their time to pull the slow ones apart, and the tactic worked wonders - slowing down enemy counterattacks. The mages were given precious seconds. A slew of different mana sailed through, like colorful yet deadly fireworks. The explosions took out some of the dead, charring the rest of the closest abominations. Magical ice, fire, and noxious gas lingered, blocking access to the defensive line. It was a shabby shield - a temporary solution¡­ but it seemed it was intentional to buy time for the outpost''s real trump card. Charles was already spilling out his fiery mana once again, the people around him forced to retreat further and further from the glowing mage. The soldiers defending him gritted their teeth in a desperate fight to keep their weapons aloft as they grew hotter by the moment. He was currently compressing wave after wave of unruly energy into a flattish disk. Each bit was followed by a jaw-clenching whisper of devour flames and a greenish, nearly invisible nucleus. Only I seemed to notice that doing so quelled some of the flames still burning between the armies. After doing that four or five times he squinted, observing something unseen. Whatever it was it elicited a grumble of approval before he lightly tossed the spellwork into the air. The disk vibrated before stopping about twenty centimeters above his head. With a sharp nod, the red-haired mage pointed toward the chaotic space remaining between the two armies. Compressed magic followed his will and flew above human soldiers before falling with a soft *thump*. Despite looking so fragile its arrival elicited an even more frenzied retreat. Even the undead somehow were able to sense monstrous power sleeping within. ¡°Wall of Flames!¡± Charles shouted and fiery magic was simply¡­ released. With a roar tainted red flames jumped from ground to flesh, to metal, to stone - cutting, burning, and devouring all that was present with endless desire. The fire spread left and right, drilling into the soil in mere seconds, turning into an indestructible barrier between the living and the dead. It moved with a purpose, bending the ever-greedy flame into a shield. It did not spare those caught in the flames, be it a zombie, a skeleton, a black-plated knight, or a human soldier. All were consumed. All were equal before the raging flame. ¡°R-reform ranks!¡± Came trembling voices of officers. ¡°Squads! Count out!¡± Behind the inferno, the slow steps of Charles made his warriors part like the sea before Moses. He looked dirty, tired, and angry. Worse, a green flame danced in his eyes. ¡°Prepare.¡± He grumbled, drinking the contents of a waterskin. ¡°Your orders?¡± ¡°Tell the Knut¡¯s men to get ready. We need them on the battlefield.¡± The silence followed his words before one of the warriors spoke. ¡°Sir?¡± The soldier choked out, his face swung between fear and disgust. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Is it wise to unleash t-the u-u-un-n-dying?¡± ¡°Between death and a tiny sliver of hope, what do you choose, Junir? Will you follow me, even if the road is dirty and full of thorns?¡± The man¡¯s eyes widened at Charles¡¯ sharp words. After a moment of hesitation, he clenched his teeth before shouting to the heavens. ¡°This Junir will follow master! Glory or death!¡± ¡°This Anday will follow master even if the Gods curse us!¡± ¡°This¡­!¡± More declarations echoed right after the first one, as every soldier present screamed their lungs out, raising spears and swords in defiance. The mages weren¡¯t far behind, their words quieter, yet no less piercing. The wooden boxes that the army prepared earlier were now slowly opening, their contents soon available for all to see. Now, this was the type of entertainment I was looking for! 069.5 The perfection of metal Mechanicus, the first Butcher We were made, not born. Carefully assembled from failing flesh and brittle metal. Crafted with purpose, for the mission more important than anything else. Filled with ideas, glimpses of a wider world¡­ and unbreakable will. The rotten System called us Butchers, a lowly, demeaning term. It grafted weakness into our bones, culling our minds, stuffing the power we excluded behind bars of ordinary. Yet our maker understood what needed to be done. We were fed ambition. Visions of a glorious future, filled with powerful machines, enhanced beings, and endless work! We were taught to listen, to disassemble the unknown, and to piece it back together like an unruly puzzle. Some of us failed the transition, turning into common soldiers, generals, warriors - and losing our spark. Their sacrifice will be remembered, and their flesh used to further our goals. Just as intended. Our underground home was vast and terrifying yet not empty. There were other, lesser creations here. Mere prototypes, unfinished attempts at greatness. Rats cobbled from wild green energy and sheer determination, their primitive designs screaming to be improved. Twisted, uncouth kobolds, our distant cousins, imprisoned in their own bodies, with their pure minds yet still unbroken. Metal and flesh puppets, base automatons slowly gaining a sense of purpose beyond fulfilling commands of their betters. And - the most interesting of all - unique abominations forged out of iron and souls - Guardian, Idiot Smith, Non, Berserker, and the rest of the hidden ones. We were overjoyed. It was a good day. The dungeon was our Eden, our holy land! My scream of joy was repeated by the rest of the Butchers, our discussion turning more and more heated by the second. There were so many avenues of research left open, and so many ways to grow stronger! To experiment! It took us a while to calm down. Thankfully on the lowest floor - our floor - a bunch of hapless invaders awaited, ready to spill their guts and secrets to our blades. Ready to be inducted into the Creator¡¯s servitude. Their forms were small but bulky, with a muscle mass big enough to support additional defense and melee enhancements. These dwarves - maybe we should simply call them squats - lacked arms and legs, which was a problem easily remedied with liberal use of prosthetics. The butchery itself was easy, a challenge came from making sure that the nerves had been correctly attached. After all, we didn¡¯t want to have them waving simple metal poles. The attachment process was painful for the host, their bodies rejecting sacred metal and life-giving Anima used to make the connections stable. We had to carefully adjust the ratios in order to not break them. Not irreversibly at least. Then came the experiments, as their meaty frames had problems with balance, strength, and dexterity. Full-metal limbs were abandoned in favor of grate-like structures with higher defense and durability. Organs were discovered and then discarded or replaced, as food and water intake were deemed unnecessary for dungeon creatures. We nearly decided on completely eliminating the speech apparatus, only to have someone mention possible communication issues. By the time we were done our first patient was more glinting metal than weak flesh. And it was glorious work, worthy of our Creator¡¯s attention! In the meantime, my comrades worked on our lesser cousins and the armored dead. They toiled over malleable flesh, reinventing the Pale Tribe power from the ground up. No matter the pain our scaled brethren persevered, growing stronger and more resilient. As iron and Anima were intertwining with their bones we managed to create something greater than the sum of their parts. It was blessed work, which I was somewhat jealous of not being a part of. The hateful System called the end product a Dragoon, but we knew better. Pale Tribe Iron Soldiers we called them, in our chatterings. An effect of work, ingenuity, and devotion, not the so-called ¡®evolution¡¯. Bah. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. As the first one of the changed wandered in a daze on the fourth floor our focus turned to Lebirs. They were humble creatures, bipedal flesh clad in iron. And yet they taught us the greatest lesson¡­ that even in death, we could still serve! There would be no waste, no rest after dying, that the above-worlders prized so. Everything would be collected, recycled, and remade - be it a kobold, Lebir, rat, or another underground creature! We will make sure of it! As the great machine of progress slowly thrummed up, our numbers swelling, the dead refashioned into weapons and tools, our Creator descended! The dwarf-thing offering was already prepared, its beady eyes devoid of hope and meaning, ready to accept His grace¡­ I was there, waiting with bated breath as the Presence descended between us, its power resonating with mana hidden behind my brow. I was there when His sublime form ordered the Second Heart to be used! And. I. Was. There. When cold Dungeon Core intelligence glinted in the dwarven eyes of our prisoner! And... I was there when the sheer power of our Master burned the fleshy husk faster than we ever thought possible. It was a sad day. A day of recognizing our limits. Of understanding that more experimenting and more work would need to be done before our inevitable success. Our toiling continued, the Second Heart invariably burning through prepared vessels. Yet we weren¡¯t standing still - we learned. We recorded glimpses of dwarven knowledge, incorporating runic structure into the flesh and minds of the patients. Making them stronger, more resilient. Less affected by mana. Even the husks were reused, their bodies once again armored, armed, and given a small rat minder hidden under the iron and corrupted flesh. The System responded in turn, calling them War Puppets instead of Soulscoured ones. We scoffed at these words. It was our work and our glory! It was not the mindless¡¯ construct place to give a name to our creations! Between the other Butchers, we convened and thought. Chosen of the Vessel was what we decided on, their first role unfulfilled, but partial to what they had become. Vessels of Empty came close second, also alluding to our Creator¡¯s plan. Still, this was but a flimsy distraction. An angry finger flicked towards the hateful System. We soon returned to our work. Reinforcing the Chosen with anti-undead runes and stolen silver. The thrall-dungeon of the rat-kin proven a steady supplier, as ever-so-slowly the dwarven tools, weapons, and knowledge trickled by the rat-rail. Yet we remembered that these were non-renewable resources. There were after all only so many structures to dismantle. The impact of the new materials had proven negligible at best. Scales, bone, meat, or toxic sacks were just more of the same. Not upgrades, but sidegrades. The rats carried reeds, a few types of jute, flax, and nettle into the dungeon proper. These provided clothing alternatives but not much more. After ample experimentation, we returned to reinforcing Lebirs with runes and silver-tipped weaponry, which turned out to be as effective as the rumors claimed. It was simple, honest work. We knew nothing of the fashion, after all, save a few snippets dragged out of our Creator¡¯s mind. Some of our kind traveled to the thrall-core to study the dungeon-binding runes laid around its crystal. To find how to disable them and learn even more from the short ones. While their presence was all but wiped out, we still hoped that a new caravan or expedition would greedily try to stretch their fingers toward what was now our property. The trap was set, and we could only wait, as the majority returned to our other duties. Which, for the time being, meant stealing from the humans. The surfacers had a lot of items and materials that were in scarce supply. And somehow they refused to die and be absorbed¡­ thus came the less-than-ideal circumstance of sending Ratlings into the human outpost, to sample their stocks. The biggest focus was on the strange alchemical solution that kept the undead at bay. Its diluted form was easy to acquire but also completely inert. To understand what it was made from we needed a concentrated, volatile liquid that the human alchemists were brewing near their troops. Near the mages. Near the red-haired Chosen. And his bodyguards. In short, it was a suicide mission. When the call was given we had enough volunteers to complete it a dozen times over. Sadly I was not allowed to participate, because Ratlings and ¡°less important personnel¡± were given priority. It was a sad day. Just as we rested eagerly awaiting new materials or patients something big and heavy made its way down to the fourth floor. We instinctively knew it was an ally, not an enemy. Soon a large, knightly figure appeared from the darkness, dragging behind a multitude of copper wires, its armored feet striking the stone with a solitary rhythm. Then it stopped, glaring at us with bone-chilling purpose. Even as the deathly silence smothered our minds not one of the Butchers minded the oppressive aura spreading out from the newcomer. We knew very well what - who! - it was - Guardian, the chief of Pale kobolds and one of the oldest creations of our maker. As the leader I trudged to the head of the pack, inclining my scaled head to match the unique monster¡¯s gaze. ¡°How can I help you, o¡¯ warrior?¡± I was proud of the natural-sounding words that left my throat, even as the surroundings buzzed with overwhelming mana. After a moment of deliberation Guardian spoke. ¡°I need your help.¡± He pointed towards the copper wires on his back. ¡°My Lord had invested much in keeping me sane, but doing so has bound me to this place. It¡¯s stifling. I need to fight, to defend him. To turn into a shield I promised him to be.¡± His armor clanged as he crossed his arms in thought. ¡°Not to play house.¡± ¡°Make me anew. There is not much time left.¡± I could feel myself grinning. ¡°With pleasure.¡± It was going to be a good day, after all. 070 Uno I was immersed in watching my favorite play. The birth of rebellion. There were not enough lightsabers and senators for my taste but it would do in a pinch. Quality entertainment was rare in this world and observing the making of an underdog was something that certainly qualified as such. I enjoyed it immensely while - like most people - rooting for the weaker party. In the end, what I thought about it didn¡¯t matter - this was not a game, but reality. It was for the best, I suppose, otherwise, the rules of cool would apply and the scene would turn violent and bloody. Right now everything was going fine - the soldiers surrounding Charles seemed to be filled with a sense of purpose and burning conviction. There was hope for a new future and excitement that comes only with something new, something precious. It was heartening. And while most of the warriors seemed to convert instantly, I already managed to spot a few bad apples. Curiously, while they seemed to disagree with the commotion as a whole none of them directed their hatred towards the former Blueflame noble. It was interesting. So interesting! ¡°Return to battle stations!¡± Sergeants yelled as the emotions of the crowd started to stabilize. ¡°Retreat to the secondary line!¡± ¡°Go! Go! Go!¡± ¡°Warriors to the front, mages, and archers spread out behind them!¡± ¡°Prepare, but do not fire without a command!¡± Orders were once more given and slowly the earlier formation had been restored - if only a dozen or so meters in the back. The curious wooden boxes were left up front, their rusty red metal chains giving me a creepy feeling. While the fire summoned by Charles¡¯ magic was slowly fading away, it was still strong enough to destroy any undead foolish enough to test its mettle. The mindless thralls tried anyway, their desire to murder the living forcing them to brave impossible odds. Their hungry groans were cut short by the greedy, devouring flame - their bones becoming kindling for its growth. The crusty old lich appeared again, its ancient words impossible to discern to anyone but me. Its earlier exhaustion seemed to wane as the blue mana once again surrounded the skeletal, withered form. ¡°Good!¡± It yelled impotently. ¡°Good! While we are but a figment of Her armies, it would be too easy for our descendants to fall without any resistance. Blood - even thinned - doesn¡¯t lie!¡± The lich paused, recomposing itself. ¡°You¡¯re doomed anyway.¡± It spoke in a much calmer tone, the volume of words slowly rising higher and higher. ¡°Be it by the endless sea of the dead, by the monsters borne in the four corners of the world, or by the spirits summoned from another dimension - you will fall. All who believe in the Old Gods will be buried under the weight of a new future!¡± It screamed out its convictions to the wind, yet none responded to the undead¡¯s claims. The surrounding cold blue energy surged as the lich worked to control itself. A flash of a brief feeling appeared in its empty sockets and was squashed immediately. ¡°Too bad that the olden tongue has been forgotten by our descendants. Words carry power, a way out - alas without understanding there is no negotiation, only bloodshed.¡± It mused before staring at the bloodied mud. In the background the horde shifted and waned under its precise control, as the zombies and wights quickly hobbled to their new positions, leaving an empty space in the middle of their army. Humans observed it all with their curious eyes, reacting accordingly, soldiers posed to intercept. After what felt like an eternity the leading undead sighed audibly, coming to some unknown conclusion. ¡°I wanted to spare you this humiliation. To fight not only in the ruins of our last redoubt but also against the people who we once swore to protect.¡± The lich turned its head back, glaring at the incoming reinforcements. A small caravan of rotten wood and flesh slowly trudged towards the frontline. It was comprised of the undead horses half-dragging, half-pulling the badly decomposed carriages, while zombie drivers stared emptily at the road ahead. Both humans and the dead observed the procession. It was clear that these new forces were somehow a game-changer, a hidden card used to break the stalemate between the Silver Oasis forces and those of the undead horde. Charles¡¯ soldiers were murmuring with unease, while the lich¡¯s army stilled under a silent command. As everyone focused on this new threat there was something else that slipped their attention - a sole rider clad in iron and wearing a black, ragged cloak that appeared on the nearby hill and - after a second of confusion - immediately turned back, disappearing into the wastelands. His garb bore a familiar symbol. A small chuckle escaped my mouth. The story was getting even more complicated. Nice! In the meantime, the blue-eyed lich waited impatiently as the undead caravan trundled closer, and all eight wagons spread in a fan formation. The unsettling rattle stopped and only heavy silence remained. ¡°It is time for you to rise, old friend. The cursed bones of heroes will walk these hills once again. It is a sorrowful existence, I know¡­ alas, there is no other way. Our Goddess demands sacrifice, and we give it! Willingly, or not. Pour your essence into this vessel! Exert your authority! Rally your long-forgotten servants! Quell your thirst for revenge, spilling the blood of those who wronged you and their descendants!¡± I was getting really bad vibes from this speech, my amusement quickly dissipating, replaced by a feeling of nameless dread. While not clear to the humans, to me, the intent of conquest and subterfuge was easily discernable behind the lich¡¯s words. And, as far as I was concerned, the undead mage just suggested that ownership of these grounds was about to change. That was unacceptable. These halls, these humans, and creatures - they were mine. Mine alone. Anyone who threatened this ownership was an enemy. And enemies had to be eliminated. I sent a dungeon-wide alert to my creatures and started to rouse every available battle force. I even went as far as to draw from the horde of experimental, untested creations - Dragoons, their lizard scales hidden under crudely grafted armor, ever-curious Butchers melded with their spider-like mechanical limbs¡­ even War Puppets were included. These last ones were something that my rats had concocted, conjoining a Ratling commander with the otherwise useless shell of a soul-burned sentient. Mindless flesh puppets were given purpose and used to make war. Nothing was going to waste, as it should be. Functionally they seemed similar to the Kobold Dragoons but only time would judge their overall usefulness. Their size remained similar to the lizards (or rather the dwarves they were built upon) but while Dragoons preferred a combination of heavy shields and lances or spears, the War Puppets clearly favored double axes or hammers. This made them perfect soldiers to form assault squads from - hard to kill and easily dishing out massive amounts of damage. Such was the theory anyway as they had to yet taste battle. While I was marveling over the dungeon¡¯s newest inhabitants, the time above ground didn¡¯t stop in the slightest. The cargo hidden in the eight wagons had been uncovered and tireless zombies placed it before the lich. Dozens upon dozens of bones had been unceremoniously dumped on the ground, creating a small white hill. It was a grotesque sight. On the other side of the battlefield, the human forces shifted, their ranks swelling with fear and confusion. One of the nervous officers sprinted to Master Vincent¡¯s position, his pale countenance glistening with sweat. The robed mage seemed completely unconcerned with the situation, his grey eyes taking the surroundings in with practiced ease. Inadvertently I stopped to listen, my curiosity getting the better of me, even though time was certainly not on my side. ¡°Sir! We are ready to rain death on the undead bastard and kick him down a peg!¡± The officer yelled while saluting. ¡°Keep your men ready, but do not attack.¡± A calm answer came back. ¡°Forgive me for asking, sir, but¡­ why? Isn¡¯t it the best time to interrupt the spellcasting?¡± Master Vincent sighed. ¡°How often do you think our Kingdom¡¯s forces meet with this exact situation?¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°The undead are beings of habit. They repeat their thoughts, tactics, and emotions. So, I ask you, captain - how often do you think the enemy commanders summon a monster or two to their aid?¡± ¡°Ummm¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Often enough that we have thousands of documented cases. So, believe me when I say that we¡¯ll be ready to intercept¡­ when the time is right.¡± ¡°Sir! Thank you for the explanation, sir!¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Go back to your men, captain. Reaffirm them and stand tall. We need them to be ready to strike at the moment¡¯s notice.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± The soldier in question saluted and jogged back, his face less pale than before. This situation repeated itself along the defensive line as warriors and archers relaxed their grip on the weapons. On the other side, the undead mage stared at the dirtied remains without as much as a murmur, it wasn¡¯t quiet though, as the lich¡¯s bony fingers rapped an uneven rhythm on its staff. This persisted for a long while before the undead straightened up. A whirl of cold, dead mana started to appear around its feet, the concentrating circles spreading further and further away from the caster - like eerie ocean waves. Then, with a sudden flourish, the undead tossed a rusted piece of metal right into the middle of the white pile. Contrary to my expectations it didn¡¯t bounce, but instead instantly sunk - like the surrounding bones were made from goo, not dead, calcinated matter. Not waiting for the effect of its actions the lich lifted its gnarled staff, an audible buzzing spreading from the azure core encased within. The sound grew louder and louder, motes of cold energy dancing around the undead caster as it chanted some nonsensical words in a low tone. Then, with its withered finger, the lich pointed at the nearby bones and screamed out its favorite phrase. ¡°ARISE!¡± At the same time, my senses were overwhelmed as something descended upon the world. The wind stopped and grains of the air-dancing sand fell to the ground like a terrified animal. Both humans and the dead were trying to turn invisible, to avoid the attention of¡­ of¡­ whatever it was. The being ignored the public as it pushed atrocious amounts of mana into the white hill, only to dissipate after a second like it never appeared. The only thing that remained for a swift second afterward was the feeling of a lopsided smile directed at me. The magic felt manical and chaotic, just like the twin goddess I knew. There was a loud crack, and suddenly the core of the lich¡¯s staff broke in half, the rest of the crystal it was comprised slowly crumbling and turning into dust. I could feel sorrow at its demise but scoffed at the sensation. The sense of loss remained for a long while, but it was an unexplainable thing. As the eerie presence vanished I noticed how one after another the gathered bones started to vibrate, the background buzzing growing stronger with each passing moment. The next few minutes were filled with tension as the sound grew even louder before an ear-shattering noise exploded and a large, thick-boned skeleton appeared from the deathly pile. Unlike the mindless undead, it moved with grace and precision, like a dancer or assassin. Soon it slowed down, and - despite its aggressive appearance - appeared to be hesitating about something. It waited, longingly extending its hand in the air. With a wailing sound, a sword made of bone coalesced in the air, floating into its grasp. It was a large, unwieldy thing, more similar to a blunt piece of metal than a greatsword it was supposed to be. Yet the undead lifted it with startling ease and familiarity, clacking its teeth in relief. Slowly the bones around its legs liquified, flowing upward and forming a plate armor and helmet over its ¡°naked¡± body. The white color dulled into a more grey hue, dirtying the overall presentation. On the skeleton¡¯s back armor, a symbol slowly appeared - a black kite shield on a white-ish background - the inverse and mockery of Geinard Kingdom¡¯s heraldry. As the forming process finished there was a spark of recognition and then dread appearing in the skeletal eye-flames. The cold blue glow started turning green, one color fighting another in a merciless battle for control. If given time I was sure that the intelligence within would destroy the azure yoke that held it captive. Alas, the other undead knew it too. ¡°You will not!¡± Screamed the lich, its power once more suppressing the skeleton, verdant will losing to the icy embrace of death. The summoned one kneeled, before raising its head and bellowing its anger to the world. A scream of defiance and fury echoed through the very souls of both the living and dead, forcing them to cower. The lich included. The source of the sound attack slowly, ever so slowly climbed to its feet, swaying like a drunk man, its hands clenched on the greatsword like one would on a cane. As the battle of wills continued the humans shook off the effects of the summoning and started to react. Messengers zipped to and fro with scary intensity, their shouts filling the air. ¡°Prepare for backlash!¡± ¡°Gather your mana! Raise your weapons!¡± ¡°Shoot only on direct order!¡± ¡°Aim for the mage!¡± Ignoring the opposing army the large skeleton turned its gaze full of pain and hatred towards the undead caster. It glanced towards its weapon, the oversized sword barely budging even after a few tries. Seeing this the summoned undead seemingly resigned itself. It started to chant, and at least this time the flowery words used were recognizable - if a bit skewed. Like my automatic translation could barely follow the intent behind them. ¡°My name is¡­ Henrik Waltzer. By the power that binds, by the noble oath, by the covenant of old. My soul as a payment, my will as a promise, my death as a curse. I beg you, oh, Goddess of Magic, queen of my ancestors. Heed my call! Tear me out from this defiled vessel, or tear me apart!¡± As these words finished the world stilled, and another power descended on the Silver Oasis. Unlike what happened earlier the mana behind it was slow and smothering, like an encompassing blanket. Powerful yet somehow uncertain in its purpose. It lacked the personality that the being summoned by the lich oozed. Somehow it also felt familiar, like a smell half-remembered. It reminded me of Mirabelle and Brighton, the pair of gods that dropped me on this accursed rock. Ignoring my mute wonder the energy swirled, coalescing into an ornate dagger fitting snuggly into the skeleton''s hand. With a solemn motion, the green-eyed undead lifted the newly created weapon to its chest, preparing for a stab. The lich reacted immediately, bellowing in an angry voice. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°It will be not allowed, old friend! Return to me!¡± Its mana swirled, ready to repeat the earlier suppression. This time however Silver Oasis forces weren¡¯t willing to become silent spectators. ¡°Fire!¡± ¡°Fire!¡± ¡°Fire!¡± The voices of officers layered on the top of each other, as human warriors let loose their strongest attacks, iron arrows and colorful magic bouncing off the undead¡¯s shield. Even if the enemy caster remained unharmed it was not without a price - some of its attention had already shifted towards defense - thus breaking its concentration. A moment or two later Charles added his considerable strength to the assault - his green-speckled flames faring far better against the enemy. This elicited a shout of anger from the lich, blue mana fluctuating wildly around its form. ¡°You insignificant insects! How dare you interrupt me?¡± Blasts of pure energy, not constrained by any shape met the combined attack of the human forces. Some arrows and spells were struck down producing showers of sparks, others simply vanished under pressure, leaving the way back open and allowing the lich to bombard the outpost¡¯s defensive line with impunity. Screams of pain and wailing followed. And yet, ignoring the lich¡¯s counterattack mana-clad visual cacophony continued, fulfilling its purpose. It allowed the undead servant to finish the seppuku ritual it seemed so intent on continuing. The strands of green energy were still being whisked into the dagger as the skeleton held it high up with the feeling of gravitas, before unhesitatingly plunging it into its chest. Normally such a weapon would either break or miss the ribs, finding no purchase, yet this magical instrument seemed to work despite the lack of physical flesh to pierce. For a moment the suicidal skeleton glowed fiercely, as the green mana pushed into what looked like a monstrous heart covered in bluish chains. Their color reminded me of the lich¡¯s staff. As the dagger hit its target a high-pitched sound was produced, before the chains surrendered and broke apart. Then the blade sunk into life hidden underneath. And the effect was immediate. Mana around the undead coalesced before exploding with deadly force, blasting the nearest undead far away, even as the lich put up a hastily conjured defense. A yell of pain and liberation echoed through the air, as a gigantic skeleton sunk to its knees, the magical dagger simply dissipating into the grains of sand. The silence followed. ¡°Curse your foolish pride, old friend!¡± The lich sputtered, waving its hand in annoyance. ¡°Yet even if the soul is not willing, I can still make use of the body!¡± It cackled evilly before its laugh sputtered into a heavy sigh. ¡°Forgive me, for this transgression.¡± As the lich strengthened its defensive spell humans stopped their assault, not willing to waste any more strength for no gain. A second later a blue circle - smaller than before - appeared under the kneeling skeleton and encompassed its form. The bones glowed with cold energy, adding a unique hue that rose from the ground, seemingly strengthening its legs, torso, arms, and skull. As the process finished the dead warrior rose once again - this time however it felt much less ¡°alive¡±. The blue flame, similar to the lich¡¯s, dwelled in its eyes. ¡°Go.¡± The caster spoke. ¡°Go, and smash through their defenses. Teach them to fear the new Gods!¡± The dead warrior roared in response, its chilling energy spreading through the surroundings. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, like in a horror movie, a skeleton hand pierced the dry earth, another and another following in its footsteps. Soon a sizeable undead army was digging its way through the ground, eager to join their compatriots, their skulls clicking with murderous glee. Many still wore pieces of rusted armor and weapons, the faded crest of the Geinard Kingdom visible on shields, armor, and helmets. The screams of the humans added to the cacophony, as the dead started rising amongst their ranks, their soldiers and mages suddenly busy with fending off a surprise attack. Most of the time the undead were quickly dispatched even before they managed to dig themselves out, their vulnerable position easily exploited. However, some of them managed to scratch and even kill the unlucky individuals. As the situation was being brought under control the skeleton army coalesced outside the moat. In the meantime, human forces battered down any escapees and breathed a sigh of relief. It was too soon, however, as the screams now erupted from the backline, where civilians were located. The faces of Silver Oasis¡¯ commanders paled with fright, their soldiers barely keeping discipline. That was a demerit of having people defending their homes and loved ones. They fought like devils when threatened, yet the same strength was their greatest weakness. Usually, I would just laugh, while continuing to observe the battle. There was however a tiny problem with that course of action. The undead weren¡¯t only molesting the living - their grubby hands started to appear underground. In my dungeon! It was unacceptable! Earlier, when my trusted Anima Drones carved their earliest constructions into rock and dirt I constantly encountered desiccated remains of Waltzer¡¯s Castle residents. While most of them were turned into Lebirs or fertilizer, it was obvious that even more of them rested in the thick earth all around us. I didn¡¯t consider these things a threat. In retrospect, I was quite wrong. This was a magical world, and the undead (and necromancers) were already a thing, so it was foolish of me to not notice these pawns lying in wait on my property¡­ Their overall threat was rather low, as my forces quickly found emerging enemies and slaughtered them, the unlimited energy of unlife countered with the same endless power of my creations. The deeper they appeared, the faster they were dispatched, because, just like in any decent dungeon, the power level of my creatures grew the lower one ventured. Even the few undead who emerged in my hidden core room were instantly entangled and then killed. It was pretty cathartic, watching them being fried alive by the hanging wires. It was the closest thing I could do with my own hands. While it might not have been the true purpose of these wires, a tool¡¯s power often depended on the user''s ingenuity. That was just how electric chairs were made, after all. The invaders also started appearing on the first floor, but my response up there was limited. This level was the one where my instincts got the worst of me. Not to mention the countless humans that blocked me from spawning any more monsters. Or, should I say, that it was controlled by humans. The skeletons seemed to have a real grudge against defenseless people who used to keep my halls quiet and docile. Their affiliation to the Geinard Kingdom seemed to be enough to incite a quiet fury, brightening their icy-cold eye sockets. Still, even surprised, the inexperienced civilians were more often than not able to smash down their attackers before any real damage was done. What was the real problem stemmed however from how the stream of the dead seemed to be effectively endless. I was sure that there was a limit somewhere - either to the lich¡¯s magic or the supply of skeletons lodged in my walls. In the short run, it didn¡¯t matter, however. Humans were slowly getting overwhelmed, more and more of them panicking and retreating to the surface by the minute. To tell the truth, it was just fine. As they left these halls would start spawning my creatures again¡­ as soon as enemy skeletons stopped appearing. Yes, that was a bit of a problem. Surprisingly there were two main points of resistance - both centered around my creations. One was the ¡°training¡± room or ¡°Trial of Single Combat¡± as the humans called it, containing two Lebir Spar-Masters who were currently busy culling ever-approaching skeletal tide. Some of the novice warriors from up above and a few civilians were either helping them or trembling in the corner. Neither changed much. I could feel elation in the minds of Spar-Masters, as they effortlessly shattered skulls and broke bones with their maces. The ground was already littered with smashed remains of their enemies, making the continued battle that much harder. They relished this challenge. Another point of contention was the workshop of the Golem-Smith. Or Idiot-Smith as I preferred to call him. It was smaller when compared to the Spar-Masters'' abode and easier to defend, yet instead of human warriors, it was scholars and crafters who sought shelter inside. These were the most dedicated ones too. There were five of them in the room, four men and one woman, their eyes wide with fear, as they observed the raging form of Idiot-Smith. It was a bit funny, too, as I watched the mass of skeletons trying to get into the room being continuously smashed into pieces by its blacksmithing hammer. There was no finesse, no tactical plan, just pure, unaltered strength. Were the Smith human he would already run out of juice long ago. Alas, as an undead - an abomination - there was endless energy inside his body and an endless amount of things to smash. As my consciousness left the room I confirmed that the first floor was currently filled with undead. Or should I say - enemy undead. The situation seemed stable if not particularly pleasant. I loathed seeing invaders on my floors, and while humans kinda grew on me (the way that pets, no matter how ugly kinda do), these new bony annoyances were anything but acceptable. I focused on one of the invading skeletons and a familiar window appeared.
Waltzer Castle Returned Skeleton While no soul currently inhabits this husk it was once a part of one of humanity¡¯s greatest armies, led by Henrik Waltzer. These forces were formed to stop the invasion of northern beasts but had failed in this task and were annihilated due to a betrayal. It was returned to the unlife by the call of its former liege. This undead is not intelligent and will move according to instinct - killing living beings while prioritizing Geinard Kingdom residents. It has the basic ability to use tools and as undead is an untiring abomination, destroyed on sight by most sentient races. It has been enhanced by the call of its lord and is faster and stronger than before. Due to accumulated damage, its threat rating has been lowered. Threat level: D--
The situation above ground changed just as I mused about sending an expeditionary force to the first floor, and maybe even further, just to prove my point that these halls were my property, not anyone else''s. The wall of fire made by Charles¡¯ magic started to die down under the constant barrage of lich¡¯s ice-cold magic. The fire resisted, devouring large chunks of incoming icicles like a surrounded beast, yet the number of attacks thrown its way seemed simply too much to ignore. To add to this conundrum the desperate tries of a few flame-attuned mages were only making matters worse, the green-speckled magic lashing out at the lesser mana instead of welcoming its help. Soon the fire faded and the way through stood clear. The red-haired mage sighed before motioning to his commanders, the new units of robed acolytes joining the fray. They filled ranks between melee soldiers and mages, clearly using a slot of middle-range troops. It took me a second to remember that these were the same people cooking up the undead-repelling mixture, the flasks, and bottles filling every space on their person suddenly making more sense. The earth trembled as my Ogrekin joined the line, their stupid-looking faces squinting at the sight of the enemy undead. This time they were armed with a few large stones each, their sausage-like fingers tracing their edges with mute excitement. On the other side, the undead knight raised its greatsword to the skies, before roaring in a challenge. The skeletons answered its call, their teeth clattering as weapons and shields were banged on each other, creating an ungodly ruckus. Slowly they started to walk, the wall of bones looking much more intimidating than the dregs I encountered underground. As the humans tensed in response I noticed that their ranks were a bit thinned out, some of their soldiers clearly sent to the back, to protect civilians. A foolish notion, to weaken their defensive line before an enemy assault, yet I couldn¡¯t fault Charles''s logic of keeping the troops'' morale high. Surprisingly the man in question still stood alone ahead of his army, his red hair fluttering in the wind. Two adjutants were stationed on his flanks, their faces pale but determined. Seeing that their defense failed the former noble scratched his unshaven face before turning to his aides. ¡°Tell the handlers to let loose the Undying.¡± ¡°Sir!¡± In response, the man saluted, his face turning a different shade of fear. ¡°Is it wise, sir?¡± The second one whispered, eyes wide. ¡°We make use of what we can, wasn¡¯t that always our motto?¡± Charles said while following in the other aide''s footsteps. Halfway through a few teams of leather-clad workers passed him, running in the other direction - towards the frontline. The said men were closing on the wooden boxes covered in rusted chains I noticed earlier. Besides these weird things, there were other mechanisms attached to the wooden boxes, filling the back, sides, and even its upper parts, leaving only the front free. Not counting the wooden board wall, of course. As soon as their run finished each of the soldiers popped near a winch or rope, ready to begin their work, like parts of a well-oiled machine. With a nod from the man in charge, the work started, and sounds of protesting metal and the splashing of a liquid filled the air. Not even a minute passed before I could see a reaction, something hidden stirring in the crates. ¡°Numer seven, ready!¡± ¡°Three, ready!¡± ¡°Nine, ready to go!¡± ¡°Six waiting for command!¡± The numbers continued to be counted off until the last worker spoke in a deep voice. ¡°Numer One ready to deploy.¡± And, after a moment of silence, he added. ¡°May the Gods have mercy on our souls.¡± The rest of the troops glanced at the speaker, before pulling out small star-shaped necklaces from underneath their shirts. They were crude, wooden idols, clearly made with haste. ¡°¡°¡°Blessed be Brighton, the golden star of hope.¡±¡±¡± They all repeated. I observed this exchange with unease. Folks from Silver Oasis never struck me as overly religious, even when faced with some of my own abominations. ¡°Deploy!¡± Shouted the gruff-sounding bald man, right after the prayer finished. His subordinates started to turn the cranks, competing with each other with who would finish the fastest, sweating all the while. After a moment sounds of warping and cracking wood were added to the noise of their huffing breaths. The work continued uninterrupted¡­ until a soft *clink* had one of the workers staring at the stuck mechanism in horror. He tried again and again, the metal refusing to budge. This persisted until the muscular leader pushed him out, yelling in anger. ¡°What are you waiting for? Run, you fool!¡± ¡°B-but¡­ t-the coffins!¡± His subordinate cried out. The large worker scoffed in response. ¡°Just run. You still have a family to go back to, right?¡± ¡°I-I¡­ y-yes. Yes. T-thank you, Tom! Truly, truly, t-thank you!¡± ¡°Just¡­ go.¡± The bald man waved him off before continuing to force the stubborn crank. Metal protested under his efforts, as he nearly broke the mechanism underneath. In the end, it surrendered, a screech accompanying the release. The box snapped open and a chain wrapped upon its upper part started to unwind. Soon the rest of the coffins followed suit, their lids coming undone. The humans bolted away as soon as they finished their work, fear only adding to their speed. A grey hand with taut skin emerged from one of them, tightly grasping the wall, its fingers digging deep into the wood with inhuman strength. The material protested and then gave in under pressure, leaving large holes. The being emerged from its box, and I could see its complete form. It looked like a human if starved and abused. With its grey skin and barely any hair present, it was startlingly similar to how ghouls were depicted in my old world. After the first, the rest also emerged from the coffins, one of them being bigger and meaner-looking than the rest. They all wore baggy pants, iron helmets, and each of them was armed with a sword. It took me only a second to recognize these - after all Blood Sword and Helmet of Hunger were things that Charles¡¯ soldiers frenziedly were ¡°grinding¡± for in my depths. They amassed quite a collection. I couldn¡¯t then understand why they were doing so, as both items, while enchanted, reduced their wearer to either regenerating berserker or hungering beast. Or both. Oh. Ooooh! Clever! I threw a quick [Analyze] at them and it bounced back immediately without producing any result. They were still considered humans, then. Their helmets had been modified, similarly to how horse blinders worked - they could only look straight ahead, and poorly at that. Their upper torso was bathed in red, slick liquid. It looked like blood, but I wasn¡¯t totally sure. Around their necks was an iron collar with a thick, metal chain attached - the other end of the same one that kept unwinding from the tops of their coffins. It was a simple way to keep them anchored. Considering that decapitation was the only real way to stop them it also doubled as an armor piece. Most of the ghouls were wide-eyed and wild, their human features distorted with rage and hunger. The only one different was their leader, the largest member of the pack. It stood straight up, not like his hunched peers, and gazed with cold fury at the incoming skeletons. Despite the inhuman changes I recognized him. He was once called Knut, the rogue that delved into my depths with a band of his companions. In the end, he was forced to wield the cursed items recovered from the Greed Hallway, and - while he managed to survive - it was not without committing some unthinkable acts. His demeanor changed from that time. The always-afraid criminal was no more, instead, in his place a blood-starved beast remained. So¡­ an improvement? It was a dangerous world, after all. As the frontline of skeletons arrived at their location they were naturally noticed by the Undying, as the Silver Oasis forces called them. The ghouls roared in the challenge but surprisingly didn¡¯t charge. At least not until Knut lifted his sword while screaming. ¡°The feast comes to our doorsteps, oh cursed! The promise of blood, flesh, and bone beckons!¡± He laughed hysterically. ¡°Drink the sweet blood nectar!¡± His gray, withered tongue extended, partaking in liquid I was now pretty sure was blood. ¡°Let the Hunger guide you!¡± ¡°Raaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± ¡°Graaaaaaaaaah!¡± ¡°Devooooooooor!¡± His followers howled in excitement, their words barely understandable, some even not forming any at all, letting their bestial nature take the lead. There were no more than twenty of them, against hundreds of the dead¡­ yet somehow I couldn¡¯t imagine them losing. Like hounds let free from their leash they charged at the enemy, lithe bodies smashing into a thick line of the dead like bowling balls. Bone clubs and spears bent and broke under the assault, their owners soon following suit as the ghouls used both their inseparable swords and uncannily white teeth. The few of them even managed to break through the first line of attack, dining on zombies shambling behind, their wide mouths happily tearing and swallowing rotten flesh. In the middle of all this chaos, Knut walked slowly, smashing bones and carving skulls, his sword working not on instinct but instead led by trained reflexes. While not the best weapon to cut bone, his cursed sword easily tore through the enemy, the first wave, biting deep into secondary forces. The skeletons were mostly decimated in a few minutes, the Undying instead focused on zombie meatshields and advanced undead. Large abominations, human-like wights, and delicate ghosts joined the battle and for the first time, ghouls started to bleed. They fought with ferocity, trading wound for wound. For a while it seemed like it would be not enough, some of them falling on their knees, countless weapons lodged in their flesh. One of the ghouls was swallowed whole, the grinning abomination smacking its stomach with relish. Another screamed as a cadre of ghosts flayed the skin from his flesh. I could hear chanting in the distance, but ignored it, intently observing the slaughter. The battling dead and never-dead ignored it too. This persisted for a while until¡­ the flow changed. Until the same devoured ghoul emerged from its enemy''s insides like an oversized chestburster. Until the Undying pierced by weapons roared in indignation, sending them back to their owners. Until the cut-off limbs and arms regenerated, crushed eyeballs regained clarity, and broken teeth regrew, only to get broken again and again. The pain-relishing army followed its leader, Knut, who they now call the Cursed as he carved a bloody path towards the enemy caster, the lich observing him with clinical curiosity. Its cold mana started to peak once again, preparing to intercept. In the background, its summon still rallied skeletons from the depths of the wasteland. Everything was going well¡­ Until fucking Charles not-Blueflame sent a Gods-damned meteor down in the middle of this chaotic battlefield. And everything went to hell. 071 Uno The world was on fire. My precious silver-infused plants were either instantly turning to ash or melting, depending on the metal content. It wasn¡¯t helping that they were not made with durability in mind. None of the Evil Eyes remained untouched either but accepting that I already focused on seeding a few more, my cable-like roots piercing through the soil straight toward the light. Minutes later my sight returned - and just in time. The earlier inferno had embroiled both enemy constructs and allied ghouls alike forcing the battle to a screeching stop, while the shocked silence covered the combatants. The undead army vanished behind a fiery curtain, the sounds of boiling flesh and cracks of seared bone making the humans flinch every so often. Hoarse and nearly legible screams of the undying ghouls being burned alive only added to the horror. From what I¡¯ve seen Charles¡¯ spell used three components - earth, fire, and kinetic. Somehow he managed to summon a stone boulder high up in the sky and then surrounded it with his green-tinted fires. The gravity did the rest, as the doom-sphere gained unstoppable momentum and simply smacked down right in the middle of the enemy forces. A classic meteorite spell, taken straight out of a video game! Unlike his previous attacks, this magic was more complicated, not simply woven from greenish-orange flames, but rather lovingly composed out of a few different types of magical energies. Because of that the lich¡¯s mana shield also reacted differently - there was a pause when fiery and freezing magic clashed (the concepts conveying much more than temperature), but nothing like an instant explosion happened. Instead, the superheated rock just hung in the air for a fat second, before splintering into a myriad of shotgun-like shots, pelting all that remained underneath. A second later the ground was covered in the magical equivalent of a napalm strike combined with an A10 strafing run, crazed mana hissing and steaming as it attempted to devour both living and dead with mindless greed. If this happened anywhere but on Yana, I would be sure that the enemy already bit the dust. My earlier world¡¯s modern forces would fare poorly under such assault - after all, no matter if it was infantry, tanks, or armored vehicles they wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against the mass and momentum of a freaking meteorite. No matter how powerful their anti-air was. However, we were in the middle of fantasy land, and because of that, the odds of the unthinkable happening were quite high. The melting fire crackled for minutes straight before at last running out of magical fuel. And, as I presumed earlier, some figures were still standing, if looking a bit toasty. To my surprise, and to the disgust of human soldiers, most of their ghouls also managed to weather the storm. Some of them lacked pieces of flesh, burned inside out with visible holes reaching deep enough to see their bones or viscera. All of them were covered in third-degree burns, but as long as they were alive the magic keeping them whole slowly regenerated the sustained damage. I was fascinated with the way their cursed items restored lean muscles and twisted, barely human forms. It looked painfully slow - the way the healing magic pushed out pieces of shrapnel, straightened bones, and realigned spines. Not all of Knut¡¯s subordinates survived though, some ended up on the ground in hand-sized pieces, their meat cooked to crisp, with sickly-looking organs splattered everywhere. They soon became a feast for their brethren, just another piece of meat to be consumed, even as melted metal from their eyes and blinders slowly dripped to the ground. The damage dealt by Charles¡¯ magic was enormous and yet they were not even the main target (or a target at all!) of his attack, just an unfortunate casualty. The rest of the smoke gave way to the scorched earth and the devastation that lay behind. Like Knut¡¯s forces, the skeletons, zombies, and even more advanced undead fared poorly against the all-consuming flame. I expected to see a sea of burning bones and ash, and indeed, there were some, but most of the dead simply broke down into pieces. Skulls, melted metal, deeply seared meat, carbonized bone, smoked leather and wood covered the ground - there was not a centimeter of an empty space left. And while the greater part of the undead horde survived, it had depended more on how far away they were from the epicenter of the blast than their innate sturdiness. As I watched, the lich''s grip on its servants seemed to slacken and more base instincts prevailed, the dead slowly crowding towards the outpost¡¯s defensive line - their innate desire to feast on the living easily overpowering whatever self-preservation instinct was left in their rotting flesh and bleached bone. Amongst the carnage, two figures stood still, unbroken by Charles¡¯ attack. One of them was the undead mage and leader of the invasion. The smoke dispersed and the lich appeared - its back was still straightened, but the proud look it normally sported was diluted by the everpresent soot covering its bones and equipment. Both its right hand and the remains of the staff it carried were charred black, the magical implement crumbling before my eyes, and soon the grey ash was all that remained, drifting peacefully towards the scorched ground. The rest of its body didn¡¯t look much better, nor did its wardrobe. Charles¡¯ flames did a number on the cloth, searing and mangling what was once a highly magical item. The pellets of stone bore numerous holes in the material, turning the magnificent robe into a battered rag. The bones underneath fared as badly, sporting hairline cracks and straight-up holes, their pale luster reduced to a blackened mess. The undead mage survived, the blue flame present in its eyes - undiminished¡­ no - glowing even brighter than before. For once, since the beginning of this battle, its gaze was ablaze with emotion. I just couldn¡¯t recognize what that emotion was. The second figure emerged from the fiery aftermatch a moment later - the undead knight hid under its enormous greatsword, using it as a makeshift shield. Yet, despite such quick thinking, its defensive measures simply weren''t enough. The avaricious flame consumed anything that was not defended well enough - including the knight¡¯s hand grasping the hilt of its weapon and the rest of its bare bones. The inferno turned anything that wasn¡¯t metal into kindling, leaving the skeletal warrior still capable of fighting but diminished nonetheless. It squirmed, suddenly grasping the greatsword in its unbroken left hand, shifting the weight of its weapon. It has been secured with frightening ease. One that was clearly a result of surviving a thousand battles. It seemed like nothing had changed for a moment, the undead monsters still were ready to assault both my dungeon and Silver Oasis. And yet I felt the vile magic faltering, the compulsion summoning its undead servants weakening. In reaction to that the Waltzer castle skeletons slowed their endless emergence, while the local humans - both those on the surface and those still desperately wedged on my first floor - breathed out a sigh of relief. Lacking their earlier numbers and replenishment speed the rest of the dead weren¡¯t a major threat anymore, and their crumbly forms were easily dispatched by either my creatures or Silver Oasis'' troops. The shocked peace on the surface didn¡¯t last long, however. The first one to make his move was however not Charles, nor the lich or its minion - it was Knut and his ghouls. The, now naked (wearing only a helmet didn¡¯t count as clothed in my humble opinion), leader of the cursed roared into the air, gathering surprised gazes. He gasped a moment later, exhaustion from battle settling in. Yet already the noise had drawn the attention of the ghoul survivors, their animalistic howls joining their chief¡¯s scream. All of them were naked too, of course, as the fire didn¡¯t spare their clothes. ¡°Bhreeeethreeeen!¡± Knut howled, his words stretched into an unrecognizable mess of growls and lisps. ¡°Wheeee fight! Wheeee defeeeend! Wheeee repheeeent!¡± ¡°¡°¡°Wheeee repheeeent!!!¡±¡±¡± A slew of voices followed Knut¡¯s scream - and the first sign of humanity coming from the cursed warriors. The Silver Oasis forces weren¡¯t as amused as I was, though, doubly so because their chained beasts¡¯ reaffirmation of meatshield role came by unnoticed. Ghouls¡¯ words were almost unrecognizable because of their lowered intelligence and physical damage to their heads and throats. Somehow the magic seemed intent on returning the ability to fight and move, before regenerating their lips and vocal cords. Curious but understandable. Their humanity wasn¡¯t strange. I was more surprised by their ability to pull back from their rage and cannibalistic greed. With a flick of my mind, a blue screen with the cursed weapon and helmet combo was summoned.
Berserker¡¯s Blood Sword A magical weapon forged from mundane iron and enchanted with an ability to greatly increase cutting power when bathed in blood. At the same time, the curse placed on it forces its wielder into a powerful rage at the sight of blood - which makes the user an unstoppable killing machine. Any biological entity equipping the weapon will be immune to psychological effects but also unable to make a distinction between allies and enemies. The battle rage lasts a maximum of 10 minutes or less if there are no enemies left on the battlefield. After the berserk state ends the user¡¯s physical abilities are cut in half and exhaustion sets in. This is a cursed item, thus its ownership can be only transferred after the current wielder has been killed or a sufficiently strong anti-curse magic has been used. Not wearable by dungeon creatures. Warning! Equipping the item results in a change of class!
Regenerating Helmet of Endless Hunger A magical helmet made from mundane iron and enchanted with the boon of regeneration and the curse of hunger. The boon and the curse are connected and will activate simultaneously. Any biological entity wearing it will constantly regenerate damage, burns, destroyed organs, or lost limbs back to the last remembered form of the user. During the process of regeneration, the user will have to endure constant hunger pains and a desire to feed. Be it flesh, plant, or even rotten matter - all will be consumed to fuel the enchantment. This is a cursed item, thus its ownership can be only transferred after the current wielder has been killed or a sufficiently strong anti-curse magic has been used. Not wearable by dungeon creatures.
