A Dungeon Point. Each dying snakelet provided me with a single Dungeon Point - absolutely nothing compared to the massive amount I'd received from slaying the Thaumivorous Cave Crawler but still - I would be able to gain levels as well as mana. In what I'd read so far there was no mention of it - had I stumbled into a new use? Were the returns simply too meagre to be worth tracking to a more mature Dungeon?

I had so many questions. The two tribes annihilated each other over the next several hours, newborn babes slaughtered with abandon. Each gave me an additional point and I watched my total climb towards the next level. The Helmet Snakes had hatched almost a hundred eggs, the Crundles a hundred and twelve. To feed their children, each annihilated the other until only the Crundles remained, two females and forthy three children. More than enough.

Congratulations! You have levelled up!

Your mana capacity increased by 50. Mana regeneration increased by +0.2/s.

As a Level 3 Bastion of Artifice, you may now select up to 5 lesser Minions with a military class to maintain upkeep free.

Blueprint Unlock: Clock

You may choose to receive an additional Schema Slot OR an expansion to your Mana pool.

A...clock. I now knew how to make a very simple, wind up clock. I made one and had Argent wind it up, turning a key to compress a spiral torsion spring. When she released it the spring pushed back and began to turn the gears, slowly marking time. What a pointless device for a Dungeon - I could already keep perfect time and even if I couldn't, buried beneath a mountain how would we know what time it was anyway? And this had been a reward for levelling up?

Disgusted, I picked five of the Granite Mob tribe, mostly at random for the free upkeep. The mana capacity increase remained at a mere +50, making me wonder if there was perhaps some advantage in staying at a lower capacity in order to encourage overflow. It was a random effect but it did seem to be a relatively simple method of obtaining additional abilities. Still, I hadn't yet used any other schemas so having a third slot felt unnecessary...though if I was going to be creating some sort of biosphere I would need more than one new species.

I also hadn't yet created any floor bosses and I did have some excellent candidates...

Sedurzefon, The Emerald Fountain Core Dungeon Minions Level 3 Bastion of Artifice Floors: 5/6 Rooms: 67

Favoured Minions: 1/3

Argent of the Emerald Fountain

Mana: 19.24/500 (+0.32/s)

Dungeon Points: 312. Next level: 500

Named Locations: 2/2 Bosses: 0/5

Traits: Voracious Innominate, Heir In The Cradle, Dungeon Archivist

The Glorious Constructs (CONDITIONS UNMET), Tasglann Nilavarai

Schema Slots: 1/3

Schema: Goblins

Geas: Dungeon Conservator Infamy: 1. The World is almost completely unaware of your existence. Expeditions Locked

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

I chose the third schema slot, already with an idea for what I would use it for. Argent and I were pouring over the fragments of the History made legible to us. It was rich, so much contained within. I had gained a total of seven new creatures I could spawn, their complete anatomies revealed in the stone. Helmet Snake and Crundle, two Dungeon spawn. They were simple beings, the maps of mana that coursed through their veins much simpler than the dense and branching networks of even the most basic creatures I had integrated. They were created by an intelligent mind, built for a purpose and their pathways reflected it. The bizarre and intermingled paths of evolved creatures simply dwarfed them by comparison, complex machinery built over thousands of generations - remove a single block and the whole entity failed. Five of these I had gained as well, two Dungeon touched and three native creatures - the Giant Fly and Hedgehog, Frilled Shark, Polar Bear, and Skink.

I can only assume the Giant Fly and Hedgehog were born out of sheer desperation. The former in particular was nothing more than an enormous fly so large it was almost four times the size of my goblins. Even my weakest warrior could tear it apart limb from limb unarmed - it didn't have claws or teeth, even a mouth. Just a huge proboscis - it didn't even have strong stomach acid to make their eating method useful. The hedgehog at least was a potentially viable defender, five times the size of a goblin with spikes almost as long as Argent was tall. No simple keratin spikes on these monsters, here their creator had lavished attention. The spines were harder than bronze, each a complex and cunningly designed tower of cross braces, central spines, buttresses and an exterior shell so rigid I somehow got the idea that they were heat treated - an amazing term I had not yet stumbled across, somehow contained in the runes. A concept I did not understand beyond the mere terminology, that exposing a material to heat could create a harder form of that substance.

