Chapter 7
Brewing Conflict
Manic thoughts and images stormed through a massive and monstrous mind, a chaotic mix of pain and confusion. Even amid the magically insulated chamber, screams of torment echoed off the walls. A thousand past lives flittered past in an instant, snuffed out with the force of endless madness. Violet tendrils of magic smashed around a glowing, regal chamber, all from the same source: a massive black stone. This Dungeon Core was unmitigated evil—a twisted reflection of life, corrupted into a mutant form.
No…Yes…No…Yes…
The core sat in a regal stone chamber, carved out of polished black stone. A pedestal of pure black opal sat atop an altar at the center of the chamber. Around the space were untold piles of riches. The gems sparkled with a mesmerizing brilliance, their vibrant colors dancing in the soft magical light that filtered through cracks in the chamber’s walls. Countless gold coins glimmered, their warm hue casting a soft glow upon the polished black stone floor. The air hung heavy with the scent of ancient secrets and untold riches, a mixture of upturned earth and the faint metallic tang of blood. As one stepped closer to the altar, a sense of awe and reverence washed over as if standing in the presence of something beyond mortal comprehension.
Destroy…Create…Destroy…Create…
A frenzy of magic swirled around the dark chamber, bouncing off the walls and scorching the black, smooth stone. The air crackled with powerful energy, filling the room with a chaotic symphony of hisses and pops. Countless numbers of scorch marks showed how endless this process was. Every impact added to the mix of intense heat and burnt ozone that permeated the area. Anyone who somehow stood amid the maelstrom would feel their skin tingle as if being touched by thousands of tiny lightning bolts.
Gazing upon the monstrous gem amidst the raging tempest would plunge even the sanest mortals into madness. Its exquisitely carved facets radiated with dormant power, oscillating between profound obsidian and dazzling crimson. Each flicker of color revealed its malevolence, akin to a face contorted with hatred and fury. The mirror of death, when met with curious eyes, threatened to devour one’s very essence.
Despite its menacing appearance, it was internally more concerned with something much less dangerous. Again and again, the focus of this maddened mind was on something much less majestic. Amid the torrent of flashing images and colors, a tiny emerald with green edges around a dark red center became unduly prominent.
Consume…Consume…Consume…
A truly gargantuan tendril of black mana slithered out from the face of the gem, touching one of several silver mirrors adorning the edges of the sanctum. The visage within held the amber eyes of a brutish, terrifying tiger-man.
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Torchlight bounced off the walls, casting shadows across dozens of statues of skeletal undead and heroes of the ancient past. Countless tombstones stood watch over upturned graves, each pit holding a silently waiting minion of a dead god. An entire constellation of celestial reliefs adorned the walls, watching the silent catacombs like thousands of silver eyes; moons and stars shining faintly with magical energy.
The air in the catacomb felt heavy and suffocating, as if the weight of the gods’ malevolence pressed down on all who dared to enter. Shadows danced eerily along the stone walls, casting elongated, distorted figures that seemed to writhe in agony. Gloom permeated the countless bones laid to rest here.
There were three altars in the center of the mass of graves and charnel pits. Each altar emitted a palpable aura, amplifying the sinister energy that emanated from the gods they represented. The first altar, adorned with symbols of night and moons, cast a soft, ethereal glow that seemed to drain the warmth from the surroundings. The coldness that radiated from it made one’s skin crawl.
The second altar, with its countless violet eyes, seemed to stare into the depths of one’s soul. The eyes blinked sporadically, their irises shining like the most brilliant amethyst, casting a revealing light upon dark secrets. Having one’s mind invaded by its piercing gaze was invariably unnerving. It was a startling experience that left even the bravest trembling with trepidation.
As for the third altar, its unnumbered maws filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth gave off an aura of insatiable hunger. The air around it crackled with an undeniable sense of aggression and violence. The gaping maws seemed to embody malice and destruction, ready to devour anyone who approached. One could almost hear gnashing teeth chewing at flesh and bone as they drew near. This altar was the most ornate of the three, the shrine to the infinite hunger of the Face of Terror, Yugul.
The trio of altars, united in their wickedness, seemed to pulse with malevolent energy that permeated the graveyard. It was as if the gods themselves were watching, their presence felt in every corner of the chamber. Visitors couldn’t help but feel the weight of their evil intentions, as if the catacomb itself had become a conduit for their malefic power.
In this gloomy catacomb, surrounded by the ominous altars and their twisted visages, one couldn’t help but be reminded of the darkness that dwelled within the hearts of both gods and mortals alike. It was a chilling reminder that evil could manifest in many forms, and that even within the depths of the Tombs of Varan’ta, the power of the gods could not be underestimated, nor could the commands of their avatar be ignored.