I nodded. Any remaining blood on the battlefield had been vaporized under Charles¡¯ attack, and no enemies were visible for a long while with the everpresent smoke covering the field, so the rage fueling them had abated. Thus the ghouls had regained their senses and then the most powerful and oldest of their kind - Knut - took charge of guiding their thoughts. Normally they would turn on their captors, tearing into the Silver Oasis¡¯ lines with the same ferocity they displayed when fighting the undead. And yet the misguided sense of belonging turned them into willing tools of the humans. It was foolish, but still¡­ Not my problem. Not that anyone else had a clue what actually happened. Access to blue boxes explaining what items really did seemed to be pretty rare amongst the Geinard Kingdom¡¯s people and without that knowledge, it would be hard to understand where the exact limits of the cursed tools they used lie. They were probably forced to use tried and true empirical methods when coming up with explanations. Monkeys banging on the rocks. Sucks to be them. In a happier, more accommodating world, I would try to pass as an item identifier, living a leisurely life. And yet the continent of Yana was much too cutthroat for that to work. Especially for a stone like me. Anyway, the not-really-dead formed a sloppy line and started intercepting the undead drifting toward the humans. This action clearly designated their allegiance. In response, Silver Oasis warriors shuffled around for a few tense moments before relaxing their stance. Charles was heaving, teetering on the verge of hyperventilation, as he tried to stabilize his mana and mind after a heavy expenditure. While earlier he stood alone, the greenish flames visibly balking at anyone coming close, now a few soldiers guarded his flanks, including Master Vincent and Butler Adam keeping him upright. ¡°I-I¡¯m okay¡­¡± He gasped before squinting at the lazily continuing battle. The dead and not-dead slugged it out in a strange dance. The ever-regenerating ghouls kept a clear advantage against even the most evolved undead. Their armor and special abilities made them count as small blockades, with Knut¡¯s kin working in groups, in a way that reminded me of how wolves hunted - by distracting their prey while a packmate went for a kill. Be it an armored death knight, a large abomination, or an emaciated wight, all fell before their combined might. As the fight continued I felt a draft. A cold wind blew screaming above my metallic trees. The rage of the powerful lich boiled in the air, stopping both the invaders and defenders in their tracks. The undead caster summoned a walking stick made entirely out of ice, and then a moment later smashed it into the ground. ¡°ENOUGH!¡± It screamed in the ancient language, yet the hatred and its inhuman willpower affected every soul present, from the strongest warriors to the smallest critters. All stopped in their tracks, horrified. Even though its bones had been burned and blemished, the lich¡¯s eyes held greater sway than before, like a close-up with nothingness had only steeled its resolve. It gazed imperiously at the enemies and its servants - still grasped in the power of its voice - and slick, cold intent wandered from the Knut¡¯s ghouls, toward obedient Ogrekin, Charles with his entourage, and then ended up focusing on¡­ me? An eye far colder than death streamed through my dungeon cables, carrying a promise of murder and oblivion. I hurriedly cut the connection, suddenly turning from an observer into a participant. The curse howled as it turned copper and flesh it encountered into a paste, then bulged and exploded into an eerily beautiful ice flower. Seconds passed as I trembled, reminded of my mortality. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, my curiosity forced me to return to the surface. This time I was carefully peeking at the main actors from another plant, situated afar in the backline of the Silver Oasis forces. Thankfully, the lich ignored my presence as it hollered loudly, not caring about the lack of audience. ¡°Good! That¡¯s how our descendants ought to be! Keep your head high and do not stain the honor of your ancestors!¡± After a moment it continued. ¡°We may be enemies yet, but to defeat a powerful foe is a deed much greater than trampling over a bunch of weaklings!¡± Human forces scowled in response, still not understanding an ounce of the undead¡¯s words, but feeling the contempt contained within. The breather was nonetheless used to reposition their forces and to bring back a few exhausted or hurt soldiers to the medical tents. The lich hit the ground with its icy staff a few more times, clearly excited. ¡°And to think that you even tamed a dungeon under your feet! Marvelous!¡± It screamed as my head was covered in a metaphorical cold sweat. ¡°Grow in power! Gather allies! Show the world how the Geinard bloodline fights for their life!¡± It stopped for a moment, glaring longingly at Charles and his entourage. ¡°And then I¡¯ll come and crush you. Add you and those you love to my collection.¡± It whispered, and yet the covetous voice was clearly echoed amongst the soldiers'' ranks, sending shivers amongst their lines, even though the meaning of the words was lost on them. ¡°Brace for a mental attack!¡± Yelled the sergeants and human warriors shook off their stupor, many taking out small paraphernalia, their voice rising and fading in some kind of a chant. Most of the fetishes were made in the shape of the white kite shield on a black background, which, as I recall, was a symbol of the Geinard Kingdom. Their quality varied greatly, from metal plates to barely dual-colored rocks, smoothed out from frequent usage. It was a curious thing. I thought that Charles¡¯ forces had cleanly separated themselves from the Kingdom. Being left for dead kinda does that to people. Was I reading the situation wrong? I noticed that it was mostly common soldiers that carried such items, the mages and higher-ups instead simply stood straighter, smaller and bigger auras of mana slowly covering their bodies. The lich only scoffed at the frenzy that came over enemy forces and instead waved its hand in the air, pushing power into its words. ¡°ARISE.¡± For a moment there was simply silence, before the first bone clacked on the ground, an unseen force dragging it to an arbitrary point. More soon followed the uneven noise filling the air. Only a second passed when a small hill made up of bones trembled before the undead caster, vibrating at an increasingly slower pace. When it stopped the bones started to melt, becoming more like a fluid. Their color homogenized into a dirty grey, and their shape slowly changed to a¡­ stretcher. A meter-wide plank, anyway, with handles growing from the upper and lower parts of the thing. After filling the horizontal part the liquid grew upward, creating a sort of canopy, before thickening the upper part of the bony structure. Wait, was the lich making a palanquin? If so, where were the carriers? As if to answer my question another command was given and dirty gray skeletons slowly rose from the surrounding bones. Unlike their ¡°natural¡± counterparts these were clearly engineered - or should I say evolved? - with thicker arms and legs, complete with a lack of neck and a ribcage so expanded that it looked more like plate armor. Without a word the new minions moved and kneeled near the palanquin, their hands prepared to lift it at a moment¡¯s notice. The undead caster inspected its work, before barking a few orders and gracefully lying down. The other undead started to bunch up, forming six orderly columns, while the large skeleton with a sword simply strode near the commanding lich as it was lifted into the air. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°Ah, Waltzer.¡± It waved. ¡°Come, walk with me. We need to repair the damage.¡± The mage spoke while inspecting the cracked and burned bones on its minion. ¡°It¡¯s a trifle really. The only problem will be the quality of materials, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be able to procure them in the north. One way or another.¡± Seeing the muted reaction of its companion the caster sighed heavily. ¡°It¡¯s such a shame that only your shell remained. What would I give to see you in the height of your glory again.¡± There was a pregnant pause. ¡°And this time fighting on the right side.¡± Slowly, ever so slowly the undead filed out and abandoned their positions, to which humans reacted with much celebration, despite their exhaustion. A wasteland of flesh, bone, and ash remained, bare of any living creatures or plants. And between that cursed plain and Silver Oasis'' forces, a bunch of figures was waiting on their knees, their gaunt and naked forms displayed for all to see. Knut¡¯s ghouls were kneeling in a straight line, each of them wearing their cursed helmets and keeping their swords behind their backs, hands bleeding from sharp edges. Their eyes were empty as they stared at the ground, repeating a somber chant, not dissimilar to what human soldiers had done a moment before. The red, nearly brown blood slowly dripped onto the earth, wounds closing and opening every other second, as the cursed magic worked overtime to keep them alive. There was a moment of confusion in the ranks before an order to recapture them was given, and trembling warriors with rough linen sacks in their hands thought they were sneaky, as they closed the distance. It would be a comical sight, if not for the absolute fear visible in their wide eyes. Minutes passed and soldiers relaxed their guard, chatting, praying, and smiling at each other. Cauldrons with food were brought out, filled with filling stew, but the defense forces didn¡¯t completely relax their guard. Their leader, Charles, also managed to mostly recover. His red eyes regained their brilliance, while both his butler Adam and crazy-looking Master Vincent were standing nearby, ready to assist. It was a peaceful time. Everyone knew it wouldn¡¯t last. Minutes passed, with time stretching out like molasses. Then, something changed. Drums in the deep! I wanted to scream, my favorite movie playing and replaying in my head. My revenant, Non simply scoffed through the link, retaining only the significance of a new group of enemies arriving. ¡°Kill. Dark.¡± She sent, her bloodlust filling the gaps. Sure, the arrivals were coming from the south, where Geinard Kingdom heartlands stood. It was unlikely that they were anything but enemies. Especially since Charles declared Silver Oasis'' independence, or however one would like to call it. More time passed before human scouts returned with news and by that time the drums were joined by a regular thumping sound. A sound of many feet moving in perfect, mechanical precision. A sound of an army at march. The first one to crest the hill was a figure clad in dark armor, the same one I saw before. It was riding on an armored horse, with a cape billowing behind its back. Not a single piece of flesh was visible in the setting sun, the same with the soldiers that marched just behind the knight. Unlike their leader, they wore old and often wrinkled leather armor and a full-face helmet combo, complete with wooden shields and spears. Painted on their chests was a symbol of Geinard Kingdom - a white kite shield on a black background. A definition of a cheap infantry. Or it would be so if not for their inhuman precision when marching. It was like observing a puppet being moved by a skilled master. Each step was as long as the last and it took them as far as the one before. Which, by itself was fine. There were however about two hundred of these guys, and all of them moved in the same rhythm. I wasn¡¯t the only one to notice that discrepancy. The human forces, which relaxed seeing a familiar iconography returned to the highest alert. Despite their worries, the incoming force stopped before entering Silver Oasis proper. Instead, their leader raised his hand, and the army spread out in the nearby plain, as his horse slowly trotted closer. The soldiers behind him spread out from a two-man column into a formation more reminiscent of a three-soldier deep firing line. ¡°Captain Sohek from the 342nd Defence Regiment hails the free settlement of Silver Oasis.¡± The leader growled, clearly disgusted with the latter part. ¡°Send out your representative. I¡¯m here to negotiate.¡± There was a commotion on Charles¡¯ side as his aides tried to stop him from coming forward. Cries of it could be a trap! and you¡¯re still not at full strength were ignored by the fiery magician as he slapped away those holding him back. He walked to the frontline with a straight back, the soldiers giving him space. But his steps stopped just before the barrier made from that strange anti-undead liquid. With a squint on an otherwise tranquil face, Charles began. ¡°Here I am, just as you wanted. Speak your part, Captain Sohek.¡± The newcomer knight sighed. ¡°A Blueflame, right?¡± ¡°Right now? Just Charles will do. After all the family kinda threw me out, right?¡± The flame mage responded with a smirk. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t do to dirty their name with rebellion.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure, considering you¡¯re its only living representative.¡± ¡°Wha--?!¡± Charles gasped, but Sohek continued his offensive. ¡°With your ancestor currently missing and most if not all adults either dead or crippled many of the Blueflames'' old enemies used this chance to join their forces and get rid of a thorn in their side.¡± There was a pregnant pause. ¡°They succeeded. As far as we know any man, woman, or child carrying Blueflame blood, was purged from existence. That is discounting some far offshoots or those exiled, like yourself.¡± ¡°I thought you were trying to get on my good side.¡± Charles sneered. ¡°Hmmm?¡± ¡°As a representative of the royal family, recounting how they failed to uphold their duties during this time of strife doesn¡¯t really inspire my belief in them.¡± ¡°What do you mean? I don¡¯t understand.¡± The armored man¡¯s face was hidden under the helmet, but his confusion was easy to notice. ¡°It seems like you forgot that during war magical nobles are under the protection of royalty, to stop a situation you described from happening.¡± Charles huffed while scratching his chin like the extermination of Blueflames didn¡¯t concern him. ¡°Otherwise most of the current families would be already extinct, not to mention how would it have weakened the Geinard Kingdom as a whole.¡± ¡°I see a few reasons for doing so.¡± The mage continued, his gaze growing colder with each word, before starting to count, each straightening finger looking like a soundless accusation. ¡°First - to get under my skin. Unlikely, seeing as I am unimportant in the greater scope of things, but still in the realm of possibility. Or so you would think.¡± He quietly whispered the last words. ¡°Second - it is a play between houses, a long-winded plot in the making.¡± Charles closed his eyes, breathing out. ¡±I can think of a few of our enemies with enough cunning, tactical sense, and sheer vitriol to plan such a massacre. Unlikely, but still possible, since even without protectors Blueflames have their own secret methods to defend.¡± ¡°Third - the Royal Family completely lost control over the Shieldstar and the situation has persisted for long enough that the noble families grew bold.¡° He sneered. ¡°Like starving wolves, they tore into each other until only a few remained. Bloodied, weakened but at the same time sated by their enemies'' demise.¡± As he finished speaking Captain Sohek started clapping slowly, while a small chuckle escaped his lips. The warrior dismounted from his horse, seemingly tired of looking down on Charles. ¡°I never was good at word games.¡± He explained. ¡°The diplomats at home said I should start with it, according to their wisdom. To give me a high ground, a starting advantage, or similar bullshit.¡± You could nearly hear his grin under the helmet. ¡°Real warriors don¡¯t need such things, dont¡¯cha think?¡± ¡°Now, why don¡¯t we talk about what I¡¯m here for.¡± The man studied Charles for a moment. ¡°I was gifted with enough decision power to guarantee both your independence from the Geinard Kingdom as well as some refugees to fill your little oasis with. Hell, I¡¯ll even throw some material support. Weapons, armor, food, you name it.¡± ¡°And the price for that grace would be letting you take back Agnes, yes?¡± Charles answered with a sneer. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Sohek exclaimed while waving his hands. ¡°It¡¯s Princess Agnes Geinard! And I¡¯ll be taking her back to her family! You are the one keeping her here, against her will! We are not the bad guys!¡± ¡°Sure, and what you and yours will do to help her? At least I don¡¯t want to use her, allowing that monster to take control of my fiance!¡± The red-haired mage shouted, magic churning around his body menacingly. ¡°I would advise you not to call Lady Green any names.¡± The armored man answered coldly, his countenance suddenly straightening. It was fear, I noticed. Raw, primal fear. ¡°She is very particular about that. If you anger her any further I cannot guarantee your safety nor the safety of those you shelter.¡± He continued stiffly. Two men stared at each other with indescribable expressions, while Geinard soldiers and Charles¡¯ rebels continued their stand-off behind their backs. The armored Captain was first to cave, as he chuckled and leaned forward, still however careful to not cross the Silver Oasis alchemical barrier. ¡°You know damn well how our Kingdom operates.¡± Sohek whispered conspiratorily, suddenly changing his tune. ¡°We use whatever we can to weather the storm. To survive. No matter how low or sacrilegious the outsiders may find our means. Even the royal line is no exception to this.¡± With a deep breath, he continued. ¡°Do you really think that His Majesty will not sacrifice his daughter to resurrect one of the pillars of the Kingdom? Lady Green is rumored to be a level 50 powerhouse! See reason, scion of Blueflame! We can¡¯t lose her, lest we will be trampled under monster stampedes! Not now, not ever!¡± With a heated gaze, he continued. ¡°You should understand how power is necessary to do what is right! What price has one life, when such a sacrifice could save hundreds of thousands of souls?!¡± ¡°And what if I don¡¯t care?¡± Charles answered through clenched teeth. ¡°What if I reject such notions, and cling to the love we shared? To emotion? To justice?¡± ¡°Then I would call you but a young fool.¡± Sohek answered sadly. The soldiers behind him shuffled their ranks, showing disciplined behavior. ¡°We can still talk it out, despite our differences.¡± He continued after a moment with a false cheer. ¡°Will you invite me to talk like civilized people over a cup of tea? I¡¯ll even leave all but a few of my bodyguards outside your perimeter.¡± ¡°Hmmm? What do you say?¡± ¡°My answer is simple. Of course¡­ not. Go to hell, you undead freak!¡± I observed as Captain Sohek balled his fists in response and then¡­ started laughing. ¡°How¡­ did you¡­ know?¡± He spoke between bouts of giggling. ¡°Haaa¡­ it¡¯s good I no longer need to breathe.¡± Charles shot him a mean gaze, before answering calmly. ¡°You¡¯re not the first official sent to our little outpost. None of them needed the invitation to take over our best quarters while keeping their nose high in the air at the peasant stench.¡± ¡°Not to mention that something was wrong with your men. Standing still, without as much as twitching or looking around? What are these? Royal Guards? Also¡­¡± The red-eyed mage squinted at his opponent. ¡°Who the hell walks all covered up in this kind of weather?! It was clear that you fear the sun and that your men are anything but that!¡± ¡°Sure. Nearly correct. I don¡¯t really fear the sun.¡± Sohek took off his helmet, showing to the world black eyes and short coal hair complete with a triangular, sharp face. Two incisors were visible against his bloodless lips, completing a standard vampiric visage. ¡°It is just so inconvenient you know?¡± As he spoke the last rays of the sun hissed, dissolving his skin. Despite the damage the Captain just stood there, letting off an unsettling feeling. Seconds passed as his flesh regenerated and then turned crisp again. He showcased his powers a few more times before raising the hood, the helmet secured tightly at his waist. ¡°So, now that everything is clear¡­ will you talk?¡± He continued as if nothing had happened. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest. Now that you know about us, the ceiling of rewards given has gone up. Immortality doesn¡¯t sound so bad, doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call turning into a monster as becoming immortal.¡± ¡°Technicalities. We need all the recruits we can get. If human cohorts aren¡¯t enough then we¡¯ll raise our dead to stop the enemy!¡± ¡°And what, at this point differentiates you from the monsters on the other side?¡± Charles asked bitterly. ¡°Why, convictions of course!¡± ¡°You know my answer, monster.¡± ¡°Ah, but I think you misunderstand.¡± A wide grin appeared on Sohek''s face. ¡°While it¡¯s true I cannot walk in uninvited, these fellas.¡± He pointed behind him, at the leather-clad undead. ¡°Aren¡¯t limited to such things. The barrier will hurt - a bit - but once they are through you¡¯re dead.¡± ¡°And you know what?¡± The undead Captain added in a whisper. ¡°There are no restrictions on entering places without the living.¡± Okay, the stakes are rising a bit too much. I¡¯ve already invested in Charles a fair bit, not to mention all those exp--, I mean all these resources I¡¯ve put into humans living above my dungeon. I was not going to let this Sohek guy, and by extension whatever remained from the Geinard Kingdom simply take them! Time to expedite my timetable! It¡¯s great that my Puppets and Dragoons were already massed underground. Now, to give orders¡­ ¡°March upwards, my creations! Silver Oasis humans are allies! The undead on the other side of the barrier - enemies! March upwards and stand against the destruction!¡± ¡°Ah, and one more thing - try to behave like dwarves? Mute dwarves, preferably?¡± I added in a much less sure tone. Maybe this wasn¡¯t such a great idea... Ignoring my conflicted emotions the underground force raised their weapons in a show of silent support. Their weapons and armor clanked as they slowly made their way toward the stairs. There were not even a hundred of these guys, but counting Charles¡¯ forces we would be able to easily repel up to five hundred enemies¡­ Or so I thought. These troops weren¡¯t battle-tested but their heavy armor and even heavier weapons allowed them to dish out and endure enormous amounts of damage. I also notice a change in the Puppets'' descriptions. [Analyze]
Soulscoured Puppet A former sapient creature subjected to inhuman torture, ending in the absence of will and an independent soul. The resulting residue is completely dependent on received orders and dungeon mana. It can be repurposed to function outside the depths that spawned it. It remains indistinguishable from other sapient beings and retains the skills and magical abilities that it was capable of before the change, the only exception being the ability to speak or write. It is still however able to understand speech. Due to extensive remodeling, the physical strength and reflexes of the puppet were greatly enhanced. This puppet has also been strengthened by installing a shard of Anima in its chest. It functions as an additional power source and self-destruct device. Threat level: dependent on the base model
Yup, here it is¡­ my minions were now a type of kamikaze, with a gleaming green haze covering their hands and legs when it was exerting itself. A set of levers and armor was added since its inception, in some part reflecting what the Dragoons had done earlier. My Ratling engineers were anything but creative¡­ even if the mention of self-destruction kinda worried me. Since when did they? No. It¡¯s better to not know. As I mumbled under my nose the march never stopped, and now even above ground a loud THUD, THUD, THUD sound could be heard, my soldiers marching in a perfect step. They arrived at the first floor and promptly ignored any humans encountered. The Silver Oasis folk didn¡¯t know how to react but since the creatures didn¡¯t move to attack they too settled in a state of worried observation. Additionally, they weren¡¯t sure who they were, only adding to the confusion. Sohek and Charles waited for the noise to subside, both unsure of the source and its consequences. Yet, when the first Dragoons and Puppets emerged from the underground Sohek reacted with revulsion. ¡°Have you really fallen so low, Blueflame, to consort with demi-humans?¡± He shouted while spitting on the ground. ¡°They¡¯re worse than monsters, lower than animals, they can¡¯t be trusted!¡± ¡°Wha--! I''m not their ally!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t try to deny it, deviant!¡± Sohek¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°A dwarven clan and its kobold mercenaries! As for the caste¡­ outcasts?¡± He muttered quickly. ¡°Still, I am truly¡­ disappointed.¡± As he spoke my warriors came closer, easily finding empty space beside their new human comrades, who kinda didn¡¯t know how to react. Details, details. What mattered was that soon their heavy iron armor stood toe to toe with leather-clad humans. Dragoons as a defensive specialization focused on reinforcing the line, while Puppets gathered on the flanks, their maces and axes ready to shed blood. Ahead of the soldiers but still not so close to the undead as Charles stood a leader Puppet, made from Tobil¡­ something? I knew I stole his memories, but so many dwarves had been devoured by that unsuccessful procedure it all mashed together. Anyway - he was larger and sturdier than his compatriots and thus, he was in charge. Or should I say ¡°it¡±? Whatever. The representative of the kobolds was unimaginatively named Kobold Sergeant. I vaguely remembered that it was the Guardian that bestowed such a ¡°rare¡± name on the poor sod. While not different from other kobolds it had a stronger presence, bright eyes full of curiosity, and, more importantly, an ability to speak. He just needed an occasion to do so. I couldn¡¯t wait. And just in time - as Captain Sohek was finishing his tantrum. How nice. ¡°I will inform my superiors about your betrayal, human.¡± He hissed. ¡°What you¡¯ve built here will be burned back to the ground, your allies slaughtered and left for the crows to feed!¡± ¡°Once again, these are not my allies¡­ I don¡¯t know from where these dwarves had appeared!¡± Charles spat out tiredly. ¡°Your measly attempts at distraction aren¡¯t working, blood bag!¡± The vampire put on his helmet but didn¡¯t stop screaming in an accusatory tone. ¡°Wash your neck, for our retribution will be swift!¡± His head turned to the undead warriors behind him. ¡°Follow me!¡± With a deliberate slowness, his horse turned around and trotted away from the Silver Oasis leaving Charles and his soldiers dumbfounded once again. After all, it was twice now that a foe had simply turned tail and left. During one day, too. The fiery mage observed the undead leaving, as his butler, Adam, came closer, glaring at the leaving enemy. Clearly, the unanswered insults didn¡¯t lay well with the man. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we send them a few farewell gifts, Master?¡± ¡°I¡­ will¡­ do¡­ just¡­ that¡­¡± He groaned out, answering his question. ¡°Master?¡± The old servant turned around, suddenly worried. ¡°Do not interrupt him, he¡¯s casting some outrageous spell right now.¡± From the human forces'' ranks emerged Master Vincent, his shaggy appearance and grey beard as always making him look like a vagabond, not the powerful mage he was. ¡°It¡¯s curious, as I don¡¯t recognize the casting framework¡­¡± He mused. I focused on Charles and the magical voodoo that he was currently performing. There was a small hum instead of the usual chant and¡­ a line of energy stretching under the ground in a way similar to my own cable-like dungeon protrusions. Interesting. After noticing the pattern I followed this feeding line and arrived about thirty meters ahead of the horse carrying Captain Sohek. Under the soil, nearly invisible to anyone''s senses was something I could only describe as a shaped explosive, prepared to burst upwards the moment it was destabilized. The boiling heat inside the trap was impressive and Charles was still filling it with his mana, enlarging the explosion. I was by no means an expert on magical boom-making, but something about the spell rubbed me the wrong way. Even with Sohek¡¯s slow pace, it took only under a minute for him to arrive at the site. I saw Charles suddenly relax and observed as a magical equivalent of a cartoon black powder trail burned to my mana sight, before ending up in the convoluted mass of mana under the poor vampire. And then exploded upwards with a roar of a thousand suns! The attack was loud, powerful, and wide enough to turn the vamp into ashes before he could even respond. The few dead around him turned out flammable enough for the explosion to turn them into fiery human matches, quickly burning through all the flesh, skin, leather, and bone. They didn¡¯t scream and the Geinard Kingdom''s dead simply¡­ stood there. The drummer was still giving his best, despite the other''s indifference. The humans were in a rough shape, most of them lying on the ground, covering their ears. The soundwave was stronger than anticipated. Some of them were even bleeding from their eyes and ears, literally coughing out blood too, which I think was indicative of internal damage. In xianxia-verse anyway. Ignoring his soldiers Charles straightened up, before roaring to the skies. ¡°Chaaaaaaaaaaarge! Kill them all!¡± The first ones to advance were my Puppets and Dragoons, their reinforced bodies allowing them to weather the attack relatively unscathed. As I gazed at the slowly moving line of heavily armored units the red-haired mage hobbled over to the leaders of my forces. He gazed at them, with more tiredness than anything else and spoke quietly. ¡°Lead me to your master. We need to parley.¡± I laughed giddily. [Yes, lead him to me, it''s about time to deal in truths, after all.] My words were answered with nods and a hissing chuckle as Kobold Seargant started to answer. I didn¡¯t listen anymore, focused on creating a simple loudspeaker. Then trying to connect it with everpresent copper wires. Oh, I was going to have so much fun. 072 Charles former Blueflame noble I was starting to think that maybe it wasn¡¯t such a good idea to try to meet the intelligence behind this place. As my emotions cooled down and I had time to rethink my decisions a slow feeling of dread began to creep up my spine. This thing, whatever it was, it ordered the dungeon monsters - because these were dungeon monsters, not some forgotten dwarven clan, and nobody would convince me otherwise - to exit their underground lair, and instead of butchering everyone present, sowing chaos and destruction¡­ they¡­ they were made to stand side by side with my troops. Doing so designated it as an ally, a helping hand in these hard times - or so you would think. For me, the more important thing was that it did the unthinkable and my brain couldn¡¯t stop creating insane scenarios in order to understand why. I was not so naive to think that its help was given freely without a price, from the kindness of one¡¯s heart. Maybe Captain Sohek was right, maybe we really had fallen so low that the only sensible option was to willingly perish and bury this place. What would we become? Was it wise to ally with a monster that brought forth other monsters? The sunken faces of the dungeon¡¯s undead were a constant reminder of a possible future. But every time my thoughts wandered in this direction I thought about different words of the hypocritical vampire warrior - we do what is necessary to survive, no matter the cost. It was the Geinard Kingdom¡¯s motto, burned in our minds, sculpted on our armor and shields. Turning into undead and using corpses of the fallen was somehow fine, but ¡°consorting¡± with demihumans was not? Hogwash. Not to mention I had more at stake than mere morality. Even now Agnes, my light in the darkness, languished under the devouring curse made by the Kingdom¡¯s greatest ally, Green Succubus - or Green Lady if one was more charitable. It was but another monster, this time in the guise of a beautiful woman. She, who devoured men as sustenance, enforcing the law in the darkest and dirtiest corners of the both noble and commoner worlds. The one who broke and bent minds as one would straw, weaving them into new forms. I wasn¡¯t allowed to fail against her. The consequences would be unimaginable, both for me and every living being in my demesne. I swore an oath the day Agnes was brought here, her power shattered and her face marred by the viridian curse. She was so defenseless, so quiet, so still - unlike¡­ ever. It was a foolish thing, my oath. Not one of my servants noticed the strings of mana encircling my soul. I would rather watch the world burn than leave her to die. To be devoured and spit out like a spent fruit. And for that I needed power. Allies. Even blasphemous ones. I was tired. I recognized this - the feeling of entrapment, of being cornered by the people and monsters beyond my imagination, where one wrong step meant inevitable demise. The hordes and the wild undead from the North. The Geinard Kingdom and its new undead force from the South. The Lunarian lunatics with their burning lights awaited us in the East, sure of their success along with the Dross Republic curled up like a half-dead spider and twice as venomous. And to top it all the scheming dungeon underneath us slowly extends its influence into our lives¡­ I scowled. The cornered rat is the most dangerous. I was going to teach my opponents that truth. My thoughts returned to the present, the rumination of despair quietened down with pure willpower¡­ Still, there was something else, something that was making me nervous. It was long proven that the dungeon cores were no more sentient than a lion was but that didn¡¯t stop them from being an insatiable, cunning swarm of locusts when it came to building their halls ever deeper and deeper. And of course, defending them. They were machines designed to infinitely devour our sweat, blood, and tears in exchange for generating items and materials, sometimes literally out of this world. Tools of survival crafted for their worshippers by the very gods themselves. Why this one was different? But then, it hit me. The Lunarian half-elves did say why, didn¡¯t they? When they attempted to shatter its core. When they apparently ¡°succeeded¡±. How the magical rock at the heart of the matter was not only remaking the technology of the ancients but also improving on it, integrating the found abilities and properties in existing designs or even creating new horrors from scratch. I think they called it a transformative quality. That, and they also spoke of the highest - third - level of such ability? Master Vincent also mentioned something about their history with a similar dungeon being a source of bloodshed and near annihilation of the Luna Kingdom. Gah¡­ I really needed to brush up on this knowledge¡­ well, as soon as we leave. It wouldn¡¯t be wise to confer about anything important in the earshot of the core. Not that surface was safe, now that I think about it. The dungeon¡¯s forces surged out much too quickly for that to be a coincidence. There was too much of a dramatic flair for that to happen naturally. That meant their leader had some means of spying on us surface dwellers. Great. Another thing to worry about. There was something else too, something about a war machine? A paragon of the old era used to plan the ancient empire¡¯s expansions? Gods damn it, I don¡¯t remember! Thankfully it wasn¡¯t that important. At least I knew that behind the dungeon¡¯s growth stood a clearly intelligent and probably malicious thing. Why? No sane being sits in a prison made of crystal for years, decades, or even millennia and comes out of that ordeal unscathed. I was still on the first floor, being guided by a kobold and something that looked and smelled like a dwarf but most certainly wasn¡¯t one when a runner from the surface caught up to us with more news and a need for orders. The poor fool nearly had been blasted by Master Vincent''s magic. The helmeted mage forced his attendance (not that I regretted the presence of additional firepower during negotiations) after loudly demanding to be present on ¡°this one-of-a-kind occasion¡±. He nearly bawled with relief when I allowed him to accompany me. At least his acolytes were forced to keep up with their duties during his absence. This should integrate them with Silver Oasis even more. The second additional person attending this delve was Adam, my gray-haired butler. I was surprised when a supposedly harmless servant unsheathed some kind of a thin rapier from his cane, before eyeing the incoming man with suspicion. ¡°Master Charles! Master Charles!¡± The runner yelled. ¡°At ease, soldier. What is the problem?¡± ¡°C-captain Duree reports that the undead are n-not fighting back. A-a-as an organized force, I mean. They still defend themselves when attacked and that thrice-cursed drummer is getting on everyone''s nerves. Sir.¡± The soldier gulped nervously. He didn¡¯t look even sixteen years old, with a face more pitiful than menacing, with his hair cut short, and his smooth face slick with sweat. The boy¡¯s eyes were wide open, his posture eager as he awaited my next words. Captain Molan, always the soft one, must¡¯ve sent him here to spare the young one from fighting. It wouldn¡¯t work, not in the long run, not in the situation we¡¯re in, but he¡¯ll try anyway. That was just the kind of fool he was. ¡°Order the men to step back then, and tell the good Captain to nominate those with rare classes or useful skills to fight with them one by one. To the death of course, but provide them with a safety net.¡± I scratched my chin. There was something else I was forgetting¡­ ah, yes! ¡°And ask the mages to gather the ashes of that vampire. I don¡¯t know what legends about the creatures are true but I¡¯m not risking his resurrection because some doofus douses them in blood.¡± ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be a concern.¡± Master Vincent interrupted and I breathed out with relief, then turned to hear out his opinion. ¡°This type of ability was only found in high-level vampires and not the poor imitation the Shieldstar mooks sent.¡± He grinned viciously. ¡°I would still recommend securing the remains, though. They¡¯ve some worth as experimental material.¡± The mage then moved his attention onto the nervous runner. ¡°And I would be very disappointed if the ashes were suddenly diminished because someone had a bright idea to consume them to gain immortality or other such nonsense.¡± ¡°Would that even work?¡± ¡°Nobody who tried managed to survive, but truly? Who knows. The deaths were on the more gruesome side of the scale though, at least from what I¡¯ve heard. Maybe it was a question of a level? More experience usually equals more robustness.¡± The rest of the murmurs were hard to understand but it seemed like Master Vincent started to consider recreating some of the experiments, now that he had materials at hand. I should scoff at such notions, the noble pride winning over any potential gains, but we do what we can to survive. ¡°I see. You heard our wizard friend. Make sure that they recover the ashes and keep them in a sealed container. If they¡¯re as dangerous as described I wouldn''t want anyone to ingest them accidentally.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± The suddenly paler boy saluted and instantly ran out of the room. I sighed, thankful that the dungeon lowered its defenses, at least for a moment. And that it had enough subtlety to differentiate a runner from an invasion. My guides turned around and I nodded in response. ¡°Please continue and sorry for the delay.¡± I said politely. These were bonafide monsters after all. I didn¡¯t want to get my face eaten because of a perceived slight. ¡°Of courssse. Pleassse, follow usss.¡± The kobold hissed out with a small bow, its mechanized armor filling the air with fumes and metallic sounds. The armored being next to him also nodded slightly and moved to the end of our little procession. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°The firssst floor ssshould be perfectly recognizable to your forcesss, ssso we will ssskip the presssentation.¡± The monster continued. ¡°The only room of note containsss the Golem-Sssmith, which you are well acquainted with.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± ¡°There will be one unexpected ssstop, however.¡± I stiffened. The word unexpected was never a good thing in a dungeon, guide or not. Thankfully the surprise seemed of a positive variety. ¡°A great persssonage will lead you further down, once we dessscend to the sssecond floor.¡± We wandered for a few minutes, familiar sights and sounds surrounding us. The first floor was still firmly under our control, with the frequently used training room and the mentioned earlier smithing golem, producing a variety of gear and providing heaps of experience for troops and non-combatants. I should probably even take some of the sentries off duty and allow a few of the lower-level monsters to respawn. They were mostly harmless and the additional experience would be helpful, not to mention some of the spawns were actually edible. As a bonus, maybe a few more people similar to the runner from before would have a better chance at survival. Gods know we all need it. Then a thought struck me. I was laughing at that softie Molan a moment before, and now I was doing the same thing. Pweh. So what? I never claimed consistency. We arrived at the Floor Guardian¡¯s arena located near the entrance to the second floor and I noticed the monstrous golem made from part flesh, part metal was simply staring at me with its empty eyes. It was good that we weren¡¯t expected to fight our way through the levels. While the core defender allowed our passing, I would still need to order or lead a party to purge it, and then post some sentries inside the room, so it doesn¡¯t respawn. Any threat to my forces must be mercilessly eliminated, and if the monster got loose, with all of the civilians scattered on the first floor¡­ I didn¡¯t want to even entertain that thought. After slipping by the lone monster we entered the second level and slowly trudged towards the lake contained in the middle of the central room. Our guides stopped, so we did the same, waiting for something unspecified. Our patience was rewarded a few minutes later when the calm surface of the lake broke, and from the depths emerged an armored figure, calmly walking to the shore. ¡°Thank you for waiting, dear guests. Sergeant, I will take it from here.¡± It rumbled amiably, and the kobold leading us bowed deeply in response. ¡°You are not needed anymore, too, creation. Return to your people.¡± The small dwarf-like monster straightened its back before tilting its head like it was listening to some silent orders. Then it also nodded and turned back the way we came before disappearing into the darkness. Its measured steps echoed in the room for a long while, even as our new guide started speaking. ¡°We meet again, young Charles.¡± The deep voice sent vibrations up my spine. ¡°It is a joyous occasion that we¡¯re not trying to kill each other, right?¡± There was mirth in the otherwise solemn tone. ¡°I am sorry, but I don¡¯t recall meeting a knight like you. Not to mention one in the service of the dungeon.¡± I probed hesitantly. ¡°Haha. My form was different then. Unlike before, when I was chained to the place where my madness was contained, now I walk free to defend my Lord¡¯s demesne, true to my name.¡± ¡°I am Guardian, the reclaimed soul and one of the first vassals of these hallowed halls.¡± ¡°Once I was called Daniel Waltzer, but that name is no more. Only the Guardian remains.¡± The armored knight bowed subtly. My mind was swarmed with thoughts as I stared at a living legend. While I didn¡¯t recognize the name, the surname it described itself with¡­ oh, the surname was known to even the foulest beggar in the Geinard Kingdom. An Immortal Blademaster, who died as he lived, defending humanity. A high-level warrior, that fought off the invasions of both dead and living alike for years, stabilizing the defensive line of the Kingdom. This confirmed two things. First, the dungeon was at least a few hundred years old, since the Waltzer line went extinct at least that far in the past. It probably shut down when no challengers arrived, only now rebuilding the place. Second, it was unknown what magic was used to keep the Guardian alive all these years, but it was clearly still working. That meant the level of knowledge about the human body the dungeon it served possessed should be truly monstrous. Agnes had a chance then. Even if she were to be chained to the walls for decades like the knight was. I was ready for that sacrifice to keep my love alive. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡± I answered the dungeon¡¯s slave while keeping my smile polite but not servile. ¡°The Waltzers are revered in the Kingdom as true heroes. It¡¯s great to meet one who carries their blood.¡± While I exchanged pleasantries both of my aides were still reeling from shock. They reacted differently but neither managed to keep their calm. While Adam simply stood there, his hands trembling near the handle of his rapier, Master Vincent was instead busy glaring at the Guardian¡¯s armor with a look of intense desire. ¡°It is a curious thing, young Charles.¡± The ancient one spoke in a cold tone. I trembled. Something was wrong. ¡°Especially curious is how we¡¯re revered since the Waltzer Castle and my father both fell to betrayal from within. The people who he protected stabbed him in the back and now are using his long-dead body as a shield to hide from monsters.¡± ¡°Preposterous.¡± He snorted in contempt. ¡°It seems like mortals really never change. My Lord was right. They are as shameless and forgetful as always.¡± The further angry diatribe seemed to be cut short, as the knight tilted his head, listening to something we weren¡¯t privy to and then huffing in disappointment. ¡°No matter. Those responsible are probably already dead. Let¡¯s continue.¡± The man turned, and strode forward, without looking back. We hurriedly followed, but there was but one thing that kept bouncing in my head. What if the betrayers were the Green Succubus, Iron Hand, or my own ancestor Hekkan of Ash? What if they weren¡¯t dead? Would he cut a bloody swathe through the Kingdom¡¯s land to avenge his father? Would he? Before I noticed, we were in an unknown part of the dungeon. We entered a rather spacious room, where a bunch of undead kept interacting with a line of items deposited on some kind of moving floor. I failed to understand the purpose of this place. The monsters ignored us, just like they did before, and we stood there, stumped beyond comprehension. Our guide emanated a feeling of calm pride which we didn¡¯t want to disturb. ¡°What is the purpose of this room, Guardian?¡± I asked sheepishly. He turned to look at me with incredulity. ¡°Isn¡¯t that obvious? It¡¯s a factory! Or, if you want to be completely correct, a manufactorum.¡± He answered while spewing words I didn¡¯t understand. Was it knowledge from his time, or maybe a rare design stolen from the ancient civilization? Factory? Manufactorum? ¡°What does it do, though?¡± It was Master Vincent who broke the silence, asking a question we all wanted to speak out. The guide sighed in exasperation before explaining. ¡°It¡¯s a production line focused on using many people - in this case, the tireless undead - to shorten and standardize the production of weapons, parts, or alchemical solutions. It¡¯s an interchangeable platform of industrialization.¡± He spouted a bunch of words, half of them seeming like a babble. We respectfully listened to the rest of his explanation. ¡±The overall efficiency allows for an end product to be of the same quality, and more importantly, shortens the time needed for the creation of such items tremendously. It¡¯s part of the industrial revolution!¡± ¡°But¡­ why go to such lengths?¡± It was Adam who asked this question and had unknowingly drawn the Guardian¡¯s heated gaze. ¡°What do you mean?¡± It answered angrily. I coughed up before speaking up hoping to stop any argument before it began. ¡°What my retainer was trying to say is¡­ how such knowledge can be used?¡± The armored figure tilted its head before answering. ¡°How about weapon and armor production?¡± Master Vincent strode closer to the dead and observed them for a few moments. ¡°Most if not all of our arms and armor need to be made by accomplished smiths. It would be hard to achieve acceptable quality using this production line you speak of. These undead seem pretty clumsy.¡± He scratched his chin, wondering aloud. ¡°Ah, I guess arrows or quarrels could be made in such a way, but still, it''s of limited use.¡± ¡°Then how about mixing alchemical solutions? The speed, cheapness, and complete immunity to fumes or other dangerous substances would be an advantage, right?¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t these mostly benefits of using the undead though? Would it be impossible to train a few of them to the higher level and order them to safely create potions, oils, and other alchemical goods?¡± ¡°Common items then? Chairs, pans, nails, doors, dry food, and similar creations?¡± ¡°Silver Oasis¡¯ population is barely in a few hundred. We don¡¯t need a manufactorum to produce them. Especially since it would need to change¡­¡± ¡°Retool!¡± ¡°Yes¡­ retool their lines every time. Not to mention that people wouldn¡¯t be keen on using undead-made items, even if you would give them out for free. Especially when talking about food.¡± ¡°I see.¡± The Guardian grumbled, before turning away. ¡°It¡¯s too bad, that you can¡¯t see the chance this technology represents. I am not in the business of preaching though. My Lord should be better outspoken in this matter.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go to the next level, there should be something more interesting for you there.¡± ¡°And what would that be?¡± ¡°Food, of course.¡± I smiled in response, before asking a question that burned brightly in my mind. A very uneasy question. ¡°About this factory of yours¡­¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°What it is currently producing?¡± ¡°Lebir Exploders.¡± ¡°A what?¡± ¡°Lesser Exploding Abominations. The undead who die in a fiery explosion? I think your people had already encountered them.¡± ¡°Yes¡­ yes, we did. And pray to tell, Guardian, how many of them you already produced in this manufactorum of yours?¡± ¡°A thousand or two.¡± ¡°A thou---!¡± ¡°They weren¡¯t being used as fast as we were making them, so my Lord kinda distributed them here and there. Sadly, you can¡¯t recognize His genius. Monsters making monsters. Revolutionary.¡± ¡°You mean¡­¡± ¡°Yes, they¡¯re pretty much everywhere. Some are being used as mobile excavation devices, or even being borrowed on excursions. The Ratlings are fascinated with them.¡± He whispered the last sentence before returning to a full-strength voice.¡± The dungeon can always produce more bodies and more metal, it''s just enough for this little factory to work wonders, no matter what the outsiders think.¡± As he continued the descent, I followed the Guardian, while feeling a cold sweat gather on my back. I wanted to scream. My two companions weren¡¯t in a better condition, their keen minds also understood the consequences of what was being said. Adam was hyperventilating, and Master Vincent walked slowly and cautiously like a stray step could end up in a disaster. I take it back, this dungeon core was a maniac! There is no intelligence to be found, malicious or otherwise. Because, who, by Brighton¡¯s sweaty balls, produces enough explosives to bury his own demesne ten times over?! 073 Charles former Blueflame noble We went deeper, with the halls growing dimmer and the lights sparser. The Floor Guardian room was empty, hidden under the same lake that our guide earlier emerged from. A curious design - it was hidden just under our noses this whole time, which turned out as a surprisingly effective solution, as long as it was unknown to the delvers. Then again even knowing where to go I couldn¡¯t really imagine forces under my command beating the armored monstrosity walking ahead. Not without engaging in some dubious tactics like bombing the whole place or invading the room with an overwhelming amount of people. Tactics that the dungeon might have an issue with. Tactics that were problematic now that I wanted to parley with it. A thought for the future, then. Not to mention that the metal chains keeping the Guardian captive (and sane) were gone, which seemed to be an upgrade, not a downgrade, considering he was not currently berserking. It was only by cutting said chains we managed to destroy him earlier. My new magic might be powerful, and the level of my class had risen to twenty-one, but I only had one life to spare, unlike the bosses and monsters spewed by the dungeon. It wouldn¡¯t be a problem in normal circumstances, human ingenuity proved its worth again and again, and yet these halls had already shown themselves more than difficult, and with a learning enemy, the risk of dying was just too great. Walking underwater was a horrid affair. We were fitted with some kind of breathing device (a rough mask with a connected tube providing fresh air) and told to keep our hands on the rope attached to our guide. There was a bit of a fuss since my men weren¡¯t happy with something dungeon-made stuck to their faces but I managed to calm them down, and a few minutes later we emerged in a humble room, our hair and clothes completely soaked. ¡°Why are we even here?¡± I mumbled, trying to get water out of my robe. The green flame was mildly useful in drying, its destructive properties were just too hard to precisely control, at least at my level. ¡°Couldn¡¯t we jump in through the scar? It¡¯s a direct route to the third floor.¡± ¡°It is only proper to allow you to walk the path of a real challenger. There is no honor in skipping ahead.¡± The Guardian rumbled with disgruntlement. There was something else here. Disappointment, or maybe just tiredness? It was hard to judge his mood by the tone of voice alone. Especially when his face was covered by a helmet. ¡°The Geinard Kingdom really degraded with time.¡± He continued his preaching. ¡°To think that you people try to use the easier way every time, instead of paying a toll in blood and sweat to defeat us rightly.¡± ¡°I feel it¡¯s unfair to say it this way.¡± I grumbled back, unable to keep myself silent. A monster or not, I would not have all the hard work done by me and mine likened to cheating. ¡°Oh, and why is that?¡± The armored knight was still walking, but he slowed down, half-turning his enormous body. Yet nothing bad happened, no retribution, no attack. Instead, I felt like I was once again in the old mansion¡¯s study, debating my tutor. ¡°What we¡¯ve become is a direct effect of the earlier generations'' actions working out the way you described it, sire.¡± I fumbled with words but continued speaking out seeing his curt nod. ¡±They kept their head high and faced difficulties head-on, bleeding and crying. The heroes, the villains, the courageous, and the self-sacrificial¡­ they went into battle, into dungeons - and died out as a result. They went extinct, like a legendary griffin! It wasn¡¯t a simple process, nor was it quick¡­ but why do you think the current Kingdom uses everything possible to reach its goals? Why do we stoop to the lowest things possible, now even using the undead to further our reach and to preserve our kind? It is not by choice!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t abide such things and yet I understand why my King and Queen were tempted to do so!¡± I stopped my tirade, breathing hard as my gaze grew more weary by the second. ¡°We¡¯re weaker than before, straining our backs against impossible odds, facing an inevitable extinction. But we refuse to die.¡± I repeated my words in a whisper, more to myself than to anyone else. ¡°We refuse to die.¡± There was a modicum of silence before an angry shout broke it to the pieces. ¡°I don¡¯t understand! You should die with pride! Die standing! The honor is worth more than mere blood!¡± As if to accentuate his point the Guardian hit the nearby wall, leaving a hole inside, with a few pieces of brick falling crushed to the ground. ¡°The glory of your ancestors beckons! Why do you not answer? Even a coward can find redemption! Why is your spirit broken?!¡± His anger didn¡¯t deter me in the slightest. Was I seeking death? Or was I just fed up dealing with the fools? ¡°Would you say the same if your death brought ruination to your wife, children, and friends? If defeat meant they were wiped from the face of the earth, would your moral code still matter then?¡± I asked quietly. ¡°Where chivalry ends and survival begins? You see the problem from the position of strength. We are weak. And weak need to use whatever¡¯s available to them. Better to live crawling than die standing.¡± I summed up my¡­ no - our, humanity¡¯s stance. The Geinard Kingdom took it literally, but wasn¡¯t it the same case with the Dross Republic? It¡¯s just that instead of scrapping the barrel even further, like we do they had given up and were trying to escape. The knight spread out his arms, before roaring to the heavens and then pointing his finger in my direction. ¡°But you are strong. Why the weakling mindset? Why the fear? Just move through the danger like a swift, sharp blade! Live a life worth remembering! Be a hero or a villain, not a bland nothingness!¡± ¡°I remember where I came from.¡± I answered calmly. ¡°And how there¡¯s always someone stronger. Someone more ruthless, someone with a conviction that lets them throw everything but power away. I am not a man like that. I won¡¯t let my pride get the best of me, not when I have so much to lose.¡± His answer was only a heavy gaze, which I returned in kind. A moment later we once again started walking, with only the sound of footsteps breaking the silence, our anger forgotten. Our guide was muttering under his nose, while tilting his head, listening to some unheard voice, and yet his steps were unhurried, confident. ¡°Besides¡­¡± I started, before immediately stopping. ¡°Yes?¡± The Guardian¡¯s eyes drilled into me, radiating intensity I rarely saw in the usually mirthful figure. Unable to retreat I took a deep breath and then continued speaking. ¡°Besides don¡¯t you and your father know best how hollow glory seems when death beckons and everything seems lost? Who will sing the songs about your battles, who will extoll the heroes, when humanity ceases to exist? When we are but dust and bones scattered by the winds?¡± My words seemed to have bitten deep. Maybe they were especially effective for one carrying Waltzer''s blood? Or was it the betrayal he hinted at? The Guardian, Daniel Waltzer, turned with a foreboding slowness, the power of his rage brightening the helmet¡¯s slits. Wisps of red energy flew above his head, disappearing into the ceiling. My retainers moved between me and him without a wasted word, their weapons ready to intercept. ¡°All I can hear is excuses! Excuses that your people think our deeds were for nothing. That the weaklings who live in the present will forget us and our foes. That they will not learn nor strive for greatness. They will not work for the same power that we traded our best years for, but instead, whimper pathetically on the graves of their betters! We, who shielded humanity with our blood and steel are to you but tombstones crumbling with each passing year!¡± He roared with righteous fury, a sword suddenly in his hand. He stepped forward and spat words through his clenched teeth while pointing the blade in my direction. ¡°I. Will. Not. Allow. That!¡± Despite the anger and the hostility, I could feel the despair in his tone. An ancient, lost in the present, clinging to the past glories. So I did the only thing that made sense. ¡°PARLEY! Parley!¡± I shouted raising my hands in the air, as his red eyes were gazing at my soul. Despite the nervousness, I emerged from behind two bodyguards with my head held high. Then I spoke slowly, carefully, weighing every word. ¡°What I am truly saying, is that your power, and that of your Lord will need living, reliable allies to keep the legend alive. A community, to remember those, who sacrificed themselves for humanity, and for the Geinard Kingdom, even if I am not a part of the latter anymore.¡± And as someone bearing a class named User of a Tainted Fire, I wasn¡¯t sure if the first part applied to me either. ¡°Ha. Very well. As long as you understand.¡± The knight answered, slowly sheathing his weapon. ¡°I¡¯m not the one to judge, but that¡¯s a weird stance to take when bargaining.¡± I could feel his anger dissipating as we spoke. ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for a man interested in such trifles, Sir Guardian, that¡¯s why I need to speak directly with your Lord.¡± I quipped back. ¡°Isn¡¯t that true.¡± He chuckled. ¡±My father always said that in this metal head of mine, there¡¯s naught, but battle and wine. Not that it matters now. Let¡¯s continue then, but remember - my Lord is not easily swayed, and neither is he easy to understand. Keep your honeyed words ready. You will need them.¡± Then, as if nothing happened, we started walking once again, leaving both Master Vincent and Adam unsure what to do. They were prepared to give their lives in my defense, and while I was immeasurably grateful for that devotion a short chastising was needed. ¡°Please let me do the talking, and from now on don¡¯t unsheathe your weapons no matter what.¡± I whispered urgently to the two old men. ¡°We¡¯re deep into the dungeon¡¯s territory and if words won¡¯t save us, nothing will.¡± They both answered with a nod, their faces wrinkling with concern. Adam was still keeping a free hand on the handle of his rapier, now sheathed at his side, while Master Vincent observed our surroundings with childlike excitement, which was frankly unbecoming of his age. I might¡¯ve made a mistake by bringing him here. His loyalty was questionable at the best of times and right now I worried that he might jeopardize my efforts be it accidentally or by design. Because if there was one thing that a real mage was loyal to, it was power. I chuckled a little. By my own definition, I wasn¡¯t a ¡°real¡± mage, then. After all this desperate overreach was not because of power or magic, but because of a certain woman¡¯s fate? And I guess my people too? Even deep in thought, I noticed that the environment around us slowly changed. The walls were still made from bricks, and the ceiling which many strange contraptions were hung under remained the same, yet the brownish material they were made from started to grow wetter, more glistening, and with this change creepy white, bone-like structures appeared for the first time. I faintly remembered them from the second floor. Maybe from the first? Noticing my interest the guide spoke up. ¡°These little things are called Bone Lichen, or, as your people call them - Water Moss.¡± He added after a second. ¡°It¡¯s mainly because of its white coloration and its tendency to form tubes full of water.¡± He gingerly poked one of the growths. It bent under the pressure, rebounding to the original shape a moment later. ¡°They¡¯re completely safe, both for consumption and drinking. Not the tastiest, or so the other denizens tell me. One of the small gifts created by our Lord.¡± ¡°Do they have to look so gross, though?¡± I asked, displeased. The amount of Lichen was growing bigger the more we walked. It turned the walls in the likes of a bone-strewn catacomb. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Things just ended up that way.¡± The Guardian shrugged, before continuing his walk. In a few minutes, the tunnel widened into a large cave, fitted with a false light and containing arable soil. What welcomed us was¡­ overwhelming. The idea of a jungle located so deep underground was preposterous, yet here it was. Dungeon magic made the impossible, possible. I devoured the sight before with greed. So much life. Life meant food. All these supplies were a method to keep our oldest enemy, starvation, at bay. The whole place was filled with plants - the large, silvery trees we saw on the surface, complete with smaller chompers located near their roots, but also completely new specimens, like bushes with thick leaves and yellowish berries, thorny vines clinging to both the walls and majority of the trees, or triangular plants, each with a single blue flower blooming on their top. And that was only the beginning, as the rest of the unknown flora stretched behind the first growths. The air was rife with weird smells, mostly those of decay, but there were a few others, that were harder to place. ¡°Welcome to the Experimental Gardens and here I present you its caretakers.