To the surprise of Ossus, terraforming was easy to do, not even needing the menu. If he wanted the ground to grow taller or higher, it did so at a thought. If he wanted to flatten it out, it did so at a simple motion. And that made creating a path to the exit very simple. He wasn’t fully aware of the path he followed to reach the core, but he could feel it. Now that he had the dungeon core with (rather, inside of) him, he could feel where the dungeon’s territory ended, and only in one spot did he feel it open up into another area. Logic dictated that it was the hole he fell into, and the way out by extension.
He really didn’t want to stay in the dungeon the entire time. Did he know how powerful he was in the dungeon? Of course. He knew a lot of things now, except his identity. It was like if you took a newborn and recited facts to them until recitation of said facts were instinctual. Only, instead of reciting facts, it was closer to having a small city read one fact of general knowledge at once in a concert hall, at a volume that would make a dragon flinch, and somehow absorbing the information. Back to the point, Ossus didn’t want to stay in the dungeon. Having knowledge was not the same as experience, and possibly, he could figure out who he was. That was all in the back of his mind though as he focused on making a way out, shoving his hand forward as he cut a path to the center. He felt the way the land shifted, and he’d discovered something new. Geomancy, terraforming, whatever you’d call it, functioned by essentially filling in empty spaces with the moved earth, and he felt one massive dead end be created in several of the tunnels until it opened into the open space. He walked through with a calm, assertive posture…from his perspective. In reality, he walked stiff as a rock, in a marching style except you weren’t supposed to lock your joints when you marched. Regardless, he carried himself with an air that would suggest that at least a pebble-sized modicum of respect was warranted.
Looking up at the bright sun and closing his eyes, he basked in the warmth for a few moments. Even lacking skin, he could practically feel the pleasant sensation in his bones, the warmth akin to what one would feel if they had a comforting meal. He looked around, getting a general feel for what he would do, and…
“This is not ideal. Not in the slightest.”
He was referring to, of course, the pit he had fallen into. Specifically the way it was structured. The walls were a fair distance apart, maybe a ten-foot diameter, but the angle made it impossible to exit after entry with its perfectly straight sides and lack of any texture to grab onto. Climbing out on your own would be like trying to catch a hagfish in your damp hands while on ice.
He looked down at the floor and pointed at the lowest layer of earth at his feet before making a pulling motion, expecting to make a staircase, the first step of one at least. Of course, he didn’t do that, instead nearly taking his legs off as the ground rushed at him like small children being told there was candy in his general direction. It stopped at his feet and scraped his boots as he froze for a moment. And by a moment I mean what likely was several minutes as he considered what happened.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
“Okay, so a quick pull is a no. What about a gentle one?” He forced the ground back to where it was and did a slow pulling motion. With the same result, and this time he actually jumped back, slamming into the wall from the sheer shock of seeing the ground rushing toward him. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t in any danger, as he had seen earlier. Didn’t make it any less startling.
What followed after was a long…VERY long process of trial and error, pulling or pushing his hand forward at varying speeds to create the stairs he wanted, and each time, he failed, the stone and dirt moving too high or too low, too slow or too fast. At one point he ended up hitting the wall out of frustration. It seemed like it would be fine, but the impact sent waves of pain through his bones, and there was a very audible cracking sound. He hissed in pain as he pulled his hand back, rubbing the scratched bones as he looked around. He had planned, hoped rather, that he would be able to make it a spiral. That seemed much less likely as time went on, and his shoulders dropped with a clank from his breastplate. Defeated, he glanced at the spot on the wall he had punched, expecting to only see a chalky mark from the strike.
To his surprise, that wasn’t all that was there. There was a rather sizable dent, if you could call it that, but that seemed to downplay the significance of what he did. It was about the size and shape of a brick, wide and tall enough to stick your hand into, and he knew exactly what he discovered.
Gleefully, he began slamming his hands into the wall, kicking it, anything that involved physical impact as the exit began to form. Geomancy was, as it turned out, much less complicated than he thought. The push-pull motion was great for large constructions or changes, but smaller details, like stairs? That took smaller motions or more precise movements. Like punching. He didn’t even need to wait before doing it again; skeletons didn’t have stamina, and the core was brimming with mana, so he could do this as long as he wanted!
— — —
There was a loud crack as the stone moved away to create the last step, and Ossus collapsed into a pile. Magic was extremely mana intensive, and to the extent he was using this particular kind, it exhausted him to such a degree that he was rendered near immobile, for what was the second time in all too recent memory.
Magic, he thought to himself, was useful for many things. Unfortunately, the benefits did not outweigh the consequences, especially for creatures who sustained on mana like him. He had to admit though, it came out fairly well. It would have taken too long to make the spiral staircase like he wanted, and it would have been more time consuming to travel on than a straight path, so that was what he made. Sort of.
The stairway ran all the way to the path that led him to the dungeon in the first place, maybe about halfway through, and had a steady slope that made traversing it simple. Of course, all the excess earth and stone had to go somewhere once the way was done, and he decided to make arches, curving over the path in a way that was strangely pleasant to look at. If you looked at it down the middle from the very beginning, you’d swear it was shrinking or perhaps a very long tunnel. He felt an odd sense of pride as he looked down the path, thinking of how people might react to the elaborate construction, even if it was only dirt and stone.
His thoughts were cut off as he heard something padding towards him, and he was aware of something gnawing on his femur. The wolf pup. He sighed and let it do so, as it wasn’t a major loss for him, regenerating so long as he had the core. Besides, he didn’t mind the company.