Amid this maelstrom of wickedness, some found peace in the violence of death and destruction. Even some of the most wicked hearts in all of creation could not be shaken from their devotion. Dark gods and the whispered rites would not be kept secret here. The names of the truly evil would be shouted with utmost glee in these halls.
Ushan Bloodmoon was a beastman of the Uzen Tribe, a minor horde within the Uz’Daka Tribes of the far-north. His amber fur bristled atop a mountain of muscles and scars; signs of a life of struggle. Even in a kneeling position in front of one particular altar, he cut a menacing silhouette amid the shadow. Like the altar he knelt before, Ushan’s body was adorned with tattoos featuring gnashing teeth and open maws.
He had been a worshipper of Yugul for many years, keeping his worship to the whispers and the shadows. Now, living in the Tombs, he could finally be free in his observances, though not without interruptions. A ping and a softly glowing gilded window interrupted his mumbled prayers.
Quest Begins — Commander's Burden
The Dungeon Core senses a threat. Prepare for a coming intrusion!
Whispered swears disturbed the haunting peace of the deathly silent tomb. With a flick of a claw across a sigil fixed to his crimson robes, he disappeared in a brilliant purple flash. An instant later a hellish portal, spewing screams and errant magic, spawned on a different level of the Tombs. Ushan stepped through, not even glancing back as the portal closed behind him.
He was standing amid the teleporter room of the Ossuary, a deeper level of the dungeon, and his destination for beginning to plan the coming mission. Around him, a flurry of activity was underway as various orders were carried out. The chaotic movements of robed figures dominated the space as they worked on their tasks. They assembled skeleton monstrosities from various corpses and masses of flesh. The walls bore layers of ash, bone dust, and blood that appeared constant. No one here cared about cleanliness when everyone was already dead. Even the air carried the scent of decay and putrid flesh.
Flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows on the aged stone walls, revealing the intricate carvings of arcane symbols and sigils. Every time one of the horrific creations was completed, the sigils would glow with malicious purple energy, before the eye sockets of the newly spawned undead glowed with purpose.
Amid the chaos, he couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and trepidation, knowing that their success relied on the unholy creations being forged before him. Battle was near, and even without him taking part, the prospect of shedding blood for the dungeon made his fur bristle.
With a ping of his inner magic, the quest window returned, showing a variety of details about the invasion that was on its way. Level ranges, possible spawn compositions, and more were all listed. Without exact details, Ushan had to order a variety of force compositions to respond to any tier of attack.
The upper level limit listed would not pose a serious threat to the dungeon, with only level 60 threats possible. But the range seemed suspicious, with the lower limit being as low as Level 15. Normally, low-level attacks were absorbed by the defenses of the upper levels, but it was prudent to reinforce them as much as he could.
Choosing the most efficient path, the first order of business would be to create a party of Dungeon Spawns to scout out the threats and delay them. While they would never defeat a full-scale invasion, low-level pawns had their uses as fodder.
Ushan cast his glance around the chamber, looking for the imposing figures commanding the chaos. The Summoner Lords, adorned in their dark robes, stood tall and imposing, their eyes glowing with a sinister energy. As they worked at creating and commanding undead legions, magic thundered around them. With a meaty paw clapped on the shoulder of one of the Summoner Lords, Ushan began barking orders.
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Ushan’s voice resonated with authority, cutting through the din of the chamber. The sound echoed, bouncing off the cold walls and sending shivers down the spines of those present. The Summoner Lords exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of anticipation and caution.
As Ushan issued his orders, the Summoners stood at attention, but once he was finished, they exploded into action. In just a few minutes, the Tigerman had his scouting party of undead fighters.
Three of them stood at attention above the spawning pool, violet light shading their skeletal forms—their bodies a twisted mirror of grotesque life. The Priest, adorned in tattered leather armor, held a mace adorned with ancient symbols, radiating an aura of deathly power. A ghastly Mage, crackled with arcane energy, bony fingers tingling with the promise of destruction. They wore a robe adorned with shimmering runes. Finally, a Warrior, armored and wielding a massive blade, was defined by crimson eye sockets that radiated determination.
All he needed was a leader. These basic spawns would never survive without one. These spawns were expendable, but very useful nonetheless. Yet, in this dark realm, sacrifices were necessary to protect their domain.
A gruff paw disappeared into his crimson robes, extracting a small silver mirror before a rush of mana channeled into it. The sickly, glowing green visage of Varren Ebonwood appeared a moment later.
“I hope you’re ready to begin the next round of summons. We have some issues arising.“ The Tigerman spoke in a guttural, thick accent.
The undead Witch gazed intensely through the mirror, their purple eyes flickering with anticipation. This would be easier than Ushan thought. Ushan grinned with satisfaction brimming within as the next phase of his plan took shape.