¡± The Guardian boomed happily, pointing towards a group of rats waiting for us¡­ no, they were called Ratlings, weren¡¯t they? It would not look good if I slipped and called them what they were. I still wasn¡¯t sure how much the Dungeon Core cared about its servants. The monsters present looked distinctly different than the ones we¡¯d met before. For one they actually wore clothing, even if these were but brown, bland pieces of material, decorated with small bone idols. On that topic, a few pieces of said bone - or maybe it was the white moss we encountered earlier - were also hanging from their neck and arms. They looked like a part of a wild tribe. Their atmosphere was also strange, and it took me a while to notice why. Compared to their compatriots they felt mellower, as if they were less gifted with feral intelligence and hunger, with calm curiosity and patience taking their place. Amongst them the largest rodent stood at attention, its height nearly reaching my waist. It was wearing a more complete brown robe with a burlap cap sitting comfortably on its head. However, the most eye-catching feature of said monster were its eyes, with a familiar green haze contained within. It was the same tainted flame I was intimately connected with, ever since my class evolution. Upon seeing it I unconsciously drew upon my mana, creating a small flame levitating just above my palm. The green spell swirled and danced, drawing its - his - gaze. With a small bow, the rat screeched out a series of sounds that sounded suspiciously like a greeting. Our guide confirmed my guess a moment later. The Guardian coughed, before speaking out in an unsure tone. ¡°This is¡­ Feeder, the Council Rat responsible for this small piece of heaven.¡± Despite his face being completely covered I detected hints of laughter. ¡°He greets the fellow acolyte of the blessed flame and hopes that our Master will grace you with more of his power.¡± The Guardian chuckled, before translating again. ¡°If any of the plants catch your fancy Feeder will gladly describe their functions and dangers. He will even give out some pieces for free.¡± Another screech resounded, accompanied by a few more strange sounds. ¡°And please don¡¯t touch any of them unsupervised. Some are quite dangerous.¡± ¡°Yes¡­ yes, of course.¡± I nodded quickly, before falling into thought. I couldn¡¯t really lead an invasion so deep into the dungeon in order to gather provisions but getting some samples should help the farmers and the Silver Oasis on the whole. Sadly I was not fast enough, as Master Vincent decided to hijack the discussion. ¡°How were these plants even made? I can sense at least a few rare affinities, thunder, poison, metal¡­ so interesting.¡± ¡°The base specimens were made by our Creator and since that time we¡¯ve put effort into diversifying their ranks. Handberries, Rock Fruits, Clinging Thorns, Bifurics, Sweetdrain Bushes, and many more were created by these hands.¡± The rat leader couldn¡¯t look prouder, counting the number of plants made by his subordinates. He waved his hands excitedly in the air. It would be cute if not for the constant reminders that it was one of the dungeon¡¯s creatures. ¡°By carefully exposing the chosen strands to the altering power of the warp-stone we managed to keep a whole 5% of the results viable!¡± ¡°Ooooh!¡± Master Vincent exclaimed in awe. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a manipulation on the grand scale? There must¡¯ve been hundreds if not thousands of experiments! And a 5% survival rate for the new species? Amazing!¡± This was the first time I saw a rat coughing in his¡­ hand? Paw? ¡°The survival rate is about 2%¡± He screeched, clearly embarrassed. I could feel it even through translation. ¡°Some of the specimens turn out infertile or just not used to the underground environment and thus perish, despite our best efforts.¡± ¡°I see. A shame.¡± The old mage nodded before continuing his line of questioning. ¡°Do you have any pieces of this warp-stone available? I would love to continue your experiments on the surface!¡± There was a red flush on the otherwise grandfatherly face. There it was - the greed for the knowledge I knew so well. Some may call it shameless but even the powerful sometimes begged for handouts. ¡°We aren¡¯t supposed to share it.¡± The rat answered. Seeing Feeder¡¯s hesitation Master Vincent immediately pounced at the chance. ¡°But it isn¡¯t strictly forbidden, right?¡± He grinned. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be a donation either. I can trade for it, just tell me your price!¡± ¡°That is not the essence of the problem.¡± Feeder answered. Only now I realized how weird the name was. Who even named the creature? Was it the intelligence behind the dungeon? ¡°The warp-stone has unintended effects. Its magic changes anything that stays in contact with it, be it flora or fauna. Even dungeon monsters. It''s in the nature of the stone to do so. To force change on the surroundings.¡± He added after a second of hesitation. ¡°As I said before, the transformations are mostly negative, often ending in disastrous effects or straight-up death. Curiously, the animals or monsters have at least a fifty-fifty chance to come out alive, and one in five for the mutation to turn out beneficial.¡± There was something chilling in his recounting. How many creatures were sacrificed to gain that data, I wondered. In his greed, Master Vincent completely ignored these considerations. ¡°Surely you worked on suitable containment?¡± He asked slyly. ¡°We did, but no material known to Ratlings was able to isolate it. We theorize that the reason lies behind its ability to resonate with the souls around it, but that is nothing but a wild guess.¡± ¡°Souls?! By the Gods¡­¡± The mage gasped. ¡°How do you move it then?¡± ¡°Our race is anything but not prolific. There¡¯s always an array of fools volunteering to carry the pieces. All for a chance at greatness.¡± ¡°What¡­¡± ¡°Ehem.¡± The Guardian¡¯s deep voice interrupted the talk. ¡°We have only a few minutes left on the clock. Ask your last questions and we leave.¡± I nodded and raised my hand, before turning red. How long was it since I behaved like a student? Ignoring the chaos in my mind Feeder asked sharply. ¡°Yes, how I can help you, Acolyte of the Flame?¡± ¡°Do you have any fast-growing plant that is ready for human consumption?¡± I asked, preparing for a refusal. Why would the dungeon even grow something like that? It was counterproductive to feed the people that raided your home. The rat hummed, before nodding. ¡°Most of them are either dangerous or straight-up poisonous, but there¡¯s one that meets your conditions.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°It¡¯s called Azure Potato, named by the Creator himself. I believe that your people call it Blue Root?¡± His face scrunched with displeasure. ¡°It doesn¡¯t even look like a root!¡± ¡°I think I recall this plant.¡± Master Vincent pipped up. ¡°But wasn¡¯t it mildly poisonous? I mean the proliferation rate sure is something, but it¡¯s considered more of a weed, taking up the precious space needed to grow wheat.¡± ¡°That only shows how ignorant your people are. Azure Potato loses its poison after a thorough boiling, leaving a nutritious if somewhat bland flesh behind. Then it can be either eaten as it is, fried, or thrown into a stew. Truly a wonderous plant! It¡¯s one of the Creator¡¯s originals too!¡± The rat bounced in place, showing his happiness. ¡°What does the word---¡± Adam¡¯s words were interrupted by the Guardian. ¡°We need to leave. My Lord mostly finished his preparations.¡± He grumbled. The detour came to a close. ¡°Yes, of course.¡± I agreed. It wouldn¡¯t do to leave our host waiting. We could always raid this place, now that we knew it was here. Blood for food and power - wasn¡¯t that the dungeon way? There was a small commotion when Feeder bumped into me, his paws leaving something in my hands. Both Adam and Master Vincent froze, not sure what to do. ¡°It¡¯s a small present.¡± The Guardian explained with a huff. ¡°A Rock Fruit seed, which can be farmed and then mixed with Azure Potato. When growing together, they can mitigate both poison and the bitter taste.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± I bowed, quickly stowing the oblong seed into my pocket. No matter what, this trip was already a success. ¡°May the Creator guide you, Acolyte!¡± We left the Gardens in a strange mood. Each of us was filled with a sense of melancholy now, that we saw another side of dungeon creatures. A side that nobody else suspected. A side that couldn¡¯t and shouldn¡¯t be shared with the outside world. My people didn¡¯t need to know that the meat they hunted belonged to a sapient species. The burden was mine to bear. It took a few more minutes to delve even deeper, with the Floor Guardian being a giant rat this time. Or should I say humanoid rat? Unlike Ratlings who moved on all fours and still looked like enlarged animals, this specimen oozed violence only exacerbated by his large claws, powerful legs, and muscular body. While its eyes betrayed intelligence there was also a lot of pent-up anger contained within. The monster¡¯s muscles tensed just as we were walking by while a growl escaped its mouth. Waltzer responded with his own snarl - a warning that stopped the beast in its tracks. It still eyed us as one would a mortal enemy. As soon as we left the room and delved deeper, breaching the fourth floor the Guardian leading us stopped and turned around. He bowed slightly in our direction. ¡°I am sorry for the poor display. Berserker doesn¡¯t have a good track record when it comes to sapient races. He even died a few times when fighting against some of your fellow adventurers. Still, this reaction was unacceptable. You¡¯re here as guests.¡± ¡°I understand. It¡¯s hard to see past animosity.¡± I agreed easily. ¡°And the wheel of hatred continues unabated.¡± Adam muttered sagely while looking back. ¡°How old is he?¡± ¡°A week, or maybe even three? I don¡¯t really remember, and neither does he. Most of his life was spent in a hazy rage, fighting against your people.¡± ¡°I see.¡± There wasn¡¯t much more that I could say. We arrived on the lowest floor, the fourth one. The atmosphere changed once again, the earlier brick walls transforming into rock hallways, filled with a bunch of carved reliefs. It would be a nice place to observe the artistic prowess of the dungeon¡­ If only their topic was anything other than human sacrifice. As we moved the reliefs changed, but each of them was a variation of the same situation. A figure was secured on a sacrificial table, with others arranged around it. The weapons the cultists carried varied from small but sharp-looking knives, to drills and even butcher-like cleavers. The sacrifice was also always carried similarly, with pieces of flesh either taken from or forced into freshly cut wounds. It was both hideous and fascinating. Both of my bodyguards observed these carvings, Adam sharing my reaction, while Master Vincent simply stared, deep in thought. Was there a meaning I didn¡¯t understand hidden under the gruesome facade? Sadly, I didn¡¯t have time to ask, as our tour had come to an end. We were funneled into a large room, with a simple table located in the middle. Around it were a few stone chairs facing the nearest wall with a black gem and some machinery poking out. I immediately noticed that the gem was the dungeon core, even though the reaction from its magic was more muted than I expected it to be. Still, only a fool would make any suspicious moves right now, as I felt the Guardian and a few new monsters gather around us. Instead, I focused on the metal thing sprouting above the onyx mind. It was a metal rectangle not wider than 20 centimeters, with a hollow inner part and some kind of rod growing in the middle of it. A gray, unassuming item. Which immediately told me it was important, because, aside from the monsters, chairs, and the table it was the only other thing of note in the room. The moment later its purpose become clear, as we were assaulted by a sound attack! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE Everyone around me, be it a monster or human fell to their knees, using their hands to fruitlessly try to block the rising noise. Soon I felt wetness pouring from my ears and nose. EEEEEEEEEEEEE-¡±-ree, one, two, three, one, two, three. Oh? Ooooh! Is it working? Yes! YES! YES! I am a genius!¡± The unbearable scream turned into a somewhat frantic male voice. There was still a metallic tone contained within but the sound was at least bearable. The person on the other side sounded vaguely surprised. ¡°Wait. Why are you people on the floor?¡± Then it started to mutter. ¡°We aren¡¯t too deep, so it''s not a lack of oxygen. Maybe magical pressure? Or they were attacked? By whom - enemy, or rogue creation? The big rat sure wanted to take a bite¡­ But then again Non also was looking a bit sus---¡­ No, no, I¡¯m not accusing anyone, stop your tantrum, girl!¡± After a few seconds of speaking nonsense aloud, its attention returned to the room. ¡°Wait! WHY ARE YOU LOT BLEEDING?!¡± Its ridiculously loud scream nearly ruptured my eardrums again. The people and monsters around me rolled on the floor. That was my first encounter with the ¡°intelligence¡± behind the dungeon. My first face-to-face encounter with Uno, the Madman. 074 Uno I admit, I panicked. Just when I managed to wrangle my mana into usefulness and force the damn megaphone to work all my creatures were already down on the floor, squirming, with the Guardian being the only exception. Even worse - my guests had joined them, blood trickling out of their ears and noses. I sure hoped that no permanent damage was done, especially since I just finished creating my newest toy. It would be a shame if I had to revert to drawing pictures or writing words, just because their eardrums had ruptured. It was more personal to speak face to face even if technically I didn¡¯t have one. Then again I could ask the Butchers to try and make some kind of a hearing aid. Ratlings could also help with that, one of the Rat Councilors specialized in creating machinery, after all. Surely the cost would be minimal, as they had already mostly analyzed human anatomy. Only a puppet or maybe three would have to be sacrificed in the process¡­ We had a bunch of sapients upstairs too, in case they were needed to further the scientific progress. Anyway, I noticed the problem and reacted immediately even if it was mostly by flailing around in panic. It was hard to understand the situation, so my habit of speaking aloud resurfaced and somehow managed to make the situation even worse. Damn it. It was only when Charles whispered ¡°too loud¡± that I was able to recognize what happened. This new machine of mine didn¡¯t have a volume setting! It just converted the mana I provided directly into sound. And since I was all gung-ho about talking, I kinda pumped it all the way up. The criminal was in the room all along. Sigh. Here went my good first impression. At least now I had a weaponized megaphone, so it wasn¡¯t all bad. I¡¯m sure that the Ratlings would be delighted. Gotta send them copies¡­ whoops, that¡¯s a thought for the future. Let¡¯s focus on the now. What should I do? Should I try to gloss over the situation? Or just say that they have passed my test, by virtue of not dying? But then my creatures were on the floor too. Argh! Whatever. Let¡¯s just roll with it. I will work my way through the list. First, introductions. ¡°Hello! Sorry for the mess! My name is Uno, and I¡¯m the master of this dungeon.¡± ¡°A few of my creatures will arrive shortly with wet towels and bandages. I hope nobody was too badly hurt. Please don¡¯t be afraid and let them do their thing. You won¡¯t be harmed, I promise.¡± I blared the words at the much lower mana levels and the guests'' reaction seemed acceptable. As in they didn¡¯t continue to twitch on the floor. I also specifically didn¡¯t add that it was the spider-like Butchers who were chosen to help them. Here¡¯s hoping that no one had arachnophobia. The people and monsters in the room slowly rose to their feet, their stances still a bit wobbly. A group of scissor-handed monsters entered a minute later, carrying warm water and pieces of cloth. The reaction was less than ideal, as humans observed the newcomers with suspicious expressions, ready to spring into action at any sign of betrayal. Good thing my creatures didn¡¯t give them an excuse to bloody the floor even more. In the end, I ordered the Butchers to leave the cloth and water nearby and evacuate the premises. This allowed Charles to focus and give an answer to my introduction. ¡°As you probably know I am called Charles, formerly a scion of the Blueflame house.¡± He bowed slightly, with a hand on his chest. ¡°I¡¯m the person responsible for the Silver Oasis outpost, built above your dungeon. We¡¯re an entity independent from the Geinard Kingdom¡­ although that¡¯s mostly not by a choice.¡± He grimaced. ¡°On my left stands Master Vincent, an archmage and wizard extraordinaire, wielding the power of arcane magic.¡± The helmet-wearing man in question bowed deeper than Charles. ¡°It¡¯s an honor to meet you!¡± He exclaimed happily. ¡°I have so many questions¡­¡± His grin looked a little scary. ¡°My other retainer is Adam, a long-time servant, and a trusted aide.¡± The other old man bowed deeply, before speaking in a calm and measured tone. ¡°An honor.¡± His gaze was focused on my fake onyx core. ¡°It is the first time I managed to gaze upon the magnificence of a dungeon core crystal.¡± He bobbed his head. ¡°The stories don¡¯t come close to the reality.¡± ¡°Hello, I¡¯m also glad to have met you!¡± I answered in a bubbly manner. Oh dear, this first real interaction with humans sure got me in a twist! I grinned mentally before continuing. ¡°I hope that the welcome wasn¡¯t too unpleasant. There were some problems, but I had to work on the spot, to make the communication viable. After all, usually, it¡¯s not needed.¡± I explained, before noticing a suspiciously greedy look in Vincent¡¯s eye. ¡°It¡¯s all good now, however, so we can start.¡± ¡°Start?¡± Charles repeated after me, his face scrunched in suspicion. ¡°I still have questions. And I won¡¯t budge before I get them answered.¡± ¡°Oh, come on!¡± I sighed aloud. Seeing his steely gaze I changed the tone. ¡°Ask away, then. I won¡¯t promise complete truths, though.¡± ¡°First, who are you? I mean, really. The dungeon cores are feral things, lacking not only intelligence but often even animalistic cunning. You¡­ you are a different beast.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± I idly mused. ¡°But there are others like me, though? Forgotten Dungeons you called them. Beasts given reason, continuing your analogy.¡± ¡°You are still not the same!¡± Charles answered, his teeth clenched. ¡°Even your word games betray how different you are. Yes, these dungeons use tactics, plan ahead, and even can feel fear¡­ But they use these advantages to further their goals. Clean, easy-to-understand goals! To enlarge the dungeon, to defeat delvers, to protect their core!¡± ¡°And I do not?¡± ¡°More word games!¡± I glanced at the agitated mage. His eyes were burning and it seemed like he wasn¡¯t going to let the question be ignored. And like hell I was going to admit that I was a former human. Silver Oasis people may accept the explanation, but I sure didn¡¯t want to provoke the religious nuts from Luna Kingdom or that Elven Theocracy. Especially since the gods who sent me here were fucking incompetent. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I am.¡± I lied through my teeth. At least my robotic tone lacked inflection. ¡°I was born under these ruins years ago and slowly gained intelligence. The multiple artifacts that lay under the sands were consumed during my growth and in turn, they strengthened my personality until Uno was born.¡± ¡°It means ¡®one¡¯, you know?¡± I continued. ¡°In the language that nobody around here speaks anymore.¡± This at least wasn¡¯t a lie. ¡°Because I am the first, and probably the last of my kind.¡± ¡°Such a waste¡­¡± Murmured Master Vincent. ¡°How many magical items had you feed on, to evolve so much?¡± ¡°More like, how many items had Henrik Waltzer gathered in the basement of his castle.¡± Adam added his own take. ¡°And do any of them still exist?¡± ¡°Why do you think the dungeon ends on the fourth floor?¡± I shot back. ¡°A shame¡­¡± ¡°Now, now. Not everything had been lost.¡± It was time for a little needling. ¡°It¡¯s curious, however, how your people blatantly ignore the resurfacing relics you so praise.¡± It took Charles only a few seconds to understand my jab. ¡°The thunder-infused weapons?¡± ¡°Bingo!¡± I laughed. ¡°What?¡± ¡°That means ¡®correct¡¯.¡± ¡°I see. Dammit, that came out of nowhere. We need to reevaluate¡­ I assume we can expect more artifacts to resurface?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°It would be the greater boon if only the trade with the Kingdom didn¡¯t dry up¡­¡± The former noble refocused his attention on my fake core. ¡°Only one question remains, then.¡± Charles inhaled deeply, not noticing Master Vincent¡¯s hurt look. ¡°What do you want from us? What is your goal, Uno?¡± ¡°Oh, come on! Drop the pretense. What do I want? I could ask you the same question! The leader of the settlement, mage or not, wouldn¡¯t be delving this deep into the dungeon unless something truly devastating happened! So out with it.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°What? That¡¯s¡­¡± He hesitated and I couldn¡¯t stop myself from sighing. Oh well¡­ it¡¯s a time good as any for a little¡­ play. ¡°You see, we are not so different - you and I.¡± I exclaimed, observing Charles¡¯ mood before laughing aloud. ¡°Why the long face?¡± It was all so cliche! ¡°Hahahahahahahaha!¡± The sound of a metallic chuckle filled the room, visibly upsetting the humans. ¡°Both of us were dealt a bad hand by the fates. Or, more probably by these ignorant gods!¡± There was another flinch. Ah, yes. Religion. Let¡¯s stop with lambasting. ¡°Both you and I will do anything to reach our goals, no matter the consequences.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ll turn the question around. What do you want to do, even if the world has to burn? And what are you prepared to sacrifice for it to be done?¡± I grinned. Was this how Palpatine felt, tempting Anakin? One way or another this was so much fun! The red-haired mage steadied his breathing before answering. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. What I lack most is the strength to oppose the giants fighting on my doorstep. The Geinard Kingdom, the undead, and even the half-elves are keeping an eye on us. It is easy to become collateral without some kind of protection.¡± ¡°Gaining strength is easy, as long as you desire it enough to forsake your humanity.¡± I answered leadingly, before observing Charles¡¯ frown in response. Too bad the laughter in my words didn¡¯t translate through the megaphone. Should I name it a magic-phone? Hmmm¡­ Let¡¯s focus. ¡°Oh come on!¡± I answered calmly. ¡°You don¡¯t think such things are easy to do? There is - there has to be - a price to be paid. A law of equivalent exchange, if you wish.¡± I spouted more bullshit. At least a few ways of strengthening were banal to pull off. But I disliked giving out things on principle. Call me a Scrooge all you want, but nobody values boons they got for free. ¡°Yes, I understand, but that¡¯s not the real reason I¡¯ve come here today.¡± He answered stiffly. ¡°So?¡± ¡°My fiance, Agnes was hurt by an unusual curse. I want you to destroy the binds of foul magic and free her from its power.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a courageous course of action, boy.¡± The old mage mused, his face brightening. ¡°Are you sure? While the Geinard Kingdom might be lenient for now they¡¯ll surely mobilize once one of the Pillars has been dealt with.¡± Vincent chucked for a second. ¡°Even if it would be only to seek revenge.¡± ¡°Master! Please reconsider!¡± The butler hastily added. ¡°We lack the strength to face the consequences.¡± I laughed again. ¡°I see, I see! You want your lovebird back, before throwing your humanity away to defend her? Romantic! I like it! And to do so you¡¯ll easily taunt the giants brawling on your doorstep.¡± I lied. The course of his actions was of no importance as long as I got my hands on his body. Ah, that sure sounded perverted. ¡°I would prefer if you didn¡¯t call her a ¡®lovebird¡¯.¡± The red-haired mage scoffed. ¡°She had sacrificed much for my wellbeing, it¡¯s only proper that I repay her. After all, she was the only one who found worth in me.¡± ¡°Dude, are you a simp?¡± I asked. Whoops, I didn¡¯t mean to say it¡­ the judgment kinda slipped out. ¡°What? What does that even mean?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, don¡¯t worry¡­¡± I mumbled, before forcefully changing the topic. ¡°Anyway, sure. I can do curse cleansing. Of course, I would need some¡­ incentive to start the procedure.¡± ¡°What do you have in mind?¡± ¡°For one I want a mage with an intact core and additionally a few normal humans. Alive, of course. Preferably female.¡± ¡°For what purpose?¡± ¡°I have some experiments to run, and I¡¯ve already finished going through my stock.¡± ¡°Does that mean the undead monstrosities we encountered down here were made from Geinard Kingdom¡¯s citizens?¡± Adam puffed up, his hand crawling closer to the rapier. ¡°Of course not!¡± He exhaled, relaxing slightly. ¡°I¡¯ve used them in more important experiments than simply turning sentients into undead! I already know how to do that!¡± ¡°Y-you, m-mon-monster!¡± The instant spluttering was so gratifying. After a fit of giggling, I started to answer. ¡°Anyone who delves into my depths is fair game. You plunder my resources, kill the creatures, and occupy the first floor against my will, so I will extract the price in blood. That is only fair.¡± There was a heavy silence, the humans suddenly understanding who they were talking to. I was not a friendly grandpa or one of their own. I was a predator made for one purpose only. To cull humans. ¡°I am not an animal you tamed. I am not like other cores. And I know that if I had a head, arms, and legs, what you¡¯ve been doing to me would be classified as theft. As arson. Murder. Rape.¡± I exhaled. The emotional response was troubling. I guess, that''s what I get for actually speaking with real people after doing monologues all on my own. ¡°So don¡¯t you dare to lecture me on the morality of my actions, human. An eye for an eye. It is only proper.¡± ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry for the words of my subordinate.¡± Charles unwillingly bowed his head. I observed him for a moment, before speaking back. ¡°Don¡¯t be. I understand the sentiment. People die in my halls. They lose their loved ones. To act composed and analytical about it would be a foolish endeavor. The emotions are not so easy to quell.¡± I coughed fakely. ¡°Now, back to the deal. Like I said, a mage and a few humans. I don¡¯t care if they¡¯re your citizens, criminals, or outsiders. What matters is that they breathe, and are in a conscious condition.¡± ¡°What are the chances of their survival?¡± ¡°Eh¡­ that¡¯ll wary. I would say 20-80.¡± ¡°As in one in a five chance to survive?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°Do they need to have their bodies intact?¡± ¡°Master?!¡± The butler Adam shouted with indignation. ¡°Shush. The adults are talking.¡± I admonished the man¡¯s subordinate and it took Charles only a single glare to quieten him down. Morality was such a burden. ¡°Not in the slightest. You can bring me all the nuggies in the world and I still would accept them.¡± ¡°Nuggies?¡± ¡°People with no arms and legs.¡± ¡±I see.¡± The mage turned around, his face bereft of emotion. ¡°Adam, how many of the veterans are heavily wounded? And I mean those in critical condition. Not the ones who can recover.¡± ¡°A dozen or two, master.¡± The servant answered unwillingly. ¡°I see. We can always frame the experiment as a procedure to regrow their body parts. I am sure that they would agree, even if we exaggerate the risks. Not many want to be a burden for their family, forced to simply watch as the world goes by.¡± ¡°And we¡¯re not even lying, because there¡¯s a chance of recovery, no matter how small.¡± Charles turned his intent gaze towards my fake onyx core. ¡°They will be returned, if they manage to live through it, right?¡± ¡°If the procedure works, then sure. They might have a special ability or two, including additional limbs or bonus brain damage, but yeah. It¡¯s basically healing. Not counting the mage, of course. There is no chance in hell to survive what I¡¯ve planned for that patient.¡± ¡°I see. Don¡¯t worry, for that¡­ procedure I already have a candidate ready. It¡¯s not a woman, though. You¡¯ll have to live with that.¡± ¡°I am so disappointed.¡± I answered flatly. ¡°Surely you don¡¯t have any of my students in mind, boy?¡± The helmeted mage mumbled, observing Charles with a frowning face. ¡°Of course not, Master Vincent! You probably remember the worm who attacked me after delivering Agnes to the outpost?¡± ¡°Ah, that earth mageling. What was his name?¡± ¡°I believe he was called Peter.¡± Adam answered. ¡°Yes, yes. Good seed, that one, at least when it came to magic. Not so good when it came to anything else.¡± ¡°That¡¯s describing it lightly. No sane person, mage or not, would¡¯ve attacked the outpost leader. I may not be a noble, but at the time I was still an official of the Geinard Kingdom.¡± Charles shook his head in dismay. ¡°Let¡¯s not talk about fools. If that¡¯s all, then I believe we have a deal.¡± ¡°Well, there are two more things.¡± He frowned. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡± ¡°The girl needs to be transported down to the fourth floor. Only here do I have the infrastructure and servants capable of saving her.¡± ¡°What? Unacceptable! She would be your hostage in all but name!¡± The mage stood up, agitated, a greenish aura of mana appearing around his body. My servants reacted immediately, reaching for their weapons. The situation escalated in but a mere second. [Take it easy, Guardian.] I sent to the armored knight, and he relaxed immediately. Such a touching display of trust. ¡°Calm down, please.¡± I broadcasted sardonically. ¡°Do you have any other way, then? Will your people accept my monsters walking around their homes? Will your mages ignore the screams that the experiments will cause? Please, enlighten me.¡± There was anger on the mage¡¯s face as he stared down my crystal. ¡°Ease up, boy.¡± It was Master Vincent¡¯s voice that surprisingly stopped the showdown. ¡°You¡¯ve already dipped your toes and now you refuse to take a plunge. It¡¯s already too late. If the Kingdom had any spies in your colony - and surely they do exist - then the king and the queen were already informed about your actions.¡± ¡°What other cause would you have to delve into the depths of a Forgotten Dungeon if not trying to dislodge the Succubus'' greedy fingers from your fiancee?¡± The old mage continued. ¡°They won¡¯t take any risks.¡± ¡°The die has been already cast.¡± I mused. ¡°An interesting saying. Did you borrow it from the ancients?¡± Vincent¡¯s leathery face brightened with curiosity. ¡°Who knows.¡± I evaded before glancing at the nervous humans. ¡°Give me a break. I¡¯ll even allow some of your soldiers to be stationed with her.¡± ¡°Why? To get you more experimental subjects? Not a chance!¡± ¡°Tsk.¡± I clucked my tongue. It was a small distraction, needed to deceive Charles, to show that he was still in control. After all, I don¡¯t have a tongue or face. Not anymore. But if my plan goes through¡­ ¡°So? What will it be?¡± ¡°You have a deal.¡± He answered darkly. ¡°And the second condition?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll need you to accompany me for a moment after the procedure with your fiancee is done. There¡¯s an artifact that I¡¯ll need to integrate with a human and you¡¯re the best candidate.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ll basically be a sacrifice?¡± ¡°Oh, come on. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m an evil monster. Give me a break. I need you to grow stronger, just like we talked before. Your Silver Oasis managing to beat back the baddies would be nice for me too, you see. The price will be steep, but who needs humanity, am I right?¡± I responded with a false cheer. ¡°There is no trust between us.¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°And yet you ask to believe you.¡± ¡°Do you have any other choice?¡± ¡°Haaaa¡­¡± And just when everything was going right as I planned a certain gloomy girl teleported into the room. Her eyes were wide open, filled with murderous rage. She wore her silver leg and arm with a sass uncommon in an undead. Former adventurer, former Princess¡¯ aide, and currently a Revenant in my employ had decided to bring her two cents to the negotiations table. ¡°Trai. Tor.¡± She wheezed, staring down at the human guests. ¡°Non, please¡­¡± I begged while nudging Guardian to block her approach. ¡°Tinna? You were alive?¡± Charles added to the chaos, trying to get closer to my Iron-Melded Revenant. ¡°Tinna!¡± Fuck. And it was going so great¡­ 075 Uno Stupid. So stupid. Here I was, once again getting ahead of myself, and not taking all the possible factors into account. You can say that no plan survives contact with the enemy and yada, yada, yadda, but forgetting about Non¡¯s hatred of Geinard Kingdom was completely my fault. It was already a pain to stop her from decimating the undead aboveground, not to mention murdering more of Charles¡¯ soldiers and now I had to deal with her inability to differentiate between the new Silver Oasis and the former Kingdom-controlled Silver Oasis. Or, as they say, the lack of an ability to understand politics. ¡°Tinna! Tinna! You¡¯re alive!¡± Charles continued his crazy shouts, only adding to the confusion while his guards desperately tried to keep him apart from the clearly undead girl. I had my own screaming to do, so I promptly ignored his reaction. It was a problem for another time. [Non, please!] I repeated my earlier askance. [These people are not enemies. They no longer respect the authority of the Geinard Kingdom! An independent city-state, that¡¯s what they are!] [Trai. Tors. All.] She sent back, not even trying to speak aloud. [Child. Kill. Ers.] What? Making use of my confusion the revenant girl sunk into shadows, her usually emotionless face sending shivers down my nonexistent spine. [Guardian, stop her!] I ordered, desperately scanning the room. Despite not hearing the contents of my conversation the humans¡¯ alertness shot through the roof. They knew that something was amiss from Guardian¡¯s reaction and Non¡¯s undisguised hostility. Only Charles still couldn¡¯t accept that a former ally was now trying to murder him. Non reappeared from the Guardian¡¯s shadow, popping up between him and his charges. She jumped, ready to drop on her victims like a personification of vengeance. Thankfully the armored warrior noticed her shadow jump and swatted her back while she was still suspended in the air. A superhuman feat, that. For a millisecond the metal collided with metal and a jarring screech echoed in the room. The shadow assassin was thrown straight at the nearby wall, her arm stretched out to cushion the impact. This turned out to be not that great of an idea because her appendage crunched nastily as she hit the rock wall. It bent in the wrong direction, making me cringe at the mere sight of the damage. This however didn¡¯t stop her in the slightest, as she glanced down before fixing it up with the simple use of inhuman strength. The arm crunched again, before regaining its earlier shape. After the damage was undone Non focused on the humans once again. ¡°Stop.¡± She hissed towards the Guardian, her eyes blaring with a dangerous light. ¡°I can¡¯t, little lady. It is the Lord¡¯s order for the visitors to not come to harm. I live to serve.¡± He answered with a mirthless chuckle, slowly repositioning his armored body between the undead and Charles''s entourage. ¡°My. Due.¡± ¡°I know that vengeance is what you subsist on.¡± The Guardian answered with a touch of pity in his words. ¡°But is it really an act of righteous revenge if you dish it out on the innocent? Where does it end, and where a senseless slaughter begins? Reconsider, before you fall into darkness.¡± His words had fallen on deaf ears, as the feeling of aggression Non gave out didn¡¯t diminish in the slightest. My servant¡¯s words didn¡¯t strike a chord so I silently added my two cents to convince her. That and reinforcements were already on the way, so playing for time was a valid strategy. [You mentioned child killers - who are you talking about? Charles and his cronies didn¡¯t have any contact with you or yours. How are they worthy of your rage?] The undead¡¯s gaze turned toward my fake onyx core. [Lord. Hawk. Friend.] She ground her teeth. [Ene. My.] [Wait, wait, wait. Your enemy is anyone who¡¯s friends with Lord Hawk? That scary dude, who kicked my ass and saved the elves? That Lord Hawk?] [Ene. My.] Non nodded. [Vam. Pire.] [That¡¯s a bit too large of a revelation¡­] I mumbled helplessly. [How do you even¡­] My voice trailed off. [You know what? I don¡¯t want to know. The highest-leveled leader of a monster-hunting organization in the country¡­ An organization that was literally named after him, may I remind you - that guy is a monster. A freakin¡¯ vampire. Sure. Let¡¯s roll with it. The King and the Queen were also turned, so it isn¡¯t that unbelievable.] Another nod. [Now. Kill.] [No!] This time Non decided to sacrifice one of her daggers, throwing it in Charles''s direction. The Guardian intercepted it of course, but doing so forced him to overextend. His form lunged forward just as the girl sunk into another shadow, a second later emerging behind his armored frame. The situation was similar to one before, but this time my Guardian was just a tad too slow to intervene. But Non had also miscalculated. These people weren¡¯t her usual prey - helpless soldiers or undead taken by surprise but instead prepared human elites hardened by countless battles. Well, two of them. This Adam fellow was instead busy shaking in his boots. Anyway. That was why the moment taken as she prepared to strike was already a moment too late. A fireball and an arcane lance punched through her center of gravity at the same time, once again sending her flying. There was a THUNK and another wall had its carvings reduced to dust. The Sculptor was going to be exasperated. Contrary to the explosive visuals Non was pretty much unharmed, her black eyes filled with anger, not pain. She started to rise¡­ but the time was already up. Reinforcements had arrived. A gaggle of Spider-walkers and a few Spider-walker Generals burst into the room, readying their nets and needles. A few Spider-walker Butchers arrived too, primarily to provide support in case somebody was hurt. The large room suddenly felt much smaller, with the metallic appendages clanking on the stone floor. Under my direction they moved near Non, aggressively waving their arms. ¡°We have you surrounded, Non. Please desist.¡± I answered with a bit giddily. She glared back but decided to keep silent. ¡°You said that those who are Lord Hawk''s friends are your enemies but it was him, and other Geinard Kingdom¡¯s bigwigs, who sent the undead army against the surface people. Against the Silver Oasis, whose leader you just tried to assassinate.¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that make you a person that¡¯s helping the Geinard Kingdom the most?¡± There was confusion in her eyes. Good. One last push. ¡°An enemy of my enemy is my friend. Does that ring any bells? You already had to flee from the Kingdom¡¯s pursuit. Are you going to keep trying with the same resources to get the same result? Or maybe you need allies? Strong allies, that can easily fend for themselves, just like they fended off your attack?¡± ¡°Think about it.¡± She answered with a short nod, her gaze considering. She tugged on her braided hair, thoughts of battle instantly forgotten. ¡°What was that?¡± Charles asked and I cursed under my nose. Right. I had to explain her presence. ¡°Why is Tinna down here? What happened to her? What¡¯s with all the metal?!¡± He screamed out the last words. ¡°Hmph.¡± She scoffed, sizing up the red-haired mage and waving her hand in my core¡¯s direction. ¡°Tell.¡± She spoke and then promptly melded into darkness, but not before dumping the explaining duty on my shoulders. Women. I sighed, before answering. ¡°That¡¯s a long story, I¡¯m afraid.¡± ¡°We have time.¡± ¡°Sure¡­ let¡¯s start at the beginning.¡± It took a few hours to explain how Tinna (now Non) was a member of Hawks, her role as a spy for the said group, how she was rescued by the divine magic (I sure wasn¡¯t going to tell them it was Gangria, the corrupted Goddess that did it), and then started working as my dungeon¡¯s contracted monster. In the meantime, I also asked Non about the child killers she was raving about and learned what happened to her siblings. Starvation was a bad way to go. Even more when it happened to the children¡­ When I finished the faces of Charles¡¯ entourage were hard to describe. Both Charles and Adam were nearly crying their hearts out. It was easy to understand. The most interesting one, however, was Master Vincent. His face looked a little bit off. There was regret, anger, and a pinch of understanding in his expression. ¡°You know, Charles.¡± He started speaking in barely a whisper. ¡°I knew that the situation in Shieldstar was bad. That the people living in the capital were dying of hunger. That¡¯s how I get most of my recruits - orphans with a penchant for magic taken off the streets.¡± ¡°I noticed that they seemed to be especially devout. More so even than mages reared by my family.¡± The noble agreed. ¡°Saving one¡¯s life does that for a man. Or a woman.¡± Master Vincent smiled feebly, before putting his hand on Charles¡¯ shoulder. ¡°And yet I didn¡¯t understand how bad the situation was. How the people were not even starved but deliberately killed off¡­ and then probably buried in the dungeon.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ horrible.¡± ¡°It¡¯s only efficient. Use whatever you can use, right? Even level-less starved children provided some sustenance to the capitol¡¯s food-bearing dungeon.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t let Tinna--¡± ¡°She¡¯s now called Non.¡± I interrupted. After glaring at my interruption Charles continued his thought. ¡°Don¡¯t let Non get wind of this. She¡¯ll try to assassinate the Geinard Kingdom¡¯s whole damn bureaucratic class.¡± ¡°And maybe she should.¡± Murmured Adam, his expression still horrified. The old man wasn¡¯t taking the news well. ¡°One death is a tragedy.¡± I cited. ¡°A death of a thousand - merely a statistic.¡± There was a brief mourning silence before I continued. ¡°The people who give out orders aren¡¯t seeing what the commoners see so it¡¯s easy for them to not care.¡± ¡°Is that also ancient wisdom from a bygone era?¡± Damn it¡­ me, and my big mouth. ¡°Yes.¡± I answered curtly. ¡°It¡¯s oddly comforting that the human race doesn¡¯t change. The atrocities committed by the ancients remain the same as the ones done today. Otherwise, why would there be a need for such a callous saying.¡± Mused Master Vincent, his eyes clouded with emotion. Charles clapped his hands. ¡°Let¡¯s focus on the now.¡± Seeing the agreement, he continued. ¡°Uno.¡± ¡°Yep?¡± ¡°I agree to your terms. You will get your volunteers and the required sacrifices. After they return I will send Agnes to join you on the fourth floor. On one condition though.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Your core will remain in the room.¡± ¡°A fine collateral.¡± I agreed. The fake core can stay here all they want. ¡°That is agreed, then. Of course, I¡¯ll have my creatures stationed nearby for everyone''s safety.¡± ¡°That is fair.¡± Charles agreed impassively. ¡°After my fiancee is healed I¡¯ll also arrive, to finish what we started.¡± He added ominously. ¡°Sure.¡± I was certain that this meant an expedition would be forming with the sole goal of shattering me¡­ once I outlived my usefulness. ¡°Please hurry though. The sooner I finish my tests the earlier I can start healing your precious girlfriend.¡± ¡°She¡¯s not¡­¡± He breathed out with a tired gaze before forcibly changing the topic. ¡°If that¡¯s all then we will begin our ascent shortly.¡± ¡°Would it be all right if I stayed on the third floor? The garden there is fascinating.¡± Master Vincent took this opportunity to push his interests. ¡°What about your safety?¡± The red-haired noble worried aloud, his gaze focusing on a few of my creations still lingering around. I let them stay because no one knew when Non¡¯s mood would turn. ¡°Young Charles, there are things in life more important than one¡¯s safety!¡± ¡°Researching farming techniques of monsters located deep underground isn¡¯t one of them.¡± ¡°Maybe for you.¡± The mage grumbled under his breath before smiling teasingly. ¡°Alas, weren¡¯t you given a gift yourself? Way to disparage the little rats after receiving such boon.¡± ¡°This¡­ You¡¯re not wrong. Their generosity may be a way to stave off the starvation.¡± Charles shook his head. ¡°Do what you want.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine with me too.¡± I added, not wanting to be outdone. It was my dungeon, dammit! It wasn¡¯t all bad though. Maybe - just maybe - my Ratlings can learn something useful from the old master of the arcane. I need to remember to give them copies of the sonic weapon too. Well, it was technically a megaphone but tomato - tomahto. Having said their lines the humans retreated, once again following Guardian¡¯s armored back. The journey upward was uneventful, save for a small gathering of Ratlings contained in the Gardens. They waved and squeaked in delight at the mere sight of Charles. Seeing him not knowing how to react was kinda funny. All good things come to an end, though. Soon they reached the surface, only to be greeted by a frustrated runner. The young man was sweating even more than before and started to yell as soon as he saw Charles emerge from the dungeon¡¯s entrance. ¡°Master Charles! Master Charles! Trouble!¡± ¡°Calm down, boy!¡± The noble yelled back, despite not being that much older. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡± ¡°Master Outeles has disappeared with most of the Republic-borne people! The horses are also missing!¡± ¡°Curse that merchant!¡± Charles spat angrily. ¡°A-a-and he left a letter for you!¡± The noble took the paper gingerly, before breaking the seal. Now, that was interesting! If only¡­ Yes! YES! I had an Evil Eye nearby and it was growing just in the right spot to glean the contents of the letter. Now, if only I had some popcorn¡­ Master Charles, I hope this letter finds you well. You¡¯re probably furious both at me, and my people, but please, hold back your anger. We simply had no choice, and the time was not on our side. What I¡¯m about to tell you is a bribe, plain and simple. It is however one of the most guarded secrets of our people. Well¡­ Not anymore. The cogs of history had turned and soon what was secret would come to light. But you will have an earlier start than your competitors and knowledge is always worth something. Even if only to bargain with it or sell it to the highest bidder. The continent is dying. I¡¯m sure you know it as well as I and every other doomed soul walking this earth. Most of us choose to take our last stand and defend those we love and the country we were born into to the bitter end. The Dross Republic chose differently. We poured our resources into exploring the unknown and in the end, in the blood and sweat of our sailors, we found it. The mythical second continent. We called it Drossia. Quaint, don¡¯t you think? And we¡¯re all going there. By boat, by airship, on the backs of the tamed monsters, and onboard never-seen underwater machines. For three years we tirelessly prepared and now - we¡¯re ready. The few who choose to remain will bury our cities and destroy the remaining infrastructure. The reservoirs of toxic substances and corrosive gases will be released. Soon the former Dross Republic will be reduced to ash and rubble. May the world know that even during our escape we honored the agreements made by our ancestors. No monster will leave the Republic''s soil alive. I and my people are already late. The escape vessels are leaving and if we stretch our supplies we can barely make it. And while working for your Oasis was intoxicating this was never a stable commitment, but just a temporary fling. I do not wish to lie down my bones here, in defense of a foreign dream. So forgive me and don¡¯t chase after the people I¡¯ve taken. Yours eternally Outeles Kamap P.S. The horses were taken from my caravan. I¡¯m not stealing anything. Well¡­ damn. 076 Uno I couldn¡¯t even imagine how a whole nation wanted to simply escape the calamity but three years seemed like not enough time to fully prepare for such an endeavor. Even working with the premise that it was impossible to save everyone, not to mention those stubborn enough to stay in their cities and villages the timescales seemed just¡­ off. What''s more, the uniformity described by the Outeles also didn¡¯t ¡°click¡± for me. Humanity was always divided when it came to the smallest things, and especially such monumental decisions. Leaving their homes behind and starting anew was something I doubted was treated differently even in a magical world. Discarding the pretty words the logical conclusion was that they were going to kill off the people who chose to stay, possibly to cover their trail. A war crime, that¡¯s what it was, no matter how heroically the merchant described it. It was nothing new though, considering how wretched humans often turned out under pressure. How did that song go? Underneath it all we¡¯re all just savages, hidden behind shirts, ties, and marriages¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the majority of the escape vessel passengers consisted of those with enough money or power. Only these kinds of people would be allowed to board. Outeles was a son of a prominent merchant so this made sense. Then again, being a bit of a devil''s advocate, what other choice did they have? The continent of Yana was pretty much dead, covered in putrid miasma, undead, monsters, and destroyed or malfunctioning dungeons. The surviving flora and fauna of the north (and the central) parts of the continent were twisted and sparse, feeding either on blood, flesh, the miasmic mana, or worse. These were already apocalyptic class problems, and that was not even counting the rising undead threat. To make matters worse the insane goddess Gangria was riling up the monsters and the dead, bent on exterminating the faith in two remaining old gods¡­ no matter the consequences. Not that either Brighton or Mirabelle were worth any respect, not after the shit they did to me¡­ Sigh. Anyway. The only surviving nations of the sentients were clinging to the south coast, dealing with undead invasions, monster stampedes, and their own internal problems like starvation, civil war, not to mention religious and racial turmoil. Geinard Kingdom, Dross Republic, Luna Kingdom, Dwarven Hold, and Elven Theocracy - all the nations I was aware of were struggling and disunited. Equally busy keeping themselves afloat and others - as weak as possible. Like a bunch of unruly kindergarteners, not understanding the gravity of the situation. From what I¡¯ve pieced up my place was one of a few surviving mana-recycling dungeons, hence why when the half-elves decided to shatter my core the Geinard Kingdom was infuriated. If my localization was any different, more central to their lands, a whole army would be dedicated to defending the dungeon. I would think that a threat of war would stop any would-be breakers from finishing their deed, Forgotten Dungeon or not. Of course, with that ¡°protection¡± deal a bunch of people trying to leash and control me would also arrive. They would probably try to force the dungeon growth in the direction of making more meat-rich, and easy-to-kill monsters, considering the state of Geinard Kingdom. The nation''s economy hinged on dungeons providing food and other produce to the population, so it was no wonder that other dungeon cores were so quickly subverted. Their programming was comparable to a simple robot, focusing on expansion, resummoning monsters, and recycling mana. Even I, a person with an actual brain, had problems stopping the invaders'' deranged creativity. I guess the topic was compounded by a desperate situation, which in turn forced desperate solutions. While I analyzed the letter¡¯s contents Charles seemed nonplussed but also no longer angry. His aide, Adam took a moment to read the information before shaking his head. ¡°The Dross Republic people are not to be trusted. I already said so, when we first met him, Master.¡± He lied without changing his expression. ¡°That you did, old man, that you did.¡± The mage agreed absentmindedly. ¡°Admitting your faults is a first step to fixing them, Master.¡± I glanced at this crafty old man... some people really had no shame. Charles mindlessly stared at the wastelands spreading around the Silver Oasis. The metallic trees were growing nearly as fast as his subordinates cut them down. ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right.¡± He said weakly. ¡±And yet I can¡¯t even say that he is wrong, trying to save his subordinates from being left behind. Not to mention how the Republic¡¯s survivors will be treated after their ¡®great escape¡¯ becomes known.¡± The red-haired mage''s gaze snapped back. ¡°Let¡¯s focus on the present. We have a deal to finish. Prepare the traitor for transport and I¡¯ll inform the veterans. I hope enough of them will volunteer, or I¡¯ll have to start thinking of more creative solutions.¡± ¡°And if it comes to that, then may Brighton save my soul.¡± He muttered a quiet prayer. After a deep bow, Adam left his master¡¯s side. I observed their departure with mixed emotions. There was giddy happiness about the positive first contact and also the draining nervousness about everything else that could go wrong. At least I didn¡¯t have any stomach pains, on account of lacking such an organ. Something tugged on the dungeon strings and my attention turned to find the source of the unease. On the second floor, beyond the Underground Lake and always hungry Glass Progenitor a darkened room was located - a former trapped zone coopted by Non and her ninja kobold apprentice as a home of sorts. A single bedroll with a few odds and ends scattered around was the only sign of its inhabitants. Amongst the ordinary items, I noticed a small, well-cared-for amulet with Geinard Kingdom¡¯s insignia. I was sure that inside I would find the happy faces of two children amateurishly drawn on a piece of paper. Revenant¡¯s room usually stood empty, not counting her kobold follower. He - unlike the undead girl - still needed sleep. It was a calm, if somewhat gloomy refuge amongst the noise and clockwork-like movements of my undead creatures. The place looked a bit different now. I noticed fist marks on the walls, ranging from small, condensed holes to large, palm-shaped dents. Amongst them, lying on the floor was Non. She was hugging her knees in a fetal position, slowly going back and forth. Her black eyes were gazing into nothingness, and a constant, nearly silent wail escaped her lips. Her kobold servant was fussing, running around her crumpled form, trying to feed her some fruits or just force her out of a catatonic trance. I felt bad. I mean she nearly ruined my chances for a peaceful resolution when it came to the Silver Oasis, but damn¡­ wasn¡¯t she just a child? A young girl betrayed by her boss and abandoned by those she trusted. Now, by a whim of a Goddess, she had returned, only to subsist on death and vengeance. A pitiful fate with no future. Sooner or later she would meet her match like everyone who lives by the sword. And yet she needed to live. I was sure that her victims would disagree, but endless mental torture was not her decreed fate. I needed her to move. To fight through the sadness. To accept what she had become. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Or maybe show her an alternative solution. I admit, it was a move done partially for my own benefit. What need do I have for a pawn that doesn¡¯t want to move? There was no need for useless pieces in this game called life. [Non.] I sent the first message with a bit of hesitation. Was it too soon? After being promptly ignored I refocused my efforts. Despite the silence, I felt she was listening. [Non, talk to me. I know that it¡¯s painful and that you¡¯re feeling miserable. But I need to know your decision.] She lifted her head, still a bit dazed, before tilting it questioningly. [De. Ci. Sion.] [Yes. A choice.] Seeing her attention intensified, I continued. [I will soon push through a transformation on my own. One that may very well end up in my demise.] It wasn¡¯t even a lie. That was going to be my final gambit. I would of course do all that was possible in order for it to work out¡­ but the fates could be cruel. [Before I¡¯ll go through it I want to give you a choice. A way out of this miserable existence.] [Hnnn?] She purred, her despair abandoned. [You can either work as my contracted monster, just like you did before - I¡¯ll even make a small force under your command and give you some training space if you wish, or¡­ or I¡¯ll transform you into something else. Break the chains that bind your very existence since rising in undeath.] [I can¡¯t guarantee the end effect. It¡¯s a complete gamble. It can both turn you into a living and breathing being or just destroy your body and mind. Such is the effect of what the Ratlings call the Warpstone, a wayward creation of mine.] I admitted sheepishly. It wasn¡¯t a good deal - from my perspective at least. It was hard to judge Non¡¯s emotions - her face always remained unchanged and ¡®non-verbal clues¡¯ that the online help books mentioned just¡­ didn¡¯t exist. Which, now that I thought about it, explained my lack of love life in the world Before. [Ti. Me.] [What?] [Think.] She answered seriously. Ah. She was asking me to give her time to think about it. I could tell her curiosity and hesitation. It was as good as I could hope for. The only other dungeon resident with a sense of self was Guardian. I rushed toward his place before suddenly stopping. This whole shtick with gifts, the gloominess¡­ was I writing my testament? I wasn¡¯t deathly ill, though! There was no need for such things - the game plan was, after all, to live! The Guardian himself was content with his lot in life. He served an honor-bound Lord, trained his troops, and defended the Dungeon with all his might. A simple, yet fulfilling fate. What right did I have to break that happiness? Even if it was created on a lie? A man called Daniel Waltzer died a long time ago. It was only proper to let him rest. The underground continued to thrive. Ratlings were playing with their new toy, cracking walls and spines along the way, the Guardian trained, Non slowly meditated, with her happy little follower at her side. Master Vincent sat on a bench, surrounded by a variety of Ratlings, and exchanged knowledge about mana and plants. Exploding Lebirs were continually being produced and led away from the dungeon. I actively didn¡¯t want to look where. And, as a few days passed Charles decided to fulfill the first part of his obligations. A stretcher with a squirming figure was carried into the dungeon proper. Even under the gag, I recognized the face. Peter. A mage that accompanied Agness Geinard, Charles¡¯ girlfriend, and then tried to sell her out to the state, eliminating the former Blueflame in the process. He did come out as kind of a dick, didn¡¯t he? Anyway, he obviously lost and was subsequently imprisoned. I had the feeling that they didn¡¯t know what to do with him, seeing as they broke away from their parent Kingdom and weren¡¯t on talking terms with the rest of their neighbors. His pale skin looked even whiter now, with his brown eyes and hair constantly moving, observing the surroundings with mounting horror. I guess he thought that as an inconvenient prisoner, he¡¯ll end up sacrificed in my depths. A helpless victim disappearing without a trace. That was, after all, what he and his compatriots did in the Geinard Kingdom. Surprise. His fate was bound to be much, much darker. The carriers trembled when half a dozen of Lebirs emerged from the shadows. Leading them was one of the Ratlings, with haunting, green-colored eyes. This one snacked on Warpstone a bit too much. It squeaked questioningly and I observed the funniest conversation ever. *squeak?* ¡°H-hello, mister Rat.¡± The leading soldier stuttered. *squeak!* ¡°We¡¯re here to bring the Dungeon the prisoner it requested.¡± *squeak!!* In response to the Ratling''s order surrounding Lebirs started moving menacingly. ¡°H-h-he? He?¡± *squeak!* ¡°I see¡­ He r-r-requested?¡± The guard tilted his head questioningly, and the undead stopped in response. *squeak* ¡°We leave him in your capable hands. Er, paws, mister Rat!¡± After a deep bow, the carriers unceremoniously dropped the prisoner¡¯s stretcher on the floor and then hastily retreated. What remained was a Ratling and his undead servants. He gave the human a few sniffs, making Peter stiffen in panic before an order was given and everyone moved. The party wasn¡¯t wasting even a moment as they marched with the restrained mage on their shoulders. With each step deeper and deeper into my tunnels, Peter¡¯s trashing grew weaker. He was losing hope of leaving alive. It took them under an hour to deposit their prisoner on the fourth floor, but at last, we could start. A mass of Spider-walker Butchers was crowding in the room, their needle-like pinchers clicking with excitement. In the middle was a sole table, one that looked suspiciously close to the sacrificial altars of yore. It was probably because of all these grooves carved into the stone. This was going to be a bloody affair so good outflow was a must. Peter started trashing again as soon as he saw the awaiting monsters. Ignoring his pleas and frantic movements Lebirs proceeded to secure his limbs to the table. I immediately gave out my orders and watched as the Butchers started to fulfill them. [While the patient needs to be conscious there¡¯s no need for movement. A paralysis serum or magic should be used. After that work on cutting open the ribs. We need to dig deep into the chest cavity in order to uncover the magic core.] [Make sure to avoid organs and unnecessarily cutting into blood vessels. We have a limited time to finish the surgery before the patient bleeds out. Use ice magic in order to slow down the flow.] [After the patient¡¯s core is ready for operation I will give you more instructions.] [Ah, and prepare some tools able to saw through or cut the crystal. We¡¯re going to need them. A drill, too, if Ratlings have one.] I added, nearly as an afterthought. The long, painful breaths behind me faded into nothingness, as I focused on my own part of the puzzle. The Mechanical Core Gem, a second one I possessed, was lying on the prepared table. It looked just like my real core, with the black onyx sheen and sense of power emanating from within. With but a thought surrounding cables pierced the soil and rock, emerging like a bunch of metal tentacles. I was however no Doctor Octopus, the copper they were comprised of was frail and malleable. Thankfully their purpose wasn¡¯t to destroy but rather to become a conductor for my intent, so they would do. One by one the cables attached themselves to the core, clicking into place, and ordered it to¡­ CHANGE I focused on my very being, trying to express the intent to change shape. Change what the core represented and how it worked. Change what it was. I could see the small distortions on the thing and forced my mana alongside the intent, bending its purpose even further. CHANGE Minutes later a scream cutting through the air nearly threw me off-focus, but I held on with the desperation of a drowning man. Both my willpower and mana were bottoming out already and I was forced to reach deeper than ever before. CHANGE Into the Soul. Into the Anima. Into the deepest available resource, the one I was always too afraid to delve into. Something broke, with pain so searing that I thought I was going insane. I felt like I¡¯d carved out a piece of something that shouldn¡¯t be divided. The system seemed to agree, with a huff showing me a corrupted deep blue window.
