Grief subsides in time, even if it never fully departs. In the end, I couldn't simply stand there and mourn my lost family forever; the temptation to do so is immense, but that will do me no favors, and I know that my husbands and our children would not wish for me to make their loss the center-point of this new life. So I take a breath, and I steady myself, and I once again regard the obsidian pylon suspended in the middle of the room.
The panel was still there, glowing with guileless alabaster on sapphire light. The strange words still remain, and I get the feeling it's simply waiting for me to examine it further – and so I do so. I start by tapping a finger against the very first line of text.
[DUNGEON CORE] USER INTERFACE – THE [DUNGEON CORE] USER INTERFACE IS A SIMPLE AND USER-FRIENDLY SYSTEM THAT ALLOWS AN OVERSEER TO MANAGE THE VARIOUS ASPECTS OF THEIR [DUNGEON CORE]. AN OVERSEER MAY KEEP TRACK OF THE RESOURCES AND INHABITANTS AVAILABLE TO THEM, AS WELL AS TRACKING AND IMPROVING THE VARIOUS SKILLS AND SPECIAL ABILITIES THAT HAVE BEEN UNLOCKED FOR THEIR USE.
Nothing too unusual about that, save for the method of access – it otherwise sounded like the ledger for an expansive fort or manor house. Easy enough to wrap my head around. Just out of idle curiosity I tapped the section where my name was displayed, but no further text was forthcoming. In a strange way that was oddly disappointing; there was a small part of me that would have very much been interested in seeing what it had to say about me, but nothing to do but move on. Pressing the section labeled [CORE TYPE] didn't bring up text either, but a sharp and almost painful chime rung out.
"Error. User-defined category. No standard definition exists for [BLACK]-type [DUNGEON CORE]."
An uninformative but not unhelpful answer. No guidance on exactly how this core was supposed to function, but also, in theory, no real restrictions either. It was the double-edged sword of freedom; blaze your own trail, but write your own map. I supposed I could live with that, next.
[PROFICIENCIES] – A LIST OF THE PRIMARY SKILLS POSSESSED BY THE CURRENT OVERSEER. SKILLS MAY BE USED TO IMPROVE PORTIONS OF THE DUNGEON AND ENHANCE BOTH INHABITANTS AND AVAILABLE RESOURCES; SKILLS MAY ALSO BE INVOKED BY THE PRIMARY [AVATAR] OF THE [DUNGEON CORE].
There was further text in the form of a list of categories, namely [BATTLE], [CRAFTING], [MAGIC], and finally [MANAGEMENT]. Mostly self-explanatory, but I found the last one intriguing enough to tap for a brief explanation.
[MANAGEMENT] – SKILLS RELATED TO THE MANAGEMENT OF THE [DUNGEON CORE].
How fantastically informative.
CHECK SKILLS? YES/NO
No need to think too hard on that, that was the whole point of this endeavor in the first place. I tapped yes and perused the accompanying text.
[AVATAR]
[CONSTRUCTION]
[CULTIVATION]
[DELEGATION]
[RESEARCH]
[TRAINING]
Examination proved somewhat fruitful; each category included a handful of subheadings related to it. The [AVATAR] category was the most personally relevant, containing options for strengthening the dungeon's avatar, which from context I inferred was likely the body I was currently inhabiting. Intriguing stuff, to be sure, but to the idea of editing or improving myself in such an artificial and impersonal manner made me uneasy – I would inquire deeper into that later, when I felt more settled with my circumstances.
The other categories proved reasonably informative – and both more and less existentially daunting, in turns. [CONSTRUCTION] was, unsurprisingly, related to the construction and editing of the dungeon itself, with options not only for designing and furnishing the various rooms, but also an expansive collection of upgrades and modifications. Many of them though were rendered in grayed-out text, and brushing my fingers over those selections brought up another irritating chime.
"Error. Functionality is not been unlocked, invalid selection."
