Buried deep within the earth was an orb. It was the size of a large grapefruit and glowed with a shining brilliance as if a ball of molten lead. It was a dungeon core, but unlike any other before it. It was ancient even by the standards of other well-established dungeons, those which predates even humanity itself. You see, most cores were merely the size of a marble and glowed with a faint light similar to a firefly or a small candle. Rarely did they grow much larger, and those that did owe it to either extraordinary circumstances or outside interference. 

A dungeon core was a strange existence, more like a basic artificial intelligence or plant than a true sentient being. Nobody was sure exactly how or why they came to be, but most either tied it to the Gods or some glitch in the workings of the universe. All attempts to study them rarely offered any results on their workings, but they have come to a few findings.

A dungeon core can form in any matter of location, from on top of mountains, deep within the oceans, and even within the skies. There have even been recorded instances of old abandoned castles or someone's bathroom spontaneously turning into a dungeon! Although they didn't just pop up out of nowhere. Once a core is formed, it slowly gathers the ambient energy in the air to nurture it's growth and determines its future path.

The type and amount of energy it gathers during this point is of critical importance, for it will decide on the future dungeon's potential and intelligence. This period of time for gathering ranges from a week to two months, rarely will there be outliers. The longest period ever observed in history was 6 months, but that was because of an experiment on how far humans could prolong it and took massive amounts of effort and resources. It has never been duplicated since.

The more it absorbs the more powerful and smart it will be for a lack of a better word. Even then, that is merely potential, and few reached theirs before destruction came. So why doesn't every dungeon core suppress their growth you might ask? It's simple really. They can't. They lack both the mental capacity and ability to do so. Their minds are even lower than an insect at that stage in their life and they can't stop their growth. Forming a dungeon for them is as much a physical evolution as it is mental. A caterpillar can't simply decide not to form a cocoon, it is instinct, deeply ingrained within them.

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So how was it that this particular core has managed to grow so large and powerful? How was it that a core so utterly ancient could still be in its infancy? Because the circumstances of this core were beyond extraordinary. If others knew of it and the statistical near impossibility of it they would no doubt proclaim divine intervention, although the deities would deny their involvement with certainty. 

This core was born under Mount Salarimortis. A monument of legend. It was immense in size, tales were told of how it was actually a pillar made to hold up the heavens and if one were to climb its peak they could enter the divine kingdoms. It was so saturated with pure magic that no normal life could survive within a hundred miles of it, only the strongest of beasts dared claim it's surroundings as their homes.

It was a place positively teeming with life, but there were no dungeons in its vicinity, simply because it was impossible for one to form or survive in the area. Rather it was supposed to be impossible. While normally high mana concentration was a great place for a core to grow, the energy near Mt. Salarimortis was too powerful, too dense, too heavy.

It would crush any core which tried to absorb it. Like a child trying to use a firetruck's hose to quench its thirst. But there was a more accurate example. Imagine now, a power cord that is charging a phone. If one were to overheat it then it would become damaged.

If one were to plug it into an outlet with too strong of a voltage it would obviously become damaged. In extreme circumstances, the heat might even wrap or melt the wires. 

Now imagine this new scenario, what if there was something that kept the wires in the same shape? Perhaps thin tubes of non-conductive material which covered each individual strange of metal that made up a wire?

Even if all the wires melted, they would be forced to retain their shapes and maintain conduct to transfer electricity.

 For a Dungeon to form, the core must release its pent-up energy in a certain unique pattern before creating a shell for itself. However, this couldn't be done in an area with such high magical pressure and chaotic energies. In fact, the external energies rushing in and suffocating the core prevented it from releasing any energy, it could no longer do so than a man in a straightjacket could use his arms.

Quite a predicament out resident core is in, no? In other worlds, perhaps this extraordinary hiccup of nature would've remained an unknown feat, a small footnote in history left forgotten. A mere gem only soothing to eyes. In this, one, however, it shall become Legend.

Don't blink now, or else you might miss it~