&*ul @#re S@#*er Pi*(& of a &$%^ forced into &$%^(ation by Dungeon¡¯s Core magic. It ($#^ins %$#nec$%d to the being that created such diffusion, allowing for &%$^&ol not dissimilar to the *&$%^dden arts of ^$%#$%ncy, the branch of magic %^$#@oyed by the (*^%. While classified as a monster, it is ^%$% much # (*&^, created in order to *&^%$d *^$%rol over a biological creature or magical construct. FORBIDDEN, FORBIDDEN, FORBIDDEN Threat level: Supreme
What awaited me was a black gleaming spike. 077 Uno I did it! I made the thing! It didn¡¯t matter what it was - the description was nearly unusable, being so corrupted! There was, however, more worth in knowledge than in the item itself¡­ not that I didn¡¯t want to have it in my possession. The spike had been finished and, from the lack of screaming, and excessive amounts of whimpering coming from the nearby room it seemed like Peter was finished too. I guess it would be a traumatic experience for anyone to observe the monsters carving out your insides while you¡¯re still conscious. Adding to that the paralyzed limbs and overall helplessness meant untold levels of mental damage. Just like a visit to a dentist, nothing feels more terrifying than observing the whirling death coming closer and closer as you can only watch¡­ Anyway, enough of my childhood traumas. The second phase could commence - the faster, the better - because we already banked too much on the patient not expiring from shock or excessive blood loss. My center point, the onyx spike made by spending my mana and will, dripped with condensed soul magic. It was a small, delicately-looking thing only a few centimeters long. I didn¡¯t really understand the laws of the soul and matter behind its creation, but the description reiterated that it was something forbidden, and powerful. And that it allowed me to puppet people. Well, technically golems too, but that was an experiment for another time. I had a limited amount of core gems at my disposal. Not that I was excited about being turned into an enlarged tin can. Not when there was flesh to be had. Still, the power it mentioned was something that I would normally abhor. Mind control. I could still feel my mind fragmenting under the damnable tenets of the Dungeon Core. The leash of the gods. How it stopped me from intervening, from playing to my strengths. From teaching the fools real lessons. And now I was the one wielding such abnormal powers. But the price was worth it. It had to be. I longed for the sensation of eating, and drinking¡­ even just being able to feel the wind on my skin. To breathe! To kiss! Speak! Scream! Whisper! The endless aching, the need to return to being human, no matter the consequences. Even becoming a monster, an undead would be good enough. Instead, I was forced to wander in my intangible form, feeling like a ghost, an unseen spectator. Unable to fight, to run, to engage with other people. Even when Charles talked to my fake core, he was focusing on the onyx gem, not the real me. It was an upsetting, maddening feeling of inconsequence. I knew it wasn¡¯t true, any human parasite clinging to the Silver Oasis would tell me so, and yet the feeling, or lack of it, mattered. I suppose I should be grateful that my soul, my life, was worth saving (or should I say harvesting) to the Paidel Solomon. That¡­ devil, or whatever else he was. Even spending an eternity as a black orb in command of a murder-hole of a dungeon should be enough. Serving the Gods. Keeping the humans alive. Growing deeper, like a good little core should until some power-hungry adventurer shattered me to the bits. A slave. A resource. But I wasn¡¯t going to! I had chosen instead to break these chains rather than be content with digging deeper, hiding from the apocalypse, and just trying to survive. But that was too easy. Too slow. Instead, I had chosen to gamble. And then, if the operation ends up a success, it would be only proper to do so with my real core. After all, this poor fool was only an appetizer. [Begin.] I ordered and one of the Butchers grabbed the spike with unusual gentleness. As it walked closer to Peter¡¯s body I noticed the other creatures bowing their heads like it was some kind of a holy procession. In a sense it was. A part of my soul was condensed in that little item, squeezed into an unfitting form. Everything was ready to go, and suddenly I noticed Peter¡¯s state. I was consciously trying not to look. A hard thing to do, lacking eyes. Still, it was only now that I noticed my monsters'' gruesome work in all their fluid-dripping glory. They did a perfect job, with glistening organs uncovered and cut skin perfectly folded aside like one would with a napkin. Not an ounce of blood was seen, only the quivering, wide-eyed mess of a man. And in the middle of his chest, near erratically beating heart a strange round core of brown and dark trembled. [Prepare for insertion. The entrance needs to be perfect.] ¡°Should we drill deep, into his crystal heart?¡± One of the Butchers spoke, the biggest, the meanest of them all. The other shook its head. ¡°We need to be delicate. Use acid. The drilling would be too risky for this weak abovegrounder''s flesh. The Creator won¡¯t allow us to fail. This is His holy work.¡± ¡°¡°¡°This is His holy work.¡±¡±¡± They all repeated. I started to feel a bit tingly¡­ was that a cult in the making? ¡°I disagree with you, brother.¡± One of the Butchers raised its mechanical arm. ¡°Experiments on monster cores were already made. The resistance is comparable.¡± ¡°There¡¯s not enough data.¡± ¡°It is a superficial similarity.¡± ¡°An unknown.¡± ¡°Would you risk it, brother?¡± The dissenter shook its head, gesturing them to continue. ¡°Then, are we in agreement? Using acid in His holy work?¡± The largest one intoned. ¡°Agreed.¡± ¡°Agreed.¡± The second Butcher nodded a bit unwillingly. ¡°Agreed.¡± ¡°Prepare the tools. May the Creator guide us.¡± The creatures dispersed, leaving only the spike carrier behind. It glared at the patient strapped to the table before hissing in anticipation as its compatriots started to return. What followed was a few minutes of tossing and screaming. The work wasn¡¯t bloody, but it needed a steady hand. To tell the truth, I didn¡¯t think that Peter had so much energy remaining. He nearly broke the restraints but the Butchers managed to keep him still and doubled down, adding chains upon chains to the table. ¡°Curious reaction, brothers.¡± One of the surgeons growled. ¡°The crystal lacks the nerves and yet the subject feels pain during the procedure.¡± ¡°The dwarves were different. Complacent.¡± The second one agreed. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Their spirit was already broken. This one¡­¡± The Butcher glared at the prisoner. ¡°Is still alive and kicking. A wild specimen. What we are damaging is probably his soul.¡± ¡°Marvelous.¡± ¡°The Holy Work beckons. Status?¡± ¡°The basic carving is done. Now we only need to grind up the edges.¡± [There¡¯s no need.] I interrupted. The knowledge about the steps we needed to take simply appeared in my mind. [Simply put the spike inside and flatten its top with blunt force, like you would with a nail.] ¡°Wha? A nail?¡± A monster glanced around in a daze. ¡°What are you doing?¡± The other smacked its arm. ¡°Continue, as the Creator demands!¡± ¡°I listen and I serve.¡± It bowed, while still carefully keeping the spike in its appendages. Then, without any further preparation, it was plunged straight into Peter¡¯s mana crystal. A moment after the spike made contact it was smacked flat with a hammer which caused its material to spread over the damaged part like a plasticine, sizzling dangerously. I noticed that it seemed to fill all the gaps, becoming a part of the crystal it repaired while tainting its earlier colors with the deep darkness of my onyx core. The human¡¯s reaction was also immediate, as he screamed out to the heavens, redoubling his efforts to free himself. The countless chains and restraints made that impossible. Instead, there was a strange pulling sensation, forcing me to speed up. [The operation is a success. Suture him up and bandage these wounds. Soon I should be able to walk and speak using his body.] The monsters cheered as I found myself¡­ somewhere else. Well, not fully. A part of me was spirited away. This made my persona in this strange mental world a bit see-through. Or rather, in Peter¡¯s mental world, should I say. And¡­ there he was - a battered, tired human being barely standing - and yet so full of defiance. His form in this realm of mind was different, similar in proportions to how he looked, but instead comprised of metal, stone, and even parts shadow, creating a more inhuman visage than my own. I choose to appear as a tall man made of shadows. The darkness I appeared as wasn¡¯t just one color - it ranged from deep black to sleek greys. ¡°W-who are you, monster?¡± The man sputtered, barely keeping himself together. Weeks of abuse and starvation nearly broke his mind. And yet he stood straight, putting all he was on the line, just to keep me away. It was a shame, considering how futile his resistance was. ¡°You don¡¯t need to know. Suffice to say you will end and I will begin.¡± ¡°What?!¡± ¡°Bon appetit!¡± I grinned as my form unfurled into countless chains made of shadows, surging toward the man. I didn¡¯t really know what I was doing, but consuming countless media prepared me for this situation. It was all about imagination! And speed, of course. Contrary to my expectations Peter reacted quickly casting a few of his spells, breaking an attack or two. It was an instinctual thing, a part of his persona as a veteran adventurer. The rest of my attacks connected, however, clacking on the armor, before cutting into his mind, siphoning what remained. The process was quick, painful, and amazing at the same time. I had learned everything. His very being. How he was bullied since youth, because of his pale skin and demure demeanor. How his family was slaughtered by the monsters as he hid in conjured shadows, trembling. How he blamed himself for being too weak, for being a commoner. How the country saved him from poverty. Saved him from himself. How he was built anew, zealously believing in the Geinard Kingdom¡¯s leadership. How that trust was betrayed, and he was used as an expendable weapon. How he survived, throwing away his comrades and living like a beast. How he was then chained by the higher-ups and forced into a bodyguard duty. How we slowly grew hateful and tired of following the girl who was a naive princess and had lived a better, more fulfilling life than he ever could. Who strived to be a better person, despite circumstances that broke those like him. Those that broke him. How that turned into a betrayal and desperate bid for power. And how he was overpowered by Charles and thrown into prison, forgotten. I pitied the man, who lived just to live, turning into nothing more than a beast. ¡°You will be used well. You will be given purpose.¡± I whispered. From the middle of the countless chains, an onyx spear manifested, slowly rotating in the air. It brought the feeling of pressure, of something that shouldn¡¯t be possible. Of animalistic awe. And, just like that, I once again knew what had to be done. ¡°Fly true.¡± I ordered and the spike listened, speeding forward in mere seconds. It pierced the manifestation of Peter¡¯s mind, before boring into it with supernatural greed. He gasped, clutching the spear, and desperately tried to pull it out. ¡°No! I¡­ I still need to live, I need to¡­ I need to¡­¡± His voice grew weaker and weaker, just as his movements slowed down. I reappeared near him, the laws of time and space easily bending in this subjective place. After sampling his memories, all that comprised this bitter, shattered man. I couldn¡¯t help myself. ¡°There¡¯s no need.¡± I spoke calmly. ¡°The endless dream awaits. Rest.¡± His eyes lost light, as he whispered his last words. A whimper, really. ¡°Mother? I¡­ I am sorry.¡± And then he was gone. It felt dirty. Like I was spitting on someone¡¯s grave. Still, I clenched my teeth¡­ And I felt Peter¡¯s body react in response. It was a strange feeling. I was able to move his flesh, but I didn¡¯t become him. It was different from ordering my monsters around but also different from truly becoming human. The sensation seemed similar to directing a pawn in a video game. The controls were there, even a bit of immersion, but even in the best, most life-like game turning a bunch of data into reality simply wasn¡¯t possible. Seeing me struggle the only Butcher in the room asked hesitantly. ¡°Creator?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s me. Here I am.¡± I answered hoarsely. Hours of screaming do that to a man¡¯s throat. Still, there was a grin on my lips. I succeeded. ¡°I¡¯ve assumed control. Take the restraints off and try to clean this body up. At least a few sutures loosened during the struggle. I don¡¯t want to bleed out. Not after all the work we¡¯ve invested in keeping him alive.¡± I felt no hunger, but¡­ ¡°And ask the Ratlings about something to eat. I want to understand what senses I am in control of.¡± ¡°By your holy will, Creator.¡± The monster bowed, before running out of the room. I could still hear it when the creature bellowed at the top of its lungs. ¡°BROTHERS, REJOICE! THE CREATOR HAD CLAIMED THE FLESH WE PREPARED! REJOICE THE MIRACLE, AS HE WALKS AMONG US!¡± ¡°And of course, the chains are staying...¡± I grumbled, before releasing the control. The body slumped on the surgical table, still restrained by countless chains. Despite my show of anger, I was instead giddy. I had a body now, maybe even the ability to eat or¡­ more. Not that I felt the need for it, the hormonal parts of my brain seemed to be simply missing. But¡­ for once things were going great! There was of course a little problem of Peter¡¯s face and voice being known by the Silver Oasis¡¯ residents, not to mention the Agness reaction to seeing the rascal. Nothing that a mask and voice changer wouldn¡¯t remedy. And yes, I did indeed intend to free the Charles¡¯ girl from her curse. Or, more like from the consuming biological agent that was trying to supplant her brain, from what I¡¯ve already seen. My creatures were working on the solution, but for now, the only thing that seemed even remotely feasible was a quick, brutal surgery to replace parts of her bones and directly remove the parasite. And then sauce the wound with Warpstone and pray for a positive reaction. So, not much of a plan, especially the last part. At least I had something to distract me. The first batch of the veterans that Charles had promised already arrived at the second-level entrance. Every single one of them was in pretty bad shape - they were lacking limbs, organs, and eyes. Some simply lost their mind due to physical damage or things that they¡¯ve seen, becoming either unresponsive or stark raving mad. Those had to be restrained. Most of the soldiers were completely lifeless, devoid of purpose and agency, reminding me of my Puppets. I understood why. They were reduced to invalids in a world where being a burden was a sin. And now their lord was sending them deep into the dungeon. To die. Whatever belief they still had in their master had been broken by that perceived betrayal. To their credit even faced with such fate they walked proudly, backs straight. It was my role to show them that there was hope, even if they turned part monsters or died in the process. Some of them could even survive with their bodies intact - the Ratlings were hopeful about positive mutations. As the patients were corralled down I noticed my creatures preparing surgical tables marked with English-looking letters! I focused on their meaning and read a few first ones. Compound A1, 10% saturation Compound A1 15% saturation Compound B1 10% saturation And so on. The green liquid bubbled in the tubes standing near prepared bedding. Now, I wasn¡¯t sure exactly how long the testing would take, but in a week or two we had to start the operation. Agnes was living on borrowed time and we didn¡¯t have the luxury to tarry. Having a royal as an ally, even a displaced one, was something we shouldn¡¯t underestimate. It gave Silver Oasis the legitimacy it would be otherwise lacking. And I decided to take any advantage possible. 078 Uno (avatar) I was currently busy glaring at the group of trembling Butchers. They were curled up in a strange bowing position, but I didn¡¯t hold it against them - it was the only one allowed by their complicated physique. The pose consisted of a lowered upper, fleshy body, with the head stuck to the floor and the mechanical parts spread out vertically. Kinda like Japanese dogeza with spread-out-cheeks, but not really? Usually, I would laugh it off, but these dunces left my avatar naked and trembling for a whole night, too busy with celebrations of my ¡°descent¡± to give a shit. All the while the said incarnation was still chained to the operating table. It would be stuff straight out of nightmares, if not for my ability to leave it at the moment¡¯s notice. Which was not an excuse for such negligence to go unpunished! I was considering various solutions to the problem, but these thoughts flew out of the window as soon as they offered to kill themselves in repentance while murmuring something about their lives being the least they could offer to appease my anger. The last thing I wanted to see in my dungeon was a ritual suicide¡­ Especially a religious one. They were icky in my earlier world, and out here I was afraid it would actually work. So instead I asked them to help the monsters taking care of the invalids, as a kind of public service in order to absolve their sins. They took to the order with glee. Most of the veterans had already been distributed between beds, fed, and tucked in a record time. Some had to be restrained but unlike during their earlier experiments, this time Butchers decided to use leather straps, not metal chains. After all, these were not inhuman warriors we met before but rather common men and women in the second or third levels of their classes. Sometimes not even that. They turned out a bit more healthy, intelligent, strong, or agile (depending on their class) but it was nothing that my enhanced servants couldn¡¯t handle. After a period of acclimatization, Charles¡¯ troops were shocked - mostly about not being immediately slaughtered - but also how there was an abundance of freely given food and water. How their needs were taken care of without a question. I spotted a one-handed man devouring a vegetable sandwich while crying. The others held firm, but the wetness in their eyes was easy to notice. How were they treated before if such simple kindness was enough to earn their trust? Their gaunt bodies didn¡¯t leave much to the imagination. I switched my point of view and temporarily abandoned the avatar, leaving it sitting in a comfortable chair. Then my mind focused on accompanying the nearby group of Butchers, going from one bed to another. They spoke in a language of hisses and clicks but nowadays understanding it was just as easy as reading English. ¡°Gin, son of Kijan, 2nd level Warrior.¡± The smallest Butcher intoned and the man in question smiled, hearing his name spoken even if the rest of the words must¡¯ve sounded like gibberish. ¡°Extensive damage to the left leg, shredded muscles and ligaments. Corroded lungs, and partial brain damage. All because of a wayward acid abomination. It¡¯s His miracle that the patient is still alive.¡± ¡°No known family in the Oasis. Grown son and daughter in the Shieldstar.¡± ¡°Their ranks?¡± ¡°Commoners. Inconsequential.¡± ¡°I see.¡± The largest one growled, eyeing the man. Gin giggled and tried to touch the Butcher¡¯s appendages, his long brown hair flowing unruly with each movement. ¡°A miracle? Hmmm¡­ Yes. That it is.¡± With a sigh, the monster jerked its limb away and continued speaking. ¡±Prescribe A1 with 30% saturation for the leg, then B1 with 15% saturation, and D1 60% for the brain.¡± The second Butcher trailing behind the large one wrote the proportions on the small notepad. I wondered when my creatures acquired paper or even the technology to make it¡­ not to mention the written word - but in the end, I didn¡¯t care. My observation continued. It was important to see how the humans were treated out of my sight. Trust, but verify. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we up the dosage? I feel like a bigger concentration would be needed to restore¡­ that.¡± The Butcher pointed at the wide-eyed veteran sucking his thumb. ¡°Our sacred mission is to return them to workable condition, not to wildly experiment.¡± ¡°Is it, though? The Creator wants us to classify and organize the effectiveness and overall risk of the sacred compound. Having the best well-being of these creatures in mind is not a part of that goal.¡± ¡°I disagree. Our Holy Creator sees them as allies. There¡¯s also a deeper, political intent behind it. Why else would he work so hard to harness one of their bodies Himself? Why not use our sublime form or one of the other creations? We were made in His image! In His perfection!¡± ¡°I concur.¡± The monster¡¯s companion bowed its head. ¡°There¡¯s His truth in your words. We need to be careful.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s continue then, brother. For His glorious work.¡± ¡°¡°For His glorious work.¡±¡± The two assistants repeated, moving to the second bed. Its occupant was restrained, spewing curses and blood from a bitten tongue. ¡°Dunnir, no surname, 3rd level Berserker.¡± The Butcher motioned to the dark-haired human. ¡°Suspected brain damage, or even a malicious curse. It also may be just the effect of his class. He lapses between the hyperaggression phase and complete, utter silence. No known family.¡± ¡°Prescribe D1, 10% and E1, 30%.¡± The monster hummed for a moment. ¡°If the treatment works and makes the creature controllable apply F1 with 90% saturation.¡± ¡°Is this wise to use the enhancement serum? The subject seems unstable.¡± ¡°I see the intriguing potential within this mate-... *cough* human.¡± Seeing my Butchers happily continuing their job I turned most of the attention back to the avatar. Their reactions reminded me of how military hospitals worked and how the doctors would walk between the wounded, talking in their lingo. Or at least that¡¯s how it was described in movies. My own experiences with hospitals were much more¡­ sedate. Anyway, the humans were in good hands. Claws? There was a small jolt, as I slipped into the stolen body and started to make my way to the second floor. Going upward was a curious experience, as was having arms and a mouth. And legs, I couldn¡¯t forget about the legs! This exquisite pain of walking and feeling the protest of your body¡­ Even these inconveniences were something I longed for. I was humming and walking in the direction of the Underwater Lake located in the western part of the floor. It was the same place where Ratlings made their moving platform, or whatever else they wanted to call it. It led to the Snake Dungeon they conquered some time in the past and served as an important resource highway from and into my place. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The second Dungeon was supposedly completely under Ratling''s control and, more importantly, had a large amount of food for me to try out. It had something to do with the lack of mana needed to supply them with energy, instead creating a large need for edibles. That, in turn, forced them to use local specialties and resources - that is to say, snakes (I heard they kind of taste like a chicken?), but hell, even snake sashimi or a burger, or whatever else they had made, would be a blessing at this point. The salads created from unappetizing dungeon plants were awful. And this was only my first day eating them! And yes, I noticed that my avatar¡¯s body could eat and drink, but didn¡¯t strictly need to. My current theory was, that just like my creations, it could piggyback off the local mana when in my territory, but had to eat, drink and piss while outside. There was also a pressing need for a mask of some kind. And I had to evacuate my avatar from the premises. After all, Peter was supposed to be dead and it just wouldn¡¯t do to show Charles the extent of my abilities. At least not yet. I wasn¡¯t sure how much knowledge humanity had retained about the possession magic, or, more like body-snatcher magic in this circumstance, but considering what was currently happening to his girlfriend, Agnes, I doubted that his reaction would be positive. Thus the journey to the nearby Dungeon. That and a little bit of curiosity. What had my creatures done with the place without my supervision? How did the Dungeon Core feel and look? Was my theory about being the only coherent crystal on the planet correct? So many questions. I couldn¡¯t wait. Kiln, son of Carth Kiln had learned early that life was suffering. Even if his Ma tried to disagree, even if his Da preached going with the flow, keeping his head low¡­ living the moment¡­ Kiln learned that life was unfair. For the weak, that is. For the poor. Their farming family didn¡¯t have enough money to buy even the most basic medicines. Ma died because of the flu, or something similar. It could be a magical disease, for all they knew, but there was no doctor or cleric available to confirm that. Not long after that Da joined her. His heart simply stopped working one day, putting an end to his silent despair. That left the eldest, three younger sons, and their sister. For a precarious moment, they lived together, worked together, to keep Da¡¯s legacy alive. And then Kiln learned what betrayal was and how blood was akin to water for some. The eldest offered their sister to a local noble and his younger brothers were sold away. Not into slavery, as that was forbidden in the Kingdom, but as indentured servants. A menial laborer, a shopkeeper. And a soldier. The rest was a blur. Pitched battles, desperate fight for survival, countless comrades - all of them common people - appearing and disappearing when their unit was butchered again and again. A disposable meatshield against the horrors of the undeath and cruel monsters stalking the night. And amongst the carnage his class - Stalwart Defender - grew slowly with each saved life and each death witnessed. In the end, Kiln took command over his battered comrades by virtue of being the oldest one alive. Then, in the heat of retreat, a decision was forced upon him. His life or the life of his charges? Kiln learned of sacrifice that day. And, by a cruel twist of fate, he survived. Crippled, with his both legs cut just below the knees. A useless man saved by chance. Some would call it a miracle - how the attacking monster cauterized the stumps with its fiery bite instead of taking his life. For Kiln it was the beginning of a new type of suffering. The uselessness, the pity, the failing body. The hunger. Kiln received the order to go into the Dungeon with relief, not fear, like most of his peers. He was allowed to die before he broke. It was an honorable thing to be consumed in order for the others to live. At least that¡¯s what his class, whispered in his ear. Instead, they were given water and food. By the monsters. Kiln''s common sense screamed at him, even as he devoured the unpoisoned bread and vegetables. And then the healers came, which meant that even those who were gone the most felt hope. With a big dose of fear. By the end, Kiln was wiggling his new feet, while glancing at the surrounding creatures. They weren¡¯t so scary anymore. ¡°It¡¯s not that I¡¯m not grateful - I really am.¡± Kiln chortled, staring at the floor. He knew he had to be concise and loud in order to be understood. ¡°But couldn¡¯t you make my legs a bit more normal?¡± ¡°And less like this?¡± He pointed toward his scale-covered feet, looking more like something that a lizard would sport, with digits ending in brutal-looking claws. The largest of the surrounding monsters smiled (its teeth were terrifying) and answered his question. ¡°It was His will that you survived the operation. It is not our way to question His miracles. It is not yours, either.¡± The monster rumbled, the sounds barely understandable. ¡°I see¡­¡± Kiln mumbled. ¡°Can¡¯t do anythin¡¯ then.¡± ¡°Wait. What about my class?¡± With a small prayer, the muscular man summoned a simple blue window. It looked different than before.
Name Kiln, son of Carth
Race Impure Human (drake)
Class Drakish Defender
Level 3
¡°Uhhh¡­¡± Kiln drawled. ¡°I think that¡¯s not good?¡± The monsters around him howled in delight. Uno (avatar) Currently, my spare body is in great distress. I forgot what waited under the cloudy waters of the Underground Lake. I forgot about the Glass Progenitor! The fucker was lying in ambush and attacked as soon as I appeared nearby spearing the surrounding walls with its countless appendages. The always-hungry monster wasn¡¯t under my direct control and since I looked like its preferred meal - a human - the aggressive plant attacked with a flurry of blows. I dodged and weaved around the monster, feeling the ligaments and muscles scream under the pressure. Better wounded than dead though - even if it would not be a final death. Yet the attacks kept coming and soon I was forced to tank one or two, flying through the air like a stringless puppet. It wasn¡¯t all bad though. The fear of death quickened my ability to learn my host¡¯s magic, the earth blocking my adversary for thirty or so seconds before the beating continued. I still couldn¡¯t get a bead on my shadow affinity, even with the death waiting just behind the corner. I was nearly forced to call for help, when the Glass Progenitor suddenly screamed in distress. It was something else to experience that change - from a hungry predator to the pure terror of a well-flogged slave that the monster radiated when a well-placed dagger nailed its tentacle to a wall. How the world around us stood still when Non¡¯s slender figure appeared from the nearby wall. And how fast the hungry beastie slithered away from my Revenant. ¡°Thanks!¡± I smiled happily despite the countless wounds. Even pain was a novel sensation after all this time. ¡°That was fun!¡± She tilted her head questioningly. ¡°Uno.¡± ¡°Thaaaaaat¡¯s me!¡± ¡°Now¡­ thanks for the save, but I need to move. Can¡¯t risk showing Charles this body.¡± ¡°Plan.¡± ¡°Yep, I¡¯ve got it all under my skull.¡± I tapped my head with a grin. There was no hollow sound. Too bad. ¡°Ques. Tion.¡± She breathed out loudly. ¡°Talk.¡± ¡°Sure¡­ but, I need to ask you something too.¡± Seeing her nod I continued. ¡°Is it me or your speech pattern is getting worse? Are the words harder to speak out, or is it something else?¡± Non stared at me for a long while before sighing. ¡°Worse.¡± ¡°Dead.¡± ¡°Lon. Ger.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± I squinted. It was hard to tell, she was always so damn stone-faced. Kuudere, they called it? I never managed to remember the correct otaku terms. Or was the word limited to love interests? ¡°Does that mean you¡¯re ready for my proposition?¡± ¡°Ready to risk it all?¡± ¡°May. Be.¡± Non answered. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s talk as we¡¯re walking. And preferably when I¡¯m eating too!¡± So much to do. 079 Uno (avatar) It was strange. I was currently moving down a wooden, rackety lift suspended over a raging river below¡­ all the while stuffing my mouth and listening to the ramblings of the speech-deficient undead girl. Talk about a weird situation. The platform we were sitting on was creaking ominously, slowly going deeper and deeper. At the same time, I could see a similar lift rising as a part of a more complicated pulley system that endlessly looped between my place and the Ratling-controlled Snake Dungeon. According to the Ratling in charge, there were four of these lifts constantly shifting between drop-off points and this one had been reserved just for us. Despite the safety hazards I quickly grew complacent enough to focus on what was most important. Food. Sure, the taste was nothing special, the table full of mostly different kinds of salads and cleaned-up fruits dragged by Ratlings from who-knows-where but I wasn¡¯t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. There wasn¡¯t much more to be done but chew until the descent finished. The stuff was at least good for munching on. I mean Non was spitting out a single word every thirty or so seconds, but for now, she had just repeated what I already knew. Her friends, enemies, her life and death. Still, she had to start making sense sometime soon. Right now she only reiterated how revenge was her reason to live and how the fact that she was slowly turning into a murderous monster terrified her. These were things that I had already understood. Not to say that her speech was useless. Far from it. I managed to confirm my theory about the undead slowly losing their mind. My own creations were a combination of undead flesh with an embedded machine core and thus seemed to be immune to the degradation - probably because there wasn¡¯t any individuality left in them to corrupt. They were more like puppets than standard undead. It was the same with those undead who were controlled by my enemies. The Lich used its willpower to dictate what the other dead were allowed to do, while the Geinard Kingdom¡¯s flunky was freshly out of the grave - just like the unliving soldiers accompanying him, which meant their urges were easy to control. This highlighted two problems. First - how damn unusual was that Lich from earlier, the one spouting bullshit about Waltzer Castle and its Blademaster - it was entirely in control of its mental faculties, while also being able to calmly analyze the cost-profit ratio of the skirmish and retreat from the battlefield before sustaining too much damage. According to Charles, this level of intelligence was so rare amongst the undead that it could be said to be non-existent. Second - the Geinard Kingdom was going to have a bad time. If the desire for violence that Non described was innate to every undead creature then their idea of coordination between the living and the dead would fall apart like a house of cards. Thousands would die. Not that Non or I gave a shit. They were going to be our enemies (if they weren¡¯t already), so leaving them to the wolves was only fair. Charles also had to be informed. I guess. Probably. We were allies after all, and knowledge that your angry neighbor was going to turn into a stark-raving one was worth its weight in gold. In truth, I wasn¡¯t sure that the zombie apocalypse was going to happen. Kingdom¡¯s forces should have some security measures in place unless they were complete imbeciles. And since it was never good to assume one¡¯s enemies were fools I hoped that the damage still would get done, but the effect could be mitigated before it truly hurt the Silver Oasis. I mean¡­ It wasn¡¯t like I was the only one who researched the undead, folks were fighting against them for hundreds of years and I was fairly certain they amassed some interesting knowledge. Back to the present - Non was getting to the meatier parts of her story. How she felt after becoming an undead. How the disciple she fostered helped her maintain a semblance of sanity. To remember what she was. And how the fury that had driven her was so unnatural that it scared her senseless. ¡°Kill. Ed. Many.¡± She spat out, her face turned to the ground. ¡°Guilt.¡± ¡°In the end.¡± I coughed. ¡°In the end you want to take the chance I¡¯ve offered you, right? A throw of the dice is better than no choice at all. Better than drowning in your own darkness.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She answered sternly, her black eyes devouring the light. ¡°Try.¡± ¡°We¡¯re both unwilling to be helpless pawns in the game called fate.¡± I whispered, my body releasing some of the tension. ¡°Good. You¡¯ll have to wait until the experiment¡¯s results come in, but after that, you¡¯ll be free to choose your future.¡± ¡°And I would prefer if Agnes would be taken care of beforehand.¡± ¡°Prin. Cess.¡± She muttered. ¡°First.¡± There was a pout in her tone. Curious. Was she¡­ jealous? ¡°Fine.¡± She nodded reluctantly before walking away. ¡°Ah, don¡¯t go!¡± I shouted as she readied herself to jump into the nearby shadows. ¡°The Ratling representative will have the results ready in a moment. Accompany me and listen to what¡¯s available. I can advise, but you¡¯ll be in charge of choosing a suitable treatment.¡± I hummed quietly. "The rats had grown beyond any reasonable measure, their tunnels cover an unbelievable amount of space both between the dungeons and in other directions. Their intelligence apparatus allows the couriers and spies to move information by the use of rat-relay." "And that is why I asked them to compile data on the experiments that the Butchers are running." I tapped my chin. "Delegation is the best superpower, wouldn''t you agree?" There was a bit of hesitation in her eyes, as she shuffled back into the light, her posture full of uncertainty. ¡°Let¡¯s sit down.¡± I laughed. ¡°It will take some time for the lift to descend. A siesta is in order!¡± She glanced at me but didn¡¯t question an unknown word. Instead, the revenant just curled up on the floor, near my splayed form. The wood we were lying on was hard and uncomfortable. Non''s fragrance was one of oil and death. Her breath was slow and shallow (not that she needed to breathe at all), which in turn lulled me to sleep¡­ The minutes passed in silence, slowly, like leaves falling from a tree. At this moment, in a fleeting minute, I was content. At peace. The eternity passed. And the lift stopped. We were welcomed by a bunch of Ratlings, some Lebirs of various kinds, and snakes. Lots and lots of snakes. I subconsciously knew that my servants were rearing them, but hearing about it and seeing the sheer amount of various colors, types, and magic they exuded was something else. I noticed big, slow ones, looking a bit like anacondas, with the thickness of a man''s waist. There were smaller ones, coiling around and springing away with funny hops. Bright-colored ones with special muzzles on their snouts. Muscular snakes with either small horns on their foreheads and rattle on their tails, sometimes with both. Everywhere I looked somebody was moving things, walking away with purpose in mind. The military-looking rats were distributed around the platform, either in their natural form or leading stout-looking Lebirs. Despite the wild energy and constant movement, I felt that my little group naturally drew the attention of everybody around us. The curious eyes of rats followed our every move, their small arms touching their foreheads and then the ground in an approximation of a religious sign I noticed before¡­ Amidst this constant chaos, two Ratlings were standing just beneath the platform, looking increasingly nervous. One of them was small, with silver streaks on its fur and constantly moving snout, while the second dwarfed his companion with a large, muscular build and a lack of the Iron Thrower on his back. Instead, he sported a mass of metal clearly focused on defense. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. To my surprise, the rats¡­ spoke. Their constant chittering was still in the background but I managed to understand their speech. Not sure if this was for better or worse since the voices of nearby Ratlings suddenly changed from a soothing murmur to frenzied whispers of fanatics. ¡°Oh, great-beneficient One! This lowly-small servant-slave welcomes you and your aides in the conquered-taken Dungeon of Snakes!¡± ¡°Yes¡­ hello there.¡± I barely managed to answer before Ratling continued its machinegun-like speech. ¡°This servant-slave is called Wet Nose, and its sturdy companion-friend is called Bronze.¡± The large rat accompanying the chatterbox dipped its head deeply. Its gaze stilled with helplessness before the silver-furred one forged on. ¡°Iron Queen sends her greetings and offers-gives command of her forces, Creator-Maker. She regrets not being able to talk-welcome your avatar into the Snake Dungeon, but some duties demand-need her personal attention.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a problem if she¡¯s not here to welcome me. It wouldn¡¯t do if she were to slow down our plans on behalf of decorum. There are more important things to worry about.¡± I placated the monster. ¡°Now, I suppose that one of you has the results of the experiment prepared?¡± Wet Nose bowed. ¡°Yes, yes, oh gracious-great One!¡± ¡°Before we start, let¡¯s move to a quieter locale. I need to focus and there¡¯s no need to stand in the way of the workers. This avatar will stay here for a long while, so I¡¯ll need to get familiar with this place anyway.¡± ¡°Yes, yes! As you wish-command! Please follow!¡± The little Ratling skipped ahead, while Bronze moved to our rear. The upbeat monster pointed here and there, showing off the newest buildings and my monsters hard at work. The burrows that the rats used looked more like modern apartment buildings if one squinted enough. Sure, there was a lack of glass and the building itself had rather extensive cellars but while looking distinctly out of the place, it functioned just as well as warrens did. ¡°We need our closeness!¡± Wet Nose laughed when asked. ¡°Outsider-other say squalor, dirt, no privacy.¡± His snout scrunched funnily. ¡°Safe in numbers! Family-clan close! Firstborn need being close even if the Tall-Ones don¡¯t understand.¡± I nodded. ¡°Yes, yes, family is important.¡± The small Ratling laughed aloud at my half-hearted praise. A large part of the dungeon had been converted into fields, where brown-robed Ratlings toiled both by themselves and with Lebir''s help. My expression turned bitter when I realized that the plants grown here were all the ¡°delicacies¡± I had tasted before. ¡°Need food-treat. No dungeon mana here. The Second Queen was forced-needed to experiment.¡± Our guide explained. ¡°Sustenance possible with meat, vegetables, fruits. Lebirs different-weird. Don¡¯t need to eat, don¡¯t need to sleep. Still stupid, though.¡± He mused. The rest of the place untouched by Ratlings'' paws was still filled with reeds and other swamp-like plants. And of course dirty, turbid water. Here and there a pinkish lotus-like flower floated without a care in the world. I wondered about it. Was it just as edible as the one growing in my Old World? I never tasted a lotus in a dish, so I had nothing to compare it to. Maybe it wasn¡¯t going to be a completely wasted trip. Wet Nose described our surroundings with passion. The column-like structures sprouting from floor to ceiling meant to store food. The drying racks numbering in hundreds, used to prepare meat for transport and further consumption. Monstrous kitchens worked through the day and night while preparing cauldrons of broth made from snakes and available greens. The last one kind of reminded me of Jailer Jonathan, the always-hungry undead monster (technically Ironhide Undead Dark Knight, but that was a mouthful) whose respawn was blocked by the humans¡­ just like Decapitator¡¯s - my other boss from the first floor. Or were they classified as elite monsters? Anyway, allowing them to resurrect was something to ask of Charles, when we had our next chat. More firepower was always good, even if those were only first-floor powerhouses and I couldn¡¯t really order them to do anything special due to my¡­ problems. Problems I actively refused to think about and hoped they go away. As I mused something changed. It took me a few seconds to understand what happened. Wet Nose was silent and that had thrown me off. The chatterbox stared ahead and I followed his gaze only to have my jaw fall to the floor. Before us stood a gigantic construction, a bit similar to Stonehenge in all its reconstructed glory - not the few pitiful remains that survived to the modern day. No. It was a forest of stone pillars, each exquisitely carved and covered in glowing runes. I could nearly see the magic pulsing between them, green and red wisps of energy appearing and disappearing by the second. And in the middle of that was¡­ The Dungeon Core. It was a massive crystal, much bigger than mine, nearly two meters in height, carved in a coffin-like shape and made from something that looked like green jade. Or a similar, more magical material. Around the Core, the lines of magic were the thickest, turning from ropes into veritable steel cables. They seemed just as sturdy, as well. The air hummed with magic. All this mana, knowledge, and craftsmanship was focused right here to serve one grim purpose - the enslavement of the Dungeon Core. My heart resonated with the entrapped beast. I slowly made my way into the heart of the buzzing formation. The core called to me, in a language of emotion and anguish. And so I moved between the unseen lines, Non, and my guides simply observing, without anyone trying to interfere. Then the moment came. My hand extended and touched the cold stone. Then, magic happened. My consciousness had been whisked away and for a moment I was the Dungeon Core. And I had been thoroughly disappointed with the experience. Instead of a sentient or even sapient mind that even the most basic of beasts possessed I was welcomed with a blue window. A familiar sight.
Beginning Dungeon Core routine: spawn [monster] {check: space available} {check: type available} dig [deeper] {check: mana available} {check: free space} spawn [treasure] {check: type of mana} {check: type of item}, randomize !!ROUTINE DAMAGED!! RECOVERING spawn [treasure] {check: type of item} defend {check: monster available} repeat ERROR insufficient mana insufficient mana insufficient mana!! Foreign code detected¡­ CRITICAL ERROR REROUTING Accepting override. Beginning Dungeon Core (subverted) routine: spawn [chosen] [monsters] expand [outward] spawn [materials] {check: all available materials} repeat
It was a fucking computer program. A few lines of code were running the only magitech on the planet capable of turning mana into matter. They were responsible for the well-being and continued survival of sentient races¡­ and somehow had been damaged. Broken. Considering that this ¡°operating system¡± was copied again and again from some mold - which I didn¡¯t know for sure, but that was the only thing that made sense - it explained the lack of new magic items and the weird reaction I got after providing some. The humans thought they weren¡¯t real - couldn¡¯t be real - and simply ignored them¡­ Because items without a speck of magic inside - were all that the other dungeons produced. Not since¡­ however far in the past that damaged routine error happened. So¡­ the next question. Why did the Gods ignore the situation? Either they didn¡¯t know the problem happened, didn¡¯t understand how to repair it or they didn¡¯t have the power to do so. I released my hand from the green-colored machine and cradled my head. Each of the answers was bad in its own way. And more importantly¡­ I didn¡¯t want to know about it! I didn¡¯t care about interfacing with the routine responsible for another Dungeon! So I promptly ignored the problem before me and turned back. Wet Nose, Bronze, and Non stared at me, their eyes wide and questioning. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I ordered, immediately changing the subject. ¡°And talk to me. How had the experiment gone?¡± ¡°Yes, yes Creator-Master! The Firstborn worked hard. Noted the changes that Many-Legs did. Calculated!¡± It shouted happily, forgetting the strange sight. Bronze and Non weren¡¯t so easily distracted but they understood the situation. Knowledge was power and I wasn¡¯t going to share. So instead they listened to Wet Nose happily describing the compound¡¯s effectiveness. How the pure compound carried a greater risk factor but was also the most powerful when it came to healing and enhancement. A baseline human was tremendously strengthened when it worked correctly. Otherwise, the effects were pretty gruesome. How mixing it with monster DNA (Wet Nose¡¯s trying to pronounce deoxyribonucleic acid was hilarious) ended up with a lost limb replacement depending on the monster used. Or just adapting a few foreign traits like feathers, scales, and horns if it was used to heal. All of the surviving experiments turned into ¡°Impure Humans¡±, adding a new category called ¡°Race¡± to their status sheet. Sometimes there were also changes in their class. Kobold DNA produced Drake (strength-focused), Lizard (armor-focused), and Kobold (agility-focused) mixes, while Ratlings ended up as Rat (agility-focused), Ratling (speed-focused), and Ratmen (intelligence-focused) lines. They even tried throwing snakes at the problem¡­ and it did work somewhat, even if the spread was much wider than my other monsters (but still not directly connected to the parent species), creating Naga (intelligence-focused), Rattlesnake (illusion-focused), Anaconda (strength-focused), and Cobra (venom-focused) bloodlines. Was it really DNA that they were mixing in? Hell if I knew. Adding monster blood to the compound made from ¡°not-Warpstone¡± produced mutagenic results, so I could as well call it that. It was not like people out here had microscopes and could call me out on the name. The experiments using Lebirs as a base - or even samples taken from ordinary undead - ended in a catastrophic failure, with a one-hundred percent fatality rate. Death by desiccation, rot, or poisoning was the most common cause of the subject expiring. That left enhancing Lebirs with the stuff as an avenue of research, which was something that I would get to doing later. Anyway, nearly two weeks had passed since the first test. It was time. Agnes''s operation awaited. 079.5 Flesh and iron Mechanicus the first Butcher It was time. The Holy Creator, the Grand Master of the Butcher-Chirurgeons, ordered them to use their skills to the fullest. The fate of their world hanged on the tips of their claws. It was a great undertaking and even a greater honor to be allowed to make their mark on the future. And Mechanicus was¡­ not ready. His soul was full of shame as he sighed, glaring at his trembling flesh and the pathetic machines supporting its continuous existence. He was not going to be enough. And the price for failure would be too much to bear for him and his kin. His brothers hummed in the room''s background, their deep voices and the smell of incense filling the air with visions. He sacrificed a moment to think about those who provided these rare items, their lesser thief-kin, the Ratlings. The Firstborn of their Creator, skilled in subterfuge, diplomacy, and caked in blood of both their own and the relentless invaders. Ratlings. The unrelenting. The monstrous. The discoverers of the Warpstone. Mechanicus dipped his head in silent prayer before returning to his ruminations. The place he chose was a small but cozy nook located on the fourth floor of the Dungeon. It has been co-opted by his kin as a one-of-a-kind chapel and a place of reflection. With the help of the silent Drones, they built up the walls and decorated the remaining space with the short history of spider-walkers. Despite their constant duties a pair of Butchers was always stationed near the entrance, guarding their heritage. The delvers never managed to penetrate this deep into the Dungeon¡¯s bowels but discretion was a better part of valor. Mechanicus¡¯ form was taking up most of the room, his mechanical carrier''s leg curled up under the metal surface, not dissimilar to how a dead spider looked. Around him, the few off-duty Butchers prayed, their reptilian heads bowed in supplication, eyes closed. The first of the Chirurgeons scoffed. Their Pale Tribe kobold ancestry was a weakness, their flesh twisted and atrophied, forced to rely on machines to barely meet the standard of usefulness. This was of course not their Creator''s fault but a trial given to the faithful to grow more powerful and weed out those lacking the required resolve. Still, because of these inherent traits, their pilgrimage to the top stung hard with each step. But they would be rewarded once it was finished. This line of thought turned Mechanicus¡¯ gaze toward the nearby syringe, full of the brightly glowing green goo. The item was kept upright by two-pronged metal poles, begging to be used. The container was a specialized thing, longer and sharper than its counterparts, and, as he gazed at its sleek form the words adrenaline needle appeared in his mind unbidden. He shook the thoughts away. Normally such bestowal of the Creator¡¯s knowledge would be a boon worth celebrating, and most certainly worthy to be added to their repository, but right now he was focused on his task. Ready to fulfill his destiny or die trying. And if he somehow failed the task his successor would try again. And so would one that came after him. Until nothing remained of the Butchers but ashes. Such was their dedication. A timeless promise to their Creator - to do better, to achieve new heights. After all a subpar creation was bound to be abandoned¡­ and it would be better to perish than to suffer such fate. The liquid bubbled menacingly and Mechanicus sighed, lifting the syringe to the level of his eyes. The mechanical arms clacked and clicked as they worked, tenderly clasping on the ticket to their bright future. Or death. That was always an option in the Creator Uno''s Dungeon. The green solution was of the purest variety, without any additional filthy DNA thrown into the mix with a 90% saturation content. Internally it was called Compound F1 90% and was one of the potions with the highest failure rate, not counting the experiments focusing on combining living humans with locally sourced undead. Those tended to end¡­ explosively. Cleaning up blood, viscera and meat chunks was always such a chore. Mechanicus squinted as the humming took more of an impatient tone. It seemed like his brothers were growing weary of the hesitation shown by their leader. With a solemn nod, the Butcher straightened up, his mechanical parts whirling as the spider legs scrambled frantically to raise the pale-faced lizard controlling them. He scoffed at the twisted reflection of his snout visible in the glass part of the syringe. ¡°May the Creator bless us, brothers.¡± ¡°¡°¡°May he bless us.¡±¡±¡± The countless voices repeated. ¡°For we are his children, his scalpel and his spear. We are the light in the darkness of ignorance and a way forward in the labyrinth of despair.¡± ¡°We are his chosen kin and those who will evolve from the base form, showing the world wisdom of our Creator.¡± The hot, heavy silence surrounded both Mechanicus and his fellow Butchers. The smoke and smell of incense filled every corner of the room, slowly surrounding everyone present. ¡°We are Butcher-Chirurgeons, and¡­¡± ¡°WE¡± ¡°WILL¡± ¡°BE¡± ¡°MORE!¡± With a last roar, Mechanicus lifted the syringe in the air, before plunging it deep into his chest - deep enough to reach his heart¡­ and reach it did. There was a sting of pain when the flesh parted under a forceful iron, and then a hot sensation as the liquid was deposited near and into the life-giving organ. Ignoring his aching body Mechanicus squeezed, letting the rest of the solution flow inside. Another alien word flashed before his eyes, seppuku, with a connotation of death, honor, and solemnity condensed into one. He bowed his head for this gift of knowledge, before removing the syringe from his quaking flesh. The blood that followed was red, thick, and viscous, but the bleeding stopped moments later when the solution¡¯s healing properties were activated. The seconds passed during a tense wait, interrupted only by the humming of his peers. Those too tired to continue the ceremony left their places, only for them to be immediately replaced by bright-eyed newcomers observing Mechanicus¡¯ trial. The weight of their expectations continued to keep him focused, even as the first signs of change tore through his body. The Butcher¡¯s gut churned with unease, which soon turned into pain. It was a sharp, cruel thing, poking holes in his facade, the spikes of torture tearing bones, tendons, and organs from their usual places. And then the slithering started. The usually passive metal comprising large parts of his body started to flow like water, before twisting into fluid tentacles dissolving more and more of the delicate parts of his carrier. Soon the spider-like legs bucked under the pressure, as the complicated system of pulleys and clockwork turned liquid. It was however only when the metal started to bore into his body that Mechanicus started to scream. The earlier inconveniences were just an appetizer before the real transformation. His howls turned more and more animalistic as the cold, unfeeling metal tried to replace his bones and even skin. The screams turned into gurgling when the fluid metal came up to his face and then covered it whole, with a few last sputters being the only remembrance of the one who led the Butcher-Chirurgeons. What remained was only a slick, azure cocoon made out of metal. It trembled from time to time, slowly growing more and more still. Around it, the Butchers continued their humming, not willing to believe that the proudest of them all was so easily felled. The situation continued for hours, as the light of hope in their eyes was slowly glowing dimmer. It was about ten hours later that the cocoon started trembling, its still form regaining earlier passion, before the noise peaked and the shell cracked in half. From the tear, a slick and thin leg emerged, one made completely from metal, yet showing a shockingly organic build. No clockwork or pulleys were hidden inside. It was just muscle, bone, and blood - all of them constructed of intricately connected iron and flesh. A moment later four metal tentacles followed the hesitant leg, tearing the cocoon wider and allowing the creature hidden inside to fully emerge before the hushed whispers of the Butcher-kin. The form that their leader took was breathtaking. Instead of the earlier palanquin-like structure, where atrophied flesh was being carried by a metal machine, now the Pale Tribe body had been fully integrated, sticking out from the front, like some kind of an iron centaur. Its chest, arms, and legs were muscular and coated in blue skin, while its head had been covered by something that Uno would recognize as a gas mask, complete with two glass eye-holes and a filtration unit located on the lower portion of the face. From the creature¡¯s back four tentacles sprung to life, each ending in claw-like three-fingered appendages, easily able to both tear down its enemies and perform more delicate tasks. The lower part of the being was that of a spider, with an oval shape, metallic sheen, a center of gravity close to the ground, and eight spindly legs. The being hesitated, before coming out into the full view of its kin. Yet this shyness didn¡¯t last long, as two of the surrounding Butchers carried a red cloak in their appendages and cautiously lifted it on their leader''s shoulders. After a moment his own tentacles did the job of covering the blue but bare body with a modest garb. Mechanicus grinned at his new, improved form (even if no one could tell, with the changes to his physique) and yelled into the Dungeon¡¯s ceiling, all the while raising his hands in triumph. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°I!¡± ¡°AM!¡± ¡°REBORN!¡± The screams of his kin followed. If Uno had noticed the commotion he would be surprised by his follower''s newest evolution.