A somewhat frustrating design – I could see many options available to me, but only a handful accessible. Everything else would have to be earned in some manner. Undoubtedly this has something to do with earlier explanation of the "perks" that I received upon arrival; a pair that reduced the cost of acquiring capabilities, and one that increased my ability to acquire the resources for unlocking them under specific circumstances. A crude but workable system, I supposed, but still one quite foreign to my sensibilities. Still, I would have time enough to ponder, there were still options to examine.
[CULTIVATION] both was and was not as I thought it would be. I had assumed it was for managing the flora of the dungeon, and indeed that was a significant part of its function, but it's scope was immense. Even just briefly skimming the long list, I realized the skill managed all of the resources in a given dungeon; harvestable plants, mineable ores, gems, even baffling selections like bones and furs. My imagination briefly entertained the mental image of carefully chiseling a roll of waxed leather out of the dirt like one would a vein of silver, and my mind's eye recoiled a bit at the sheer absurdity.
It seemed like every answer I received regarding the functioning of this world only left me understanding things less than I had before. [DELEGATION] seemed very intent on proving that true, for that list, while short, was also perplexing. It was the screen I spent the longest on, and what I gathered of it was that it was somehow related to my ability to command the denizens of the dungeon and automate its functions. Improving it would, in some manner, improve the efficiency and proficiency of the inner workings of the dungeon, allowing me to assign residents increasingly complex commands and allow complicated processes to function in the background without direct supervision, while also decreasing the overall cost and failure rate associated.
Genuinely, I struggled with that. It was in the end a simple though broad concept, but one fraught with some uncomfortable implications – having that level of control over anything living in my dungeon (and that was still a wild concept in itself, that I had in my possession a dungeon) made me even more uneasy than doing it to myself. Could I dictate the intelligence of residents, control their free will, edit their willfulness for convenience?
I didn't enjoy the thought of that, nor did I appreciate being granted such power. Out of all the listings so far, I knew this one would be the one that would require the most contemplation, and the most restraint and care in its use, if it was used at all.
Thankfully for my sanity and emotional well-being, the last two options didn't inflict any reality-shaking revelations on me; [RESEARCH] and [TRAINING] were exactly as thought, simply methods by which improvements could be made. While I still felt uneasy about the idea of 'improving' beings in this manner, it didn't invite the same recoiling sense of sacrilege and fear as the idea of editing consciousness. I quite hoped there weren't too many more unpleasant revelations of this type in the near future – considering that this would be the manner in which I would exist for an undetermined amount of time, I would prefer not to blindly step from one set of disturbing implications to the next.
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
I pondered for a moment, whether to explore a little deeper or to examine some of the screens that I had passed over, when I was alerted by the chime – a different sound to the earlier error message. My attention drifted, and a new message seized it.
"Perimeter interaction detection – adventurer on premises. Error – no interaction protocol currently in effect. Dungeon operation currently suspended."
An adventurer? Already? It hadn't even been a day – and I'd learned next to nothing and set up even less!
"Well this is a fine mess. I don't know what I'm expected to do about it though – I don't even know where I am, or where they're at!"
Luckily for me, the interface seemed to take my frustrated words as a command, and the screen in front of me immediately changed into a map, helpfully labeled with little dots representing my position and the the intruder. It was very helpful – it was also extremely annoying when I came to a realization.
"… Have I been able to simply talk to the interface the entire time? Without having to stand here and burrow through all of these blasted menus and lists?"
"Affirmative."
It would do me no good to get angry, or to swear, or to grind my teeth. I needed calm, needed to simply relax, let this brief annoyance and frustration just wash all over me and slide away. I felt rather foolish in that moment though – I very vividly remembered the conversation I had just had in the darkness, and the interface had also spoken to me multiple times since arriving. That I did not immediately pick up on the fact that it was possible to converse with it could easily be excused by ignorance, though that did nothing to soothe the disgruntled grumbling in the back of my mind.
"Very well then. Interface, please show me the quickest direct route to the incoming adventurer."
