Ch 5

  In a matter of weeks, the Bug Dungeon had swelled in size, domes and spheres stacked and smooshed together, a fifty foot tall boil that cascaded heavy neon-green mist. From it's many entrances came a green light and the disturbingly loud sound of furious, aggressive insects fighting one another. Insect hives had formed around the dungeon, even strange, violent colonies of exclusively solitary bugs like scorpions and spiders. Each and every colony was enormous, and the bugs they produced were superior versions to the originals. Steady streams of ants, wasps, honey-bees, termites, moths, even worms were burrowing their way into the dungeon to find. . . something. Outside, they fought only superficial battles, most of their energy spent on frantic reproduction; there was never Enough, only More.

  Inside the dungeon, bugs died. The combat was fierce and immediate, monstrous variants of insects crawled along the pitted, obsidian tunnels; white, furry tarantulas lept into formations of spiny fire ants and shot fine webbing mist from all over it's body, trapping them; scorpions in groups of three stung furiously against a large beetle with a metallic, red-hot exterior, which had a fourth pinned under it, sizzling as it snapped its claws; many wasps and moths and flies flew through a large cylindrical chamber with a chalky white-blue pebble floating and shining in it's center, occasionally sending out bright flashes of lightning and sending ever more insects to the ground where they vanished.

  They were all searching for something the dungeon knew they wanted, and the only thing which an insect can ever want is to eat. An endless cycle of swarming, overwhelming and devouring took place inside, and the insects which chose to leave and return with their spoils were altered. They were noticeably better than the others of their kind, in every metric. Some insects, lacking the instinct to retrieve and store food, simply remained until they died, and the longer they survived, the stronger they became. Deep in the heart of the dungeon, comparatively ancient scorpions and tarantulas roamed restlessly as they fought with Bull Wurms and Infernal Insects.

  In the final room, a toad the color of stone sat still. It had thick black armor, all curves and spikes, three stinging tails like a scorpion, and its compound eyes were glowing like red rubies. Behind it was a room covered in miniature grass with a bleached white skull near the back wall. Inside the eyes and encrusting everything surrounding it was a shell of rainbow crystal, vivid and shifting in shimmering waves. A slight breeze wafted through the chamber, and the crystal crumbled like melting honey, spreading before reforming once more, the tantalizing aroma of the highest, most distinctly unearthly sweetness wafting forth, calling prey.

  The dungeon's mind, such as it was, felt satisfied and invincible. There was something deep inside of it, something that must be protected at all costs, the treasure which gave it life. The closest to any real danger it had experienced was when an unfortunate toad had found it's way in and destroyed much of the structural integrity of the dungeon before it had been devoured by swarms of advanced insects.

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  The dungeon was not aware of things outside it's hellish halls. If it had been, the sight of the green orb descending down from the sky and landing near the smallest, and original, entrance at ground level may have interested it. It was unable to see the orb grow brighter and brighter till it shone with a light like the sun, sending white-green waves of fire towards the various insect colonies, eradicating them completely. When the orb entered, however, the dungeon was aware of it.

  The dungeon was afraid. The orb zipped through the labyrinth and crushed all opposition as though they were bugs. The dungeon realized with mounting fear that the being was systematically clearing every room, ensuring nothing was left alive. From the corpses of the bugs, insubstantial motes of see-through lights in various colors fell and were quickly absorbed by the orb. The dungeon attempted to conjure more bugs, to constrict the walls and crush it, and was alarmed to find it couldn't exert environmental control anywhere near it.

  The sphere abruptly stopped and changed it's direction of focus the dungeon's core, having somehow sensed the attempt. It shot forth a solid beam of light that hummed with a high pitch whine, burning holes in the walls as it made a beeline towards the boss room. The orb came from the ceiling, and the toad sent out a massive, thorny green tongue that burst the orb into tiny motes of light. The dungeon felt momentary relief, until the motes reformed outside of the grip of the tongue and raced towards the toad, small spears of light rushing out from it and filling the toad with holes.

  The toad's body vanished, shattering into many bright motes of light and a tiny burning opal that hovered off the ground. The loot was absorbed by the sphere, and it grew bright, seven smaller spheres surrounded the sphere being, each one a different color of the rainbow. The light they emitted was unnatural, each color resisting the next, separating the room into seven distinct rainbow segments.

  Slowly, deliberately, the sphere advanced into the final chamber, rotating the spheres five degrees per second clockwise around it's body in a slow, smooth circle, lighting fifty one degree sections of grass and wall with color that radiated off and out of the grass. In the heart of the forceful display of color, the orb had turned to pure white light, like a tiny sun. Near the back, the skull began producing rainbow crystal at a frantic, terrified pace, forming an enormous crystal shell. The invader pointed its red sphere at the crystal skull, and the remaining six arc'd around and struck the orb like a pincer gong, bouncing off of it, causing a massive red flash that broke the crystal to shrapnel that flew across the field. One of them struck the orb, bouncing off and then defying gravity and floating near it.

  “Sugar?” It asked, voice feminine. “What a little monster you are.”

  The orb grew brighter and deformed, twisting in on itself until a tiny woman of light with an opal in the middle of her forehead was formed. She walked up to the skull, looking around like a tourist, and casually punched into the forehead, breaking through and pulling out a dark purple gem that was wrinkled like a raisin. The gem quivered, then tried to jump away. Her arm jerked, but she kept a firm grip, eyes following the gem and drinking in the impressions they pressed against her mind. For the briefest of moments, she looked very sad, then sighed.

  “And thus I name you for what you are. Behold, for in my hands I hold Casimer, the destroyer, the First Dungeon.”

  And then, Casimer spoke his voice an insectile buzz.

  “Well, eat me already!”