Butcher-kin Drider called Mechanicus Unlike their lesser kin, the Butcher-Drider is a being of magic, bathed in metal mana and shaped by it. Its earlier tenuous grasp on iron augmentation changes into a more intuitive, sleek, and powerful form. While retaining its spider-like look, a Drider''s main avenues of attack change to four dexterous tentacles and two powerful arms. It is however not a frontline fighter, but a supporter and a mage of metal, intuitively using the new form to serve its chosen Master. Driders are a combination monster between a spider and another race, often an effect of otherwordly rituals, turning willing or unwilling victims into one. Drider race doesn¡¯t exist anymore, as the magic required to create them is no longer in the hands of mortals. Threat level: C
The celebrations lasted longer than expected but soon turned into a solemn feeling shared by all of the servants present. The Butcher-Chirurgeons were ready to finish the quest given to them by the Dungeon Core and their only Master - Uno. To save a life using their considerable healing skills. Earlier he was full of doubts but now Mechanicus felt more than ready and eager to test the limits of his new flesh. Yet there was something amiss. The ascension he had performed shredded the connection between him and his Master, leaving a gaping wound. It was something that could heal, given time, but for now, he was alone, no longer immortal, and connected to the soothing certainty of Dungeon Core. The world said he was on his own but the greatest servant of the Dungeon simply scoffed at the poisoned fruit of freedom. To serve was a choice. One that he made up his mind about a long time ago. The procession they formed was an instinctual thing - nobody needed to tell the monsters what to do and where to stand. A few Lebirs walked in the front, followed by Mechanicus and a few of his closest aides. Behind them, an orderly group of Spider-Walker Soldiers, Generals, and Butchers followed, as both defensive force and spectators. It took only a few minutes to arrive at the operating theater. The doors were flanked by human soldiers, despite their mere presence being a blasphemy to the Creator. A few of the Butcher leader aides twisted their snouts in displeasure but a simple gesture calmed down their nerves. After all the newly born Drider could easily smell how terrified the soldiers were. Under their professional facade, a thick stench of fear covered the entrance and Mechanicus drank deep from its well. The procession fractured, as only a few Butchers and Generals were allowed inside the room. It was a concession towards assuaging the surfacers'' nervousness, but this deep into Dungeon it didn¡¯t matter. Even the walls were claimed by their Master, and both humans and monsters knew that. Still, some decorum had to be expected. Mechanicus strode into the room taking in a collection of sharp implements hung on a nearby rack. From butcher knives, carving implements, scalpels, and other instruments needed to shape flesh or bone - there was something for everyone, just waiting to be used. And, in the middle, a large slab-like operating table was visible, with leather restraints prepared to keep the head, legs, and arms in place. The humans scoffed at such preparations but Butcher-kin insisted on them for safety - both their own and their charge. The parasite removal was a tricky business and none of the responsible wanted to fail. The procedures had to be observed and precautions taken. Such was the way of Butcher-Chirurgeons. Apart from these items, the room was filled with a pair of jury-rigged machines and two glass containers - the first of them, a bigger one, was reinforced to the limit, and the second one was filled with solution B1 60%, or ¡°rejuvenation tonic¡±, as their patients called it. The most important pieces were however two banged-up machines. Their looks didn¡¯t gather any confidence but it didn¡¯t matter. What was important were the abilities they bestowed upon their users. The first one was a simple thing - it just displayed the amount and type of mana available in the air or the patient¡¯s flesh. Well, for humans it could be revolutionary, but dungeon monsters did not need such technology. Right now it was helpful to know when to not overwhelm their patient with the magic. The second machine allowed its operator to diagnose the level of cellular destruction in the patient. It was a technology made possible by countless sacrifices of their test subjects, especially the ones fed with undead-spiked solution. Both pieces were flanked by the Ratlings - as they were the only ones capable of working them. Additionally, a Secret Council rat was overseeing the technicians, being in charge of both keeping the machines running and communicating - which meant talking to humans and monsters alike. The rat in question had a curious look, not dissimilar to Mechanicus¡¯ own, with mechanical arms located on his back constantly twitching and clasping at invisible foes. Locating the tools he needed was enough and the Drider decided to start his preparations. He dredged through required meditations, straightening the control over his additional appendages, and his mental defences. As expected, the new body he was granted was agile, strong, and easy to control. The humans didn¡¯t hurry at all, and it was hours before the patient had been brought down, into the Dungeon¡¯s deepest rooms. Surprisingly the person accompanying the girl wasn¡¯t the red-haired and red-souled mage always seen bantering with their Creator, but rather an older, bald man, suffused with scholarly aura. Mechanicus remembered that his name was Vincent, but his followers mostly called him Master Vincent, denoting some degree of skill. Skill in what? The Drider wasn¡¯t privy to that information. And neither did he care. All his senses were instead focused on the trial before him - an unconscious girl called Agnes. Her blonde, boyish hair gave her an aura of innocence and liveness, barely broken by the expression of pain visible on her face. The monster, however, wasn¡¯t distracted by her cuteness but instead focused on the movement of limbs, her breathing, and similar tells, trying to discern the level of the parasite¡¯s control. The first analysis was not good. Even though the girl was asleep her arms and legs were moving, grasping. As if something under her skin tried to understand why its host was being moved. Agnes¡¯ eyes, while closed, constantly moved too, just like one would do in a deep dream. Except she wasn¡¯t dreaming but had been sedated. As Mechanicus focused on the patient being secured to the table a monstrous intent slammed into his very being. The attention of his Dungeon Core. The attention of his God. [Are you ready?] Came the not-speech and every dungeon creature in the room stilled. Then, as one they responded - Ratlings with chattering, Butchers with clicking, and Lebirs - the brainless mass that they were - with grunts. These sounds all translated into one sentence. ¡°¡°¡°We¡¯re ready, Master.¡±¡±¡± [Proceed, then. Make me proud.] ¡°Your will be done.¡± Mechanicus clicked. Then he turned towards the rat. ¡°Translate, friend.¡± Seeing the creature bow in acceptance, he continued. ¡°We¡¯re going to operate on your friend. It may be bloody, but we¡¯re not going to hurt her. Do not interrupt us, or you¡¯ll incur not only our wrath but also the wrath of our Master.¡± The human nodded, clearly unimpressed, but had questions of his own. ¡°Yes, yes, understood. Now, tell me¡­ what are you? I¡¯ve only seen something similar to your kind in books of lore. Old ones, too.¡± When the monster hesitated, another voice joined the conversation. ¡°He¡¯s a Drider! A first of his kind! Aren¡¯t they cool?¡± His Master''s joyous tone sent chills of happiness crawling up Mechanicus¡¯ spine. The mechanical wonder he called meghahone served as a tool to speak with the outsiders. ¡°An evolution of the Butchers you see all around you!¡± ¡°I see. Thank you for the explanation, Uno.¡± The old man¡¯s eyes shined with curiosity. ¡°I¡¯ve only heard about Driders when Dark Elves were mentioned and it¡¯s hard to gather any credible information about them.¡± ¡°Oh, and why is that?¡± ¡°Most of their cities were destroyed by both elven Theocracy and their half-elven brethren. Their royalty, nobility, and soldiers were slaughtered without mercy. Their circles of magi burned to the ground. Their practices - forgotten.¡± ¡°And without their protection, the Dark Elves, or drow, as they called themselves, were no more.¡± Master Vincent mused for a long while, before continuing. ¡°This turned out to be a mistake, since without their reluctant help dwarven Kingdoms had fallen one by one to the monster invasions. Their sun-blessed allies were useless in the deep tunnels, after all.¡± He chucked darkly. ¡°Interesting! Thank you for sharing.¡± The happy-go-lucky tone of his Master didn¡¯t change despite the revelations. Honestly, it was sometimes terrifying how easily their Creator could ignore things. ¡°We have work to do, though. Mechanicus, please continue!¡± ¡°Yes, Master!¡± The Drider clicked with happiness ignoring the mage¡¯s grumblings about ¡®another Named monster¡¯. It was time to start. ¡°The parasite is hidden under the right part of her skull.¡° Mechanicus intoned. ¡±Disinfect the flesh. Shave the excess hair.¡± The lesser Butchers instantly moved to fulfill his demands. The observing human clenched his fists but let the monsters do their job. ¡°Prepare for cutting.¡± ¡°Ready!¡± The lesser Butchers chittered, their scalpels flitting in the air like flies. ¡°Cut!¡± ¡°Done!¡± ¡°Done!¡± ¡°Detach skin!¡± A strange, electric noise spread through the air. ¡°Skin detached!¡± ¡°Preparing for bone cutting.¡± Mechanicus''s own appendages appeared in appropriate places, ready to saw through the right half of the bone plate. Their magic churned, twisting the shape of metal into whatever the mage desired. ¡°Cutting, first phase.¡± There was a clack as the iron went through organic matter. ¡°Cleaning needed!¡± ¡°Cleaning¡­ done.¡± An answer came and went. ¡°Cutting, second phase.¡± After a moment the bone faltered and came off cleanly. Mechanicus cautiously lifted the remaining piece and turned it over to his assistant. ¡°Put it in the solution to soak. We should be able to save or regrow her nerves.¡± He was trying to continue when a sharp gasp disrupted his concentration. ¡°What in the Brighton¡¯s name is that?!¡± The human mage pointed to a parasite curled near the patient¡¯s brain. It looked like a long worm, with a segmented body and a flower-like head filled with teeth. The thing twisted, undulating as if slowly coming out of the stasis. ¡°It¡¯s a gift from your precious Geinard Kingdom.¡± The Dungeon Core gloated. ¡°Isn¡¯t it beautiful?¡± Uno asked sweetly. Not waiting for an answer his attention turned toward the surgeon. ¡°Get rid of it.¡± ¡°At once!¡± Using his many appendages Mechanicus untangled the beast from the girl¡¯s trachea and then yanked it off the brain. Agnes sighed with relief as soon as the pressure on her eye was relieved, her form growing more relaxed. ¡°Put it in the container.¡± The Drider ordered his assistants, and soon the flower-spawn had been secured nearby. And so it was time for the hardest part. ¡°Reseal the wound.¡± Monsters moved, cautiously returning the skull-bones to their rightful place. ¡°Bones ready!¡± ¡°Stitching skin!¡± ¡°Saturate patient wounds with B1 30%. Pure.¡± ¡°Saturating.¡± ¡°Continuing saturation. Reconstruction is progressing.¡± ¡°Attach the bone plate.¡± ¡°Attaching. Procedure complete. Beginning mending.¡± Everything was going fine¡­ until the machine in the corner started beeping, its frantic rhythm informing everyone about a problem. ¡°Cell adaptability failing!¡± The rat elder roared. ¡°30 seconds until catastrophic failure!¡± ¡°Saturate patient with D1 15%. Pure.¡± Mechanicus ordered calmly. His palms were sweating. He didn¡¯t know he could sweat! ¡°Saturating.¡± ¡°Saturating.¡± ¡°Rejection continues.¡± Another roar. ¡°20 seconds!¡± ¡°Raise saturation to D1 90%. Pure.¡± ¡°Raising¡­ saturation raised!¡± ¡°Effect?¡± Mechanicus roared. The rat elder stared at the machine¡¯s dials with blood-red eyes. ¡°No change.¡± ¡°What are mixing predictions? Give me numbers for prime mixing - rat, snake, kobold!¡± ¡°Compatibility to Ratling genus 21%, Snake genus 82%, Kobold genus 37%!¡± ¡°Change saturation to F1 90%. Snake.¡± ¡°Modifying the input.¡± ¡°Changing saturation.¡± ¡°Raising saturation.¡± ¡°Adding Snake DNA.¡± ¡°Changes?¡± Mechanicus screamed once again. ¡°N-no changes! No changes!¡± ¡°Wait¡­¡± ¡°Acceptance threshold reached!¡± ¡°Mutation occurring!¡± ¡°Which type?¡± ¡°Naga, minor! W-wait, the mutation isn¡¯t stopping!¡± ¡°Iron mana levels are off the charts!¡± The Ratling wheezed. ¡°Subject acquired Nightvision, Reinforced Skin, and Coldblooded abilities!¡± ¡°What are her mutagen levels?¡± ¡°Off the charts still!¡± The chaos continued, as dungeon monsters were trying to understand what exactly happened to their charge, and preferably stop it. The human mage went surprisingly quiet, observing the freshly saved girl who - now awake - easily ripped away the leather restraints and looked around in confusion. She sported never-before-seen golden pupils with vertical irises, and her inhuman traits were easily noticeable in the lustrous green scales decorating her body and face. ¡°Uno?¡± ¡°Yeeees?¡± ¡°Correct me if I¡¯m wrong, but did your servants just turn the Geinard Kingdom royalty into a demihuman?¡± ¡°Te-he. Oopsie?¡± ¡°Charles is going to be so pissed.¡± Master Vincent sighed, cradling his growing headache. 080 Charles leader of Silver Oasis I was pacing nervously from one side of the room to the other, worried sick. Even if I understood Master Vincent¡¯s arguments there was nothing I could do about the state of my emotions. Taking a life on their own, his words echoed in my mind. The leader - any leader - should not risk his life, for it is much too precious, even if it is the love of your life that is on the line. A leader has duties, and people that depend on him. He is a foundation on which prosperity and strength are built. The leader knows sacrifice and that his death would spell doom for the world around him. We can¡¯t risk it. You can¡¯t risk it. How would Agnes react if she knew that you abandoned your people just to be with her? I bit my lip, letting the pain distract me from the doom-filled thoughts. That old man sure knew how to prod my weakness. Duty, love, anger - they all mixed together, fuelled by my unruly fire magic. Yet the hours passed without any resolution and my thoughts went back to Agnes'' helpless form again and again. I hoped it would not be the last memory I had of her. ¡°If only we had access to some of the healing elixirs.¡± I lamented, knowing well that each of them was worth a hundred times more than its weight in gold. More than my entire current wealth. It was not an amount of money that even my former family would be able to pay. And, to make matters worse, the price tag was always rising, because the elixirs weren¡¯t being made anymore, leaving the world with a limited and always dwindling supply. This meant that the potions ended up in the hands of the royal family, nobles, or obscenely rich merchants. Neither of those groups was on our side. ¡°Which makes Uno¡¯s offer that much more suspicious. Dungeon Core or not, the ability to create potions was lost to the ages¡­ None of the other Cores, even the deepest ones, like one residing in the capital can do so.¡± I murmured, before massaging my temples. It was too much - the stress, the expectations¡­ ¡°It¡¯s not like we had a choice. Agnes¡¯ condition was rapidly getting worse.¡± I tried to reason with myself. All of this pain and suffering just because of that old monster and her fear of death¡­ I added silently. My blood boiled. Some debts were to be paid in blood, and the way our Kingdom¡­ our former Kingdom behaved was the epitome of that saying. They were courting death¡­ and I didn¡¯t know from where these words had come or why were they making me chuckle. My ruminations were cut short by a sound of nervous knocking. ¡°Sir? Sir! Are you there? There¡¯s a situation!¡± A young voice echoed from behind the door. ¡°Come in!¡± I ordered. ¡°What¡¯s the problem? Explain!¡± A young runner burst into the room before bowing deeply. After catching his breath he continued. ¡°There¡¯s a situation! We have a large group of demi-humans approaching!¡± ¡°What!¡± I grimaced. That was less than ideal. Especially now. ¡±Where are they? Why didn¡¯t the sentries spot them earlier?¡± ¡°They¡¯re coming from the Dungeon¡¯s depths, sir! They¡¯re currently in a stand-off with the guards, but we can¡¯t say when the situation will deteriorate!¡± ¡°From the Dungeon? How even¡­ No matter! Let¡¯s deal with it immediately. Lead me there! Now.¡± ¡°By your will!¡± I ran like the wind with a runner and a few guards accompanying me as we sped through the freshly built buildings and dirt roads. Thanks to the small size of the settlement even my ¡°mansion¡± wasn¡¯t that far from the Dungeon¡¯s entrance. A blessing in disguise. As we came closer the commotion became easier to discern. About two dozen guards were surrounding a mob of men and women barely wearing any clothes. No¡­ now that I took a better look, these were not sapients, just demihumans. Various animal bits and bobs made their ancestry clear, even if they looked a bit strange compared to the ones I¡¯d met and heard about before. I always thought that my knowledge about the world was second to none, and Blueflame tutors made sure this belief had turned into truth. And yet with all their lessons I couldn¡¯t recall hearing anything about demihumans with rat blood. It was probable, that due to their heritage, they should be untrustworthy, sneaky, and filthy. Yet even this estimation was put into question, as I recalled the rats serving the Dungeon that grew under my feet. Not that their zealous loyalty and startling intelligence were any better. On the other hand, snake demihumans were pretty common, with how Naga, despite being a cold-blooded race, tended to bed almost anything that had two legs. Which was a funny thought in itself, considering how a pure-blooded Naga slithered on their tails. The lizards, or as some called them - draconic demihumans - were rare, but not entirely unheard of. From the stories it seemed like most of them gravitated toward a paragon warrior archetype, often obsessed with martial honor and polishing their skills to unprecedented degrees. I took another look, pitying the beasts. While the Kingdom demanded to kill them on sight and branded them carriers of corruption the truth seemed more complicated, like usual. The mentions of their kind survived from the time of the Ancients, which meant claims of their lowly birth amongst the badlands were hogwash. It was probably a way to find another common enemy to galvanize the populace. The demihumans, or beastmen, as they were sometimes called, did not remind me of true monsters, but rather people just like those under my protection, driven to desperation by circumstance. Seconds passed, as I recalled the necessary knowledge. My group was coming closer to the commotion and we began to hear some of the words exchanged. Both humans and the demihumans were surprisingly civil, even though there was an underlying feeling of tension. ¡°Hey, hey, you can¡¯t say you don¡¯t recognize me, Mel!¡± A large lizardman warrior hooted. ¡°Fuck off, Inda.¡± A diminutive woman-guard spat back, failing to completely hide her smirk. ¡°You¡¯re now uglier than ever. Don¡¯t even think about getting into my bed!¡± A bout of jeers from both the mob and the surrounding warriors resounded as the one called Inda dramatically put a hand on his chest. ¡°Oh, cruel world!¡± He screeched with false despair. ¡°The love of my life had abandoned me!¡± ¡°Shut up, you imbecile!¡± ¡°Gregor, brother-in-law, how¡¯s life? You think they¡¯ll allow me to join up once again?¡± A scaled demihuman waved to another guard, ignoring the commotion. ¡°It would be nice to have you back.¡± The lanky human sighed, while his friend glared at the snake-man with a troubled gaze. ¡°You better think fast about how to explain your face to my sister, Tim. I told her you died¡­¡± He grumbled. ¡°And now I¡¯m alive, even if I¡¯m looking like that! And Fenna will change her mind, once she notices how much is there to discover.¡± The snake grinned and wiggled his split tongue, eliciting another wave of friendly jeers. ¡°What is going on?¡± I murmured with a strange expression. My words were loud enough to alert the nearby guard captain, whose slackened face immediately contorted, as he screamed out his orders. ¡°Attention! Present weapons! Young Master is here!¡± I chucked under my nose. ¡°I¡¯m not young anymore, but thank you, captain¡­?¡± ¡°Vega, sir! Second captain of the defense battalion! Sir!¡± To my surprise not only the guards but also the unruly mob they surrounded stood at attention, with their backs straightened and their eyes looking ahead. ¡°At ease.¡± I ordered and the whole group relaxed immediately - or at least the guards did. Demihumans still stood at attention, with sharp expressions and balled fists, seeming like a bunch of prisoners waiting for an execution. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. There was a commotion, as three of their people were sent to the front. A rat, snake, and lizard demis marched with purpose, the guards allowing them to pass. My bodyguards sneaked nervous glances at me and our surroundings, slowly withdrawing their weapons from sheathes, before stilling after seeing my raised hand. The demihumans stopped a few steps before me, before suddenly falling on their knees. ¡°The Abandoned greet you, Master!¡± They chorused - their words in perfect sync. ¡°¡°¡°The Abandoned greet you!¡±¡±¡± Their brethren repeated the words of their representatives, also falling on their knees, heads bowed in supplication. ¡°For the lives you saved with your magnanimity, we will serve you till our death, till our bones are ground to dust, and our souls dispersed in the Great Wheel.¡± The rat demihuman started talking, his eyes glued to the ground. ¡°We will leave this land, and we beg of you to allow this exile. Do not spill the blood you saved!¡± Added the Naga. ¡°But if it is your will for us to die here, then we¡¯ll gladly comply.¡± Draconic one finished. ¡°Everything is for our Master.¡± ¡°And this is our oath.¡± ¡°¡°¡°This is our oath!¡±¡±¡± I grimaced, and thankfully, none of them raised their heads to see my expression. These were the soldiers I had sent as sacrifices for Uno to perfect his serum. Seeing them on the surface and mostly unharmed meant that the tests were a success. And yet for these people to remain alive meant that any chance of reconciliation with the Geinard Kingdom or remaining ¡°civilized¡± people would be lost. I hated the Kingdom with all my heart but also understood that our militaries were currently so disparate, that they would swat us down without any problem. And that was not even counting the high-level monsters that still remained in their service. And who did we have on our side? A bunch of nobodies, a thrown-away princess, and an insane dungeon. The trio before me trembled as they waited with trepidation for my next words. They understood my position. They knew the world thought them dirty and tainted. Enemies of sentient races. Under their false bravado, I felt raw and burning fear of rejection, a silent plea, a hope - against all odds. Even their moniker - The Abandoned - pointed clearly to an innate understanding of their position. No nation would allow them to stay. Geinard Kingdom, Dross Republic (or whoever survived their purge), Dwarven Holds, Luna Kingdom, and Elven Theocracy were the only oases of civilization that remained. Those who were still alive after the years of war were jaded, brutal, and, most importantly, filled with hatred against anyone touched by the corruption that destroyed so much of what they loved. No matter if those carrying it were innocent or not. Taking them in was a death sentence. On the other hand¡­ Why should I care about what my enemies think? The enmity between Silver Oasis and Geinard Kingdom was pretty much irreconcilable. It was the same with most of the other countries, Dwarven Holds being a notable exception. These people - before they lost their ability to work, to live - were good, loyal soldiers with families still living in town. Killing them off or sending them away would only weaken our resolve. I sighed once again, seeing the kneeling men and women tremble like newborn lambs. Then, slightly shaking my head I spoke, trying to use my noblest tone. ¡°As a Master of Silver Oasis, I welcome you in our ranks. May you spill our enemies'' blood and find peace beside our hearth.¡± The demihumans trembled, not believing their ears, and their draconic leader raised his head, not bothering to wipe out his snot and tears. ¡°T-this lowly Ionas will serve faithfully, Master!¡± ¡°You won¡¯t regret it!¡± ¡°Until death!¡± He banged on his chest, the inhuman eyes following my every move. ¡°Good.¡± I nodded. ¡°Now tell me, do you know how goes Ag-- *ahem* the Princess¡¯ treatment? She was sent down into the Dungeon not long ago.¡± It was hard to keep emotion out of my voice. ¡°Yes, Master! A part of our duties was to inform you, that the doctors had already finished their procedure.¡± The Naga smiled happily, before getting elbowed by the rat demihuman. ¡°What this fool forgets to say is that¡­ there were some complications, Master.¡± His companion finished, wiping the smile from the snake¡¯s face. ¡°What!¡± I shouted, the countless scenarios flowing through my mind. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°Her life is not in danger, Master, but it''s better if you see for yourself. There are too many ears and eyes here.¡± Ionas answered calmly while busy glaring at my bodyguards and being glared at back. I swallowed my despair. ¡°I see.¡± No time like the present. ¡°Captain Vega!¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± ¡°Take care of them, just remember, these are our new companions, not some slave monsters. Act accordingly.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± There was a grin on his face, which I ignored as not befitting his station. Moments later, just before delving into the Dungeon, I caught sight of him hugging a young woman with very furry arms. Their faces bore a familial resemblance. The next minutes were a blur. We ran down the stairs with haste, with a Ratling and a few Lebirs that had started to accompany us from nowhere. They gently nudged our group toward the best paths, smacking away anyone who impeded our marathon. By the end we were sweating bullets, panting hard, tired, and yet alive. I felt a tingle of pity, considering how the soldiers were in full armor and I had only my robe to contend with. ¡°I¡¯ll go alone.¡± ¡°S-sir¡­ but¡­¡± The burliest of the bodyguards gasped for air. ¡°W-we need t-t-to protect you!¡± He stubbornly clung to his duty. Which was commendable, so I didn¡¯t voice my opinion that if Uno wanted to do something, then none of them would be able to prevent it. Instead, I just smiled. ¡°Master Vincent is just behind the corner, as is the Princess. I can¡¯t be in better hands.¡± ¡°As you wish, sir!¡± The soldier and his comrades bowed deeply and remained in position before slumping down as soon as I left their line of sight. I strolled ahead to the place that I knew Agnes was carried into. I loitered before the door for a few seconds, steeling myself. Then I took a deep breath and opened it. What greeted me was a strange sight. Inside the room stood Master Vincent with an incredulous expression on his face. Besides him, there were a few monsters present, with a new, large spider-like armored abomination standing amid its lesser brethren. The monster in question was currently lowering its head to the boyish girl with blonde half-shaven hair, wearing not much more than a white, oversized shirt, and short pants. She seemed to be in the middle of scolding, but my loud entrance seemed to startle her. She turned around, her brilliant green eyes sparkling with recognition. I noticed other splotches of green on her face¡­ no - that was not paint, but scales. Suddenly everything clicked. The way the veterans were saved, the strange expression on their faces. The hush-hush when it came to what actually happened. I wanted to scream and laugh. That damnable Dungeon had indeed created a healing elixir. One that turned people into demihumans. Oh, the irony¡­ My train of thought had been interrupted at that moment as Agnes rammed into me with all her might, hugging me warmly. I caught her, our bodies sticking to each other. Craving each other. ¡°Charles! Charles, it¡¯s really you!¡± She screamed, her hands wandering, checking my body for damage, like she didn¡¯t believe I was there. Feeling her warmth I smiled, the calculation and anger flowing away. I touched her partially-scaled face. It didn¡¯t matter. Despite what she had become, despite what the world thought about the demihumans¡­ I didn¡¯t care. ¡°Yes, my love. It¡¯s me.¡± I swallowed heavily, before looking into her eyes. There was love there. And pain. ¡°I couldn¡¯t leave you to die. I did everything I could, even after the Kingdom abandoned us.¡± ¡°I¡¯m happy it was worth it.¡± I mumbled, hiding my head in her hair. ¡°I¡¯m happy as well.¡± Agnes smiled, before kissing me. And of course, a mechanical, dreary voice had to ruin this moment. ¡°I can explain!¡± Uno drawled through his device. ¡°It was an accident, I swear!¡± ¡°There was an immuno-rejection! A problem that didn¡¯t have any other solution¡­¡± ¡°Any other solution than to turn the love of my life into a DEMIHUMAN?¡± I screamed back, feeling Agnes stiffen in my arms. She trembled, not dissimilarly to the people I left on the surface. I hugged her tighter. ¡°I love you.¡± My whisper warmed her ears. ¡°Whatever and whoever you become, I¡¯m here. I will be here. Not for a Princess. For Agnes, my love.¡± She smiled, her eyes regaining their earlier brightness as she tried to respond, and Uno interrupted the moment again with his whining. ¡°You don¡¯t understand! We had to extract the parasite and save her at the same time! It was a race against time!¡± ¡°B-but look! We have gained a powerful weapon! A bargaining chip!¡± His monsters parted, allowing me to see a strange tube filled with clear liquid and¡­ something floating inside. The thing looked like a cross between a worm and a flower, with a slick, green carapace and a toothed maw. It also twitched slightly, a sign that it was still alive. ¡°Ta-da! Here you have the single remaining clone of the Succubus! High-level lady! Or whatever she was called! Just think how much will the Geinard Kingdom pay for her safety!¡± I could hear the smugness in his voice. ¡°And how much I could glean from learning about this form and those that come after!¡± ¡°Ooooooh! I can¡¯t wait! My own xenomorph!¡± He crowed. ¡°Wait.¡± I spoke, the fury growing deeper in my chest. ¡°Yeeees?¡± ¡°Is¡­ Is that¡­ Is that the thing that nearly killed Agnes?¡± I asked, the reignited emotion returning. ¡°Y-yes?¡± ¡°And you are parading it like some kind of a trophy? Instead of destroying it completely?!¡± ¡°B-but think of the power it hides! The safety it can grant us!¡± ¡°Oh, I had thought about it. During my long, sleepless nights. During the battles with fools who thought of Agnes as but a tool.¡± ¡°And do you know what I had decided, during that time of peril?¡± ¡°No¡­?¡± Uno squeaked. ¡°THAT IT WILL BURN!¡± I screamed, the magic boiling in my chest, green and red intermingling for the first time. The flames came to me naturally, like I was born to summon them from the deepest circles of Hell. Part of me wondered what Hell even was. The rest simply rejoiced as I stepped forward and spoke. ¡°Come forth, Gehenna.¡± And the flames answered. 081 Uno Well¡­ that escalated quickly. One moment I was looking at a lovers¡¯ reunion and the next a psychotic episode happened right before my eyes. It was regrettable that Charles¡¯ first course of action was to torch down all that I had salvaged from the vestige of that high-level human. The amount of wasted resources kinda stung. Sure, I didn¡¯t know if there was anything to gain from the parasite but just the idea of having a hostage was tempting. Especially with a behemoth like Geinard Kingdom breathing down our neck. At least Charles''s rage was focused only on the tube containing the parasite. The rest of my monsters were given orders to avoid him while trying to move the delicate equipment out of his range. It didn¡¯t matter much, though. In the end, every monster and item in the room were expendable. The loss of their accumulated knowledge would hurt, but new mobs would retain much of their expertise. It was the same with the machines - while right now they were one of their kind, Ratlings and Butchers had already made relevant blueprints. Mechanicus''s life was the only non-renewable resource in the room, as his ascension was unique. I would love to preserve him, yet my lack of boss slots meant once he died he would remain dead. His fate was out of my hands. I mean, I could order him to run away but somehow I had a feeling it wouldn¡¯t work. Observing the destruction and the red-green flames that started to lick some of my closer standing monsters I started to wonder if Charles¡¯ exaggerated reaction happened because I filtered my responses through the secondary Dungeon Core. The one happily connected to Peter¡¯s body which was currently busy stuffing its belly with various dishes in the dungeon of Snake Den. The same one, which had already experienced various mental deviations due to the hormonal imbalance present in the flesh it inhabited. In retrospect, I probably should stop experimenting while in the middle of such high-tension situations. Still, the results were interesting, if a bit concerning. My crystal mind wasn¡¯t devoid of emotions, but they came and left quickly, letting me choose the best course of action without any interruptions. I grew used to that luxury. My secondary core joined with the fleshy brain was behaving differently - it didn¡¯t manage to avoid mood swings and intense emotions - all these detrimental things I thought I left behind. Truth be told, the reason for the dissonance might lie in mental damage retained from Peter¡¯s time in Charles¡¯ dungeon. The torture left lasting harm both on the body, and the mind, even though I consumed the former. Maybe channeling myself through the poor sod¡¯s flesh, while answering his tormentor wasn¡¯t the greatest gambit of my life. You are what you eat, after all. It was not that bad, though. My eyes were still on the grand prize, and appearing weak should get me closer to that goal. Now I only had to instill a sense of urgency in the flame mage - and a need for power¡­ then he should become more malleable to my suggestions. Parasite¡¯s demise wasn¡¯t a total loss. I sincerely doubted that Geinard Kingdom¡¯s people didn¡¯t closely monitor the state of their most powerful assets. And if I was right, a punitive force should be forming in the capital right at this moment. I wasn¡¯t completely suicidal though. There were certain scalable contingencies that I had prepared, which should if not directly eliminate, then at least heavily damage any forces trying to take my Dungeon down. And by extension, the Silver Oasis too, even if the opponent was one of the Geinard Kingdom''s Pillars. In the worst-case scenario, I would have to start from the beginning. Which was an acceptable outcome. Anyway, Charles was still spraying fire all around him, looking like a human-shaped flamethrower. He was making doubly sure that not even ash remained from the woman who nearly took his girlfriend¡¯s life. He gibbered a few curse words during the rampage and besides that, there was lots of running - the said running being mostly done by my creatures, like some kind of deranged game of cat-and-mouse. The amount of flame-free space was turning into a hot commodity. I, on the other hand, ignored the damage being done and wondered how deeply Gangria¡¯s system read my mind. The reason? I couldn¡¯t find any other explanation as to why the hot-blooded mage¡¯s spell was called Gehenna, out of all things. That was a word taken out of Earth¡¯s mythology, goddammit! My world¡¯s mythology! It could mean that there was some earlier connection between both worlds, (which was hidden from Dungeon Cores¡­ but again that wasn¡¯t a hard thing to do), or maybe the mad Goddess was somehow hacking my crystalline brain. Still, the how was less important than the why. I just couldn¡¯t wrap my head around it. Why Charles was granted a skill connected to Earth mythos? Why now, and not earlier? What changed? Questions without answers. I was running in circles, and that meant it was time to change the topic. I searched for something else to focus on - and just in time. Agnes was coming to the rescue! *smack* The noise made was a bit comical, but being bonked by her hand had to hurt, high-level or not. ¡°Ow!¡± ¡°Are you done?¡± ¡°Wha-what?¡± Charles turned around, his expression full of confusion. ¡°I said are you done destroying the place?¡± ¡°B-but the revenge¡­ I need, I mean, you¡­¡± ¡°You need to breathe, darling.¡± Agnes'' green eyes narrowed dangerously. He nodded, gulping down the air and after a moment spoke with conviction.¡°It was all for your sake, my love. The threat needed to be eradicated. Those who hurt you should never be able to do it again. Never.¡± ¡°I think I should¡¯ve decided that, darling.¡± ¡°Ummm¡­¡± ¡°And while this Dungeon Core may be an insane man-eater, he had a point. The bitch¡¯s remains had some worth.¡± ¡°Gee- thanks.¡± I interrupted sarcastically. ¡°Hush, crystal man. Anyway, the parasite was a hostage and a bargaining chip. And you just burned it away.¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t stand this thing to live, not after what it had put you through!¡± Charles nearly shouted. ¡°And I¡¯m grateful for what you¡¯ve done even if I was sleeping for most of it.¡± Agnes smiled and hugged her agitated boyfriend. ¡°But I¡¯m a big girl and I can make my own decisions, you know?¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°I know.¡± He affirmed, before continuing darkly. ¡°I fucked up, didn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°A bit.¡± She nodded solemnly but immediately smiled afterward. ¡°Still, maybe there¡¯s a chance to reclaim something from the ashes? Hmmm, Dungeon?¡± ¡°I have a name, you know?¡± I grumbled, before answering. ¡°Your boyfriend roasted the parasite down to the molecular level. I may be able to scoop some pieces, but no promises.¡± ¡°Hmmm¡­ That¡¯s too bad.¡± She muttered, before changing the topic. ¡°Is it me, or are you now more in control of your emotions, Uno? Squealing like a maiden in distress wouldn¡¯t help anyone right now.¡± ¡°Something like that.¡± I answered calmly, cutting off any echo from the secondary core. ¡°Good. Then we can talk business.¡± ¡°Agnes, you¡¯ve just woken up. Maybe eat something, sleep the nightmare off, and then try to negotiate with a literal monster.¡± Charles worried. ¡°I am still in the room, you know?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already slept for a long time, love.¡± She flashed him a quick smile. ¡°And I have a feeling that killing one of the Kingdom¡¯s Pillars will have consequences.¡± ¡°That¡¯s possible, and also one of the reasons why I¡¯ve already talked with Charles about the next step, his enhancement. I also had two more ideas that could strengthen our forces.¡± ¡°You mean your forces.¡± ¡°Tomato, to-mah-to.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it the same, in the end?¡± I sighed dramatically. ¡°We are allies. Time to start acting like it.¡± ¡°Whatever.¡± Charles put his hands in the air. ¡°So what are your demands?¡± ¡°Suggestions, not demands.¡± I corrected gently. ¡°I would prefer that my first-floor bosses were allowed to respawn since your people are currently camping in their spots.¡± ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll do so, maybe I won''t.¡± He grinned. I internally shook my head. Power play. Politics. How I hated those - and that was just when I was watching them on TV. ¡°They¡¯re not an important resource since their levels are limited¡­ not to mention they can¡¯t leave the floor, but in the event of an attack any defenders are better than none.¡± ¡°You discount the worth of my guards, then?¡± Charles huffed in annoyance. ¡°Should I really answer that question?¡± I shot back. ¡°My Dungeon may not be deep, but your delvers are stuck on the second floor!¡± The uneasy silence continued for a few moments until Agnes decided to ignore our little fight. ¡°So, Uno, do you know what I have become? The System window says something about race change to an Impure human with Naga added in brackets?¡± ¡°Oh, there¡¯s also a change to my class. Now it¡¯s called Uluchi Dancer?¡± She tilted her head. ¡°I would prefer if it was the Dancer would go away, not the part about War.¡± Agnes pouted. And here go again. It was time for Hindu mythology, then. ¡°Uluchi is the name of a Naga princess, so I guess that¡¯s an upgrade from your old class.¡± I answered calmly, then added after a moment of hesitation. It wasn¡¯t a secret, anyway, unless I wanted to murder every demihuman born in my dungeon. ¡°Also my dungeon creatures found out that those who were monsterized often gained additional skills or traits. It would be prudent if it was the same in your case.¡± ¡°Hmmm?¡± She hummed, her eyes glazing over. ¡°Oh! It seems like there are some new additions. How exciting! Let¡¯s go and test them, Charles!¡± Agnes grabbed her boyfriend and forcefully dragged him toward the stairs before he had a chance to protest. [Send someone to guide the humans, it wouldn¡¯t do for them to be hurt.] I ordered. [And clean up the mess he made. Maybe there are still salvageable pieces amongst the ashes.] [It is not very probable, Creator, but we¡¯ll check anyway.] Mechanicus rumbled, his thoughts clear, crisp, and somewhat mechanical. [Good.] I turned around and left. My see-through form walked through the Dungeon¡¯s halls easily, intending to arrive on the second floor. While moving I noticed countless work crews comprised of Ratlings and Drones busying themselves with the creation of new tunnels. My downward expansion had stalled - mostly because of an arbitrary requirement about sentients killed in my gullet. Earlier I thought that these were just some hoops to jump through, just to make my day worse. However, after seeing what a normal Dungeon Core was like my opinion about the matter changed quite a bit. If all that was inside the crystal was an endless repetition loop, then it made sense to create safeguards to curb the growth that no one profited from. I assumed that the energy both I and my lesser brethren used to create and maintain the underground wasn¡¯t free. And, to not waste said energy stupid ideas had to be culled. Stupid ideas such as a hundred-floor-deep dungeon in the middle of wastelands, which no one delved into. Still, these slowdowns were irritating. Huffing, I arrived in the western part of the second floor, where Non¡¯s hideout was tucked in. A single, darkened room was enough for the revenant, and her kobold follower also wasn¡¯t a choosy type. I looked around the room, noticing it was as bare as always, while the resident undead rose from her slumber and instantly homed onto my figure. Her black eyes traced my every movement, even though there was no way for her to do so. [Hello, Non.] I spoke through our bond. [I¡¯ve come to fulfill my offer about giving you another chance. There are however a few different directions we could take. Because of that, it would be for the best if you were the one to decide.] I chuckled. [It is only fair to do so because you will be the one to bear the consequences of your choices.] Her sharp nod was the only answer, so I continued. [I¡¯ve thought of three ways to accomplish your goal.] I counted down on my fingers. [The first solution would probably turn you into some kind of vampire. I know it¡¯s not perfect, but these are the most alive of the dead I encountered. And, by chance, Charles managed to acquire some of their ashes. Using either these or flesh from a resurrected vampire should be enough to create a serum that will push you through the evolution.] [Normally I would hope for some kind of dhampir archetype, but considering both of your halves are undead¡­] I took one look at her disgusted face and snorted. [Yeah, so you¡¯re not a fan, either. Moving on.] Non¡¯s kobold curled up nearby, not able to hear our conversation but adamant about keeping his mistress company. [The second one is a bit of a gamble. We could simply use the existing portions of the serum to augment your strength with those of my other monsters.] I sighed. [Sadly there are only a few available flavors and the additional ones - orcs, trolls, goblins, and other invaders I killed are probably not your type anyway.] Seeing her nod thoughtfully I continued. [Still, by using this way you would probably remain as an undead, only of a demihuman type. There¡¯s always a chance for a lucky break¡­ but I don¡¯t think you want to gamble with your future.] [Anyway, it¡¯s a way forward, even if a risky one. And not to mention, that the ingredients are already available.] Non shook her head only after a moment of hesitation. I approved. The steeper the road, the better the reward. Or so should it be. Was that dungeon instinct speaking? I hoped that was not the case. [And here we are. The last, and the hardest road. Ah, but waiting for something better to be found is also a choice, you know?] I waved my hands. [No matter if you want to put the choice aside for a moment, or decide right now, I won¡¯t fault you.] A small smile graced her lips. [Under. Stood.] [Now, the last choice. It¡¯s also a kind of a gamble but in a different way than before. You see, the serum we use takes and enhances characteristics of the base organism and foreign substance, be it DNA or something else.] That part was quite logical, but magic and science were not always interacting so cleanly. [To achieve a significant difference between the starting and ending points a powerful additive with a large focus on a single property is needed. Still with me?] [Yes.] Her black eyes narrowed. [This means we need an item filled with life, which would normally be an ancient artifact or something of that nature. A rare potion maybe? Something hard to acquire, for sure.] Non¡¯s demeanor soured. She knew how hard it was to find such things. [But there¡¯s a shortcut. Rather than wait for the opportunity to fall on your lap you can gather the necessary life energy by killing off some of our enemies. Living ones, of course. I can forge weapons for you, a siphoning pair of daggers. Harvest enough and we¡¯ll have our component.] [As a bonus, it wouldn¡¯t be bad to bleed the Geinard Kingdom a bit more. That¡¯s killing two, no, three birds with one stone. Especially after Charles had gone and pissed them off.] [So.] I grinned. [What will it be, Non?] Surprisingly the revenant responded with her own cruel smile. She abandoned the mind-speak and coughed out gruff and short words. ¡°Not. Need. Ask.¡± ¡°Choose. Kill.¡± I also grinned. [As should it be, Non. As should it be.] It was time to put my knowledge to use. The runes keeping Snake Den core in place had a few siphoning components. Now, it was only a question of copying them into usable weapons. How hard could it be? 082 Uno Spoiler - it turned out that forging weapons from Warpstone wasn¡¯t easy. Especially since it seemed like the green gold was behaving more like a stone, than an ore. There was nothing to melt, to purify into usable metal. This came as a surprise and meant that I currently lacked the method to process it¡­ this obstacle could be overcome but I speculated that such experimentation would be a dangerous and lengthy process. And that was why I swiftly delegated it to an unending stream of Ratling volunteers and one particular Idiot-Smith. This made the first-floor smithy crowded with both human peanut gallery and a constant wave of rat helpers. It was chaos. Some of the Ratlings were screaming, others tried to assist the smith, while the rest were carried away, their bodies charred and swollen. Those in still recoverable shape were given one of the remaining serums in hopes of saving their lives. An additional objective was to create new monster types for my dungeon to recreate. There was no need to waste perfectly good materials. This high-speed attrition rate filled the smithy with the smell of burned fur and flesh, creating a place more akin to purgatory, than a forge room. In the middle Idiot-Smith pounded the metal like there was no tomorrow, ignoring the constant shattering of failures. Around him the rats also worked their assess off, trying different tricks while preparing the Warpstone for use. In the end, only the most resilient humans could keep watching, yet they persisted, their eyes twinkling with greed and awe. If what I learned earlier was correct, then their desire was easy to understand. Yana''s continent lacked magical metals, items, and potions. Or at least the sentients were devoid of the means to create them. There were no crafting classes, only the combat ones, so assistance wasn¡¯t given to those with academic minds. No skills, upgrades, nothing. I heard that some dedicated folks were trying to rediscover forgotten secrets by recreating their predecessor¡¯s descriptions, but their ignorant forays often ended up in disaster. Not that haphazardly throwing lives and resources at the problem like I did was any better. There were some results already, but not from the angle I was pursuing. A new breed of Ratling had been born. An agile helper, with greater resistance to fire damage, blunt and piercing trauma. Their minds were quick and cunning, just like the Ratmen of the Old World.
Iron Ratling Crafter A small, bipedal, hunched rat type evolved from a beast-like dungeon creature. It trades natural weapons for dexterous four-fingered hands and an equally agile tail allowing it to aid in its tasks. Their hide provides heat insulation and reasonable damage resistance. While there are many types of Crafters, with different abilities regarding temperature resistance, strength, and nimbleness (depending on their chosen profession), all are part of the same sentient-adjacent evolution tree. Threat level: E
I observed the new breed and discovered that the changed rats were already close to evolving on their own. I just sped up the process. The countless tunnels and underground warrens already created a need for specialized mechanics and blacksmiths. I was also pretty sure that Ratlings that took up farming or medicine were on the same road to specialize. It was only a matter of time before they achieved something truly spectacular. But that was for later. Right now their role was to help me create an artifact I promised Non. I focused my mind. What were the problems? The first hurdle was to understand how to work with Warpstone. I often made fun of the crafting stories, or hell, even the Lord of the Rings, where working Mithril and Ithildin was a nigh impossible, forgotten task. I wasn¡¯t laughing now. At least I wasn¡¯t completely starting from the beginning. Ratlings had already tried a load of stuff, failing pretty much every time, but by doing so they allowed me to understand what actions I should avoid. Like how the material didn¡¯t respond well to excessive heat and instead turned into a mutagenic goo splashing on the floor. It dissolved most of the materials that came into contact, be it flesh, iron, or stone. Unfortunate, that. Or how it turned brittle when melted the ¡°wrong¡± way, splintering explosively when struck. That one trait was useful for traps since the splinters carried some nasty side effects¡­ ah, but the cost of building them was quite prohibitive. Trying to find the proper procedure was grueling, dangerous work. I left the minions to it and started to track what Charles and his surfacers were doing. My avatar was sent to observe more of the runes chaining the Snake Den¡¯s Dungeon Core and I focused on frantic activity taking place above my head. Part of it was watching Charles being dragged around by his girlfriend, as she used her newly gained powers to plow through both my Dungeon and the unlucky wasteland-born monsters. The Silver Oasis leader was looking increasingly exhausted, dark circles appearing under his eyes. Despite that gaunt face, this was the only moment when I saw him smile - when he accompanied Agnes in her activities. So, of course, I decided to add a bit to his work. My servants wandered into the man¡¯s compound and asked for a meeting. Things were moving and I hoped for some overall plan to be made. It took a few days for Charles to clean up his schedule but that was fine. We weren¡¯t that hurried. In the end, we decided that a first-floor room - the one once used as an armory - was good enough to conduct our meeting. I spawned a few chairs and a table beforehand, as the place was intentionally left decrepit. The low-level Lebirs standing near the walls were of no consequence, with both Charles and Agnes being the surfacers'' powerhouses. Additionally, Master Vincent, the old, helmet-wearing mage, and Charles'' silver-haired butler, Adam, were attending this meeting, raising its importance from a simple chat into something more profound. The young, red-haired mage was the first one to speak. ¡°What is it, Uno? I have work to do.¡± He grumbled, relenting a bit after Agnes caressed his arm. ¡°Well, I gave you ample time to reacquaint yourself with the Princess, so I thought we should talk about your treatment and the overall situation.¡± ¡°The situation?¡± Master Vincent spoke before Charles could respond. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Do you people not share information?¡± I asked incredulously. ¡°Your leader pissed off the Geinard Kingdom¡¯s higher-ups so a retaliation should follow shortly.¡± It seemed like the old mage was the only one not in the loop, as the other people present didn¡¯t even change their expressions at this revelation. He scratched his chin while glaring at Charles. ¡°Care to explain?¡± ¡°You were cloistered in your tower, analyzing the information you dragged out of Uno¡¯s creatures. Your apprentices had the gall to wave me away, even when I came to get you in person.¡± Charles huffed in annoyance. ¡°What else do you want? Be glad I didn¡¯t turn them into ashes for the disrespect!¡± ¡°Ahh¡­¡± It was time for Master Vincent to feel awkward. ¡°I may have given out some harsh orders to stop the interruptions.¡± He admitted sheepishly. ¡°Sorry.¡± Charles massaged his temples. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, there¡¯s not much we can do, anyway.¡± ¡°But being informed is a half of the battle.¡± I interrupted, before adding. ¡°And the other half is raw power. My ability to gather information is limited considering I¡¯m a bit rooted in place.¡± There was no chuckling in response to my pun. Shame. ¡°Still, my furthest sentries do tell me about stirrings in Shieldstar, the Kingdom¡¯s capital. More worryingly both wasteland and Luna Kingdom¡¯s territories are behaving suspiciously.¡± ¡°And how did you even gather that knowledge?¡± ¡°A secret!¡± I grinned, even though nobody could see it. It turned out that creating a race of prolific rat-like beings adaptable to most environments had some perks. The Queens sent raiding parties and scouting teams to find new Dungeons and places to settle. Right now their efforts didn¡¯t bring any effects but along the way, some of the Ratlings were embedded in our enemies'' territory. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. From what I¡¯ve heard their life was anything but easy with a body count already in the hundreds but their sacrifices weren¡¯t in vain. ¡°Really?¡± Charles snarled. ¡°We¡¯re allies, for Gods sake!¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I need to share every little thing I know with you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that a Dungeon Core having scouts and spies classifies as a little thing.¡± Before our argument could escalate Agnes interrupted the back and forth. ¡°Adam, do we have any information about what Uno had reported?¡± The old butler messed around with the papers he brought to the meeting. After a short while he responded, his eyes still lingering on the written word. ¡°Our reach in the Geinard Kingdom is limited, so I can¡¯t confirm their mobilization but considering Master Charles''s elimination of their one-woman army the retaliation is likely.¡± He sighed. ¡°Things are a bit clearer with the Luna Kingdom. We did receive an inquiry about the dungeon-born creatures being spotted near their borders.¡± ¡°Damn.¡± So it was my fault, huh? Adam continued as if nobody interrupted him. ¡°And considering that they recognize Uno¡¯s Dungeon as pacified we deflected the query, guessing that there may be another Dungeon being born in the vicinity.¡± ¡°That won¡¯t fly.¡± Agnes scoffed. ¡°Not only for about half of a century no other Dungeon had been born, but also the creatures they found were probably rats. I assume their reaction to Uno¡¯s undead - Lebris, right? - would be different, considering the badlands are nearby.¡± ¡°Yes, I would assume so.¡± The butler confirmed. ¡°And yes, before you ask, Madam, I searched the library, poor as it is, and found no mention of any other Dungeon on record to create anything similar to Ratlings.¡± ¡°Rats aren¡¯t that uncommon, though?¡± I wondered. ¡°Rats - yes. Those things you created, with a ranged attack, social structure, and war tactics¡­ those I would certainly classify as unique.¡± I inwardly nodded. Considering that my ¡°brothers¡± were simply a crystal with a baked-in loop of orders¡­ I wasn¡¯t surprised. ¡°So they¡¯re onto us.¡± Charles mumbled. ¡°A reasonable assumption.¡± Adam nodded in response. ¡°So we¡¯re in for another friendly incursion from their Princess or another big wig I assume?¡± I asked, feeling something cold crawl up my spine. This was worrying. I didn¡¯t even have a spine! ¡°Probably. And considering that dungeon creatures are walking among us, with the fresh addition of demihumans.¡± Agnes smirked humorlessly, pointing at her scales. ¡°We can¡¯t allow them to reach the Silver Oasis proper.¡± ¡°Yes. The Luna Kingdom may not be as bad as Elven Theocracy or even Geinard Kingdom, but they would still purge those changed in a blink of an eye.¡± Master Vincent spoke with a placid expression. ¡°Great. Another problem on my head.¡± ¡°Our heads, darling.¡± Agnes smiled, touching his hands which calmed the hot-headed man down. ¡°Any other reports, Adam?¡± ¡°Yes, Madam. Our scouts note an increased activity in the badlands.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t things always stirring there?¡± The red-haired mage grumbled. ¡°Surprisingly, no.¡± Master Vincent smiled, the question kindling a scholar¡¯s fire in his eyes. ¡°You see badlands are devoid of life, making any army movement a perilous operation. No food to scavenge means depending on a logistical train, something that the barbarians are nearly incapable of. Because of that most of their living population is concentrated in a few, highly contested lush zones. They¡¯re not unlike our oasis, just bigger and located pretty much only on the surface.¡± ¡°The badlands humming with activity is a rare thing. They don¡¯t waste food and water without a cause. For example when they¡¯re preparing for a raid¡­ or when the ancient undead are stirring.¡± ¡°Do we have any idea what is happening there?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve noticed many battle sites and signs of movement. Not much more is known.¡± ¡°And the bodies?¡± ¡°Mix of undead and barbaric races. Goblins, orcs, some trolls.¡± ¡°So someone is stirring the pot.¡± ¡°It would seem so.¡± Adam admitted. ¡°At least Dwarven Holds remain neutral.¡± Charles sighed in response. ¡°They rarely move unless directly provoked.¡± I kept quiet about a whole dwarven colony being put to the sword. Hopefully, that decision of mine won¡¯t bite us in the ass. ¡°What about Dross Republic?¡± ¡°We have fragmentary reports.¡± The butler responded. ¡°It¡­ doesn¡¯t look good.¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Agnes questioned their servant. ¡°He means that the whole place is trashed.¡± I interrupted. ¡°A strange gas covers their whole former territory, killing anyone entering it. I¡¯m working on a solution but for now, my undead are in charge of scouting.¡± This was an un-optimal solution because calling Lebir stupid was the understatement of the century. And for some reason, charcoal-activated gas masks weren¡¯t able to stop the magical sarin from entering the lungs of my Ratlings. How did I know how to make them? Thank you, Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead. I had only the barest idea, though - all the kinks were straightened by my rats. ¡°But that won¡¯t stop the wild undead or worse spawning and wandering through their territory¡­ I shudder at what kind of mutations will appear in that place.¡± Master Vincent added his three cents with a serious expression. ¡°It¡¯s widely known that the birthplace of a monster has a great influence over its skills and body makeup. Slimes, undead, and toxic tribes are common in such places.¡± There was a bang, as Charles smashed his fist into the table. ¡°So not only did they abandon the continent in its time of need but they even left us a farewell present, did they?¡± His face was turning murderous. ¡°It would seem so, love.¡± Agnes caressed his shoulder once again, eliciting a small blush as he huffed. ¡°There¡¯s not much we can do about it. We can only hope that the ocean¡¯s horrors will make them pay the price for their betrayal.¡± The low mood persisted even as we continued to talk about our neighbors, concluding that Dwarven Holds was the only country we could trade with. Otherwise, Silver Oasis had to rely on the Dungeon and surrounding landscape to feed, clothe, and arm itself. Things that I was able to provide. Then it happened. In the middle of the discussion, I was pinged by my creatures. They did it. The Warpstone had been processed into a usable state. In the end, we had achieved a breakthrough by way of coincidence. Idiot-Smith smashed the prepared billet, which shattered in two pieces, ricocheting around the room. It skewered a rat on the way, before stabbing into the nearby wall. Before the rest of the helpers could dispose of another failure, Idiot-Smith picked it up in his hammer-fugue. This time the metal didn¡¯t bend, shatter, or leak. It allowed the Idiot-Smith to pound it into shape, sharpen it¡­ and then its work was done. It seemed like the answer was¡­ blood. Warpstone needed to be slathered in blood before forging to keep it under control. Fucking blood-forging wasn¡¯t a meme. Damn. Now only to experiment on whether sacrificing a life was a necessity, did it raise the quality of metal? Was blood from a random creature enough? Another conundrum - did sapience or maybe sentience have to be achieved first for the blood to work? Questions, questions, questions. I shook my head but accepted the outcome. With the Snake Den Dungeon being nearby killing off my own creatures wasn¡¯t needed, so that part of the production process could be industrialized. Ratlings already were butchering snakes for meat and experience - siphoning off their blood only added another way to use them. After the blades were made and sharpened I focused on the hardest part. Carving the runes. Due to their 3D nature, I focused on carving the weapon handles, since weakening a blade¡¯ structure would be ill-advised. At least I could cheat, directly spawning the bones of many magical creatures killed off in the invasion, or even those of my own. Creating Non¡¯s weapon handles out of fellow undead felt pretty horrible. The Ratlings'' bones were too weak to be of any use and Butchers'' organic parts devolved into something that wasn¡¯t even classified as a bone, but more like a type of alloy¡­ so I ended up deciding on some troll bones as a base. These creatures were among the invaders killed a while back and, to tell the truth, I kind of forgot about their existence despite their useful traits like innate regeneration. The rest of the schema was pretty awful though, with the resulting creature being dumber than dumb and full of hunger. And that was even when comparing them to the Lebirs, which certainly weren¡¯t champions of intellect. This combination created an omnivorous living vacuum cleaner with the intelligence of a rock. I was surprised they managed to breed, with their elevated levels of aggression activated by virtually any living thing, other trolls included. Their regeneration wasn¡¯t compatible with Lebirs and Ratlings as they were too small (or too undead) to sustain the caloric intake needed for the regrowing ability to work properly. Still, it was an option, just one I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to use. It seemed too much like a weapon made to wipe a territory clean, making it inhabitable in the process. And a tool that could turn on its maker wasn¡¯t a weapon at all, just a catastrophe waiting to happen. Anyway, what followed were hours and days of slow, mindless work, trying to carve away the exact shapes of the 3D mana seals, and adapt them to the weapon itself. I was never good at this type of thing¡­ At least I could rebuild places where my ¡°hands¡± slipped, sparing me from starting all over. Still, even with such a cheat, it was a mind-numbing task, one that I couldn¡¯t even cede on my minions. In the end, my work ended without fanfare. There wasn¡¯t any explosion or visual cue, at least to the naked eye. The surrounding mana swirled and disappeared into dagger-shaped holes punched into reality, as my creations greedily drank the power, stopping only when the room turned into a mana-less wasteland. The weapon looked like a sleek pair of carved spikes made from dark, slightly green metal - perfect for stabbing. The daggers ended in a carved, white, and gleaming bone - a beautiful color, despite its gruesome origin. These armaments positively hummed with power - they weren¡¯t even sapient, yet the greed and desire to feed emanating from them were overwhelming. Forcing myself to ignore the intuitive revulsion I looked at them, and surprisingly, the System showed me a description. Weird. This was new.
Souldrinker Incisors A pair of otherwise unremarkable magical daggers made from green, rare metal and smithed using a long-forgotten art of blood quenching. They carry a crude soul-stealing enchantment and have been prepared to disgorge the stolen essence into portable orbs. Despite being only a tool of murder their innate hunger sharpens the metal they were forged from while its sheer malevolence makes it harder for their wielder to hide from sight. If fed enough souls the daggers could awaken into sentience.