Silence, then a cracking sound from behind me. I glanced in that direction and saw the stone wall of the room pulled open like parting curtains and I strolled out into an even larger, emptier space, still nothing but nondescript stone walls. The only break in the monotony of the stonework was another open entryway on the far side of the long hall – curiously it was oriented sideways, far longer from left to right then across. Through the second entryway I could see what looked like the scraggly tree line at the edge of a forest, and long fields of grass covered in shadow thrown by the light of the setting sun. Once I was at the entryway proper, I could actually see the intruder, and the sight made the breath in my chest seize.
A child. I would eat my left ear if they were anywhere near their second decade, and they were in particularly rough shape as well. They looked to my eyes like a Murine – a rat specifically – and I could see the blood staining their shirt, the way they moved to keep from pulling at an untended wound. I could see to the unsteady walk, not just blood loss but exhaustion, and probably not nearly enough food either.
I didn't hesitate; I strolled across the grounds with determination in my step and growing fury in my heart – fury for whoever had hurt this child, fury for anyone and everyone who had failed to help them. I didn't know what I could do for them in my current state, but I had to at least try.
* * * * *
Finn finally stumbled his way up to the building, the pain in his side now almost beyond enduring. He knew he had to get here urgently, but he pushed too far – he could feel something tear deep in his guts, the previously mostly-scabbed wound now once more weeping fresh blood.
He really was going to die, wasn't he? Oh, gods. He was really going to die. He was really going to die.
He somehow managed to stumble through the open gate, his vision swimming as he felt an odd charge in the air; it was like something had briefly tried to circulate his essence, only to stop halfway through before anything actually happened. It was strange though, that only happened when someone was actively using magic, or when they stepped into somewhere where active essence exchange occurred like-
… Like a dungeon.
No sooner did that thought run through his head than across the courtyard the gray stone walls of the building suddenly split and pulled themselves open, forming a crude archway into the deeper structure, and the wrought-iron gate behind him slammed shut with a ferocious clang of colliding metal.
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, I'm in a dungeon, I walked right into a dungeon like an idiot, oh shit oh shit oh shit", Finn whimpered, his breathing suddenly and painfully constricted as panic joined fear and pain.
Footsteps across the courtyard made him look up, and he felt his knees go weak. He'd never seen a creature quite like this before; it resembled a beastkin, but not of any type he'd ever seen or even ever heard of. Incredibly tall, maybe just shy of seven feet if you didn't count the ears, which were tall as a rabbit's and sharply pointed like a like a fox. It had a similarly slender and pointed muzzle, somewhere between canine and vulpine, and short dark fur, covered in strange golden markings. Most damning of all though, were the accessories – the makeup, the robe, the dagger, the book – only intelligent monsters wore things like that and given how exquisite the accessories were, this is either one of the dungeon's elite guardians or possibly even an avatar.
Not that it mattered – either one of those things would've been more than enough to finish him, even if he was in perfect condition.
Finn always knew, deep down, that his end would be messy. He just didn't think it would be so soon. At least it was likely to be quick – he doubted he'd survive even a glancing blow in this state. A strange sense of calm washed over him then, as he faced down the possibility of death, and steadied himself for the end.
"What happened to you, child?"
Finn blinked. That… wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go. A threat, certainly. Perhaps even a gleeful laugh at his impending destruction, or even dead silence, but concern? That didn't jive with any of his expectations.
"I… got stabbed?", Finn said, a bit dumbly and still definitely in shock.
The being made a small noise of disapproval – Finn had received enough of those in his short life to recognize one even from such an odd stranger – and then held up one hand, their eyes going oddly distant, as if focusing on something not entirely present in the courtyard. He wasn't sure how long they stood like that, both of them awkwardly silent, but it couldn't have been any more than a minute before the stranger stepped forward.
"Hold still", he said – at least, Finn got the impression the strange beastkin was a 'he', or at least presenting that way – and their hand lit up in a swirl of vibrant purple light, and so did his stab wound. There was a brief moment of literal gut-wrenching pain as he felt his insides twist, flesh undulating and crawling as it knitted itself back together; the stab wound itself pushed out a thick and blackened sludge, streaked with red and telltale veins of green and yellow pus. He got the dubious and distinct pleasure of watching muscle and skin stitch themselves closed, the wound sealing so perfectly that it looked as though the skin had never even been broken.