Such a shame that genius mind that had created the beast had left it so...placid. Its digestive system had been modified, capable of consuming anything from plants, insects to easily capable of eating monsters - its digestive system was capable of neutralising acidic and alkaline compounds, counteracting multiple types of poisons and yet it had the placid mentality of a herbivore. Its makeup had been made more docile than the original, it was actually less likely to hunt insects - I couldn't have made the original, complex hedgehog but I could read the runes before me, recognise what had been added on. For some reason this creature's designer had wanted it to remain capable of consuming any biomass no matter how bizarre, yet had given it a desire to actively consume only flora. I attempted to see the merit, perhaps a kind of scavenger that provided enough challenge to predators to survive and also dispose of waste? But then why not simply consume fallen carcasses directly? I was missing something...something important. One of many such things.

I had an entire transcript of two Dungeons speaking, I had read it more than a dozen times. Neither of their Names were spoken, nor their names or even what they were speaking about. All I knew was some sort of agreement was being discussed. I had a complex breakdown of the reproductive organisms of the hammer. The Hammer. A tool, a very simple object. Yet here I was with a tablet that described in great detail exactly how to create its reproductive system and even how without directly affecting the Hammer, how to cause it to give a virgin birth. I had the conclusion to some great work, an excited piece of prose on how the answer to the question the Dungeon had pondered for decades came to a simple numerical result - but that the question was incorrect and must now be retroactively deciphered.

So much knowledge, so much information contained within. I read fragments of seven Dungeon's lives, tiny pieces of minutae without context. I followed along through the decision making process of a dilemma I knew nothing about, the bloody aftermath of a battle won, the last thoughts of a Core defeated before a Gnome's bare hand with a bleeding thumb wrapped around it. I read the first moments of a Core born in the undercroft of a city, its terror at being fully encased and the relief of the connection to free air. I discovered the concept of a Contract, that a Dungeon and a mortal could enter into a binding agreement by touching mortal skin and blood to a Core, realised what had ended the Core the Gnome had claimed. I realised why Cores were so valued by mortals, realised that we were valued. It was knowledge I had always had but never realised.

At my core spun a rift that endlessly leaked mana. As I grew so too would my rift, a limitless source of magic. Mortals, even my dear Argent, did not create their own. They gleaned it by consuming it, far less efficiently than a core. I could digest an entity for almost exactly the energy value of its mass, mortals had to break down flesh by kinetic and chemical means, transmuting molecules from one combination to another, finally releasing energy into their bodies via sucrose. Only the tiniest percentage became mana, added to their reserves. Their only saving grace was that they did this with all their consumptions, the very air around them processed far more efficiently than food and drink. Argent's reserves replenished much faster than most by virtue of her proximity to me, the very air laden with mana throughout my bounds.

All this I learned through fragments, connecting the dots alone and with Argent's aid - yet I was left with so many questions. Was Argent able to regain her reserves by virtue of proximity alone or because she was directly tied to me? Or both? Would invading mages be able to regenerate as quickly or more than normal? Would it be like the Thaumivore, would directing my attention to them only make them a greater threat to me? Mentions of divine magic and blessings - were Gods real? What the hell was a goat? What the hell was a hell?

We were interrupted, Argent directing my attention to a partially detailed fireburst trap by my most leal and devoted soldier - Kelter, of the Granite Mob Tribe. His feet were heavily bandaged, a blatant affectation - I had watched Argent repair his broken toes myself, even generously regrowing his nails to tiny claws as requested. Under each arm was a crutch, made of lashed together dwarf arm fossiles I couldn't help but notice - I made a note to consume the remaining dwarf bodies before the unholy wretch could get his hands on them. The damn things weren't even straight, he'd just broken off the limbs - both left arms, an act of sheer pettiness I couldn't help but admire.

And punish. I would definitely punish this. I began to slowly wrap my light around them, ready to consume them in a single instant.

"Weird toy boss," Kelter muttered, holding the clock upside down and shaking it. "Real steady too. Hey, is this some kind of timer for the acid trap?"

Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

"Oh fuck. That's evil." I could attach the clockwork to the bellows to ensure an even floor, I could set it up to go off after a set time to seal the way behind intruders, I could -

The wretch was grinning, a truly wicked expression that really should have split the top of his skull from his body. "I aim to please," he smirked, "Also for the head. And the danglies."

I didn't hesitate. I gathered my mana into a facsimile of the workings of the clock and shoved it into his skull, granting Kelter a Muse.