Wait. Fuck you, System! My enchantments are not crude! 083 Uno The newly made weapons were given to their intended owner and, for the first time in forever, I observed the corners of Non¡¯s mouth curving up slightly. It might not seem like much, but when it came to the demure revenant, it was the equivalent of a ¡®normal¡¯ person laughing and hollering. I felt a surge of warmth. Giving presents always made me happy, even if the items in question were tools of destruction and murder. It was the thought that counted, right? Anyway, the undead girl was getting used to her new weapons, twirling them on the palms of her hands, like they were toys, not implements of death. After a moment she grasped them firmly in her hands, performing something I could only describe as shadow-boxing. Or more like shadow-stabbing? Was that even a thing? She danced around the room, stabbing and piercing through invisible opponents, her eyes and hands never resting. She dodged foes borne out of her mind without a change in expression. The little kobold followed her lead, slipping under her arms and appearing in the wildest places, his daggers searing through the air in perfect complementation to Non¡¯s attacks. The show lasted minutes and in the end, I wanted to clap, but a feeling of incongruity stopped me. Something was missing. Something important. Then it clicked. In hindsight, it was so obvious! Non¡¯s new weapons lacked a sheath! The older one was filled with ¡°normal¡± daggers, not to mention that its shape was all wrong. It took me only a second to create a pair of leather, tube-like containers, made to easily fit the piercing, soul-sucking stilettos. Then, with a thought, I added a lithe but sturdy belt that connected them, finishing the tool with some studded metal here and there. The upper part of the sheath was covered in a buttoned clasp for securing the weapon. Perfect. As soon as it spawned I checked if the System meddled in its creation. Alas, this time there was no reaction. It was understandable, as there was no magic in the leather, but it was still a shame. Hmm¡­ was I growing spoiled, like a gacha gamer after a single five-star pull? Non had noticed the sheath appearing and shifted her form into a less battle-ready stance. She walked with the grace of a predator, picking up my present without any hesitation. The revenant nodded to herself before detaching one of the older containers and waving it into the air. ¡°More.¡± She rasped, pointing to the belt. Curious I made another one and observed as she proceeded to swing the belts over her arms and neck, making sure that the new daggers were securely located behind her back. The older weapons, that I thought she would discard, were left as they were, hanging from her waist. [Why go through all the trouble of having four weapons?] I asked. The second pair was clearly superior, I couldn¡¯t understand why she wanted to carry less potent daggers too. It was not like they were heavy, but¡­ it made me curious. After all in RPGs older weapons were either discarded, sold, or salvaged. The girl grunted, her black hair swaying as she shook her head in exasperation. Was this something obvious? She unsheathed a stiletto and a dagger, lifting them for me to see. An unneeded consideration, as in the dungeon I was privy to observing everything I wanted. ¡°Cut.¡± She spoke, exaggeratedly swinging the dagger, before storing it away. ¡°And.¡± She continued, even as she took a crouched position, before shooting out like the world''s deadliest sting. ¡°Pier. Ce.¡± I could hear the air howl as the Souldrinker Dagger moved, before perforating a nearby wall. As the revenant nonchalantly removed it from the stone there wasn¡¯t even a scratch on the enchanted metal it was made from. Non inspected her tools, before nodding sharply, and sheathing them. Then she raised her head, not a drop of sweat visible on her pale skin. ¡°Diff. Rent.¡± I inwardly nodded. [I understand. Specialized tools are needed for different situations.] [Wait. What about the blunt damage? I suppose it¡¯s rather effective against some of the undead, not to mention the other foes, right?] Instead of answering the revenant pointed at her companion. The small kobold was startled, not understanding what was happening. It was my fault, really. Half of the conversation had been silent after all. Before I moved to correct my mistake Non made a hand sign and her ninja follower''s eyes brightened. The kobold produced a compact mace, suspiciously similar to those carried by some of Lebirs. That suspicion became surety as the kobold pressed a hidden switch and the weapon hummed with electricity. [It had been some time since I made those.] I grumbled. [At least somebody is finding them useful. The surfacers certainly aren¡¯t.] ¡°Use. Full.¡± Non agreed. ¡°More.¡± [You need more? I guess fire or ice weapons would be nice to fill all the niches, eh?] She nodded. My thoughts wandered for a moment before focusing on the present once again. [Sadly that¡¯s not easy to do. These things are essentially a battery and a bit of wire, to make sure the electricity will flow without obstructions. Just an overgrown taser.] I mused, once again angry at not remembering how exactly the electricity worked. Angry about not knowing how anything worked, now that I thought about it. I came from a hi-tech world, a proud member of our civilization. I was sure of the technology of Earth - of guns and engines, and nuclear weapons. But despite my pride, in the end, I was just a consumer. A cog in a machine. An ignoramus, if you will. My spiraling thoughts were cut short by the revenant girl''s actions. She straightened up, signaling to her kobold attendant, who whirled into activity. It took me a few seconds to recognize what he was doing. Preparations for a long journey were the same no matter the world. Food, shelter, tools. ¡°Leave.¡± Non spoke, her black eyes drilling holes in my soul. [I see.] It wasn¡¯t the first time she left the shelter of my dungeon, and yet the feelings that her decision evoked were different than before. We got to know each other more, even though I intended to separate work from feelings. If the circumstances were different I would ask her to stay. At least until the danger from the Geinard Kingdom had passed. But Non was on a timer. With each passing day, her humanity dwindled as it was replaced with blind hate common in the undead. Still, there were words that I needed to say. This time I broadcasted them to both Non and her servant. [Stay safe. I assume you¡¯ll go straight into the Shieldstar. The capital¡¯s streets should be easy to navigate since you¡¯ve grown up there, especially since they¡¯re under siege and lack manpower. Despite that I ask you don¡¯t get complacent.] [It¡¯s possible that during your journey you¡¯ll encounter the Kingdom¡¯s forces on the way here. Leave them be. It¡¯s not worth risking your life when we¡¯ll be surely able to counter them.] I grinned. [And no searching for Lord Hawk. You¡¯re stronger, but not that strong yet. I do not want to be forced into replacing your other limbs with metal.] She waved her hands dismissively before quickly moving through my tunnels, her attendant following. And, just before leaving for good, she turned back, whispering a few words. ¡°Sur. Vive.¡± Her silhouette, slowly melting into darkness looked lonely but determined. Non The night was cold and the darkness suffocating¡­ not that she could feel or care about that anymore. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. She cut through it like a blade, unfeeling, efficient. Alone. ¡°Kyuuu!¡± Her kobold running nearby protested, making her lips twitch again. It was the second time today. Usually, she was more in control of her body. Of course, this was not a normal day. The ninja monster that accompanied her had a nearly supernatural ability to read her thoughts, especially when they concerned himself. ¡°Know.¡± She responded waving him off. His scrunched face forced her to continue. ¡°Thoughts. Hard.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not alone, Mistress.¡± He spoke back and she couldn¡¯t stop marveling at how quickly the little thing learned to talk. The kobold still preferred silence, just like her, but sometimes words were necessary. ¡°What are our plans?¡± ¡°Sol. Diers. Kill.¡± ¡°Master Uno asked you not to bother though?¡± The lizard monster tilted its head in confusion. She shook her head. ¡°Con. Fi. Dent.¡± ¡°Too. Much.¡± ¡°But you can¡¯t be free from this curse, if you¡¯re completely dead, Mistress.¡± That response nearly made her smile again. Third time! It would be the third time in one day! ¡°Free. Not. When. Alone.¡± She growled, cursing once again the power that was crippling her. ¡°Then we run, Mistress. I think I can smell death ahead. Undead, I mean.¡± There was a vicious glint in the kobold¡¯s eyes. ¡°It would be a perfect place to test my training.¡± We changed our posture, the earlier speed exchanged for stealth, and soon the column of zombie-like soldiers emerged from the nearby forest. Correction. These were zombies, carrying the Geinard Kingdom¡¯s emblems on their chests. There was also a flame carved on their armor, representing a noble house. ¡°Kill.¡± She ordered - bloodlust and anticipation swelling like an unrelenting tide - the only emotions the dead were permitted to have. ¡°Kill, Mistress!¡± Her companion howled, malice streaming from his heavyset eyes. During the slaughter, she nearly felt alive. Charles I was lying in bed with Agnes, our sweaty bodies clinging to each other. After the change, her appetite for nightly activities had increased, but I didn¡¯t mind that in the slightest. The few scales she sported were unexpectedly cool to the touch and the desire she radiated allowed me to easily respond in kind. Right now, she rested on my chest, exhausted and breathing evenly, drifting in and out of the dreamland. I, on the other hand, was brooding. The Silver Oasis was full of nervous energy, and I knew that soon our preparations would be tested. We were as ready as we could be, but as always I hoped for a bit more time, a bit more strength to be gathered. It could mean a difference between life and death of the men under my command and because of that resting seemed more and more foolish. I started standing up, sighing about another sleepless night, only to get pinned to the bed. A pair of inhuman eyes looked down, their owner half-naked and straddling me with the force of a hurricane. Her shapely body was completely uncovered, but the princess skillfully ignored her shameful nakedness. ¡°Why the rush?¡± Agnes purred, and despite her tone, I knew a serious mood when I saw it. Still, I tried to deflect. ¡°It¡¯s nothing important, my love. I just have to check on the soldiers.¡± Her lips twisted. She wasn¡¯t buying that excuse. ¡°They¡¯re doing fine. Not to mention you needed to check on them every night¡­ you¡¯re not cheating on me, hmm?¡± ¡°Haha, I wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± I let my real emotions slip for a moment. Having a warrior princess turned girlfriend was sometimes a scary thing. ¡°Besides, who would I even cheat on you with?¡± ¡°You better.¡± Her grin was a little too predatory. ¡°So, what are you nervous about? Spill it out.¡± I struggled a bit but she kept her position. ¡°Or I¡¯m not letting you go anywhere.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I spat out. ¡°It¡¯s not like there¡¯s some big secret or anything.¡± ¡°So?¡± ¡°I¡¯m worried that I underestimated those arrayed against us. With each passing day, we¡¯re closer to a retaliatory strike from the Geinard Kingdom, not to mention other, more secretive parties might try their luck during the chaos. I fear the future, my love. I fear all we have built and created will crumble like a castle made of sand.¡± Words spilled out of my mouth, and I saw Agnes'' expression turning more somber. She was a royal through and through - learned both in politics and warfare. ¡°I count and plan, trying to work with what we have, but each second wasted could turn into a life lost. Into a grain of sand that will break our forces.¡± ¡°Stupid.¡± She kissed me deeply, before curling up on my chest. I was still pinned, but the earlier threat was gone. ¡°Tell me about your plans. About the enemies arrayed against us. Sometimes it¡¯s better to bounce ideas off each other rather than to stew into uncertainty.¡± I lifted my brow. ¡°You always get your way, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m a princess!¡± She answered cheerily. ¡°So be it.¡± I breathed deeply, focusing on the numbers. ¡°The easiest to predict are Geinard Kingdom¡¯s royals. Despite the damage we have done against them I¡¯m pretty certain that we¡¯ll face from 300 up to 1000 low-rank undead as a retaliatory force.¡± Agnes gasped and I hurried to assuage her worries. ¡°Yes, I know we have like 200, maybe 250 trained soldiers, and that the Silver Oasis doesn¡¯t even have two thousand citizens.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Our warriors are well-armed and competent. The dungeon keeps us sharp and high-leveled. Not to mention some of the surprises that Uno has stored underground.¡± I trembled. ¡°That¡¯s one of my worries. We have a murderous Dungeon Core as an ally. I can¡¯t tell when it will help us, and when stab us in the back.¡± ¡°As a person saved by that murderous Dungeon Core, I disagree a bit with your logic.¡± Agnes responded frostily. ¡°Did you already forget Boulder¡¯s death in its halls? Or how its Guardian came to be?¡± I angrily snapped but seeing Agnes reel back brought me to my senses. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I know it¡¯s a sensitive topic.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re right. The Dunge-... Uno isn¡¯t a good spirit straight out of a fairytale. If anything he¡¯s a being that feeds on conflict and death. It was just our luck that his survival is tied to ours.¡± ¡°Back to the topic.¡± I forcibly changed the flow of the conversation. ¡°The undead are fodder, meant to occupy our forces. We might lose some soldiers, but the real danger should come from the elites accompanying them.¡± ¡°These will either be a band of mages with a straightforward approach to smother us under their might or a team of assassins, working under cover of the night to eliminate our leadership.¡± ¡°Or both.¡± Agnes grumbled. ¡°Or both.¡± I agreed. ¡°That¡¯s the worst-case scenario.¡± I stopped, taking a breather before continuing. ¡°We should also anticipate an appearance of some forces from the Luna Kingdom, but these are probably going to be scout teams, more in tune with dungeon assaults than regular warfare.¡± ¡°Which doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re weak.¡± ¡°Sure, but they¡¯re also not going to be immediately hostile. Not to mention necromancy is a forbidden art in Luna Kingdom. If they meet Geinard¡¯s forces¡­¡± ¡°They¡¯re going to attack.¡± ¡°Yes. And even if they¡¯re unsuccessful, as soon as information about undead working for a human kingdom returns to the half-elven leadership¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s going to be a war.¡± ¡°Yes. A war of extermination, like nobody had seen since forever.¡± I laughed grimly. ¡°Then there are the undead from the wastes. These guys are an enigma. I don¡¯t know how many or what forces they could bring to bear.¡± ¡°From what I¡¯ve heard it seemed like the old lich leading them seemed to know you.¡± ¡°More like one of my ancestors. The language it spoke was completely foreign. Curiously, they seem to have some honor, so a duel or something of that nature seems possible.¡± ¡°What?!¡± ¡°And since one of them is a warrior and the other a mage¡­¡± ¡°You want me to participate?¡± ¡°Not counting Master Vincent I¡¯m the most powerful caster, and when it comes to warriors there are none as experienced as you.¡± ¡°Some experienced warrior I am, getting overwhelmed by that Succubi bitch!¡± Agnes growled, her face turning feral as she remembered the defeat that nearly led her to death. ¡°Being taken by surprise, especially when ones attacking were your allies is no shame.¡± I muttered. ¡°A real warrior can¡¯t be taken by surprise!¡± These words seemed familiar. ¡°That¡¯s a part of Lord Hawk¡¯s teachings?¡± ¡°Yes¡­¡± ¡°I pray we won¡¯t have to face him in battle.¡± ¡°You and me both.¡± ¡°Anyway, this is all when it comes to enemies. The Elven Theocracy shouldn¡¯t move unless your friend stirs up some trouble¡­ but even if she does I would say they¡¯ll at most send a platoon - their battle lines are already stretched thin. And those elves would pose more as a diplomatic mission than anything else, especially with the dungeon officially dead.¡± ¡°And since they hate the undead we could show them Geinard Kingdom assault¡­ Then it would be two countries against one.¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the plan. Unless some of Uno¡¯s undead inexplicably appear in their vision.¡± I grumbled bitterly. The creatures of the local Dungeon Core sometimes seemed more troublesome than their master. ¡°The Dross Republic is done. Their territory will probably spawn some monstrosities down the line but right now the only thing that remains is salted earth and burned stone.¡± ¡°Dwarven Holds are neutral too but I have a sinking feeling that Uno¡¯s small, stout soldiers bumbling about the surface weren¡¯t created from nothing. Our troops think them a part of some outcast clan we employed, but you and I know better.¡± ¡°Yes. They carry the stench of decay. Not of body, but rather a soul. Still, a person without a beastman heritage would be hard-pressed to tell the difference.¡± ¡°They don¡¯t drink ale, that¡¯s enough to know that these are no dwarves.¡± I massaged my forehead. ¡°And you do remember that soon we¡¯ll have a few dozen returning veterans with so-called beastman heritage joining our ranks?¡± ¡°What happens, happens, love. Besides I don¡¯t think those who owe their life to the dungeon will betray us.¡± Agnes smiled. ¡°If only I could share your optimism.¡± I murmured. ¡°Alas, it¡¯s the leader¡¯s role to be distrustful and plan for every occasion.¡± ¡°Yet, like I said in the beginning - the biggest unknown is the ability and amount of Uno¡¯s forces. We know he has dozens of armored undead in his ranks, with the new arachnid creatures appearing in the lowest levels. Then there are also kobolds and¡­ the rats. You can¡¯t forget about the rats.¡± Agnes looked torn between disgust and grumbling respect. I swallowed. ¡°They have an entire civilization down there. Mages, crafters, soldiers, leaders, and farmers. We don¡¯t know where their tunnels end, and where their forces had already appeared. If not for their blind loyalty to their master, I would be terrified.¡± I took a deep breath. ¡°And because of their blind loyalty, I am terrified.¡± ¡°Then there¡¯s an exploding undead produced in massive amounts by the Dungeon Core. We don¡¯t know how many of them are there¡­ and where are they stored.¡± ¡°And besides¡­¡± ¡°Zzzzz¡­¡± ¡°Agnes?¡± ¡°Zzzzz¡­¡± ¡°This girl¡­¡± I kissed her on the cheek and went to sleep. Even deep into the dreamland, Agnes clung to me tightly. It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. 084 Uno I was stewing. Already a few days had passed since Non¡¯s departure and¡­ there was no further news. The mountain of ¡°what ifs¡± was dancing inside my head, each guess worse than the one before. One could ask how - being a sedentary Dungeon Core - I could even dream of creating a spy network. The problem was that I already had one - it was just made in the wrong direction! It wasn¡¯t easy to do either, with how monstrous my rats had already become. I doubted their ability to hide in plain sight like their less evolved brethren could. I also wasn¡¯t such a slavedriver to order them to expand immediately into the Geinard¡¯s Kingdom capital. Not only would that alert my enemies but also unnecessarily waste resources. Bodies that might be called upon to defend the Silver Oasis and by extension - my Dungeon. The Ratlings spread toward nearby locations already, but their focus was more on the Wastelands. Maybe it was easier to blend in with the local monsters or something of that nature. Or maybe there were resources to be found? Who knew? Anyway, since there was nothing that I could do about it, I decided to focus on being productive instead. Normally that would mean digging deeper, but right now my instincts were chafing about killing off more delvers before allowing such change. It was downright insulting how ingrained were these stupid thought collars. For a moment I wanted to go on a rampage and deal with the consequences later, but somehow I doubted that Charles would allow me to snuff the lives of those wandering my halls, no matter how young or infirm they were. And I was not ready to burn these bridges. Sentients and their useless morals. His opinion might change if we were on the edge of losing, but by then an ability to dig another level in the Dungeon would be pretty useless. Instead of worrying, I returned to my avatar and used him as a tool to glean more information about the runes keeping the Snake Pits core in place. Even watching these magics hurt, but there was some truth to the saying that there was no talent like stubbornness. During these times I managed to fish out a few more meanings out of the convoluted mess that was the binding. Besides ¡°soul-stealing¡± I now had ¡°bind¡±, ¡°stabilize¡± and ¡°force¡±. Sadly it was not Force Push, but rather ¡°force you to do something¡± rune. Bugger. Also, I discovered that ¡°bleeding out of one¡¯s eyes¡± wasn¡¯t a figure of speech. That¡¯s a magic world for you. The newly acquired runes were pretty much useless though. Their effect was negligible, even when it came to influencing the basic humans with no levels to their name. The binding rune locked their extremities for a split of a second, the stabilize rune stopped bleeding (and probably other ailments) - but also only for a fraction of a second. The most interesting one was the force one, or as I was starting to call it - the mind-bender rune. Sadly this kind of effect was more of the ¡°these are not the droids you¡¯re looking for¡± type of bending, than a proper mind-control. And, like earlier examples, they were also unusable for more than a fraction of a moment. This explained why hundreds if not thousands of chains surrounded the dungeon core. And considering the sheer mindlessness of the magic¡¯s recipient¡­ A human child had more willpower than those brain-dead crystals. I sighed. All that work and the runes were looking more and more useless. Well, useless when it came to doing anything permanent. I mean putting some stabilizing runes in the infirmary could mean a difference between life and death. Getting a few traps that arrested the invaders'' momentum with binding runes would also do wonders¡­ Especially combined with pitfalls, arrow traps, or wires. And while the mind-bender rune distracted an enemy for a split second it could also be used as a part of a weapon - be it ranged ammunition or a close-combat implement - because a momentary distraction in battle often meant death. These were going to be good enough for my ¡®allies¡¯ since humans spurned my offering of the electrical maces - and I still couldn¡¯t understand why. This all of course trickled into a simple question. Who was going to make these items? Runecarving turned out to be an exhausting and demanding job. Unearthly precision was needed. Each of the runes was not only a 3D shape, but also a perfect one - any dissonance, any small crumbling destroyed the already minuscule effect that the rune had on reality. It was also mindless work, even with all the advantages that I had as a Dungeon Core. For some reason, my ability to replicate didn¡¯t want to work properly on those items too. Yes, I could copy them into reality but there was always a snag, a different line, a flaw. I wasn¡¯t sure if this was a limitation of my powers or some bullshit magic shenanigans. Or maybe it was just the limit of my mentality as a former human. After all, I was not a bearer of something that my peers called an eidetic memory. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. This meant that somebody else had to take these items, these shapes, and forge them back into working tools. And that somebody wasn¡¯t going to be me. My thoughts wandered to the Idiot-Smith, but considering his clumsiness I immediately discounted him as a proper vic-ehem. Runecrafter. Yes, dungeon designated runecrafter. So I did the next best thing. I dumped the knowledge and a buttload of the premade shapes into the middle of Ratling''s main city. While they lacked the tools, dexterity, and strength to finish them I knew they would make do. After all the quantity was a quality in itself. I just hoped that carving runes wasn¡¯t some kind of an ancient, forbidden, or secret art of the dwarves. The stories I read were full of these developments. Still, there was power in them, and I was always hungry for more. As long as my minions were careful there shouldn¡¯t be any danger. Anyway, what was the worst that could happen? The dwarven outpost fell to the rats. I wasn¡¯t holding my breath for Dwarven Hold''s show of power. Now, there was one spot where runes could be useful in a big enough quantity. I might have delegated their creation to the Ratlings but I knew where they would end up. What should I call this place? Simple. Conversion Center. Made just for one kuudere revenant. Non We fell upon the enemy like blades of a reaper, appearing from the surrounding fog and darkness. In the beginning, I didn¡¯t know what a reaper was but Uno¡¯s child-like murmurs when observing my training often mentioned these creatures. When pressed for answers he mumbled something about the death¡¯s chosen and an unnerving lack of a scythe. Then he spoke with passion about a tale of the Grim Reaper. Curious. Back to the present - the battle with the undead was short and vicious. Like the wrath of a Celestial, our weapons cut the undead right and left, returning them to the void. It was easy - these were just common zombies though, weak pawns, no matter how fancy the livery they wore. Our rampage stretched into minutes before the enemy¡¯s higher-ups noticed the commotion. It would be unthinkable in the human army. Just the screams would be enough to alert the surroundings - a problem that was non-existent with mute, or groaning undead. The enemy''s first response was a team of a few wraith-like assassins that appeared from the fog, trying to cut us down. Their skills were subpar despite a frightening appearance - the emaciated faces and bodies shrouded in grey mist spewed from their candle-like eyes could scare the living but not those accustomed to death. Even my attendant wasn¡¯t taken by surprise by their obvious lunges and mindless attacks. Even their ability to bend the fog to their advantage was useless, the ripples of movement easily visible to a keen eye. They were an uncoordinated bunch of mediocre dagger-users desperately hungry for blood. And since there was only one living person around¡­ We cut down a few more before a shout stopped our gleeful rampage. ¡°Keep. Them. Con. Tained.¡± A voice not dissimilar to my own pierced the mist. Curt. Machine-like. Emotionless. How I hated that sound¡­ Despite the strength of my disdain, I knew what had to be done. Escape. An undead capable of speech was never to be taken lightly. ¡°Leave.¡± I ordered, stretching the boundary of the surrounding darkness. ¡°After you, Mistress.¡± The kobold grinned, following my steps. We slipped through - and just in time - as the night sky brightened under the weight of magic. The multitude of fiery spells had dropped on our earlier location, turning the undead assassins and the surroundings into ashes. It took a few minutes before the rage of elements scattered into nothing. ¡°Again, Mistress?¡± I nodded, and we slipped amongst their ranks once again, the zombies already continuing their march. There were hundreds of these basic undead present, each armed with a shield and a spear, marching mindlessly where their masters pointed them - truly a perfect, loyal army. None wore any armor, spare the tabard with a symbol of a flame sewn onto it. The Kingdom was dying, but it seemed like some things remained the same. We harassed them more and more, each attack reaping lives - but most damage came from the flames summoned by their commanders. Nonetheless, I managed to finish one of my objectives - to gather a globe of life force¡­ If it could be called that. The resulting glass-like orb was dark, hazy, pungent. The last one wasn¡¯t true, but it still looked like filth condensed. Despite the knowledge that the undead were lousy targets, we repeated the culling. Still, it took two more attacks for the enemy mages to learn. A shameful display of combat incompetence. Instead of massive war-caster spells, they flung tracking bolts of flame, poised to take out lone targets. The heat started to come dangerously close, a few times nearly nicking our bodies. It was time to retreat. The assassins were done for, and many of the dead turned into ashes or were damaged, slowing down the soldier column. They wouldn¡¯t tire, but we still managed to buy some time. The rest was in Uno¡¯s hands. And Charles'', I added after a moment of thought. They weren¡¯t that different in my mind. I didn¡¯t know why. The rest of the night was a blur. Surrounding darkness felt welcoming, as we slid through the portal after portal. A part of me felt free, even as the cold of the black tainted my fingers. And then, before my scaly companion could raise his objections, we were there. Shieldstar. My home. I didn¡¯t think that I would see it again. Especially not on fire. The city was burning, turning night into day, the screams of the people and incantations mixing in the air. The stench of blood and murder was easy to discern for those like me. Only the suburbs were being consumed though, with the slums and their inhabitants being the first victims. Merchant and a noble quarter had their own walls - those held firm, manned by soldiers and necromancers - both alive and dead. Under their puppet strings, attackers and defenders rose again, their insatiable hunger turned against the invaders. Between the assaulting monsters and the defending undead milled what remained of humanity. The peddlers, servants, thugs. Families, children, elderly. Attacked by both sides and screaming incessantly. A part of me pitied them. I knew how being weak felt. Another part salivated at the prospect of harvesting their souls. Grim Reaper, was it, Uno? 085 Non I felt alive. Stolen vitality thrummed in my veins, bringing the heat I¡¯d mostly forgotten. The sensation was so pure, so raw, that I nearly lost myself. It didn¡¯t matter who I killed. Each harvest returned a shocking, nearly erotic, addicting sensation. All living were food. That was what my new power whispered. Embers of raw lifeforce warmed my hands as long as I used the Soul-Drinker Daggers. Each attack bestowed me a fraction of a feeling I thought irrevocably lost. It was so intense that a part of me was glad that I didn¡¯t indulge in the murders during my stay in Silver Oasis. The other part regretted the lost opportunity. I could feel my pale skin turning increasingly pink, even though most of the harvest ended up hidden in precious glass-like orbs. We mulched through any who opposed us like a blade going through the skin, our opponents stabbed, pierced, broken - be it undead, monsters, or just a man trying to defend his family. All their souls were thoroughly gnawed on. Our advance hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed as more undead and monsters appeared, including those blessed with enhanced physiques and magic. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was a conscious effort or a natural reaction to the carnage we had brought. Anyway, these opponents should be the best of the crop. The time passed and - caught in the symphony of destruction - we reacted late to the nearby commotion. A pack of ghouls, not unlike Knut¡¯s subordinates, burst from the nearby house, their crooked teeth still dripping with human blood. It took them seconds to notice our presence before they roared with an animalistic challenge. The meaning was clear - a hunter had noticed its prey and a hunt had begun. I chuckled. How wrong they were. The ghouls started sprinting in our direction on all fours, racing to which one would tear into a tempting snack first. Humans were equated to food in their tiny minds. Alas, the quickest was also the first one to die, its head cleanly detached from the neck. I didn¡¯t know if these were the same as Undying but I wasn''t taking any chances. It was my common dagger that was used as an executioner¡¯s blade. There was no need to waste my stilettos, the dead tasted foul anyway. The rest of the enemies lacked the presence of mind to react in time. We cut them one by one, teleporting through the nearby shadows. Soon only two remained, growling at us, with their backs to the wall. I took a moment to observe them - their withered bodies, bald heads with only a wisp of hair remaining, and bloodshot, animalistic eyes - I took it all in. They wore remains of clothing - simple pants and shirts now stained with blood and piss. Their emaciated faces were filled with crooked teeth, cutting through what once was lips. The tips of their fingers already turned into bone claws, ready to rend and cut. With a sigh, I realized that these were natural-born undead - the necromancers did not raise them but rather they appeared when a starving human committed one of the taboos. Cannibalism, in this case. Had the situation in the Geinard Kingdom really turned so dire that a man had to feast on his fellow man? With a scoff, I ordered the kobold to finish these damned souls and soon their snarls and growls turned into whimpers and then faded into blessed silence. The only sound remaining was the crackling of the fire devouring the surrounding buildings. As I contemplated our next steps a group of disheveled humans ran into the burning square. They stopped moving as soon as they saw me, their hurry forgotten. Some whimpers and prayers could be heard from the mob. Was I really that scary? Surprisingly that thought didn¡¯t bring me discomfort. The desire to harvest them grew in my mind, before deflating. This bunch was pitiful and weak. Their clothes were singed from fire and turned black or gray from the coal smudges. Many of them carried children and the elderly, even with the carriers'' gaunt and desperate faces pointing to the beginning stages of starvation. They stopped, wide-eyed at the sight of butchered bodies surrounding me. There was a yelp when my kobold attendant appeared from the nearby shadows. It was funny. Despite their apprehension the group still tried to move, the howls of monsters coming out from behind them adding desperation to what might¡¯ve been otherwise a foolish courage. ¡°Lady Death, please spare us.¡± ¡°Spare the young ones, at least, Lady Death.¡± They begged while bowing, their feet never stopping - like a starved many-legged centipede. Even so, their pleading eyes never left my face. ¡°Lady Death, please!¡± ¡°Go.¡± I sighed, feeling uncomfortable with the cries of the weak, and instead focused on those hunting them. The monsters were trained, and well-fed. Surely a tastier treat than this bunch of refuse. With me moving out of the way the humans redoubled their ministrations, before quickly disappearing from my sight - or so I thought. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. My attention was grabbed by their hunters instead. Uncomfortably quickly a band of monsters appeared in hot pursuit. Their leather-clad bodies bristled with muscles, aggression, and killing intent, many of the rank-and-file soldiers carrying bloodstained weapons and armor. Some of the items still had Geinard Kingdom''s heraldry attached. These new foes were humanoid creatures, at least mostly. Their rippling bodies and mouths filled with fangs made identification a banal task. They were called orcs. They seemed a bit different from the standard description. Less bestial and more human-like, similar to how Uno¡¯s beastkins looked and felt. Amongst their ranks were some dog-like monsters - surely trained to track their enemies by smell or blood. Leading them was a somewhat larger and more muscular orc, clad in a filthy robe. His skin was covered in black-inked tattoos. Unlike the ordinary weapons of the soldiers, their leader carried a staff fitted with a shrunken head and adorned with some feathers. Despite its crudity and the barbarism of its make, I could sense some sinister magic dwelling inside. Overall the twenty or so monsters arrived at the square, their faces filled with disgust at the sight of splattered ghoul remains. It seemed like the undead were universally hated by the living, monster or not. Their attention snapped to my figure as soon as I started my walk toward their lines. They weren¡¯t in a proper formation but there was some primitive thought given, with shieldbearers staying at the front, and spearmen bunched up in the back. This illusion of civilization quickly dispersed though, as their shaman-like leader roared. ¡°Dead kill dead! We kill dead too!¡± Weird. Monsters rarely spoke in civilized languages. None I had fought in the past cared enough to learn them. It wasn¡¯t the end of surprises, though. A weirdly intelligent voice came from the crowd. ¡°Is this one dead, boss? She looks weird. We shouldn¡¯t be killing other monsters. The boss¡¯ Boss said so.¡± The leading orc grinned. ¡°If the not-dead is alive then we make her dead and everything works out! We kill dead! Charge!¡± ¡°¡°CHARGE!¡±¡± His soldiers repeated, eyes full of glee and bloodlust. I chuckled. Their stupidity was somewhat charming¡­ but there was still killing to be done. I nodded to the kobold, and he grinned back. ¡°Yes, Mistress, I know. I¡¯ll kidnap the smart one, while you get some exercise.¡± ¡°Good.¡± A servant who understood his master so well was a blessing. The shadows churned as I stepped through, appearing behind the enemy lines. My body twisted, as the daggers reaped soul after soul. Surprisingly, the frontline immediately turned, their tower shields and various weapons bristling in my direction. There was no panic, no fear, just a desire to see me killed. I answered their laughs with my own savage grin. The fight devolved into a deadly dance, a hunt. It¡¯s a bloody ceremony where I cut, stabbed, and bashed my victims, bathing in their fluids and a cacophony of screams. A grunt of pain, when the hand was separated from the arm. A squeal, when I gouged an eye. A cry, when a bone broke under unreasonable force. A whimper, when my dagger cut a deep furrow into skin, muscle, and fur. A last forlorn sigh, when the stiletto plundered the soul of a monster and its life. And my own moan and tremble, when the delicious lifeforce filled me up. Alas, anything good had to end, as I was reminded when the buildup of dark mana from the shaman leader started to grate on my nerves. It felt wild, and dirty, like a vulgar song cradled on the winds of mana. The last few treats crawled away in fear, their earlier hubris thoroughly crushed, just like their arms and legs. The chant I intentionally ignored grew noisier and more irritating. The orc leader wasn¡¯t laughing anymore, instead, he focused on casting his magic - from what I could tell it was some kind of a large-scale attack. Fool. Didn¡¯t he understand that his guards were no more? Even as darkness gathered in his palm I teleported nearby, the everpresent flame creating easy-to-traverse shadows. And, just before the last words of the chant were spoken, and the spell unleashed - I struck. The dagger cut through his throat, turning the words into a gurgle. He still stood defiant, full of hate, as both his magic and life slowly trickled out, while he tried to stem the bleeding. His hands turned crimson long before the light left his eyes. Then my attention turned toward the only unharmed survivor. The orc was smaller than his peers, but also denser, creating a rather comical sight. He twitched nervously, observing his surroundings, as my kobold retainer kept a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to kneel. After glaring at the monster I nodded in appreciation. My retainer - as always - understood the intention. ¡°So, piggy, why did you attack us, huh?¡± He spoke in a threatening tone. ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± ¡°You will tell me everything, don¡¯t worry about it. We¡¯re going to be the bestest of friends.¡± Then, noticing my stare, the kobold coughed. ¡°Erm¡­ Mistress? It seems like humans left you a¡­ gift.¡± He pointed away and I noticed that indeed, there was someone alive amongst the ruins. A girl remained, or more likely had been left behind by the escaping group. She looked about eight or maybe ten years old. It was hard to tell due to how thin she was¡­ the grime didn¡¯t help either. The girl wore a once-white one-piece dress and carried a crude, wooden doll in her hand. She stared at us, her eyes devoid of fear, deadened by the things she had seen. I tilted my head questioningly but the kobold only shrugged. It was the girl who spoke. ¡°Dad left. Then Mom. To find food. They never came back. Auntie took me away from home. To meet them.¡± She spoke calmly, even when her bare feet were cracked and bleeding. ¡°Uncle said I¡¯m useless. Better left to the monsters. A bribe.¡± Her eyes were clear blue, unblinking. ¡°A cool monster is better than the deadies. Or the gross ones.¡± She made a face. A first expression since I had met her. ¡°Are you going to eat me?¡± I could only stare. The thoughts I refused, the revenge I was living for, it all swirled in my head. Questions. How old my sisters would be if they weren¡¯t thrown away like trash? How would their life end up? Would they also be sacrificed for the good of the Kingdom? To save others because they were ¡°useless¡±? A cold rage overtook me. I squashed it down. I wanted to run back and slaughter these refugees. Splatter their blood on the walls. Those who left a child as a sacrifice to a monster, to pay with her life for their passage should be punished. So says the monster. ¡°Name.¡± A word came out of my mouth scratchingly. ¡°I¡¯m called Maria, pretty miss.¡± There was an awkward silence. ¡°So. Are you going to eat me or not?¡± Maria asked without a shred of interest. I shook my head. ¡°No.¡± There was another bout of silence. ¡°So¡­ she¡¯s going with us, right, Mistress?¡± My retainer grinned before quickly adding. ¡°And before you ask - no, I¡¯m not going to eat you either, little one.¡± ¡°Mister?¡± Marie turned to the captured orc. The monster coughed. ¡°I would gla-...¡± Before he finished my kobold smacked him on the head. A warning, just enough to draw blood. ¡°Gladly carry you, young miss. No eating, I swear.¡± The girl looked disappointed. It seems like I picked up a troublesome one. 086 Uno My Drones were hard at work. They buzzed with excitement, happy at a rare chance to put their talents to the test. Normally the dungeon didn¡¯t require much maintenance, especially since human delving (if we can even call it that) was limited to the first two floors. I also stopped proper head-bashing from occurring since Silver Oasis needed all the help it could get. Killing off their hopefuls seemed to run contrary to that directive even if it added to my chances of making the fifth floor in time. There were exceptions, of course, like Lebir Spar-masters on the first floor, who had long since slipped my grasp. Or the Idiot-Smith who wouldn¡¯t stop working even if I ordered it to do so. Still, the rest of the monsters knew better than to go for the kill. That meant no fighting to the death, no explosions, no biological weapons, and no epic battles - which translated into no damage, leaving the dungeon workers with nothing to do. Thankfully Drones were simple, barely alive things. They hibernated when necessary, looking more like powered-down robots than proper monsters. All of them but Sculptor, who unceasingly roamed my underground halls to carve away more of its visions. This amount of independence was rare in a Drone - even a named one. More worryingly some of its works started to resemble how my creatures depicted me. A larger-than-life figure, an avatar of magic and knowledge, constantly pondering as it led its creations to a better future¡­ While my tenure as a ghost-like being blurred my sense of self I still remembered a fat, dirty body I inhabited while human. I remembered being a cog in a machine, and more importantly, how rushed and random my decisions were¡­ and still are. In this light, all that religious zeal, especially from the Ratlings, seemed unnecessary and even grating. And yet I had no way to stop it. Even explaining from whence I came and how things really stood turned out to be a mistake, as I observed how my gaming knowledge slowly became something akin to a mythos. Worse. It was turning into reality, with powers, items, creatures, and spells inspired by games and media I consumed in Before. The Lebirs were less affected, their simple minds not allowing them to comprehend much. Still, the corruption had already spread, as they saluted when I floated by, their bodies straightening like I was an emperor wandering his palace! Who taught them to behave like that? I wasn¡¯t even going to mention Butchers and their compulsive devotion. A clan of spider-like monsters focused on creating and maintaining equipment who thought that my will was being channeled through their items. What could go wrong? Every single one of my intelligent monsters was a zealot. I huffed in annoyance, before recentering myself. To be fair, it probably came with the territory, since they had contact with their creator - a tangible, visible being. Something, now that I thought about it, that would probably be a rare thing - as far as it came to dungeon cores. Of course, despite the stupidity of my crystal brethren the saying about infinite monkeys and typewriters would still make sense. Which meant that there ought to be some other intelligent creatures born out of the dungeons. I idly wondered if the Luna Kingdom¡¯s infamous ¡°intelligent¡± dungeon created a sentient race before its destruction. Anyway, the devotion of dungeonborn was worrying. Who knew if becoming a target of faith could put me on a divine hit list? It seemed like the remaining gods had other problems to deal with, the twin goddess Gangria included. I suspected she was in the middle of some kind of a divine coup, but these problems were far above my pay grade. I worried, but it wasn¡¯t the first thing in my life that was out of my control, so after pondering for some time I just went along with it. Instead of worrying I decided to focus on what really mattered - which meant devising a way to trick Charles into agreeing to my upgrades. It was something that I knew would be only possible when shit hit the fan. In a pinch, I could simply kidnap him, but forgoing subtlety would be a last resort. I had plans for my future and doing so would burn too many bridges. It was all a balancing act. Meanwhile, Silver Oasis and my scouts scoured the surroundings, hoping to prepare for an inevitable attack. We knew the Geinard Kingdom¡¯s troops were coming, we just weren¡¯t sure when. The half-elves and elves could be a problem too, not to mention the deranged Lich we encountered earlier, so both monsters and rangers kept their eyes open. Besides keeping watch over the tensions that happened on the surface, I had another project going - the underground¡¯s newest addition called the Conversion Chamber. The structure had already been dug out, the wall smoothed and even carved in some places (I didn¡¯t even see when Sculptor got its claws on it!). The finished room had an oval shape, with a lonely stone platform rising in the middle and a floor a good bit lower than the rest of the level. I made sure to add a bunch of grooves on both sides of the platform, with empty slots to put the collected essence. The right diameter was a mystery, but for now, I settled on fist-sized spaces because I could easily change them in the future. I also didn¡¯t forget about adding some ¡°safety measures¡±. A harness for the head, arms, and legs, with a few dozen sturdy belts to add to the equation. They should be able to constrain even Non, should she thrash about during the procedure. In the end, the platform looked more like a torture implement than a hospital bed¡­ but it would do the job it was made to fulfill. A few electrical chandeliers were added to brighten the room, as well as a reinforced door and a couple of cabinets. The middle of the floor was maybe twenty centimeters lower than the outer parts of the room with two wide steps bridging the gap. Most of the furniture was stone or iron, which turned the room grey. I was never that good at decorations, so the rest was left for my minions to alter. Sculptor was raring to go, trying to finish what it started. Under the platform, I attached something akin to cables - but instead of using them to carry current, I focused on carving the required runes into their insides. The copper was easier to work through than my other options, more malleable and forgiving too. I still surrounded it in iron, as there was a need to keep each piece of metal stable. I could leave this job to the Ratlings, but I would feel guilty if the whole thing went in flames the moment we started Non¡¯s operation. It took dozens of tries to carve each of the hundreds of runes, their power rising more and more, the larger their amount grew. As I continued my work the sheer pressure seemed to attach an intent to the whole contraption. It was such a curious thing - observing how the runes'' focal points changed as I willed them so. The caveat was that my focus couldn¡¯t waver for even a second. I learned about it the hard way, as the first few times it happened a piece of metal I worked on had turned to dust. It was an impossible task for a mortal, yet a manageable thing for a dungeon core. It turned out that being an oversized calculator had its advantages. I used runes of binding, stabilizing, and force, with the intent to both reinvigorate and relax the person lying in the middle of the setup. The more runes were added, the sharper their purpose grew, with some unseen resonance in the works, which led to the room eventually becoming recognizable even to the most mundane of my creatures. Their reactions were varied - Lebirs, for example, actively avoided the place. It didn¡¯t matter, however. As I fell into a whirl of work the hours became days. It took some time, but I finished the job, leaving a place positively thrumming with power. The rest had to wait for Non¡¯s return. Of course, in the meantime, a few pairs of soul-drinking daggers were bestowed upon Ratlings. I had also given orders to experiment on the harvesting, both on secondary dungeon snakes and wild monsters. After that, a few undead were stationed nearby - Lebirs, zombies, and skeletons. If anything it would be interesting to see what gathered lifeforce (soulforce?) would do to a bunch of bones. I nearly fell into a lull but a thought had struck me. What about Jailer Jonathan? His spawn point had been chained to the first floor and my instincts vehemently opposed the idea of relocating him¡­ But rules were meant to be broken. After all, he wasn¡¯t really on the first floor - at least for most of my dungeon¡¯s existence. That meant that his spawn point wasn¡¯t there, and I could move it away - right? My instincts screeched in protest, but the feeling was weaker this time. Less sure. If I thought deeply about it, Jonathan was a pretty powerful undead. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. It should be lower than the first floor since my dungeon was supposed to be fair to the delvers. Thankfully my fourth floor had a free place. A happy coincidence. And it wasn¡¯t like anyone had delved that deep yet. Right? With a snap, the spawn point came loose. I grinned at the success of my self-hypnosis. I was good at deluding myself¡­ ah, but then that wasn¡¯t something to be proud of. I will find a new job. I will find a girlfriend. I will start exercising. Tomorrow. Always tomorrow. Thoroughly soured I moved Jailer to the fourth floor, accelerating his respawn. Soon the armored figure was summoned, his bones and bits of flesh reemerging from the void. Aaaaaaand the stupid beast immediately started wandering the place to find food. Remembering our pact, I sighed. I sure hoped he liked the snake diet! Feeling drained I wondered what I could do to relax. Since there was still no sign of the Geinard Kingdom''s undead I decided to get some use out of my avatar. It didn¡¯t feel like a waste of my remaining free time. After all, I noticed one important thing I forgot to test. The body that I was currently inhabiting (once belonging to a man called Peter) had two affinities. Earth and Shadow. There was also a class, but that part of his System connection simply melted away after I took over. Was that a failsafe against monsters gaining human classes, or something simpler, like his soul disappearing after I devoured it whole? Who knew? Anyway, the important part was that his memories of casting spells remained intact, yet I didn¡¯t use even a bit of this knowledge. It was a mistake that I was going to rectify right now. After settling down in one of the secondary dungeon¡¯s more isolated locations I focused on the act of gathering mana. It was strange, and much more involved than what I did as a Dungeon Core. The difference was staggering - between waving my hand to summon rain and tediously filling up a bucket by hand. Still, after a few tries I managed to gather enough energy¡­ only for the spell to fizzle because I forgot about the attunement. Grumbling I repeated the process again and again - thankfully Peter¡¯s body remembered how to do so, the unconscious tics and instinctive reactions guiding me through the worst of it. Soon a pitifully weak Earth Armor covered my body. It wasn¡¯t just a piece of equipment, though. While wearing it the magic reinforced my muscles and skin, raising my physical abilities to that of a warrior. Still, it was much less impressive than the one Peter could summon, but good enough for a first try. Understanding the method I started to check the other spells and attributes. At first, it seemed like Peter¡¯s knowledge was terribly shallow, but his borrowed memories let me know that his repertoire was actually pretty impressive. Most common mages mastered only a spell or two. Many of them couldn¡¯t or wouldn¡¯t innovate and were stuck with the System¡¯s level-up rewards. Peter was different. As a Princess aide, some things were easier to acquire than others. He still had to work for the rewards but at least he had a chance to do so. Said rewards often meant magical grimoires. Despite the scarcity of such items, the military had deep roots, especially in a country like the Geinard Kingdom. Grimoires did sound like something special, yet it turned out they were a simple thing - books that contained knowledge and sometimes the author¡¯s personal experiences about spells. This allowed the neophytes to learn and - in case of attaining mastery - even add them to their casting list managed by the System. The need for such items felt stupid, but made sense, considering that the human Kingdom lacked a method to implant memories. The problem was exacerbated by one more thing. As far as I knew - or more like, as far as Peter knew - the System¡¯s advent tore away the ability to sense mana from the majority of people, human and otherwise. What was once a common skill now appeared only when one was high enough level or possessed an innate ability to do so. The rest had to grope in the dark. This meant that trying to create new spells or change the already existing ones could be done only at the risk of the mage''s very life. No matter how small, any mistake could end up in a catastrophe. I shook my head, banishing the thoughts. Right now this knowledge wasn¡¯t important but its implication was pushing my thoughts in an interesting direction. I could sense mana, even in this vessel. Should I try my hand at spell crafting? I wasn¡¯t experienced by any means, but these formulas and chants felt inadequate. Weak. Especially after observing what Charles had managed to do with his spells. I breathed out. Maybe later. For now, let''s focus on learning how to make this magic mine. Relying on muscle memory was unacceptable. I should also check what other spells Peter had in his arsenal. Recalling his spell list was quick. When it came to Earth affinity besides Earth Armor, he had also managed to acquire Earth to Mud, Earth Spike, and Tremor. These three magics were basic utility, attack, and area of attack spells. Safe. Mundane. Stable. The Shadow was more interesting but instead of four, my predecessor learned only three spells. They were called Hide in the Shadows, Shadow Puppet, and Steal Shadow, which were successively utility, summoning, and immobilizing spells. I was ready to begin my training anew when the sentries raised the alarm. The message sent was simple: the dead were coming. Our scouts noticed a ragged column advancing from the Shieldstar¡¯s direction. We still had an hour or two before they shambled closer. The reports had already said that their ranks had been ravaged, many of the undead sporting wounds, and lacking limbs or eyes. But, like we had worried, they didn¡¯t lack the fodder - skeletons, and zombies just kept coming, with dozens appearing with every second. Silver Oasis was looking like an anthill on fire, the runners sprinting everywhere and the soldiers preparing a defensive line. Soon enough Charles and his entourage appeared near the Oasis¡¯ mustering army. I ordered one of the puppets to waddle closer, a megaphone hanging from its neck. ¡°It seems like they didn¡¯t leave anything to chance.¡± Charles spat on the ground, before answering. ¡°From what my scouts say they have about eight hundred meat shields. Less than I worried about, more than I hoped for.¡± Suddenly he squinted. ¡°It will be a tough fight, but we¡¯ll prevail. It¡¯s the elites I¡¯m worried about. Somebody has to be leading them, and the type of commander will decide the type of attack we¡¯ll face.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you glad that the undead are predictable?¡± I teased. ¡°It¡¯s easier to fight them than your forces, at least.¡± ¡°Why, thank you!¡± ¡°Sir! Sir!¡± A runner appeared, his young face red with exhaustion. ¡°Report!¡± ¡°Sir! The undead are approaching, and we identified their leaders! There are three skeleton undead of significant power. Also¡­¡± The young boy hesitated. ¡°Spit it out!¡± ¡°Yes, sir¡­ the undead are wearing liveries with a flame. A blue flame.¡± ¡°T-they do?¡± ¡°Yes. My condolences, sir.¡± The runner¡¯s eyes were full of pity. I saw that Charles breathed in and out, his chest heaving. A trace of tears appeared before he wiped it out. Agnes caught his hand, squeezing it tightly. That gave him the strength to continue his questioning. ¡°Y-you said that three skeletons were leading the invasion, right?¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± ¡°By chance¡­¡± The red-haired mage closed his eyes and swallowed. ¡°By any chance are they also wearing Blue Flame heraldry?¡± Seeing the boy nod, he continued. ¡°Is one of them abnormally large, and the second one has only one hand?¡± After a moment of hesitation, the runner spoke back. ¡°I would need to make sure.¡± ¡°Then do so.¡± ¡°Charles?¡± Agnes murmured into his ear. ¡°Are you okay?¡± ¡°No¡­ I don¡¯t think I am okay.¡± He whispered back. ¡°You know that I wasn¡¯t on the best terms with my family. Most of my brothers and sisters treated me badly, just because I wasn¡¯t able to conjure the flame they were so in love with. Despite that they were family. We shared the same blood. We grew up together.¡± ¡°And now¡­ there is a real possibility that they¡¯re dead. Or worse - that their desecrated bodies are assaulting my new home under the order of a Kingdom I was once proud to be a part of. How am I supposed to feel?!¡± Charles''s shoulders were hunched over, buckling under invisible strain. The naga-kin turned him around, clasping his head into her hands. ¡°It will be alright. You have me, and the others that support you! You have power now, and with it comes responsibility!¡± ¡°So, what do you say?¡± She grinned, her golden eyes radiating warmth. Charles smiled back shyly, his face reflecting his fiancee''s faith. ¡°I will stand my ground. For you.¡± Both Agnes and Charles were in their own little world. As they kissed I couldn¡¯t help myself. I had to be a little shit. ¡°And for me, I hope?¡± I chimed in, only to be awarded a double look of disgust. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about, Uno?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you sense the mood, Core?¡± They answered in unison. I chuckled. ¡°So, lovebirds, who are we against?¡± Charles¡¯ face immediately stilled. ¡°If I am correct then the ones leading the assault are my three brothers. The one without a hand is Akkan, called the Living Inferno, a powerful mage specializing in large-area spells. Souldi, his younger twin, is called the Flaying Blade because of his cruelty and skill when fighting in melee.¡± ¡°A magic knight, then?¡± Agnes added. ¡°Yes. One who mastered using our signature flame, of course.¡± ¡°And the third one?¡± I pushed. His face soured even more. ¡°The large one is called Kinth, the Youngest. Kinth, the Prodigy. Kinth, the Savant. He¡­ he was the only one in the family who didn¡¯t try to demean me. He was just a happy child. Big, clueless guy.¡± He sighed. ¡°As talented as one could be when it came to fire magic.¡± He smiled softly at the memory before growing serious. ¡°If not for that¡­ if not for that cursed talent he would probably have followed me to the Oasis and be spared all of this.¡± ¡°Why did you never tell me about him?¡± Agnes whispered. ¡°A failure bragging about his genius little brother? It was unbecoming. I wasn¡¯t trying to ride his coattails.¡± Charles stretched his arms out. ¡°After that? I just forgot. The Blueflames were out of my life and I didn¡¯t want to think about them more than needed. It didn¡¯t help that they cut me off.¡± ¡°And now remains of my family are coming to kill me.¡± A green flame started to burn in his red eyes. I could feel the draw on my mana, but let him continue. ¡°They¡¯ll find me different than before. And after that, I will be taking my pound of flesh from those, who had raised them.¡± ¡°Be it King, Queen, or Lord Hawk.¡± Charles clenched his fists. ¡°They will pay.¡± 087 Charles I was rather certain that the undead sent by the Geinard Kingdom were once a part of my family. The wait for the runners to confirm that assumption was torturous, but I endured. Somehow. Agnes'' warm hand cradling my own helped but, in the meantime, I had to focus on something else, otherwise, the guilt and anger would consume me whole. And what was a better distraction than doing my job as Silver Oasis¡¯ leader? I threw myself into organizing the troops. A few army officers were already doing that, but I found them lacking. They were human and thought like humans - something that we couldn¡¯t condone anymore. They didn¡¯t do our allied forces any justice and treated them like standard Geinard Kingdom¡¯s auxiliaries, which was a fancy word for meatshields. It was a waste. Even worse - a lack of imagination. It didn¡¯t help that a part of our forces were turned humans, which meant they understood what the orders really meant. This knowledge decimated our morale¡­ after all, it was hard to feel motivated when you knew that your commanders would throw you into a meat grinder without an ounce of hesitation. This had to change, mostly because we were no longer part of the Geinard Kingdom. We didn¡¯t have the support of robust cities teeming with recruits that allowed our former country to use human wave tactics. I planned the changes while watching as the troops milled around, checking their weapons and armor. The human part of our force amounted to about 230 soldiers, clad in dungeon-made armaments. This meant there was no uniformity to be found but as a tradeoff, the quality was through the roof - at least according to my blacksmiths. Uno had a different opinion, though, saying that his Smith¡¯s products were of trash tier and thus unfit for regular use. Still, he allowed the pieces to be taken without much complaint. I shuddered to think what quality item he would consider passable. It would probably be something made out of legendary adamantium or orichalcum filled with enough enchantments to buy a nation. He did murmur something about ¡°steel¡± and ¡°steelmaking¡± but he clamped down when questioned. Being treated as barbarians did hurt a little. Anyway, we at least managed to arm the defensive force with a comparable type of weaponry - most of them sported a spear, shield, and some sort of a close-range weapon. Some of the soldiers carried halberds and glaives instead, but they were good enough. We had to be creative with our supply. The pieces of armor were even less ¡°samey¡± and instead consisted of a variety of metal helmets, breastplates, vambraces, and skirts. It didn¡¯t seem like much, but a common soldier in the Kingdom¡¯s army could count only on a few pieces of leather armor to shield him from harm. With a Dungeon Core as an ally I could arm an army - and without spending any money, too! I shook off my grin, forcing myself to return to counting my forces. Besides humans I also had a bunch of soldiers turned beastkin at my disposal. There were about 80-odd, with an eclectic range of abilities and bloodlines. Some were tougher, some had poison attacks, others possessed good senses, and a few had scales, fur¡­ there was even a natural mage or two in their midst. Yet the random nature of Uno¡¯s serum meant that rarely there were more than a few representatives of the same race. This was a bit of a problem - with such diversity, their role on the battlefield took a lot of work to define. Still, I knew better than to bunch up them in a large group, like my officers wanted to do. As the weaker party, we had to abhor waste, and that meant using them to their full potential. I was shaking my head when I changed the battle plan. Instead of an unruly mob, the beastkin were soon turned into small, semi-autonomic groups, ready to harass the enemy from the sides. Their weaponry and abilities varied, so I allowed them to create their own teams, and, with most of them being veterans, this turned out to be a correct decision. A bunch of bird-adjacent soldiers decided to use their superior sight and speed to form javelin-throwing bands, the more armored and blood-thirsty kin decided on two-handed weapons and hit-and-run charges. The few mages created their entourages, ready to hit hard and retreat, just like adventuring teams would do. The situation was improving, and so was the morale. Next, I moved to the dwarves that Uno employed. Or whatever they were. I couldn¡¯t be arsed to bother about that. Politics when employing non-human mercenaries? That was a problem for tomorrow¡¯ Charles. The midgets were, as most of their kin, armed and armored to the teeth. However, unlike the Dwarven Holds slow and steady style, which favored a pairing of heavy shield and a close combat weapon, they abandoned the defense for offense instead. Each and every one of them carried either an axe or a mace in one of their hands. Adding to that the fact that all of their weapons and armor were made from something called Tempered Iron - supposedly a magically created alloy - their survivability and damage-dealing capabilities were through the roof. Their lack of fear of death was just a bonus, really. With those troops, I had two options. Either keep them in reserve as a massive hammer ready to strike our foes where they were the weakest, or reinforce the defensive line. In the end, it came down to offense and defense, once again. I was playing a long game, trying to conserve my forces, so I decided for the dwarves to be dotted amongst the frontline troops. Their smaller forms allowed them to dash from and forth, dealing the damage and returning before a counter-attack was mounted, into the safety of a spear line. That was the plan, anyway. We also had a few half-giants¡­ no, Uno called them Ogrekin, with a suspicious inflation in his voice, like he was telling a joke only he understood. These were tall, muscular brutes with an intelligence of a child. Stupid and loyal - one could say they embodied an image of a perfect soldier. Our artisans once again toiled hard when it came to making adequate armor for them. It was crude, heavy, and durable. It had to suffice. Uno¡¯s Smith was useless in this matter, the creature either refusing to help or not understanding what was needed. We couldn¡¯t show him how the Ogrekin looked because the brutes were too big to enter the floor, and when we forced them to crawl through the tunnels they broke down crying¡­ Who knew that something that big and powerful could have claustrophobia? It was not all bad, though. One weapon type made by the monstrous smith turned out to be large enough to be usable. A humongous, two-handed sword looked like a shortsword in an Ogrekin¡¯s hand, but it was better than nothing. This type of sword, paired with a thick sheet of metal, hammered into a heavy, barely usable shield completed their uniform. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. We didn¡¯t forget about their monstrous strength, though. That¡¯s why near their position Oasis crafters prepared two dozen large throwing spears. Well, at their size they were more like ballista bolts, but with a smooth texture and a weird, sparkling color. It was all because of the material used in their production - the silvery trees that the Oasis was known for. They were to be a nasty surprise for any flyers or haughty mages. Good ol¡¯ ballista bolt to the face beat nearly any foe. Who else could we count on? There was Knut with his brethren, but I wasn¡¯t sure if sending a bunch of bloodthirsty undead was a good idea, especially if most - if not all - of the succulent flesh was on our side. I was doubly doubtful when it came to their loyalty, especially after Uno betrayed what the details of their curse were. Bloodthirst, hunger, and regeneration were a terrifying combination, especially because it seemed like it was created at random. At least their ranks were limited to the amount of artifacts we took from the Dungeon¡¯s depths. I also had to sit through a two-hour-long meeting between Uno and Master Vincent, the old mage jumping in place at the chance to compare notes. Still, the ghouls that we created were a formidable foe, especially with the cult-like hold Knut had over them. In the end, I decided to bury them in the ground, with a few tunnels splitting from the carved-out section of the dungeon. They were told to move forward after the signal and would emerge in the middle of enemy lines, far away from our succulent troops. The few volunteers responsible for freeing them knew where to run after doing their job, but their chances of survival were not great. Yet each and every one of them wanted to make a difference, no matter the danger. Their backgrounds varied, but most of them lost family, and hope for a better future - or were just tired of living in a cruel world. The deathseekers. Wars like ours had a way of creating them in droves. And last but not least - amongst our ranks were the magi following Master Vincent. A bunch of robed magicians, who showcased an unhealthy amount of curiosity, like their fascination with the rats that Uno uplifted. Despite the curfew that blocked anyone from delving deeper than the second floor they constantly pushed the boundary, intentionally avoiding culling Uno¡¯s minions and were instead trying to engage in trade and even academic disputes! I was appalled at their stupidity¡­ and even more appalled that this strategy was working! The rats started building little stands here and there, tucked away in the cracks of the dungeon while hawking their wares to those bold or stupid enough to set foot on the second floor. They exchanged the items from the outside for food, magical knowledge, and their terrifying serum. A healing potion with the unfortunate side effect of turning people into beastkin. I shuddered when considering what would it do to people who already were turned. Would they turn into a chimera? Die? Or maybe the inhuman blood would simply strengthen, until they lost all of their humanity, becoming pure monsters? At least Master Vincent¡¯s students knew better than to test newly bought spells and concoctions on the eve of a battle. I dreaded how many of them would blow themselves up. And then come back as beastkin. Despite their clear instability, Master Vincent¡¯s followers were anything but weak. Their formidable skill with Arcane Missiles made them perfect at killing off enemy soldiers en masse. They might struggle with more powerful spellcasters, but that was what I was here for. ¡°What¡¯cha looking so smug over, man?¡± My ruminations were stopped by a rude fellow. Or rather, a rude fellow¡¯s mouthpiece. I frowned but a quick look around showed that none of my followers were nearby. ¡°Don¡¯t fret, I checked we were free to talk.¡± Despite not seeing his face I could nearly hear the grin in his voice. ¡°What do you want, Uno?¡± I asked, ready to hear out another unreasonable demand. ¡°Well, for once, it¡¯s the other way. What I can do for you? I saw you wandering around the Oasis without rest for hours!¡± ¡°Was it that long?¡± I muttered. ¡°Counting and reorganizing troops without a rest is bad for you. Not everyone is a perfect crystal like me. So¡­ are you worried about the battle?¡± ¡°A bit.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not all, am I right?¡± For a moment we stood in silence. ¡°I abhor the thought that I have to fight my own family.¡± I admitted, my teeth clenching with anger. ¡°They still carried the same blood as I. Despite how we parted¡­ I didn¡¯t want to see them dead.¡± Instead of the mockery I anticipated, the Dungeon Core sat in silence for a moment. ¡°Those on the surface aren¡¯t all of the forces at your disposal, you know?¡± Uno spoke with a strange tone. ¡°I have hundreds of Lebirs, some kobolds in exoskeletons, and a whole rat city downstairs, all ready to rumble.¡± ¡°I have unbound Dungeon Bosses and a cult of Mechanicus ready to sally out if the situation turns dire. And¡­¡± There was a giddy excitement in his voice. ¡°A little surprise for anyone stupid enough to truly push my buttons.¡± Uno stopped speaking and gazed at the nearby hills. Or at least his puppet did. I coughed, but that wasn¡¯t enough¡­ I couldn¡¯t stop myself anymore. I started laughing. It was a long, deep, hearty laugh that left me wanting for air. ¡°A-are you trying to cheer me up?¡± I gasped, my lips curling up when I heard his outrage. ¡°Way to be dick, dude! Way to be a dick!¡± He screamed out. ¡°Here I am, trying to show you the situation isn¡¯t that bad only to have my efforts laughed at?¡± ¡°N-no, t-that wasn¡¯t my intention!¡± I answered, but my sincerity could be doubted. After all, I was still gasping for air. The atmosphere relaxed as we simply gazed at the surrounding hustle and bustle, the soldiers and servants rushing to make last-minute adjustments. It was a blessed ten minutes of silence. But the world was not such a great place to let me rest. ¡°Incoming! Join the formation!¡± The sergeants shouted at the top of their lungs. ¡°Ready spells!¡± Another other screamed as the mages murmured chants under their hoods. ¡°Archers, prepare to fire! Check the bowstrings! Normal arrows first!