"… What."
The stranger simply smiled. "You're welcome."
* * * * *
I marched through the archway like a man on a mission – which I was, I supposed, even if that mission was self-imposed – and crossed the courtyard without ever breaking stride, taking in the sight of the young stranger. Their condition made me feel a great anger, for I could see many, many things that aroused a deep and protective fury. Badly wounded for one, and malnourished. Up close it was even more apparent, given the lack of body fat and the unwholesome thinness to the skin and fur. I could see other cuts and bruises beyond the main wound, but none of those were life-threatening beyond the risk of infection, where as that newly reopened wound on their side could very easily kill them from blood loss especially if this child had already bled a great deal before aggravating their injury.
"What happened to you, child?"
I expected a few different reactions, but I didn't expect their expression to suddenly change into confusion; asking them what happened seemed like a perfectly logical question to me. Perhaps the blood loss was affecting them more than I thought?
"I… Got stabbed?"
I couldn't help but feel the need to protect and nurture; that was simply who I was at my deepest nature. It was why I spent so many years as a teacher, why I learned the healing arts, why our home had always been full of lost and distressed children in need of mending hearts. Without even thinking about it, truly, I raised my hand as if to cast a healing spell, when another screen suddenly blinked into existence before my eyes, just behind the stranger.
WARNING. [DUNGEON CORE] SPELLCASTING LIMITED ON NONRESIDENT TARGETS. HEALING AND ENHANCEMENT MAGIC IS RESTRICTED OUTSIDE OF REWARDS FOR COMPLETING DUNGEON CHALLENGES. SPEND ESSENCE FOR TARGET EXEMPTION? YES/NO
Now that raised the question – what exactly was essence, and how much of it did I currently have? How easy would it be to replace if I needed to, and how much would be required to bypass the restriction? I didn't have answers to any of these thorny issues, but I also knew I couldn't simply let this child die from a treatable wound. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I allowed fear of the unknown to hamstring my compassion, so I simply chose to risk it, and briefly tapped YES.
Immediately I felt a strange draining sensation – it was not something I think I could really describe to anyone who had never experienced it for themselves. It was maybe a little bit like losing pressure, perhaps. Like air or water released from a pierced balloon. I could tell right away that it was not a huge amount, objectively speaking, but also instinctively recognized that it was a significant amount of energy in comparison to what I already had in my system. It would be very useful if I could apply concrete numbers to that sensation, but it was relieving to know that at least I had an instinctive feel for this new power should I be forced to expend it.
ESSENCE EXPENDITURE LOGGED. ESSENCE EXPENDITURE REDUCED BY USERS [ERUDITE] PERK. TARGET EXEMPTION HAS BEEN RECORDED FOR YOUR RECORDS.
That brief exchange over, my hand suddenly flared with violet energy – not green, like I had been expecting – and the same color blazed in that wound, and I could see the sudden flare of pain run across their face as their torso suddenly clenched, skin and muscle weaving themselves back together as the wound expunged pooled blood, both fresh and congealed, along with the pus and mucus of a raging infection. I could clearly feel magical influence lingering in the wound, and it was more than likely that whatever weapon had inflicted the injury had also left a minor curse behind, supercharging the infection to spread in mere hours instead of days.
They were whole once more, and I was happy to make that happen, and I offered them a wide smile.
"… What."
I felt my smile get a little bit wider, perhaps inappropriately amused by the incredulity in their voice.
"You're welcome."
I shouldn't tease the poor child, not after what was clearly a traumatic event, but it was hard to resist the urge to have a little fun at them, especially now that I was assured they would live. Of course, the mirth was short-lived, as very suddenly, my guest began to sway on their feet, eyes rolling up as they pitched forward, fainting onto the grass.
"…Well, shit."