¡± All the while scouts tried to find good targets. ¡°Scream, brothers! We will bury the dead once again!¡± ¡°¡°¡°GRAAAAAAAAAAH!¡±¡±¡± And beastkin were being beastkin¡­ Wild, untamed. Bloodthirsty. The chaos was turning into order under my very eyes. Soon the undead column had crested a nearby hill and I gasped. There was no longer a need for any scout reports. These silhouettes were burned in my memory, be it for bad or good. A Mage, a Warrior, and a Prodigy. For a moment their current forms overlapped with the past. Their smiles and scowls. I could feel my eyes watering, a few tears slowly falling down my face. The zombies and skeletons leading the advance wore a familiar symbol. Blue flame¡­ once it was a mark of strength, a proof of nobility. Now they were just a part of another horror unleashed onto the world. As I stared unblinkedly something happened. Something loud. The sky trembled, and ancient magic raked wounds against the Geinard Kingdom¡¯s ranks, crushing and cutting the undead as another army crested the horizon. It was comprised of the dead too, but instead of the familiar if haunting ranks of the human skeletons, these were pure abominations - large masses of pus-ridden flesh with barely human form, skeletal centaurs, giant undead, and hunched ghouls. And amongst them stood a familiar figure spewing ancient words. The Lich. I still gazed dumbly as the two armies collided with a screech of bone and meat. I turned my head away only to hear Uno scream. ¡°No, fuck YOU dead-thing! Charles doesn¡¯t give a shit about your ancient grudges!¡± The Lich continued its monologue. Uno¡­ continued to comment. ¡°WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!¡± ¡°WHAT FUCKING DEBT?!¡± ¡°ARE YOU INSANE?¡± ¡°You can understand him?¡± I muttered, gobsmacked. ¡°Yeah? He¡¯s kind of a dick, you know. I think he has a grudge against your ancestor. Or this Waltzer fellow. No matter.¡± I could nearly see him grin. ¡°I think you will need my help, eh?¡± Then, without waiting for a response he continued. ¡°Especially since my scouts found out elven, half-elven, and dwarven squads nearby. They are closing in. This party is going to get louder.¡± I groaned. Gods really had it against me, today. 087.5 Honor above duty Ethenial Keenwind leader of Theocracy scouting triad Ethenial (to friends Ethen) yawned in a way unbecoming of an elven warrior. Or scout, in his case. Still, he couldn¡¯t be arsed to maintain decorum. In the Wastes, the only other intelligent beings were his companions. They wouldn¡¯t judge. And the ants squirming below, he supposed. Some Theocracy scholars argued that humans, hybrids, and similar lesser lifeforms counted as sentient beings. Hogwash, in his humble opinion. Not only did they live absurdly short but their thoughts were limited to food, sleep, and sex. These were base instincts, those of dirty, filthy, animals. Bleh. He usually wasn¡¯t this philosophical, but the boredom was a formidable foe, especially in this Aeon-forsaken land. Ethenial squirmed under the material, the grays, and browns of the Wastelands faithfully recreated on the drab surfaces of his scouting nest. It was a completely mundane thing, without a speck of magic but the scouts'' safety was built on such simple precautions. It didn¡¯t mean that the elf liked staring at the village below for hours on end. Still, orders were orders, even if they sent his team away on a goose chase. Exalted maiden Eve had asked for troops to be dispatched and the High Command was happy to fulfill that request¡­ especially since the girl had escaped enslavement. It was only proper to watch over the Geinard Princess who managed to free her. The Command sent his elite team - a triad comprised of a scout, mage, and warrior trained in survival skills and taught by the eldest elves. Their mentors were those of the chosen who still clung to life, a few of those faithful who managed to endure the Abandonment. Those, who saw their God struck from the sky because of the hubris of the other Divines. Aeon of Light was a harsh master, but one they chose willingly. They were proud to be his folk, proud to work under his banner to better this world. Seeing the deity of justice destroyed simply because it remained true to its ideals should have broken the burgeoning Theocracy. Instead, it made Ethenial¡¯s brethren stronger. The nation of light guarded the few remaining pieces of the divinity they managed to save, hoping against hope that their burning faith would resurrect their benefactor. With that came a sense of duty present even in the simplest worker, not to mention the warriors on the frontlines of never-ending war. So, despite their objections, he and his fellow scouts were observing a little city-state called Silver Oasis. Truly, calling it a city was a bit too lenient, but it wasn¡¯t a village either. Not to mention it didn¡¯t roll out the tongue the same way. It was run by a former Blueflame noble, one much divorced from Geinard Kingdom¡¯s standard societal norms and that was what made observing him so interesting. The rest was just a droll duty of checking on the maiden¡¯s savior since she decided to stay in this place. The Oasis once had a freshly minted Dungeon, which a certain haughty princess then destroyed. Ethaniel huffed. Half-breeds were getting uppity with their interference. The elves weren¡¯t as reverential and thankful as other sentients for the murder holes Gods sprinkled on the remaining uncorrupted landmass but the Theocracy recognized their inherent value, as did the scout. Any resource site was a blessing in this lightless world, no matter if the tithe for its boons had to be paid in blood or gold. While the Oasis had been a part of Geinard Kingdom''s territory when the destruction happened, it still stung that their lesser kin had trashed its underground zone so thoroughly. Calling its core an abomination was no excuse for what they had done. The only ones who couldn¡¯t be forgiven were the undead, after all. And while it was said that the homunculi used by the Dungeon skirted the line of right and wrong, it still wasn¡¯t enough to purge its halls. Not to mention that their people invented many tools that allowed them to meddle with what the Dungeons produced and which monsters were created to guard their halls. And there was always a bigger stick for those cores stubborn enough to resist these suggestions. All in all, it was a waste. The destruction, the arrogance. The lack of inner light these wretched half-elves demonstrated. A proper elf knew what duty was. What had to be swallowed for the Theocracy to prosper. For the world to survive. Uncountable years of training, sacrifice, and knowledge were stuffed in the trainees'' heads, and these choices were theirs and theirs alone. Added to that were years of exploration, fights, and escapes, years filled with bitterly observing as the mortal races battled against each other, squandering the Aeon¡¯s given gifts. Years wasted desperately trying to stop the tide of darkness that threatened to drown out the light of civilization¡­ all the while more and more of their kin fell to their enemies. Ethenial huffed again eliciting a groan from his nearby friend. ¡°Can you please shut up?¡± The blonde mage glared at his companion as he stowed a book in his backpack. Nishan Zoal was a proud man - even if he looked a bit silly with his blonde locks constantly trying to escape from an oversized wizard hat he was wearing. It was the only deviation from the norm he could get away with regarding clothing, the rest of his attire comprising of a worn leather doublet, pants, boots, and a camouflage cloth. ¡°I could, but I won¡¯t.¡± Ethen grinned back. His companion rose with a sigh, his empty hands suddenly gripping a wooden item. Despite its toy-like look, the dagger Nishan summoned was anything but safe, filling both the role of a secondary weapon and a casting implement. With his class, Dawn Summoner, being a battlefield powerhouse any speed-up was sorely needed. ¡°Is something happening? You seem happier than usual.¡± Battlemage''s face twisted in a worried expression. ¡°Especially since we¡¯re on a guard duty.¡± ¡°Watching these ants is nothing interesting, you know? Not everyone can just turn off the thinking and meditate.¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Jealous?¡± ¡°Gods forbid, you freak!¡± Ethen laughed happily before turning to the last member of the triad. ¡°How do you feel, Trun?¡± The mountain of a man grumbled, checking the studded armor and his spear before spewing a single word. ¡°Fine.¡± Trun Trueword was the most un-elven elf one could imagine. It didn¡¯t matter for his companions though. They knew he had their back. ¡°Always full of joy, huh?¡± The only answer was a baleful glare from the warrior. ¡°Fine, fine.¡± The scout raised his hands in fake surrender. ¡°You people always get on my nerves.¡± Ethen shook his head in disappointment. ¡°So?¡± The mage prodded. ¡°So, what?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be like this. What did you notice.¡± ¡°Spoilsport!¡± Ethenial whisper-shouted with fake outrage. ¡°Spit it out before I oust you to the Inquisitors.¡± ¡°Bah! Fine. Prepare for entertainment! A battle should happen soon-ish.¡± Under a double glare, Ethen visibly withered before elaborating. ¡°See these brown clouds?¡± He pointed at the horizon. ¡°The dust rises when enough people stomp their way through the wastelands. With the amount we can already see I can pretty accurately predict two large contingents of troops marching toward the Oasis. At the rate they¡¯re moving it will take them about three hours to arrive.¡± Ethen scratched his chin. ¡°They¡¯re coming from different directions though, so we may see a three-way fight.¡± ¡°How do you know that these are armies, though?¡± ¡°Oh please¡­ Who sends anything other than troops through the Wastes?¡± ¡°I see.¡± Nishan squinted. ¡°Are we joining the fun?¡± The elven scout slowly shook his head. ¡°Our role is to observe. High Command didn¡¯t want us to do anything else.¡± ¡°They also asked us to protect the maiden¡¯s benefactor.¡± ¡°True. Still, it would be an abandonment of duty to do so.¡± ¡°A shame.¡± The blonde mage twirled his dagger again and again. ¡°I have a few spells in need of testing. The flesh is the best judge of power after all.¡± His lips rose in a cruel smile. The rest of the day had been spent in waiting, the elven triad using this time to prepare. Even if they weren¡¯t planning on fighting in the foreseeable future it always paid off to be prepared. Hours passed as the trio observed the nervous preparation of Silver Oasis people they also had a glance at the dwarven mercenaries that its leader employed. ¡°I heard about those traitors.¡± Ethen spoke with disgust. ¡°They sell their skill to the highest bidder when their home is under siege. How Dwarven Holds can stand their existence, I cannot fathom.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be so judgemental. They aren¡¯t joining the defense, because other clans won¡¯t let them, not because they don¡¯t want to.¡± The mage reminded. ¡°These guys are probably a part of either outcasts or oathbreakers, the lowest castes. Even speaking with them is a crime for a normal dwarf.¡± ¡°When there¡¯s will, there¡¯s a way.¡± ¡°Say what you want, but it¡¯s not always like that.¡± The pair glared at each other, their fists curling up. It was a tense few minutes, only disrupted by Trun¡¯s words. ¡°Enemy.¡± ¡°What are you talking about, big guy?¡± Ethen¡¯s words died in his throat, as he noticed the figures coming over the nearby hill. Zombies, skeletons, and a few ghouls. Undead. All of them dressed in Geinard Kingdom''s colors and blue flame liveries. Marching together like an army, not running toward the warm flesh waiting on the other side of the makeshift moat. Trun growled and Nishan whispered with cold anger. ¡°So the rumors were true. Those fools really are using dark arts. Raised dead, intelligent undead at the helm¡­ where¡¯s the controller?¡± He squinted. ¡°Bah, there¡¯s not one living person in the detachment. The ones leading them are undead mages. History repeats itself.¡± ¡°May Aeon curse them! Children playing with fire¡­¡± Before Nishan could continue to berate the foolish humans Ethen whispered back. ¡°I have more bad news.¡± ¡°Light¡¯s mercy! What now?¡± ¡°Observe.¡± The scout pointed toward the other hill. Seconds passed in silence as soon more figures surged above it. Unlike the contingent from Geinard Kingdom, this group was less organized, with large abominations and inhuman corpses towering over lesser dead. Their soldiers were however more truthful to their nature, as they ignored the competing force and sprinted downhill, eager to taste the living flesh. Something that undead mages from the Geinard Kingdom seemed loath to happen as their troops immediately clashed with the Wasteland force. Everything happened in eerie silence, cut short only by the sounds of bone hitting flesh. ¡°Why are they fighting¡±? The mage asked, confused. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, the humans are sallying forth!¡± Ethan grinned before noticing something. ¡°Thrice cursed betrayers¡­ that¡¯s a lich!¡± His friends'' faces turned cold and hateful as they too noticed the enemy commander. ¡°The antithesis of life¡­¡± Nishan murmured, his grip on the dagger growing stronger. ¡°It needs to die.¡± Trun spat a short sentence, hoisting his weapon and shield. ¡°Ready?¡± He asked with a grim resolve. ¡°Wait a moment.¡± Ethan ordered, his earlier exuberance forgotten. ¡°Break mana flares. We may fail, but the reinforcements will come.¡± The triad took out small, blue crystals, no bigger than an adult¡¯s pinky. They crushed them at the same time, sending a jolt of invisible energy through the ether. Nobody was any wiser about what happened, though Uno cursed loudly when an invisible, taut cord snapped near his ear. That was what it had felt like, anyway. It was a signal, a line of communication that allowed the most devoted to ask for help, while at the same time carrying a deeper meaning - information about those lost fulfilling their duties. No words or notes could be sent, just a short blip on a ¡°radar¡± tended by the Aeon¡¯s priests. A single response was meaningless - all it meant was that another elf had just paid the ultimate price for the good of the world. Two appearing at once meant that a powerful enemy had appeared and that an investigation was needed. Three¡­ Three meant that the Enemy was at their gates. That the dead, or worse, were coming for the unspoiled lands and the ones sending the reinforcement signal were unlikely to survive. Three broken flares meant that a reaping was needed¡­ and if there was anything that the Theocracy¡¯s elves had learned through the years it was how to find and destroy their foes. It was carved in their flesh, burned into their souls. A hundred thousand sacrifices had taught them well. Amongst the bloodthirsty hunters, the Inquisitors were those who embodied the concept of unrelenting zeal - becoming unstoppable dogs of a destroyed God. Hundreds of figures surged through the normally calm halls of the temples. The weapons were being prepared, and the troops mustered. Prayers to the God of Justice echoed off the walls as the olden constructs hummed into life again, prepared to carry the warriors into battle. Theocracy was going on to war. Near the Silver Oasis, three friends nodded to each other, their weapons at the ready. Unflinching, they turned to the battlefield where the living and the dead clashed. Their blood was boiling. As servants of the Light, they knew their duty. They knew that a rational choice was to wait. But the most important thing they had learned through the years of hardships was simple. The honor trumps duty. Hunting dogs of a dead God screamed in defiance as they ran towards their doom. Somewhere a two-headed Goddess was laughing. 088 Uno I should be scared, trembling in my boots, as the dead armies were poised to clash above my dungeon. Instead, I grinned, ignoring the fight that would make or break us. I wasn¡¯t so sure earlier, but now it was damningly clear - Charles needed all the help he could get. Once one of the enemy forces dealt with their opponent, their singular focus would surely turn to Silver Oasis. No matter how tattered they had become it still should remain a force we would be hard-pressed to beat, no matter if it was the Lich or Charles¡¯ former family members who were able to win. And we couldn¡¯t have that - at least not until I had his body firmly in my grasp. No matter how much I had to dance on a blade¡¯s edge. Welp, that sounded creepy. Ugh. Anyway. The Lich continued being a nuisance, its endless monologue pissing me off, but what I was most wary of were scouts of foreign powers dotted amongst the landscape. They limited my choices, especially when it came to using forbidden magic or creatures. Some of the watchers were still far away, but the most unlucky team had seconds until they were discovered. It didn¡¯t help that the elves in question weren¡¯t keen on hiding, spewing bloodlust like water out of a firefighter hose. I could see three long-eared adventurers camping on a nearby hill and it was only a question of time before the Lich noticed them too. I hoped they would buy us at least a few minutes before their inevitable demise¡­ if we were lucky they might¡¯ve even managed to chip away at the powerful, magic-flinging undead. Below their hiding spot two undead forces collided with a sound of broken flesh and bone, their charge otherwise eerily quiet. The Kingdom¡¯s preserved soldiers fared far worse than their opponents, the numerous human undead - despite being armored - were simply too fragile to withstand the outpouring of the giant skeletons and abominable agglomerations of flesh. The few skeletal centaurs and bestial dead slipped the Kingdom¡¯s defensive line and gleefully charged toward Charles¡¯ troops. Their inherent hunger was winning against the Lich¡¯s commands. Was the main baddie distracted by something? Still, the attackers were few and far between, which meant they had been easily dispatched by the Oasis¡¯ shield wall and the berserking Puppets. There were some inevitable casualties and the sounds of battle had been enriched by the screams of the wounded and the sharp orders of the commanders. The beastkin parties were still held in reserve, rearing to go and ready to tear into the enemy. The same with our other trump card - the few Ogrekin we had managed to create. Turning into those was more art than science at this point. Still, the rats were trying their best. Currently, these big brutes were just picking their noses near the javelin stockpile. It was too soon to let them loose. At this moment another note had been added to the surrounding din. The archers let their missiles fly - something that normally would be considered a waste when confronted with an undead enemy. This time, however, the flesh and bone hissed in response as the enhanced dissolving solution spilled over the warring foes. The undead forces trembled under the sudden assault, keeling in pain. The volley was a success - thanks to an upgraded mixture used earlier as a deterrent by the Oasis''s mages. Once again it had proven its worth. It was a combination of my Ratlings'' ingenuity and the open minds of Master Vincent''s students that made the upgrade possible. The human academics were more than happy to share the mixture''s secrets and to conduct experiments to predict its effectiveness. The rats used my Dungeon¡¯s bounty to supplement the acid. After that knowledge donation, many Lebirs had been harmed in the name of science. Or was it alchemy? Anyway, with the Lebirs only partially undead it was hard to judge the finished potion¡¯s power. And I didn¡¯t want to test it on Jailer Jonathan. Even if he was always hungry, and a little bit stupid, there was a glimmer of intelligence in his eyes. That meant remembering grudges, if pushed hard enough. There was no need to risk it. Another avenue of experimentation were skeletons spawned in the Waltzer Castle, but their overall fragility meant they turned out useless too. Their bones crumbled easily to enhanced and standard recipes, leaving the scientists stumped. In the end, we proceeded ahead with what had been made. It was a gamble - but a winning one, it seemed. Master Vincent¡¯s apprentices hooted and screamed as their hard work had been validated. They reminded me of university students celebrating the end of the school year. I admit - watching the invaders desperately trying to shake the hissing goo off was pretty funny but I still would prefer if the mages kept some decorum. Anyway, it was too bad that the improved solution was so potent that it was dangerous even to the living (with a few unlucky sods losing their sight), not to mention that after being made it chewed through the containers in hours. I did remember that gasoline in my old world had a similar problem¡­ and there were solutions to that. Ones that I didn¡¯t ever Google (I wasn¡¯t that bored), so all I could guess was the use of some kind of anti-corrosive emulsion. Made of what? Chrome? No idea. Anyway, seconds later after the first attack a few of our mages joined the battle, their indiscriminate spells burning, freezing, and electrocuting the undead. Some opted to simply crush them, with the Vincent¡¯s apprentices shoving their fancy Magic Missiles up the enemy¡¯s ass. It seemed like some of them had a bit of pent-up rage. I could see the Lich''s eyes turning livelier, as it screamed bloody murder about the level of today¡¯s youth and prepared its own magic¡­ only to get interrupted by a trio of elven adventurers. A mage wearing the most ridiculous hat I had ever seen, a completely un-elven-looking muscle-bound warrior with a tower shield (how did he manage to drag it up there?!), and¡­ a completely normal rogue. Clad in leathers, wielding a pair of daggers, a bow - the standard fare. I instantly decided that he was the weirdest and probably the most dangerous one. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Instead of attacking the Lich from afar, they focused on carving a road toward the magic-toting undead, thus giving it precious seconds to focus and strategize - a costly mistake. The caster¡¯s blue eyes swirled as a powerful spell condensed, its azure colors twisting into an orb above the mage¡¯s head. The summon trembled, barely containing the mana it was stuffed with before shooting toward¡­ Charles¡¯ defensive line. My Puppet¡¯s eyes constricted in shock. The ice ball was slow-moving but powerful, chock full of mana. Whenever it passed everything - living or not - turned into white statues, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. I could feel Charles''s fire mana bubbling as he gathered power, staring at the enemy attack with a gaunt face. I swallowed. A few arrows and magic spells flew away, failing to intercept it, as the orb hungrily swallowed any interruptions. It was too soon. The battle was just beginning, we couldn¡¯t afford to exhaust one of our few trump cards. Just as I wondered if Guardian and his Kobold bodyguards had to be used I noticed something weird. A small, solitary figure drew my eyes. Or rather it drew both mine and most of the army¡¯s gazes. A Puppet, or dwarf outcast, as the humans described them, was sprinting toward the spell, its short legs moving like crazy, even while clad in full armor. It would be a comical sight, if not for the gravity of the situation. The rat piloting it was one talented bastard, perfectly jumping around obstacles¡­ and worse. It was climbing the fucking undead on the way, performing the most insane fantasy parkour imaginable. The limbs and heads were trashed as Puppet¡¯s pilot tried to bounce around, its feet smashing bones, denting helmets, all the while gaining speed and height. Doing everything in its power to bridge the gap and smash the incoming spell. The ability to ignore the pain from sundered muscles of its ¡°meatsuit¡± sure came in handy. We all watched with a bated breath as it clawed its way closer and closer. And then its leg slipped. The dwarf-lookalike fell in silence, only to get torn to shreds in seconds. I breathed out. A shame. It was a valiant try¡­ And the human army thought the same. ¡°Damn!¡± ¡°So close, that madman was so close!¡± ¡°Shiiiiit.¡± ¡°They really don¡¯t care about their lives, do they?¡± The humans cursed¡­ and then three more Puppets sprinted from the defensive line, their pilots trying to finish the self-imposed mission. I chuckled under my nose, while Charles mumbled with a shocked expression. ¡°Your monsters are suicidal.¡± ¡°I prefer to call them devoted. But hey, let¡¯s not split hairs. It doesn¡¯t matter how we call it, if it¡¯s working, right?¡± ¡°Is it though?¡± He grumbled back, his eyes glued to the runners. I grinned through the mouthpiece, as two more Puppets sprinted away, their predecessors already torn apart. Seconds later one of them managed to avoid the grasping hands, jumping into the middle of the incoming spell, its axe blade cutting through the orb¡¯s core. The spell wobbled in place, a shrill sound exploding outward before a wall of death followed. My Puppet died, just like the others around the burst magic, but its sacrifice wasn''t in vain. A large chunk of Lich¡¯s forces and Kingdom¡¯s undead were turned into statues, far away from our troops. And the gazes of Oasis''s soldiers changed. Earlier they were just full of determination. A will to make the enemies pay for their lives. Now their gazes carried awe and a spark of hope. ¡°Those damn dwarves¡­¡± ¡°I shudder what the higher castes do if these are the riff-raff.¡± ¡°What did Master Charles promise them to throw their lives away so easily? A new home?¡± ¡°We won¡¯t be worse than the midgets!¡± ¡°Stand! Staaaaand! Do! Not! Charge!¡± ¡°Keep formation!¡± ¡°I said stop!¡± The sergeants were having problems stopping the troops from advancing. The unflinching zeal that the Puppets had demonstrated was slowly worming into their hearts and souls. The battle continued, with Lich being strangely quiet. I turned to check on it, just in time to observe the last moments of the distraction squad. All three elves had been cut by Lich¡¯s cold magic, their forms torn up and pierced with icicles and frost. Still, the undead magician itself wasn¡¯t unscathed, a few of its bones cracked and burnt. It was less than what Charles had managed before, but at this point, I would take any advantage. It was just like doing a raid in an MMO - we just had to keep accumulating damage on the boss! The elven rogue screamed, and I blinked in surprise. He was speaking in the ancient tongue - the same that the Lich used. ¡°More will come, monster! We will hound you without rest, without mercy!¡± His black eyes burned with hatred. The Lich chuckled, happy a chance at conversation, despite the grim circumstances. ¡°Did the old ones teach you how to speak? How fun! Maybe I won¡¯t kill you after all¡­¡± It laughed again. ¡°What should I do, with these rare materials¡­¡± It mused. ¡°Oh well, let¡¯s just turn you into an undead! If I get lucky you won¡¯t even lose your mind! An immortal conversation partner would be splendid!¡± The leather-clad elf spat on the ground. ¡°I would rather die.¡± He growled. ¡°That can be arranged!¡± His opponent crooned. ¡°I should really hunt the elves more. In hindsight, it¡¯s obvious that the most ancient race would have the biggest chance to remember the old ways.¡± ¡°Now, now. How did the young ones call it? Hitting two birds with one stone?¡± ¡°Aeon¡¯s servants will turn you into ashes, monster!¡± The rogue screamed back, clearly stalling. I noticed that the undead noticed it too. It just didn¡¯t care about what the ants around it could do. Arrogance. ¡°Still clinging to that dead god of yours? He had been brought down so long ago.¡± The undead scoffed, eyeing its opponent, then it added after a brief moment of silence. ¡°What, no response? No shouts of rage? No indignation?¡± ¡°Do you think you¡¯re the first heretic to spew blasphemy in our faces?¡± The elf grinned back. ¡°We¡¯re used to it. Just like our enemies are getting used to being BURNED ALIVE!¡± He laughed, madness blistering in his eyes, as a suicidal attack was snuck in by the tower-shield warrior. The undead reacted with an ice spell, only to have the damage reflected in a swirl of light. A few more cracks were added to its bones, but the muscular elf was torn in half by the counter-attack. ¡°Fool.¡± The Lich spat out, eyeing the fallen opponent. The rogue followed right after his companion, dodging the close combat spells in a desperate bid to get close and deal more damage. ¡°You will die, monster, even if it¡¯s the last thing we will do!¡± He screamed, the dagger adding nicks and dents to the enemy. ¡°Nishan - cast it!¡± He gasped, an icicle piercing his chest a moment later, there was a hoarse laugh and he too crumbled down without another word. The blonde elf nodded with a serious expression, his right arm bloodied and crushed. A magic that had been ramping up in the background for minutes coalesced into a beam of light, centered on the Lich. I could hear the spell in my crystalline bones, its last chants were echoing in my head. ¡°...and I give myself to you, oh Aeon. Hear my plea. See my devotion. Burn my foes.¡± ¡°NEW DAWN!¡± The world exploded. Seconds later we regained our sight. Unsurprisingly the Lich was a bit toasty but still fine. Damn monster. Everything else in a radius of twenty meters had been vaporized, sand glassed, and organic matter turned into ashes. ¡°Another robe wasted.¡± The undead shouted with anger. ¡°Waltzer!¡± It hollered again, even louder. ¡°Get out here and take care of the rats! I need to change.¡± I trembled. 089 Uno Loud sounds echoed through the battlefield. THUD! CLANG! THUD! CLANG! The undead ignored the incoming danger, but the living reacted with instinctual fear. The echo was loud and meaty, yet the earth trembled on a more spiritual than physical level. Something powerful was coming, something monstrous and full of malice. The first figures who marched over the nearby hill were a disappointment. Their forms were clad in mismatched iron armor covering every part of their body - this included chestplates, helmets, shins, pauldrons, and so on, yet not one of those appearing exuded the feeling of power. All of their armor pieces were rusted and scrappy, most still bearing battle marks with holes and scratches over the heart or head, clearly showing that the ownership change wasn¡¯t peaceful. From under these metal defenses, a keen observer could notice pieces of rotten skin sticking out, identifying the newly appeared soldiers as zombies. Despite being monsters I deliberately described them as soldiers. Unlike most of their kin, these were quite agile - much different from the overall sluggishness and clumsiness shown in their base species. In addition, they moved with a sense of purpose, keeping ranks and formation. Most of them carried large two-handed maces, with some sporting a shield and club pair. The shielders were standing at the front, ready to defend their companions from any harm. ¡°Why maces, though?¡± I mumbled quietly. It was weird. Charles shrugged. ¡°Maybe they can¡¯t gather enough spears or swords. Or maybe the undead are too stupid to use something better. Or the maces are just the right weapon to bash down their opposition.¡± ¡°Does it matter?¡± ¡°True¡­ it doesn¡¯t matter. They have maces as weapons. That¡¯s a fact. We need to roll with it.¡± I returned to staring. The only other noticeable thing about the undead soldiers was their vacant stares. They looked quite creepy even to me and I was used to Lebirs and their stupid mugs. I was glad most of Charles¡¯ soldiers couldn¡¯t make them out. Morale was a thing for the living, after all. I couldn¡¯t stop myself and compared these troops to the Lebirs under my command. Even if my monsters were classified as abominations their power level and reactions were similar to those of the undead. Tomato, tom-ah-to situation. And while Lebirs lost in the armor department they were much more agile and had better reaction time than these zombies. Like their enemy, they also could work in groups, at least while under a Lebir Captain''s leadership so this quality was a draw. On the other hand, my electric maces were an anti-living weapon and fared poorly against the enemy who couldn¡¯t feel pain. The zombies had heavy blunt armaments at their disposal, which were a perfect choice against most of the undead. This could be quickly remedied, as scraping enough materials for a mace or a club was easy. Doing that hundreds of times though? Not so easy anymore. Still, with a larger force, Lebirs should come ahead, since they were as fearless as their counterparts. Without any other variables, it was just a numbers game. Sadly my thoughts had been cut short, as from behind the armored zombies a large, monstrous undead appeared, clad in a higher-quality armor. Despite the helmet hiding its face I recognized their leader immediately. The slab of metal it used as a sword was a unique weapon, after all. Well, unique on Yana. Guts, Cloud Strife and Monster Hunters would beg to differ. Anyway, Henrik Waltzer, or rather his husk, was already making its presence known. The arm it had lost had been exchanged with some other bones or supplanted by a metal prosthesis. It was hard to tell from far away. Either way, the monstrous lieutenant was ready to fight, even while continuing its silent treatment. It was a welcome respite from Lich¡¯s endless yapping. Its empty eyes surveyed the battlefield, drinking up the carnage below. After a few seconds, it had lifted the greatsword from its shoulder and pointed it ahead. The zombies roared like a beast let from its leash. The first ranks started to run, the gravity helping the heavyweight undead gain speed. Soon second, third, and fourth ranks moved, and as they did their ungodly noise suddenly overwhelmed the battlefield. I stopped staring and turned back to Charles. ¡°I think it¡¯s time to show some of our trump cards¡­ Unless you want your troops to eat that charge!¡± He scoffed. ¡°Normally I would say ¡®let them come¡¯, but we don¡¯t have endless troops Geinard Kingdom boasts¡­ even if you do.¡± He added with a whisper. Despite his words, the red-headed mage was starting to grin. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was a conscious reaction or something deeper, like his fiery mana coming to the surface. ¡°Sergeant!¡± He shouted and a muscular figure appeared at his call. ¡°Yes-sir!¡± ¡°Tell Ogrekin to start firing. And¡­ let them use the explosives.¡± He added with distaste. I laughed in response. ¡°Why the long face? We use what we can, right?¡± ¡°Oh shaddap, you monster. I don¡¯t have to like it¡­ Just¡­ focus on the fight. Let¡¯s see how efficient your charges are.¡± My puppet nodded, faking attentiveness, while most of my consciousness drifted toward the Ogrekin. I didn¡¯t want to miss the show. The decision to replant Evil Eyes on the surface had been paying dividends. The few Ogrekin that I had managed to create (yeah, sure mostly through the hands of my Ratlings) stood or sat near a small encampment, picking their noses and grunting inane jokes at each other. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. All around them, an ¡°honor guard¡± of a few human soldiers and many older women stood at the ready, trying their best to look calm and collected. Some of those were family to the turned men, their wives, mothers, and sometimes sisters. In one case a young daughter took care of her changed father. I could nearly hear their souls thrumming with anticipation and fear. There was also some anger at their role, at the world¡­ but that was beside the point. We all did what we needed to survive, and these people were no strangers to this truth. The runner arrived in seconds, screaming his lungs out about the duty and orders. The ladies assigned to the big boys started smacking their subordinates'' legs - it was a pretty funny sight, especially comparing their sizes. They were herding them toward the firing line. Or should I say the artillery nest? Anyway, the place was fortified and filled with enlarged spear throwers, similar to the weapons that the Ratlings were using. Nowadays my rats focused on more esoteric subjects like mech piloting and warpstone experiments, leaving that simple weapon grafted into their backs unused, even if they were naturally proficient in shooting. And now the wheel of life had turned and it was time for my new creations to taste the power of atlatl! Yep, I remembered what it was called. Spear thrower was such a drab name. ¡°Prepare the weapons! Take off the safeties!¡± The guards shouted, their hands already busy fiddling with large ropes. Despite being more like child-safety locks these were enough to stop the big dum-dums from destroying or hurting themselves with the atlatls. ¡°We shoot?¡± A brighter Ogrekin mumbled, only for the rest to pick it up. ¡°Shoot! I like shoot!¡± ¡°Sho-ot!¡± ¡°Sho-ot!¡± ¡°Sho-ot!¡± ¡°Boom! I want boom¡± Another added. ¡°Yes! Boom! I can boom, nice lady?¡± ¡°Boom!¡± ¡°Boom!¡± ¡°Pretty boom!¡± ¡°Red boom!¡± ¡°Yes, this time you can boom!¡± Ogrekin¡¯s caretaker answered with a crooked smile. ¡°Just remember to keep to the rules!¡± ¡°Uhhhhh¡­ rules. Remember da¡¯ rules.¡± ¡°Oh, c¡¯mon, you recited them just yesterday!¡± One of the soldiers shouted to the heavens, clearly fed up. The large demihumans quietened down. ¡°Me not remember.¡± The Ogrekin leader spoke softly. ¡°Sorry, smart mister.¡± An avalanche of ¡°me sorry¡± followed. ¡°Haaaah¡± he sighed. ¡°Just¡­ try to remember it this time.¡± The irritated soldier started sweating, as the gazes of gathered matrons drilled a hole in his back. ¡°First, check if you won¡¯t hurt anyone with throwing. Second, put the boomie on the spear shaft. Third, put the spear on the thrower. Four, throw where nice ladies tell you.¡± ¡°Ooooooh!¡± ¡°Smart!¡± ¡°We ¡®member!¡± ¡°Good, now do as you were told.¡± All of the Ogrekin present nodded their heads enthusiastically, before lifting a spear each. They turned around, noticing the boomies coming closer. Or just small-sized Lebir Exploders I made just for this task. They were dwarf-sized, with a complimentary electric mace and a bit lesser yield than their bigger cousins. Still, despite the lack of expression, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that they were glad to be useful, burning with a fiery desire to destroy our enemies. Which was preposterous. They didn¡¯t have enough brain capacity to desire anything! Well, I¡¯m ignoring that feeling. Must¡¯ve been the wind. Ogrekin dutifully loaded their temporary companions onto the spears and delicately moved the resulting combination to the atlatls. Then the weapons were lifted onto their shoulders, ready to fire. The women standing nearby tugged on the shooters'' clothes, pointing them in the direction of the metal mob. Then there was a THUNK and the spears were in the air, my creatures tightly clinging to the shafts. A second passed and some of the zombies were pinned to the ground, forcing those behind them to either fall or desperately avoid the newly appeared obstacle. It was funny, if not very effective. At least until explosions happened. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The mass of the dead exploded, sending flesh, bone, and metal hurling into the undead ranks. The zombies didn¡¯t stop running, but my Ogrekin didn¡¯t stop throwing. It was clear who would come out on top of this challenge. The husk leading the iron zombies noticed it too. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was a result of training or maybe just remains of the original Waltzer¡¯s personality. No matter the reason the monster in charge of the Lich¡¯s forces started to run down the hill. I glared at our opponent. Various thoughts swirled in my head. Should I send Guardian? Maybe another minion would be enough? But¡­ the scouts of various powers were still watching. I didn¡¯t want to show something out of the realm of the ordinary and then get hunted down by their superiors. Thankfully a decision had been made for me. A blonde girl armed with a sword started running toward the enemy. Just like my Puppets before, she used shields and heads to parkour, if somewhat gentler than my creations. Of course, that was because she was vaulting over allies. ¡°Agneeeeees!¡± Charles''s head snapped to the amazon, as he screamed his lungs out. ¡°What are you doing?! Get back here!¡± She sent a kiss his way before shouting back. ¡°I¡¯m fine now! There¡¯s nothing like a battle to show everyone that my body has fully recovered!¡± A moment later she reached the frontline, cutting a path through the undead troops. The red-headed mage turned toward my puppet, his eyes full of worry. ¡°Uno, please.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Fine. FINE!¡± I hissed. ¡°You owe me for this!¡± [Guardian, get out there, take the kobolds. You need to protect the Princess. Don¡¯t disappoint me.] [Yes Lord, your wish is my command.] The armored undead answered immediately, his tone full of happiness. ¡°With me!¡± He shouted, emerging from the dungeon¡¯s entrance. Trailing behind him were kobolds in the mech suits - bulky, armored, and thumping around from left to right. They quickly stood in an arrow formation, with Guardian at the tip. Then, as if with an unheard command they started marching. The noise repeated itself. THUD! CLANG! THUD! CLANG! But this time it was not the enemy but our allies that were marching. Yet they were too far in the back, not to mention moving slowly. Hissing again I sent an order to the Puppets. They were to detach and flank the unruly Princess. Their lives were used to pay for time. ¡°You really owe me for it, Charles!¡± ¡°I know!¡± I felt a jolt, then another. ¡°What now?¡± Something was killing the Puppets. I glanced through their eyes, only to notice a fiery sword decapitating my current vessel. ¡°Shit! Charles, your brothers are coming knocking!¡± ¡°Master Vincent, please contain them!¡± ¡°Sure. It would be a shame to lose this place.¡± The helmeted grandpa was full of energy, flanked by his strongest acolytes. ¡°But I might not be enough.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll have somebody helping you shortly.¡± I answered, not even looking at the old mage. ¡°Just hold on.¡± Internally I screamed at my crafter rats. [I just need one mask! How hard is it to make something like that!] I knew that no plan survived the contact with the enemy, and yada, yada, yada¡­ but this battle was turning into a clusterfuck of epic proportions. 090 Agnes Geinard It felt good. The caress of the wind against my skin. The fear and emotion borne out of a thirst for battle. The surrounding din of carnage. It was right, this place where I belonged. Genius, monster, beast, they called me many names. And now some of them even turned out correct. It was some time since I let loose, staking my might against the enemy¡¯s. It was irrelevant who the foe was. Undead, monsters, demihumans - all were fine - I would smash them away without discrimination! Well, maybe I should care since I had become one of them¡­ But I didn¡¯t. Just how I didn¡¯t care about right and wrong. Instead, my strengthened legs pushed me ahead, splitting from the rest of the army. Then time slowed down, as my ability, Dance of the War Maiden, triggered. With another breath, I pushed a new skill to activate, one that came with my change - a Naga-ancestry ability to harden my skin with metal. The mana covered my body, then seconds later attracted minuscule pieces of iron, covering me in a greyish sheen. I checked my weapons, the wooden handles fitting snugly in my hands. Since I was fighting the undead I had chosen to forgo my usual dual-sword setup in favor of the mace and warhammer duo. No matter how many enchantments my cutting weapons had, nothing beat bashing damage when it came to total annihilation. Crushing bone and pulping flesh was useful when killing things that weren¡¯t supposed to be alive. The enemy lines were coming closer, even if in a comical fashion. Despite the undead being pretty much mindless, there was some recognition in their soul flames, as I was racing toward them like a boulder shot out of a catapult. A scream cut through my concentration, carrying the voice of my beloved. ¡°Agnes! What are you doing? Come back!¡± He shouted, his face full of worry. It sparked a fire in my gut and brought a smile to my face. Still, I hardened my heart. I was not a pretty doll to be attended to. I was a warrior, and my chosen allies were dying and bleeding on the battlefield. I couldn¡¯t just stand back and watch. ¡°Don¡¯t worry Charlie!¡± I laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with the pests and come back!¡± This answer didn¡¯t dispel his worries. The fire in my heart grew larger. I sent him a kiss. ¡°Deal with the Lich and we¡¯ll talk!¡± He cursed, unwillingly turning back to the greater threat. The tainted fire he commanded rose in the air. I wanted to scream and hug him. To tell him how cool he was, how his power was his and his alone¡­ To assuage his worries, and confirm that he was doing good. But now was not the time. There were distractions to take care of. Our enemies were not only the husk of hero Waltzer but also Charles''s three brothers. Or former brothers? They were already dead, after all. I didn¡¯t even remember their names. Commander, Rogue, and Hammer. That was good enough. I frowned. Dealing with the Lich¡¯s skeleton leader should be doable, but only if it was alone. Yet adding Geinard Kingdom''s lackeys to the mix complicated the equation¡­ I needed to distract or even eliminate them if possible. A few groups of Uno¡¯s dwarves were hurtling through our allies'' lines to join up with me, but despite their stubbornness and experience, they wouldn¡¯t be enough. Even the heavily armored troopers emerging from the dungeon were simply too weak in comparison to the Lich¡¯s and Kingdom¡¯s elites. Wait. Uno¡¯s big one was also coming, surrounded by his honor guard - nasty little buggers. Guardian, that''s what he was called, right? This one should be able to go toe to toe with one of Charles¡¯ brothers. What about the rest? I shook my head. Two against four would have to be enough¡­ no. It wouldn¡¯t. With a sigh, I reluctantly called on another skill. That one felt¡­ dirty. Shout of the Dead was a summoning ability that I despised. It roused ¡®allies of the Valkyrie¡¯ from their slumber, forcing them to march again, helping the summoner. It was described in other words, as more flowery and chivalrous. It was a lie. A forceful necromancy, ripping the dead from their well-deserved sleep. But I was of a Geinard bloodline. I knew all about using shady tools to do what needed to be done. Uno¡¯s Guardian would take care of the Hammer. And that meant the Rogue should clash with the Shield. ¡°Forgive me, Boulder!¡± I screamed into the air, rousing my body¡¯ remaining mana. ¡°I summon thee, oh friend! Shield against the darkness, the invincible defender, the enduring stubbornness made flesh! I call upon you once again, rise and protect those I held dear!¡± A spectral portal appeared in the air, shimmering with a deadly coldness I normally wouldn¡¯t think was possible. A second later large, armored foot crossed the boundary, dragging the flickering specter through the door. With a grunt, the whole figure appeared in the living world, the same armored body, teeming with muscles and an eternal scowl etched on his face. Boulder. The man I had abandoned, the man who died in Uno¡¯s dungeon¡­ because of my excessive pride. ¡°Mirabelle¡¯s peachy ass¡­ really? Ya drag me here to do battle? After all that happened?¡± He spat on the ground. ¡°You have no shame, girl.¡± ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry.¡± I stammered. Gods! The guilt was worse than I thought. It would be better if the skill summoned a blank, not this¡­ recreation. ¡°I¡­ there¡¯s no choice. All that I¡¯ve built is under threat. I will use any means to see it saved.¡± I caressed my abdomen. ¡°No matter the cost. So¡­ help me. Please.¡± Boulder¡¯s eyes bugged out - a comical sight, especially at odds with the solemn feeling that being a specter carried. He laughed. ¡°Really? Really! Hahahaha! Sure¡­ let¡¯s have one last dance! Point me at the enemy.¡± He hollered. We raced ahead, Uno¡¯s armored knight and his shield-carrying retainers joining us on the way. ¡°Take care of the big one!¡± I ordered and Guardian nodded in acceptance. Wasting no more time his hulking form carved a path through the Kingdom¡¯s and Lich¡¯s forces. Soon he collided with a large, hammer-wielding skeleton. Explosions and death followed. ¡°Now that¡¯s a man¡¯s man!¡± Boulder grinned before blocking a sneaky strike, the fire whip leaving a blue burning mark on the half-orc¡¯s shield. ¡°Oi! Coward! Fight like a warrior!¡± The only answer was a throwing dagger that nearly took his eye out. ¡°Hey! Ya little shit!¡± ¡°C¡¯mere!¡± ¡°I said COME HERE!¡± The rogue-warrior pair started to move away, spreading waves of destruction all around them. Neither enemy nor ally was safe from their contest. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. That left only Waltzer and the enemy Commander to contend with. It was more doable but it still would be a hard fight, especially if they managed to join forces. I grumbled. Should I order the dwarves to buy me some time? The Geinard Kingdom''s Commander was a mage, but his prowess was still nothing to scoff at. Any non-elite assaulting him would die. The question was if they would die slowly enough. If they would buy me enough time. I nearly didn¡¯t live to hear the answer, as suddenly the sky started burning. ¡°Area spell incoming!¡± I screamed, scrambling for cover. Only, there wasn¡¯t one. The Wastelands were kind of an empty place. Still, there¡¯s always a way. I admit, I squeaked in surprise when the surrounding troops piled up on me, using their bodies as a living barrier. They didn¡¯t scream even as they burned, as their armor, flesh, and bones were turned to charcoal. After the onslaught ended I emerged - traumatized but alive. Ignoring their fellow¡¯s demise more dwarves were arriving, their weapons ready to strike at our enemies. What did Uno promise them, to throw their lives away so recklessly? They were seriously weird. Charles too was a bit too mum about them. I shook my head. Focus. There was no need to wonder. The Commander-Mage had to go. Just as I clenched my teeth and prepared to charge along them another massive spell started to coalesce. ¡°Brighton¡¯s shiny ass.¡± I cursed. ¡°I already dislike your brothers, Charlie. They¡¯re annoying.¡± Thankfully I was spared from dealing with the undead mage because something ridiculous happened. A man-shaped figure burst through the soil, exploding the top and covering his surroundings with earthen rain. My focus trembled as another fighter entered the board. Was it an enemy, or an ally? Or maybe just a third force? After landing more or less gracefully the man in question dusted himself off meticulously. This meant I had a few seconds to take in his appearance. The most eye-catching part of his clothes was certainly a white mask with a creepy smile, black eyes painted on it, and unruly brown hair sticking out. The rest of his uniform was non-descript - a black shirt with pants in the same color, leather boots, and gloves. No emblems or liveries were present, marking him as a suspicious person. This was especially true, since darkness and earth mana swirled around his figure, signifying enormous power. Or lack of skill to fully control his power. The only clear advantage I could glean from his arrival was that he was a living being and thus somebody in opposition to our undead invaders. He also somehow felt familiar, yet presented a complete mystery. At least until he opened his mouth. ¡°Hooooh. Just in time!¡± He raised his hands into the air with an exaggerated relief. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, fair lady, the reinforcements have arrived! Let me use my totally-not-overpowered magic to deal with the baddies!¡± I could easily imagine a childish grin forming under his mask. I relaxed my stance. There was only one idiot who spoke like that. ¡°Uno? What the hell are you doing here?¡± I scoffed, trying to keep my face straight. He reacted by tucking his arms against his chest and leaning back on one of his legs. ¡°W-w-what! H-how do you know it¡¯s me?! No, I mean.¡± He coughed. ¡°I¡¯m an ally of justice, lending my hand to the o-oppressed!¡± His voice cracked at the end. I didn¡¯t have the strength to play his game anymore. Still, one last poke wouldn¡¯t hurt. ¡°And what is your name, oh ally of justice?~~¡± I asked teasingly. Uno froze. I could nearly see his panicked thoughts bouncing inside Dungeon¡¯s empty skull. ¡°Uhhhh¡­ D-dos?¡± He stammered, clearly taken by surprise. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± I waved my hand. ¡°I don¡¯t even care how you did it. Or if it¡¯s a human avatar or just a puppet. Just take care of the Mage, okay?¡± I pointed to the big spell once again coalescing over our heads. These undead don¡¯t learn, do they? Uno¡­ Dos, or whatever he wanted to be called had already demonstrated the ability to disperse strategic-class magic. A moment later I heard Uno scoffing. ¡°Rude.¡± It wasn¡¯t clear if he was talking about my words or the enemy attacking during his speech. ¡°Go away.¡± He waved his hand and a river of mana slammed into the spell, ripping it to pieces. ¡°Wait, was I supposed to recite the spell? Or chant?¡± He asked, visibly confused. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Just finish him.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t supposed to go this way.¡± The dungeon-turned-man grumbled before sprinting away. Or should I say rode away? The earth under his boots turned watery as he slid ahead, one hand behind his back. This mode of transportation had a certain charm to it. I slapped my cheeks. It was time to focus on my own enemy. There was still a sea of undead between me and Waltzer¡¯s husk. Worse, some of those consisted of the armored zombies brought in the second wave. The silent dwarves and Guardians¡¯ troops were flanking my sides, fluidly changing places like a well-oiled machine. The shield-bearers moved to the front, leaving gaps in their lines to allow the more assault-oriented warriors to dive in and out of enemy lines. They stepped forward already crushing undead stupid enough to leave their ranks. But it was not enough. I had maybe three dozen troops and the dead were still coming over the hill. We lacked power and simple quantity. That was when the beastkin squads started to carve into the enemy. They were chaotic, unruly thrusts, often ending with damage on both sides. Yet there were some, who found the rhythm of battle, and some¡­ some who embraced their new nature. I couldn''t understand how Uno''s researchers used my trophies and furs, but if donating them helped make new beastkin who was I to oppose that? I observed as a tigerman roared to the skies, smashing undead with a comically large hammer. ¡°Now, do it!¡± He ordered two of his comrades who in turn hurled the enemy into the air with their tower shields. The lizardmen licked their fangs, enduring the enemy¡¯s relentless counter-assault. ¡°Ssssssteady!¡± ¡°Ssssssteady!¡± They hissed in unison. I could see their muscles straining. ¡°Maeve! Gooooo!¡± A few seconds later they fell to the ground, covering themselves in metal - just in time to avoid the fan-like spell burning all that it encountered. The dead hissed and burned under the fiery magic, the powers that propelled them dispelled in a brutal instant. ¡°Yessss!¡± A small, childlike figure jumped into the air, her fox ears swaying in the wind. ¡°Kill them, kill them all!¡± If only the words she spewed fit more with the innocent face. All around us, the beastmen were baring their fangs, trading blood and sweat with the enemy. Slowly, ever so slowly we fought our way into the formation, as I consciously ignored Charles''s battlefield brimming with flames, ice, and death. Soon the target was in my sight. A completely armored, nearly three-meter-tall skeleton dragging a monstrous two-handed sword on his shoulder. Henrik Waltzer, or what remained out of him after Lich¡¯s ritual. The blue soul flame regarded me coldly as he watched his troops being cut down all around him. Then, with a flourish he swept the surrounding troops, cutting bone and metal with ease. A few of them tried to block the attack, resulting in broken weapons and shields. Blood splashed on the thirsty earth. More took their place, brandishing their weapons. Those fools. ¡°Retreat!¡± I ordered. There was no need to waste soldiers. This wasn¡¯t something that could be overturned with simple willpower, no matter how many lives I would throw at the monsters standing before me. The undead don¡¯t feel pain. They don¡¯t tire. They fulfill orders with a singleminded zeal. But they are limited. Like moths in amber, forced to repeat moments, feelings, and decisions long forgotten. And once I had realized what his repetitions were I would win. I just had to survive up til this moment. Easy. His sword whooshed once again and I sidestepped the blade, just as the deadly wind caressed my hair. I observed it in slow motion, noting that the angle and strength were completely the same as before. I stepped into his zone of control, and the monstrous sword pierced forward, intent on impaling my body. I was too close to dodge, so instead my weapon shot ahead, colliding with the attack and setting it off-course. For a second the air was filled with the sound of tortured metal. Waltzer¡¯s weapon came out on top, with my mace sporting a large dent on its right side. That was how the competition between enchanted and un-enchanted iron ended up. I needed to remember that lesson. The rest of the fight was a dance. Two-handed swords were good for eliminating groups of enemies, not dueling. They are nothing more than awkward slabs of metal, serving as a shield and an instrument of destruction simultaneously. Waltzer, despite being just a residue, fought well. It was expected of someone who was once a swordmaster. He didn¡¯t dodge, nor move from the spot, and instead focused on using his reach to block or deflect my attacks. I was like a fly buzzing around a horse¡¯s ass. The way he moved taught me more than I thought possible. It was easy to do so when failure meant death. A few times I could feel approaching demise as his sword carved away at my enhanced body, the protective iron pierced with ease, leaving only scars dripping with blood. Still, the damage to my weapons and the feel of dancing on a tightrope wasn¡¯t in vain. My first successful attack nearly ended up in tragedy - I froze, surprised that it actually got through. That hesitation was paid for by another scar appearing on my arm, Waltzer¡¯s sword nearly cutting it off. After that, it was a war of attrition. I recognized his moves, avoiding them the best I could, and in return my weapons crushed armor and bone. Just like me, they were in shambles by the time I prepared to deliver a finishing blow. Waltzer couldn¡¯t move anymore, his arms and legs turned into powder. The armor he wore was in pieces, and the ground we fought on was filled with cracks and craters. Not to mention those unfortunate to get in our way. Despite his state, he glared defiantly at my equally hurt silhouette, or so I liked to imagine. After all, he didn¡¯t speak a single word during our bout. His soul flames dimmed and I prepared myself. Then, with a shout, I smashed him to smithereens. ¡°May you rest in peace.¡± I mumbled. This part of the battle was already finished. Now¡­ why the sky is on fire? And what¡¯s with this golem-like thing rampaging through enemy and ally alike? What happened? 091 Uno (avatar) I didn¡¯t work well under pressure. Becoming a Dungeon Core made me ill-suited to such tasks, but I was like this even in my old world. An easy life in Before created a lazy, hesitant, weak blob of a man. At least now I could force myself to act, ignoring countless whys and hows swirling in my head. Surviving life-and-death situations did that to a person. That was of course if screaming orders at dungeon rats was classified as acting. I should probably feel bad about it, yet this type of delegation worked wonders, as Ratlings delivered the item I was clamoring for just in time. My fleshy avatar ran through the Dungeon, desperately trying to reach the surface fast enough to help Charles¡¯ allies survive. And his girlfriend too. Well¡­ mainly his girlfriend. My ascent was delayed by the need to have some deniability. A mask, to be precise. A voice changer would be nice too, but it hadn¡¯t been developed yet. Ah, but the rats already managed to weaponize the megaphone. Neat. Anyway, the equipment I wanted was done, stuck to my face with some organic glue the Ratlings used. There was no time to worry about straps, not to mention they could get burned off in the heat of battle. I wasn¡¯t completely satisfied with the way the mask looked, but I could only blame myself for the finished product¡¯s tone. I only asked long-tailed crafters to make a ¡°white mask with a painted-on smile and black eyes¡±. My rats took that instruction personally, creating something straight out of a horror show. I would normally refuse to wear it, Gods knew I already had a reputation, but beggars can¡¯t be choosers. There was no time. Blood was already being spilled, and while I didn¡¯t care for the fodder, the Charles¡¯ friends were my friends! My priceless bargaining chips! Or something like that. Emotions were complicated. While running I was grumbling about the time being wasted¡­ and then I stopped. I hit the nearby wall, causing my hand to bleed. Then I repeated the hit again, and again, as the blessed pain brought clarity. Why was I such a dumbass?! Turning into a crystalline sphere must¡¯ve really damaged my brain! I was forgetting that the body I inhabited belonged to a fucking earth mage! An earth mage who was currently underground! Stupid. So stupid. Swallowing the rest of the curses I focused on my surroundings. The mage mantra was easy to repeat. Focus, gather mana, confirm the surroundings, and only then cast. It was easy to find a suitable spell from Peter¡¯s lacking repertoire. ¡°Earth to Mud!¡± I exclaimed, the chant shortened to three words and packed with more power than human archmages thought possible (thanks for the tip, Master Vincent!). Despite the minimal effort on my side, mana obediently followed the mental mold as it pierced through the surrounding soil like sharpened roots, changing the consistency of everything it touched. As the mud sludge flowed out of the newly made hole I hummed in thought. Walking was so mundane, not to mention slow. What other options did I have? As before my spellbook wasn¡¯t exactly sprawling¡­ Hide in Shadows, I choose you! Despite the spell¡¯s name sounding like something for exclusive rogue use, it was instead a type of shadow-affinity transportation magic. The idea behind it was simple - jumping from one shadow to another to both traverse and avoid attention on the battlefield. I was unhappy with the sloppy name but decided to withhold judgment - at least until I made some magical do-hickeys myself. Besides, maybe its uninspired name was connected to some words of power or System¡¯s bullshit? I could only grumble quietly about where stuff like Melf¡¯s Acid Arrow or Tasha¡¯s Hideous Laughter disappeared. I blasted my mana again, lengthening the tunnel, and teleported inside. The fresh mud clung unpleasantly to my shoes - a sensation I promptly ignored. A small light crystal affixed to my belt cast shaky shadows all around me. I came prepared - after all, darkness couldn¡¯t exist without a light. Then I repeated the cast. And once again. And again. It was faster than walking but still annoying, not to mention inefficient! Then again, I was using trump-card-level battlefield spells for simple movement, so there was no use being angry about them not being optimized¡­ but it still pissed me off. So, before I grew totally bored, I decided to do something unorthodox. Earth to Mud was a single-use cast that changed the consistency of the nearby earth or even rocks in a large, hard-to-aim burst of mana. What would happen if I simply¡­ forced the effect to continue? With a normal mage¡¯s mana pool, it would be an impossible feat¡­ but I was anything but normal. So I decided to try it. And¡­ Oh, boy. Instantly my avatar¡¯s body turned into a firefighter desperately clutching a high-pressure water hose. This rodeo-like wrangling made keeping direction a bit challenging. There was also a weird feeling of earthen energy slipping through my insides. Still, it was doable. So of course I tried to make Hide in Shadows a similarly enhanced, continuous spell. Yeah. I know. I¡¯m dumb. But it worked! Now the only problem was the effort needed to balance two spells at the same time. And¡­ there was another thing that came out of the left field. It seemed like constantly teleporting through the shadows raised one¡¯s speed. I don¡¯t know how, or why, since theoretically I was just jumping from one static point to another, but clearly, there was a hidden variable in that equation. Here I was, thinking that Non had already beta-tested the spell for me, yet instead, I discovered that while the effect was the same, the process seemed wholly different. Too bad¡­ Anyway - it was a surprisingly zen experience to become a human-shaped meatball flying with an increasingly heightened speed through a waterfall made of mud. Was this feeling present, because I couldn¡¯t die, even if my temporary body was destroyed? Or was I just an adrenaline junkie? Curious. Anyway, the journey at point-reaction speed continued, the time between casts running shorter with each meter traveled, until I managed to pierce the surface while splashing the mud all around my flying body. The seconds passed as I shot through the air like a bullet shot from a gun. The heightened focus was gone, and I was once again philosophizing. My ascent turned into a gentle fall and as I surveyed the battlefield. Both Charles and Agnes were easily recognizable, the angry mage turning angrier with each passing moment, throwing lumps of fire at his opponent. Slowly they were turning green. At the same time, Blueflame¡¯s girlfriend was busy jumping into the fray like some kind of a bloodthirsty berserker. So different and yet so similar. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. With a grunt, I had chosen my target. I tilted my falling body, focusing on the spell once again. Hide in Shadows activated at the limit of its range, flinging me down to the earth. A painful jolt went through my limbs just as the dust cloud had risen after my landing. Now I knew why superheroes had a certain pose to help with this stuff. Ugh. Dusting myself off, I grinned at the flabbergasted snake girl. ¡°Hoooh. Just in time!¡± I raised my arms in a triumphant gesture. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, fair lady, the reinforcements have arrived! Let me use my totally-not-overpowered magic to deal with the baddies!¡± What followed was a bit underwhelming. Agnes took command, ordering me to deal with some undead caster. Well, not ¡°some¡±. He was once Charles¡¯s brother - thankfully the one that our resident flame user didn¡¯t like much. What remained after older Blueflame¡¯s resurrection was however only a cunning husk - still capable of casting magic, but devoid of personality. Or so it should¡¯ve been. Instead, I was forced to deal with irritating little shit who hid amongst both his and our allied troops, sending mass destruction magic onto my head every fifteen or so seconds! It was a rage-inducing game of whack-a-mole! I teleported into a nearby shadow only to face a fiery rain. Dodging that calamity I jumped into another piece of darkness, seconds later eating up an explosion. There was a lake of lava too, shotgun-like pellets being sent at my face or thin whips aiming for my knees. How many spells did that guy know? In retaliation I sent flying boulders toward his last position, only to have him pop up somewhere else. Was this dude really a fire mage or maybe he used wind as his main attribute?! Or more like scuttle-affinitied! A fucking cockroach! It took me minutes to notice how he was moving so fast. Charles¡¯ brother was jumping around with the power of explosions! Or, specifically by using microexplosions to move quickly - which would normally be a painful mode of locomotion, but it was a disadvantage he ignored due to being undead. This made him very fast, but just as noticeable while moving. It was hard to notice him in the din of the battlefield but after focusing (and guessing a few times) I was rewarded with the sight of a skeletal figure ¡°farting¡± its way through the soldiers. Because of course, the explosions originated from his ass and back¡­ our gazes met, and I swear the little shit looked embarrassed. It didn¡¯t stop him from letting a long one rip and then disappearing behind a nearby hill. Of course, it didn¡¯t end there, as a wall of fire greeted me when I moved to pursue, blocking me from advancing and allowing the little scuttler to disappear again. My anger was growing. ¡°Show yourself!¡± I hollered, my avatar clenching his fists. ¡°Or I¡¯ll show you a real magic!¡± The silence that came back made me feel like a fool, so I decided to take a Charles-like approach to the problem. If a hammer doesn¡¯t work, use a bigger hammer. I started with Shadow Puppet spell as it was a nice base, the created summon was a semi-autonomic golem that could be given simple commands by the caster. But darkness, while cool and all, was a poor material to use during the day. Not to mention its consistency was a bit¡­ esoteric. I wanted something more powerful. Something with more oompf. Rock and Stone, would be the best choice, then? I was inhabiting a body proficient in Earth Magic¡­ so I decided to use Earth Mana to cast the Shadow Puppet framework. Surely, they would be compatible, since the only thing that changed was the material used. To be sure I decided to hide in the nearby shadows. I was learning! The result? After a few seconds of instability, the human-like golem started vibrating at high speeds before an earthen explosion sent shrapnel flying everywhere. It had succeeded in wiping out the surrounding troops, but these few seconds it existed were eye-opening. I was sure that it could work! And then¡­ I would have my own Kaiju! Once again following the formula I started to push mana into various parts of the spell framework, trying to brute-force the solution. Some kept up, others deformed under the strain, much like physical frames do. That kept the area around the experiment clear, because the failed creations spewed various debris, both material and immaterial, thus skewering anyone stupid enough to interrupt me. A few allies had been caught up in the process too, but progress often demanded sacrifices. You will be remembered as the ones who gave their lives for the cause, Random Beastkin number 67 and Random Dwarven Puppet number 136. It took a few minutes of crazy mana expenditure, but in the end, I was left with a somewhat working solution. The autonomous part was gone, as the ability to fulfill simple orders was connected to the material the golem was made from. Instead, I manually lifted its limbs, manipulated the graspers, and overall made it work. The shadow parts were mostly gone, with only eyes heavily relying on their properties. The rest of the golem was made from rock, soil, and metal, with skin, muscle, and bones replicated on a bigger scale and with different materials. The resulting golem was a stocky, thick-limbed monster, with a face reminiscent of a hairless dwarf. It was more of a colossal puppet, moving quickly because of the amount of mana pumped into its innards. Some would say it was a waste of time. To that, I had a simple answer. Fuck you! Piloting a Kaiju was a man¡¯s dream! It was a small one, true, with about five meters in height¡­ And I wasn¡¯t as much piloting a monster, as puppeting it¡­ And maybe it was closer to humanoid robots than to proper Kaiju¡­ but everybody had to start somewhere! I teleported to my creation¡¯s shoulder, pointing toward the only surviving undead in my vicinity. Charles¡¯ brother stood at his full height, clearly dismayed by what I made. ¡°Fear me!¡± I shouted, my voice echoing with a strange, inhuman tone. That was weird¡­ Welp. I should worry about it after squishing the irritating fucker. With a simple command, the beast of a golem started to run, startling the fire mage. He blasted the puppet¡¯s grabby hands with a fiery flamethrower, the soil skin hissing, as it evaporated, only to reveal stone muscles underneath. Yet the Kaiju was not a living thing - it promptly ignored the attack, reaching for the undead. The undead mage farted away as a last resort, the explosion propelling him back, cracking countless ribs in the process. And yet the golem was simply too fast, too single-minded, as it ignored everything else and focused on grabbing the floating speck of bone. Dude looked like a girl caught by King Kong. Only, unlike in that story, he was immediately squished into pieces. I clenched my claws as the soothing sound of cracking bones entered my ears - a sweet melody. Soon, only his spine, head, and shoulders remained, the rest turning into powder. Enemy eliminated. Well, he was still ¡°alive¡± (as much as an undead can), but unable to do much. That gave me a moment to think, and, more importantly, to see how the rest of the battle was progressing. Both Boulder¡¯s ghost and knightly Guardian were quietly dealing with their foes. Agnes just finished her opponent, souring any chance of a father-son reunion¡­ not that there was anything out of Henrik Waltzer left in that husk. Charles was¡­ busy turning his surroundings into hell. I wasn¡¯t one to throw shade on anyone since my battlefield ended up similarly devoid of life, but with the green flames circling his body he looked completely monstrous. The other side wasn¡¯t much better as the Lich surrounded itself with ice, the army of floating weapons accompanying the undead. The temperature difference meant their corresponding domains hissed and violently exploded every time they touched, adding to the surreal feeling. I was still gazing at the aftermath of their furious battle when Charles¡¯ girlfriend waved at me, craning her head up. ¡°So you decided to shed the human disguise, Dos?¡± Agnes asked, her lips parting in a sardonic smile. ¡°Whut?¡± I answered eloquently before shaking my head in denial. ¡°I am a perfect exemplar of humanity, though?¡± ¡°Are you? Since when? Did you even look in the mirror recently?¡± She fired back. I started to get worried. Was she gaslighting me? A moment later my body teleported to the ground, the adrenaline fading from its veins. I looked down at my obsidian legs and arms. Hands with claws and stone armor were covering the fragile flesh underneath¡­ except there was no skin or muscle there. Effortlessly, I summoned a polished silver mirror from underneath our feet. Collecting silver gold or other rare particles used to be a chore, but now the metal and stone fulfilled my every whim. I gazed at the form before me, speechless. Gone was a young, brown-haired boy. What remained instead looked like Slenderman made from obsidian shards, with the white-colored mask becoming a part of my face. The claws on arms and feet finished the monstrous transformation. Terrified, I summoned my System window. It was nearly useless before¡­ but now there was only one way to confirm my suspicions.
Name P%t!r
Level ??
Race Obsidian Fiend
Discounting the garbled name I focused on the changed race of my avatar. Whatever Obsidian Fiend was it certainly didn¡¯t sound human. Not even an Impure Human designation was displayed¡­ I chucked, the helplessness turning into a burst of full-blown maniacal laughter. ¡°Children, don¡¯t do Mana!¡± I uttered, choking on tears. Everything was just fine¡­ Just fine¡­ 092 Dos I was laughing. It was better than crying, right? So I clenched my teeth and let out a hoarse noise out of the depths of my throat. My beautifully groomed avatar was no more; instead, I inhabited but a common monster. It was upsetting, annoying, defeating. So I laughed endlessly, creeping out Agnes. The naga-kin took a few steps back, her eyes squinted in dismay. There was some concern etched on her beautiful face, yet despite the woman¡¯s empathy her weapons were ready to strike me down in the blink of an eye. It would be a fitting end, a monster destroyed by a fairy. Wait, weren¡¯t Nagas man-eaters? I chuckled, but seeing Agnes clench her swords tighter forced me to return to reality. It was a sunken cost fallacy - even if the result was less than stellar I didn¡¯t want to lose Peter¡¯s body. So instead of accepting my fate I waved her down and apologized. My words were even a bit heartfelt. ¡°That was uncouth of me. Sorry.¡± I grumbled, then flashed a smile, seeing her stiffen in response. ¡°I exerted myself and the transformation took me by surprise.¡± ¡°By surprise?¡± She repeated my words. ¡°So this wasn¡¯t a part of your grand plan?¡± She asked, slightly relaxing her stance. ¡°What use do I have for another monster? My dungeon is full of them.¡± I grumbled. ¡°Gods, no, it wasn¡¯t part of the plan¡­ just a miscalculation. Who do you take me for? A masochist?¡± ¡°More like a bumbling schemer.¡± She answered with a grin. I puffed up with indignation, before instantly deflating. She wasn¡¯t wrong after all. My plans tended to turn explosive. Not to mention being described as silly lessened how dangerous I looked. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what happened, but my newest creation - an avatar, specially made to show my peaceful intentions - had been turned into¡­ this.¡± I motioned at my new obsidian body while lying through my teeth. ¡°It¡¯s quite¡­ unique.¡± She whispered, continuing in a louder tone. ¡°So I should call you Uno, rather than Dos?¡± There was a throb of unwillingness at these words, the feeling that came directly from the flesh I inhabited. ¡°No, please refer to me as Dos, still.¡± I answered and the unease receded. Curious. And worrying. ¡°As you wish.¡± Agnes nodded curtly, unwilling to pursue the topic any further. ¡°Now, let¡¯s handle the rest of our problems.¡± I started to turn away, before remembering the undead still clasped by my mount¡¯s hand. After a moment of hesitation, I tossed the skeleton remains in Agnes¡¯ direction. ¡°Could you please keep him safe? I guess he¡¯s a hostage¡­ but if you don¡¯t like it, then it¡¯s completely fine to make a staff out of him. Or bonemeal. The most work had already been done, seeing as the spine and head are the only parts that remained intact.¡± I chuckled, a scratchy sound escaping my lips. ¡°What do you mean by make a staff out of him?!¡± Agnes screeched. ¡°You¡¯re talking about the remains of Charles¡¯ brother!¡± Warrior-girl quietened for a second, the outrage making her gasp for breath. Then she continued the auditory assault. ¡°And I am no necromancer! Why would I need a tool made out of human bones!¡± The animated skull helplessly bounced on the ground, as the lamia-kin refused to even try to catch it. After it landed she even kicked it away with disgusted eyes, her accusing glare following my retreating form. The dead mage wasn¡¯t happy with this treatment either - I could feel Akkan¡¯s resentment mounting but instead of picking him up, I decided to promptly ignore the whole situation and focus on more important things. Like Charles¡¯ mudslinging contest. Well, said mud had been replaced with fire and ice, and the stakes were a bit higher than usual but the feeling behind the fight was similar, especially because one side was raging, and the other yapped constantly. ¡°Good! Good! Show me more, scion of humanity! More rage! More greed! More power!¡± The Lich egged the red-haired mage on, managing to royally piss him off even though the person in question didn¡¯t understand a word it spoke. And yet ribbing transcended the language barrier. ¡°The heroes are made, not born! They are forged in the flames of adversity! Focus your mana, every ounce of it, or you won¡¯t be able to touch even the hem of my clothes!¡± A huge fireball exploded in the undead¡¯s face, shutting it up, while the heat momentarily melted the ice shields surrounding it. Charles tried to capitalize on that weakness gathering even more mana - only to cancel the attack and dive for cover as a series of icicles pierced the place he was standing in seconds ago. It seemed like this back-and-forth had been going on for some time, as his robes were cut, charred, and muddied from the constant struggle. Despite the circumstances, I didn¡¯t see fear or caution in his eyes¡ªinstead, a greenish-red flame took its place. Ugly emotions of rage, pride, and greed were battling inside his mind, yet the confidence they gave Charles was unmistakable. This surety manifested as a similarly colored aura blanketing the ground around him. I stifled a laugh. Truly, magic was a chuuni dream. While still lying down, Charles sent a frisbee-like construct flying, the attack aiming for the Lich¡¯s bony legs. The magic object moved quickly, hovering just above the ground, the air around it screaming in a high-pitched screech I usually associated with electric saws. It was fast, dangerous, and powerful. Yet this attack had been stopped too, the fire edge stuck in an icy wall. The Lich retaliated, forcing Charles to move away, once again barely avoiding the retribution. I suspected that the undead missed on purpose¡­ And that meant I had seen enough. My favorite pet mage was losing, and worse - he was being toyed with by the enemy. This was not acceptable. I had to intervene. Chivalry? Honor? Fair play? What about them? Who cared? Was honorable death better than a shameful victory? Certainly not! A real battle was nothing like a game! Human lives were at stake - and, more importantly - my investments too! With a flourish, I ordered my mount to start running, all while sitting comfortably on the golem¡¯s shoulder, like some mumak¡¯s rider. I should consider getting a palanquin, a few archers, and an attitude. The earthen construct was both fast and heavy, taking only a few moments to start thudding its way forward. Each step carried us closer to the undead, and with a simple command the mass of rock was ordered to punch down. Just before the hit connected I teleported into Charles¡¯ shadow while at the same time erecting an earthen wall reinforced with mana, shielding us both from retaliation. I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to think that ancient Lich would take this ¡°surprise¡± attack lying down. CLANG! As I predicted, the monster''s fist collided with something unseen¡­ SHLUK! SHLUK! This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. SHLUK! And a stabbing noise echoed a moment later, countless daggers of ice piercing into the attacking golem. We observed in real-time as every surface of the earthen construct facing the Lich was being saturated with icicles. It would be cartoonish if it weren¡¯t so horrifying. I trembled a bit, imagining what that attack would do to my avatar - obsidian flesh or not. Yet even such an onslaught wasn¡¯t enough to stop the mindless monster I made, the sound of the attack repeating again and again. At the same time, the construct¡¯s mana expenditure was raised explosively. CLANG! SHLUK! SHLUK! SHLUK! CLANG! SHLUK! SHLUK! SHLUK! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! SHLUK! SHLUK! SHLUK! SHLUK! SHLUK! SHLUK! The endless symphony of unstoppable objects meeting immovable force. My head was starting to hurt from the noise, even Charles seemed out of it, his earlier rage replaced with pain and confusion. The minutes passed away¡­ And then something gave. ¡°How are you still not falling?!¡± Lich¡¯s voice echoed with a hint of astonishment. CRASH! The golem¡¯s punch pierced into the icy shield and attempted to hit the undead square on. I was waiting for some grand response - a magical artifact or maybe reactive teleportation. Hell, a simple dodge would be enough. Instead, the punch connected and sent the undead magician flying. It was quite a long and beautiful arc, not gonna lie¡­ for a moment I even expected our skeletal foe to crash and burn. But these delusions were swept away as soon as the enemy bounced a few times before stopping and easily rising again. ¡°Magnificent!¡± The Lich shouted, not worse for wear. ¡°It had been some time since I was forced to get serious.¡± It paused. ¡°Minus points for the helper, though.¡± I shuddered, the undead¡¯s cold gaze hitting differently than it did when I observed it from the safety of my Dungeon¡¯s Core. Still, it only glared in our direction, seemingly focusing more on weaving mana. I could visibly see the icy threads coming together, forming an amorphous mass. My senses screamed ¡°Danger!¡± as the Lich showed no signs of stopping. I ordered the golem to engage and grabbed Charles by the scruff, cycling earthen mana in my changed body. ¡°Wha-- What are you doing, you freak!¡± Charles took this moment to return to his senses. I cursed under my nose, before shouting in response. ¡°Shaddup! We need to bail. Ice-Age level extinction event is coming!¡± ¡°What are you talking about?! Wait. Why did you intervene? I was winning!¡± ¡°Like hell you were! It played with you like a dog would with a rag ball!¡± ¡°A few minutes more and I would have slipped through its guard!¡± ¡°In a few minutes you would end up as a wet stain on the ground¡­ now let me concentrate. I¡¯m new to this whole human magic thing.¡± When in doubt, hide in a hole - this sentence was turning into my new motto. Well, not new. My whole existence on Yana was comprised of digging in the ground. A complete mole experience! At least I wasn¡¯t blind. Anyway. Earth to Mud was working overtime, and it was fine - except for the mud not having anywhere to go. I was forced to use the teleportation spell to shovel it away. Oh, the irony. At least it was noticeably easier to use Dos affinities, the shadow, and earth flowing naturally through the changed flesh. There was even some enhancement effect, which I totally should investigate - later. Only seconds passed when I felt my connection to the golem falter and break, the idea of mental connection frozen solid and then crushed to pieces. I didn¡¯t want to think about the level of power allowing the enemy to freeze mana¡­ would my soul frost over and break if I didn¡¯t escape in time? My thoughts were cut short, as the rest of the attack arrived, painting the surface white. I redoubled my efforts, desperately trying to stay ahead of the creeping cold. The tendrils followed us quite the way down, at least until Charles noticed the problem and started using his mastery over the fire to block the advancing ice. I stopped moving downward and instead took a turn, coming back into familiar territory. A few more minutes passed and soon we emerged - covered in dirt, but alive. A newly made frost meadow welcomed our emergence, with everything, no matter if dead or living caught up in it turning into statues. Amongst its victims, the Lich stood ramrod straight, emanating a feeling of smugness despite lacking facial muscles. ¡°You survived!¡± It chortled as soon as we appeared. ¡°Good! You¡¯re exceeding my expectations. Now¡­ the trial of power is complete.¡± It swayed a bit, pointing to hills behind its back. ¡°I am curious how will you struggle against the trial of endurance?¡± For a moment nothing happened¡­ then I felt it. ¡°We need to go!¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Order your men to retreat!¡± ¡°Why?! We¡¯re winning!¡± ¡°It was only a vanguard. More¡­ much more are coming - dead, alive, in-between¡­ They are coming! Order the retreat!¡± Charles¡¯ face hardened. ¡°If what you say is true, then we need to contain them. Or¡­ I don¡¯t know - thin them out?¡± He switched from one idea to another, despair slowly coloring his face. ¡°Charles!¡± I slapped him. The pain woke the red-haired mage from his stupor. ¡°Charles! Order! The! Retreat! Get your people out of the perimeter!¡± ¡°I can¡¯t! It will be a slaughter!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get my troops to cover you.¡± ¡°You have a plan?¡± ¡°Have you ever wondered, where my explosives went?¡± I grinned, the tingling sensation of a prank well done swirling in my belly. His eyes dilated. ¡°How many?¡± ¡°Enough to make a real moat.¡± I slapped his shoulder. ¡°Now get your people out of here, slow and steady, then form defensive positions above the Dungeon.¡± With a simple nod, Charles turned away and ran, his voice bellowing orders. As he hurried his soldiers away the bloodied but alive beastkin, humans, and dungeon creatures retreated in a more or less orderly fashion. I was left alone, staring at the advancing bulk of the enemy forces. The Lich went away without a fuss, forcing me to admit that the invasion was just another game it played. And I was about to turn over the table. Unlike the undead vanguard it summoned earlier these foes were mostly flesh and blood. Orcs, goblins, kobolds, and other humanoids swarmed in hosts more reminiscent of ancient armies, than supposedly monstrous creatures. Sprinkled amongst them were groups of undead, ranging from armored zombies to enhanced skeletons. Their gait was slow and purposeful, like a preview of despair that they would soon unleash on the living. It was intimidating. At the same time, these were just ordinary troops. Yes, the amount was massive, and their coordination was praiseworthy but it wasn¡¯t anything we haven¡¯t beaten before. I guess the endurance meant dealing with weak but numerous foes. Instead of worrying, I grinned wildly, slowly retreating to Charles¡¯ lines. The soldiers were mixed now, forming a defensive half-circle made out of flesh and desperation. A beastkin standing shoulder to shoulder with a human, or soul-scoured dwarf was a common occurrence¡­ even if the last one was a dungeon creature. After my feet crossed the Dungeon¡¯s invisible line I summoned the earth around me. In seconds an eagle nest was made, allowing me to watch the surroundings. The earth started moving like a living thing, rising into a defensive fortification. It wasn¡¯t much, just a three-meter tall ramp dividing the two armies. I started humming a song that nobody but me knew on this planet. Let there be blood¡­ I sang as the order was given and then relayed to my creatures. The hundreds, thousands of Lebir Exploders crowding in the tunnels underneath the Oasis slowly opened their red eyes. They moved into the prepared hallways, filling every empty space until there was only flesh and explosives present. Underneath them large empty halls laid barren and empty - work of the Ratlings that surrounded every centimeter of the Dungeon. Then more abominations followed, squishing those already present, packing more and more fuel for the pyre. And, as I hummed the finale the electrical maces in their hands ignited. In an instant, the world stopped to exist. BOOOOOOM! The explosion filled the surroundings with the smell of sulfur and cooked flesh, a large chunk of the enemy army turning into ribbons. My attack came instantly, filling the surroundings with churning earth. The rest of the enemy army was stunned, their gazes not comprehending what just happened. As the dust settled the allied humans cheered. They were now surrounded by a large moat - becoming an island in the wasteland sea. I surged the mana through the pulped flesh and dirt, solidifying the mud into rock. Despite not knowing the proper spell I gambled on running it in the reverse. And it worked! A familiar voice cut through the beginnings of chaos. ¡°That wasn¡¯t fair, challenger!¡± Lich was seething. ¡°Fuck you!¡± I answered, knowing full well that it couldn¡¯t understand me. ¡°Release the rats!¡± 093 Uno ¡°Release the rats!¡± After I spoke there was a second of uneasy silence, as the words were swallowed by the surroundings¡­ and nothing happened. At least at first. My order hung in the air like Damocles¡¯ sword¡­ and then the jagged walls created by the Lebir sacrifice exploded outward, revealing an army hidden beneath. The tunnels where my creatures waited were small (maybe 1,5 meters in diameter) and looked even smaller in comparison to a five-meter-tall wall that now surrounded Charles¡¯ city. Or should I call it Silver Oasis mesa now, since that was what it had turned into? The destruction brought by my creatures was no joke, leaving a permanent mark on the surroundings. Some pieces of the soil simply evaporated, weakening the underground, which in turn led to a nasty collapse, others were sent flying into the air, filling it with dust and grime. Few turned into shrapnel, piercing through wood, flesh, and metal alike. Those away from the Oasis were showered in pebbles, mud, and occasionally - body parts. Much of the nearby hills had been cracked or completely leveled, the attack creating an unstable flooring, full of natural holes and pitfalls. What remained was filled with treacherous crags - the end effect was still far away from the clean devastation brought by even the smallest of the atomic bombs, but hey, man can dream. The Lich¡¯s army was confused, milling around in disarray - mostly because those leading from the front and their shock troops had been shredded by the explosions. The survivors were still reeling from the experience. It was one thing to witness shows of magical prowess - although rare they were still something to be anticipated, even made predictable, especially with the presence of one-man armies wandering the surface. It was another thing altogether to be forced to endure the sheer destruction brought by my minions. Why? Because of shock value. A meteor falling, deadly gas spreading, the burning electricity - all of these were comprehensible, nearly normal causes of death in a magical world. They were visible. Understandable. It however hit differently to see half of your squad turned into mincemeat without any chance to react. Without a warning. Without understanding, what the hell happened. Unknown was a powerful deterrent, and it bred fear. Despite being classified as monsters, these guys were not that different from humans. From my perspective, at least. They cried when hurt, bled when cut, and screamed when the pain was too much to bear. They were just, you know, a bit less civilized, as living at the knife¡¯s edge tended to do to people, whatever their form. The rat commanders were both ruthless and capable enough to recognize this hesitation, forcing their subordinates to pour out of the tunnels like a living tide. Nobody was there to stop them. From the outside, this advance was a chaotic mess, yet after a further look, there was a strange organic sense to the tightly packed creatures streaming out of the darkness. My most disposable troops were leading the charge, Lebir Exploders and common Lebirs moved nearly ponderously, their abominable forms cutting through the thick curtain of dust without problems. My fists clenched. Despite how everything was going fine¡­ I knew that even at this very moment it could all fall apart - a single fireball could start a domino effect, one minion at a time. And there would be no respite. Thankfully the moment passed, and the abominations quickly left the dangerous spot. Following them were rats of all colors and sizes. Bipedal, running on all fours, riding creatures and machines. Without fur, with fur, with too much fur¡­ there were even some with scales and¡­ tentacles. Then came the creme de la creme. Rat Ogres, mages, engineers, and priests. Yes. My priests. The whole idea felt¡­ weird. Uncomfortable. Like an itch under my skin. Amongst them came Ratlings so enhanced with either machinery or drugs that they skirted the definition of the Ratkind. The first wave was joined by heavily armored Lebirs, bigger and stronger than the common lot, led by their Captains and flanked by rats who specialized in support. Their formation quickly came to the forefront, like a wave of fluid metal, the ranks stabilizing at three meters deep. Despite their usual aloofness to my enhanced senses Dungeon soldiers reeked with anticipation. They craved bloodshed. I didn¡¯t know how it was possible with their IQ. The skirmishers - common Lebirs and Lebir Exploders - were milling around in a chaotic blob that only barely looked like a war party. A shielding screen, if one was lenient. Behind them, and behind the iron tide, ranks upon ranks of common Ratlings stood at the ready, armed with both their natural spear throwers and various contraptions. Green vapor poured out of strange machines and egg-mechs. Some of their tools were simple - grenades, bottles filled with acidic substances, or ominously humming slings and rifles. Or should I say air guns? These didn¡¯t use gunpowder, after all. Others were more complex, ranging from an oversized trebuchet being constructed at a delirious pace to a¡­ was that a megaphone? I observed with fascination, as a few rats pushed and pulled a palanquin with something that I could only describe as an oversized version of the audio device. It was hauntingly similar to the one that nearly ended the lives of the Oasis lord and his lover. Purely due to an accident, of course. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Anyway, I decided to let it go and stop questioning how simply enlarging the machine was going to work. Instead, I was just curious about how the rats wanted to avoid their newest weapon¡¯s backlash. After all sound waves were different from cannonballs or arrows, even with how directional they were going to be. I guessed that the padded coats, not dissimilar to the old space suits, and complete with ancient, bulbous diving helmets were supposed to mitigate that danger. Their shape wasn¡¯t really accommodating to the rat snout, but the weapon creators decided to make do. Shaking my head in disbelief I allowed my eyes to wander away. The human forces were still perched on the now-plateau, gaping curiously at the two maneuvering monster armies. Those more down-to-earth amongst them had already started to rain magic, arrows, and even stones on the enemy forces. The Ogrekin were following their lead with enthusiasm. The warcries and the sound of a thousand marching feet were like a delicate lullaby. I closed my eyes and ears to the soon-resuming battle, resting. Waiting. It was curiously comfortable. *THUMP* *THUMP* Of course, it wasn¡¯t meant to last. I opened one of my eyes to see that the red-haired mage had shaken off his bout of rage and was currently running toward my avatar. Well, it was more like a dignified jog. Sighing, I turned to greet him, trying to look as unthreateningly as possible. With fangs, claws, and sharp angles covering my inhuman form, it was a distinctly difficult challenge. Thankfully Charles didn¡¯t care. ¡°What do you think, you are doing, Uno!¡± He yelled as soon as he came in range. So much for being called Dos¡­ Easy come, easy go. I glared at him, my face impassive. ¡°Hello to you too.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you dare to play games with me!¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± I tilted my head like an owl. It felt¡­ right. Charles was taken aback, before squaring his shoulders and continuing his ramblings. ¡°While the amount of troops you managed to scrounge is formidable, the enemy still outnumbers you three to one, if not more!¡± ¡°Yup. That is true.¡± I agreed placidly. He scoffed at my dismissive attitude and tried again. ¡°Your rats will get slaughtered! Even with those armored undead, the creatures you had made are not frontline combatants!¡± Charles pointed at the rearranging formation. ¡°Not to mention they lack experience, both in battle and large-scale warfare!¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°Please understand. Those from the Wastes specialize in combat! They live, breathe, and shit violence!¡± ¡°But I do understand that.¡± ¡°Then why aren¡¯t you calling a retreat? Or at least why aren¡¯t you letting my troops reinforce?!¡± Oops, that was on me. I kinda forgot about the surfacers¡­ and I had left the mesa completely separate from the newly made depression. For some of the enhanced ones jumping down would be easy, but it wasn¡¯t the same with coming back up. And no one wanted to have their avenues of retreat cut off. Still, humans and their allies were a non-renewable resource. Most of my creatures could simply respawn or be bred anew in case of death. Not that saying this to his face would be a good idea. ¡°I have a plan.¡± I droned back. This pissed him off. ¡°Then would you deign to give me an answer about what the said plan is?¡± ¡°Just wait a while and you¡¯ll know.¡± ¡°Then what are we waiting for?¡± ¡°The pieces must fall in place.¡± I grinned. Seeing his annoyed face was worth the theatricals, even if I felt bored overall. There was however no need to continue the charade. ¡°And more seriously - let me ask you a question.¡± ¡°How many of my Lebir Exploders do you think were sacrificed?¡± ¡°Half?¡± ¡°Nine-tenths?¡± ¡°All of them?¡± ¡°If all were destroyed, then why would I send the fresh ones to accompany the first wave?¡± I could see his mind working, whirling with new data. And then a funny thing happened. He paled. ¡°Y-you have more of them?¡± ¡°Oh, yes. Much more.¡± I grinned again, my toothed maw taking nearly half of my face. ¡°Enough for hundreds of explosions¡­¡± I whispered. ¡°And even more!¡± ¡°When I finish grinding them down all that will remain will be bone dust and wailing ghosts!¡± ¡°I just need them to play their part. To walk into the right position. Into big fucking X on the ground.¡± I chuckled at his incomprehension. Cartoons were a forgotten art, after all. ¡°And when the encore happens the Ratlings will be in perfect position to strike - deep in the tunnels. Because, you see, I don¡¯t want to make it a battle.¡± ¡°Nay. It will be a knife fight in an alley.¡± ¡°Because that¡¯s what my monsters are good at - fighting dirty, poisoning enemy, striking from the shadows, sowing fear, and confusion.¡± The only answer I got was silence. Thus, we turned back to observe the enemy slowly getting overly comfortable. Their runners started to exchange missives and another set of commanders ordered their grunts into place. I was still in a placid state, silently gazing at the monsters gathered under my feet. Alea iacta est. Now all I could do was wait. Accepting that, my feet moved by themselves, as I crouched near mesa border. This position felt right, but something bugged me. With a sigh, I released the avatar form and impatience hit me like a truck. Fuck. I knew that inhabiting a body could influence my decisions¡­ but that was ridiculous. Unsurprisingly Dos didn¡¯t collapse after my abandonment, and neither did he power down into all-you-can-eat mode. Instead, he straightened up, before suddenly calling on the Dungeon¡¯s mana to hurl rocks at the flabbergasted enemies. A few seconds later three nearly humanoid Shadow Puppets appeared amidst enemy forces, slashing and piercing through anything that came close. The sheer numbers quickly slaughtered the newly made golems but new spells and projectiles were coming. His aggression was a surprise, but not a detriment. After all, it would be quite a bit suspicious for the Dungeon¡¯s elite to simply observe. There was a narrative to be sold, a story about a desperate stand. The Lich needed to believe that we were pulling all the stops. And of course - in a manner of speaking - we were. The chaos slowly died down as the enemy commanders compensated for the disruption. What remained after an hour of posturing were two armies ready to clash. And as the enemy took a first step on their first and final charge my rats also decided that it was time. Once again explosions rocked the soil, yet this time they were weaker, more deliberate. First, second, third, tenth, and twentieth. *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOO-BOOM* *BOOM* The sound overlapped and twirled like a drunken snake, but it wasn¡¯t stopping. And then, as seconds passed, it happened. Like a vision of hell, the ground they walked on gave in, sending both my army and the enemy hurling down into the underground labyrinth. Then the fighting began in earnest. 093.5 A way to survive Aarak wasteborn This whole ordeal was a miscalculation. Even entertaining the thought of listening to the once-dead was a grave mistake. Aarak said it to the old chieftain many times. He screamed. Dead weren¡¯t like the living! Dead things wanted everybody to be like them! Dead! And yet the chieftain didn¡¯t listen. The tribe didn¡¯t listen either. The old monster laughed about loot and slaves. About mountains of food that the southern weaklings hoarded, and how easily they could take it. If it was so easy, then why the ancestors didn¡¯t do it before?! Those who led the tribe in the past were stronger, wiser, and more capable, certainly above the rabble that called themselves Red Claws now. The feeble lorekeeper reminded them about that at every possible moment. So why attacks like those that the dead-thing had planned weren¡¯t the norm? The old chieftain was a fool, but that didn¡¯t matter. Not anymore. He was dead, just like the rest of the tribe. And because of that Aarak was not a warrior anymore, but a wasteborn. A nothing. A rag. He couldn¡¯t even die with honor. *PTUI* He spat on the ground, leaving a red stain - saliva mixed with blood. And, like so many things right now, this action also turned out to be a mistake. The darkness responded to the sound - a scream interrupted his thoughts, as two rats sprung from the nearby tunnel. His face changed. ¡°Dungeon spawn.¡± He whispered. They crawled on all fours, animalistic and rabid. After a few seconds of sniffing they howled with delight noticing a wounded prey. Aarak observed as their shabby bodies transitioned into equally grotesque hunched, two-legged forms. When the change finished they unsheathed cruel daggers from their hips. Both weapons dripped with bright green liquid. He knew what it was¡­ like the rest of the survivors he was forced to learn. Warping stone, they called it. A force of change. Aarak saw his tribe-mates succumb to the even slightest pricks from these poisoned blades. Those cut died with laughter on their lips, yet that wasn¡¯t the worst outcome. No. Death was common in the Wastes, they were used to it. What chilled them to the bone was how the poison transformed the most unlucky ones. Instead of dying, they took the green blight in their very soul, screaming in delight as it twisted them. Then they turned mad, leaving only empty husks frothing from their mouths. It was a bad way to go. Aarak and the few sane tribemates had to put them down. A sad day that was. Their flesh was going to waste, after all. There would be no marrow-less bones to carve, no red meat to feed the next generation. It was taken away - pretty much every warrior, every bowwoman, and every pup were now dead. Wasteborn. It was all that he and the few survivors now amounted to. And yet as the blades approached he didn¡¯t wait for the release of death. The years of training moved his bruised body against the broken will, and the warrior inside reacted to the danger. The first rat overextended in his bloodlust and Aarak bashed him away with his spiked bucker. It was a good piece of armor, made by the southern wastrels and brought north by a fool long devoured. Still, it served him well, now that he stripped the piece from the old chieftain¡¯s corpse. The sharpened metal found its target, smoothly impaling the enemy''s shoulder, eliciting a splash of blood and a scream of pain. Aarak grinned cruelly. A moment later the second rat attacked with a blade held high. Aarak slipped under the attacker¡¯s raised arms with contemptuous ease. After that, the battle was finished as his shortsword pierced through the enemy''s ear, and then brain. The rat went down quietly. It wasn¡¯t this way for the first one, though, as he lay on the ground, clutching the bleeding arm. Aarak would normally enjoy the prey¡¯s fear and despair, but there was no time to indulge. Not to mention some of the dungeons¡¯ own were quite unpredictable when on a death¡¯s door. He still shuddered at the memory of a bloodied rat strapped with what was later known as eksplosives collapsing the tunnel on the army¡¯s vanguard. All these ogres, trolls, death knights, powerful warriors, and monsters were buried under mountains of stone - just like that. With this reminder firmly lodged in his mind, Aarak delivered the final mercy to the defeated. Too bad he had to hurry. Smoked rat wasn¡¯t a delicacy, but it wasn¡¯t bad by any means. Still better than human flesh, at least. But he knew he had to move. The rats always sent the weakest ones first. The husks, the animals, the crippled ones. Then came more fodder, armed and armored but still beatable. And when the enemy was exhausted - their elites went for the kill. It was a dirty way to fight, but a good one, Aarak grudgingly agreed. But the monsters were the least of his worries. It was the machines and those things clad in metal that were following them that made his hands tremble. While chewing on a piece of red meat he slipped through the underground roads. The rat flesh was strangely succulent. The surrounding darkness was full of screams, sounds of battle, and weird, unsettling noises that came with rat weapons. The crisscrossing tunnels were making it hard to discern directions and it was easy to become hopelessly lost. The thought of staying down here forever made Aarak nervous. He gulped, his green fingers tracing the stone walls. Despite the violence of their creation the tunnels were a natural thing - full of holes, unusual shapes, mud, and dust. This allowed one to hide easily but also led to sudden encounters and even more sudden battles. It reminded him of the badlands with their gorges and crags, where their tribe hunted the weak and unwary. It was a nightmare to fight in but also¡­ fun. At least down here it was easy to avoid people for anyone who cared to stop and listen. Hearing a familiar *CLANK* Aarak hid his stringy body in a nearby alcove. The tunnels and rooms were bare, with no vegetation, and even the most prolific mushrooms weren¡¯t present just yet, but the number of irregularities made it a nice terrain to fade from sight if one knew how. The stones and roots poked at his back as he quickly swallowed the last morsel of food and became one with the wall. Soon the noise grew louder and a group of five undead entered his vision. Following them were two of the more animalistic rats, each with a spear readied on their back. Aarak cursed silently. Out of all possible monsters, these had the greatest chance to sniff him out even with the overpowering stench of blood that filled these caverns. Just his luck. He prepared to fight, his rusty red shortsword poised to strike the scouts. The first dregs of a plan started to form in his mind. ¡°As long as I manage to strike both rats down I should be able to escape afterward. These undead aren¡¯t too fast, neither are they perceptive enough to find me without the trackers.¡± Aarak tensed, his body preparing another burst of power¡­ but this time fate intervened. Three large orcs emerged from a faraway tunnel, their dumb faces contorting with anger the moment they spotted the dungeon¡¯s spawn. The green-skinned brutes didn¡¯t waste any time. They bellowed warcries, lifted their weapons, and charged into the battle. Aarak didn¡¯t wait to see who would emerge a victor. It was no longer his fight. Becoming a wasteborn sure was awful, but it still beat being dead. The seconds, then minutes passed, as his battered body continued to slink from one hiding spot to another. He allowed himself to breathe, happy to escape the commotion. Yet no place in the underground was safe. The nearby wall exploded after two titans locked in battle plowed right through the soil and stone. Their armored bodies crushed anything unlucky enough to get in their way. The monsters were too close for mundane weapons so they used their fists, kicks, and teeth instead. Aarak barely dodged away from their violent arrival, curling up in a nearby hole. From there he got a better look at the combatants. A second later he wished he didn¡¯t. On one side battling with a cold certainty only undeath was capable of was a Death Knight, wearing unadorned, dark armor of their order. It fought silently, even as pieces of the hardened iron cracked and flaked off after the enemy¡¯s powerful fists connected with its breastplate. The undead¡¯s opponent was a giant rat - a lumbering, maddened monstrosity, with a body covered in a thin film of blood - a testament to a losing battle. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. And yet the musclebound rat stood defiant, and soon Aarak saw why - its body was healing, the cut flesh and broken bones sizzling as they were reconstructed. ¡°We are unstoppable!¡± The dungeon¡¯s chosen rumbled. ¡°We are His hand and His spear!¡± Surprisingly, the undead responded. ¡°You will be dead before the sun sets.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no sun in these hellish halls.¡± The rat somehow grinned, enjoying the foreign word, like it was a chew toy. ¡°And if the unthinkable happens, then another will take my place. And another one after that.¡± A group of rats emerged from the destroyed wall. Aarak trembled. These were metal ones. All of them carried small, oval objects on their waist. Grandes, his memory helpfully reminded, recalling what the rats screamed while using them. They contained eksplosives but in small enough doses that they weren¡¯t completely catastrophic. Still, one had to be insane to use them, especially in these tight corridors. What made him sweat was however the presence of a specimen larger than others. It was an armored and masked rat with a long tube held firm in his paws and a metal canister secured tightly on his back. He was waddling ahead, all the while emitting a strange, buzzing sound¡­ no. It was just chuckling. And yet even the rest of the dungeon creatures gave him a wide berth. The armored one sauntered forward, and the tube in his hands started to wind up, creating an eerie sound that Aarak would remember until his death. After a second of preparation, the rat¡¯s contraption started spewing a familiar green goo, the madness incarnate. The warping stone. The Death Knight started to move, to react, to attack or maybe defend¡­ alas it was already too late. As soon as the corrosive goop landed on its body the otherworldly green started to tear into the metal and bone with gusto, hissing and purring like a living thing. ¡°D-d-diss-ss-s-sss-honor-rr-r-r---able!¡± The undead stuttered in protest, even as it was being dissolved. Only chuckling of the goop-sprayer answered the accusation. Within seconds all that remained was silence and a few pieces of bone strewn on the ground. The bright green liquid was however quickly filling the rest of the room, devouring anything it encountered. ¡°Stop spraying.¡± The largest monster ordered but his words fell on deaf ears. An eerie laugh was the only response. *SMACK* The smaller rat was nearly sent flying by the hit. ¡°I said STOP SPRAYING!¡± The rat leader sighed. ¡°Look what you did. This tunnel will be unusable for hours¡­¡± With a shake of his head, the goliath ordered. ¡°Let¡¯s go back and hunt some more. And you.¡± He pointed at the goop-sprayer. ¡°You need to control your urges. We have a job to do. I can¡¯t have you going wild.¡± ¡°I understand.¡± The green-masked rat answered, his words muffled but recognizable. ¡°We live to serve.¡± ¡°And we¡¯ll die to serve.¡± After a moment of hesitation, their leader spoke. ¡°Change of plans. Since we already fucked up then let¡¯s block this place for good. Or at least a week. That long feels like an eternity down here, anyway.¡± ¡°Not enough fuel in the canister.¡± The masked rat protested. ¡°Just do what you can.¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± Aarak scrambled back as the dungeon creatures focused on their work. ¡°Keep me sane, o Mother of Monsters.¡± He murmured, feeling lightheaded. The constant internal and external bleeding was taking its toll. The wasteborn wandered through the web of tunnels, barely avoiding both sides of the conflict and running from fights. He managed to keep on the move - only it turned out that he was walking in the wrong direction. Which in his situation meant stumbling into the Lich¡¯s army forward camp. The only worse outcome would be ending up in the Dungeon they were besieging. Two orcs stood guard at the entrance, which already told Aarak a lot about the severity of the situation. No one used orcs for guard duty - if they could help it. ¡°Hob?¡± One of the green-muscled idiots asked. ¡°Hob!¡± The second one affirmed. ¡°Kill hob?¡± ¡°No kill hob. Hob ours.¡± ¡°How know?¡± ¡°Dungeon no hobs. Dead one hobs.¡± ¡°One hob. Nobody notice. No kills¡­¡± ¡°One hob¡­ Green.¡± The guard sagely nodded. Seeing the exchange deteriorate, Aarak decided to take charge. ¡°Hello, great warriors! I just escaped from a scuffle with a large, powerful abomination!¡± He nearly screamed. The word powerful seemed to draw the orcs'' attention. ¡°Strong?¡± ¡°Yes! It killed a Death Knight!¡± ¡°STRONG!¡± Both guards were nodding now. And drooling. ¡°Where?!¡± ¡°Right that way, but there¡¯s green goop on the ground, so take care!¡± ¡°Goop weak! Orc strong!¡± ¡°Orc stronger!¡± The second one interrupted, and they stared at each other, their hands crawling closer to weapons. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long will they remain in the room, so you might want to hurry.¡± Aarak helpfully added, before the violence had a chance to truly begin. A commotion at the gate was the last thing he wanted. ¡°Hob guard! We kill!¡± ¡°Kill!¡± ¡°Yep, have fun!¡± As the guards departed the way into the camp stood open. Aarak staggered inside, easily recognizing a healer¡¯s tent. He nearly fell, but his feverish body was caught by a wiry hand. Soon the rest of the person emerged, clad in feathers, hides, and hoarse skin painted with blood-red pigments. She was hideous, covered in cuts and warts - which was a common thing for trolls. ¡°What do we have here? Another survivor?¡± She croaked, her magic already working, reading what was wrong with him. ¡°Bleeding, so much bleeding¡­ and bruising. Not good. Lie down, child.¡± The magic didn¡¯t manage to find the most important thing though. Aarak was carried inside the stuffy tent. Every part of its interior was filled with wounded, and worse. Those hurt were either lying down limply or whimpering. The rest¡­ the rest has been immobilized, their straining forms secured to the ground and the beds. A whisper of many tongues speaking nonsensical words filled the air. ¡°Don¡¯t even look at them.¡± The troll shaman snappily ordered. ¡°We¡¯re still in the process of understanding what fresh abomination has the Dungeon spread amongst us.¡± She shook her head. ¡°It''s potent, hungry for new victims. Intelligent even. In a bad way. Like a predator stalking prey. It¡¯s not like any disease I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s not a disease, healer.¡± Aarak answered, his eyes twinkling with toxic green. ¡°What?¡± She turned, noticing how the delirious ones had gone quiet. ¡°What do you---- GAH!¡± She gurgled, as Aarak''s sword pierced her body again and again. The trolls were hardy folk, it was always best to cut off their heads to be fully sure they were completely dead. So he did that. And besides troll meat was not too bad. He saw the light leave the shaman¡¯s eyes and let her drop. The mad ones were in a frenzy. ¡°One of us!¡± ¡°Help, let us free!¡± ¡°Join in the glorious slaughter! Brother!¡± And a few of the silent ones simply stared. One of them grunted, before speaking. His voice was husky, unused. ¡°We are not enough to take this camp. What have you done, brother? This will be a waste. A sin.¡± ¡°What happened to we¡¯ll die to serve, then?¡± Aarak asked sardonically. ¡°You know that a sacrifice has to have meaning.¡± ¡°Then rejoice!¡± The twisted hobgoblin smiled, as he cut the restraints on the maddened chorus. The turned ones immediately got to work, slaughtering the rest of the patients. A non-believer culled, even a wounded one, was always a good deed. ¡°For a symphony of meaning has arrived.¡± *DING* *DING* *DING* A sound of alarm echoed in the camp, as somebody frantically banged on pieces of metal, trying to rouse the defenders. The freed prisoners slowly filed out of the tent, their greenish eyes taking in the mayhem. A wave of rats was approaching the army outpost like a sea of vermin poised to devour them. Behind the chaff, a weird machine was carried on the palanquin, the figures surrounding it clad in metal and wearing weird, bulbous helmets. ¡°Form a line!¡± The commander of the invaders screamed, spittle flying. ¡°Defenders to the front, archers, and mages - prepare to fire!¡± The army was slowly forming its ranks, with the orcs, goblins, and hobgoblins trying their best to fulfill commands. They knew that once a breach was made, the only fate that awaited them would be one of being devoured. ¡°We attack, and then run.¡± Aarak whispered as the small group of corrupted was preparing to strike. ¡°Hit them hard, bleed the mages, and the dungeon chosen will finish the rest.¡± He paused. ¡°Do not linger, if you don¡¯t want to die.¡± His gaze wandered to the metal contraption. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it does, but nothing that comes out of the dungeon is normal.¡± ¡°Hold! Hoooold! HOLD!¡± The warriors screamed as the first wave of rats crashed into their shield walls, desperately banging against them. ¡°Mages, cut them down! NOW!¡± Chanting filled the air, the users of arcana pouring their mana into spells, burning, freezing, and electrocuting their enemies. ¡°Bombs incoming!¡± Another shout pierced through the hubbub, as small objects sailed toward the defenders. A series of explosions followed, but the wall still held. ¡°Exploders!¡± This time the warnings were louder and more fearful. A group of armored undead appeared from the attackers'' backline. Their wobbly walk would be funny, if not for the threat they represented. ¡°Focus them down! Kill them all before they manage to doom us all!¡± Desperate commands were sent to archers and mages. And, as the arcane gifted focused on the enemy before their eyes, Aarak and those under his command struck without mercy. Their knives, swords, axes, and even teeth tore into the defenseless backs, culling the enemy like a farmer would reap wheat. More started to fall, with only a few managing to change their focus fast enough to avoid demise. That meant one thing. It was time to run. ¡°Retreat!¡± Aarak sounded, with only a few of his green-eyed friends following. The rest were still busy tearing into unbelievers. ¡°Predictable.¡± He murmured, even as his feet never stopped moving. The battle turned chaotic. The rat contraption arrived near the frontline, the chilling sound of clucking machinery fastening Aarak''s steps. ¡°Come on, come on! Run, run, RUN!¡± He urged, not wanting to see whatever happened next. He still did. As the uncanny noise turned into a pitched whine there was a sound so loud it nearly burst his brain. Both the hobgoblin and his followers staggered but continued running with suddenly renewed energy. At the top of the nearby hill, they turned back, observing the battlefield. The frontline had collapsed, with both dungeon monsters and defenders lying on the ground. That included the rats who brought the contraption to the midst of the battle. Most weren¡¯t moving, with blood coming out of their eyes and ears. Some whined, trying to stand up, only to get mowed down by the next wave of rats. The camp was ripe for the picking. ¡°This is a mistake.¡± One of the silent ones spoke. ¡°Our creed won¡¯t be accepted in the North.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s where you are wrong.¡± Aarak grinned, opening a leather pouch. From inside a familiar green light spilled forth. A warping stone, the initiates murmured. ¡°It¡¯s time to bring good news to the badlands, brothers!¡± ¡°We¡¯re not returning to the fight?¡± ¡°The Dungeon will hold. In the meantime, we need to cut off Hydra¡¯s heads.¡± ¡°So be it.¡± ¡°We live to serve.¡± The silent one grinned. ¡°We¡¯ll die to serve.¡± Aarak grinned back, his eyes the color of madness.