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I had made quite a lot of progress since that gigantic Avatar of Death graced my dungeon halls. I’ve seriously upgraded and refined my newly christened dungeon, I was pretty proud of the work I’ve accomplished. The rough and unkempt state of my dungeon was slowly being corrected. With each refined bit of mana I created, I steadily improved the look of my surroundings.
What was previously a rough-hewn mess of stones and dirt, had become a fair bit more refined. Over several days, I created a nicer entrance complete with carved stone and more light-emitting flowers. Those Ferns had been super helpful, and I’m glad to have them around. My intricately carved stone entrance added a touch of craftsmanship and helped make it look more like a dungeon. Or at the very least, like the sewer walls I could still recall in my scattered memories.
My other minions looked a lot more comfortable. My spawners had been working overtime cranking out more minions for me to populate the new tunnels with, and my dungeon was teeming with life. Serpents had slinked their way into alcoves along my walls, coiled in waiting. The mana wafting through the space complimented the earthy and flowery fragrances wonderfully. All in all, my dungeon was quite homely for my little friends.
I still hadn’t figured out how to make water or other necessary materials, but at least I had a peaceful bit of time to work on that. My clam minions were just fine burrowed in the mud near my dungeon’s entrance.
But before I can even begin working on that, my plans are immediately thrown to the wolves. A gilded notification window once again reveals some confusing new elements for me to parse.
Tier 2 Dungeon Upgraded
Cracked Rudimentary Core Shard Unlocked
“What in the hells does that mean?” I ponder. It would be really nice to have that mentor around right now to explain some things. Alas, I’ll have to forge ahead on my own this time.
Pondering my experiences, the process of creation rolls through my mind. The intricate layers of magic created with care and precision are clearly important, so that’s where I start. Using my outward vision to peer at my own Core, things do look different.
The glittering green gem is now a rather large gem, with multiple rough facets carved into its surface. As I follow the flow of mana absorbing into the gem’s faces, the pattern catches my attention. Rather than just a lazy thread of energy, its path is more focused, almost bellying some hidden intent. Something else I notice is that each type of mana seems to behave in its own way. There are multiple threads of power twisting their way through my dungeon, like a brilliant tapestry of light that’s only visible once I focus on it.
Green mana moves lazily, like fog rolling across the landscape. Blue mana bends and twists in spirals, reminding me of a large river twisting through the hills. Red mana crackles with fiery energy as if carried by the heated air sparking from a campfire. Black mana exudes an eerie presence, shrouding the surroundings in a veil of darkness.
As I observe these distinct behaviors, a kaleidoscope of sensations rolls through me, as if each mana reflects a soft song full of emotion into my Core. Each flash of emotion triggers something deeper, something repressed.
Sure, the images of fine dining and tasty wine are there at first, but this was bringing something more base to the fore—something treasured.
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A sweaty, pale palm hovered over the pile of herbs and coins arranged neatly inside the silver bowl. A pair of beady eyes pulsed with a glimmer of madness as crooked lips turned upward into an unhinged smile.
A simple tome sat spread out on the table before the blonde man, runes shining on its pages. The blonde man’s fingertips grazed the pages of the tome, tracing the intricate, glowing runes. They felt warm to the touch, tingling with latent power. His heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation, knowing that he held a gateway to unimaginable possibilities within his grasp. With a flash, the spell was completed.
The room seemed to vibrate with anticipation as if it held its breath in awe of the magical spectacle. He’d done it, and his prize sat spinning on the table before him.
Floating just above the bowl was a brilliantly glowing orb of pure magic. The light cast by the sphere blotted out all other sources in the room, making it seem as though the stars had ignited inside this tiny, ramshackle inn. The orb reflected all the objects around it in divine splendor, like a mirror of pure light.
The man who began life as a petty thief was rapidly ascending the proverbial ranks of sorcerers and mages. What did he care if he did things his own way? The sense of wonder and accomplishment swelling in his chest burned the memory of this moment into his mind forever.
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When I snap back into my dungeon, something new is waiting for me. The process of mana lazily slipping into my Core isn’t so simple anymore. My Core isn’t just a simple gem, but a tiny glowing star of pure power. Each band of energy sucked into the surface of the spinning orb doesn’t disappear, but is instead added to the magical sphere itself. As I follow a thread of water mana deeper, the blinding light gives way to something more—a wondrous new insight.
The Core itself was layering mana in ways I hadn’t even considered. Each band of energy is more than a layer, it’s layers on layers. The intricate construction of the inner sphere is bewildering in its complexity, but the more I stare, the more it makes sense. When I peer closer, the layers are actually rotating in on themselves. Like a corkscrew, each line of color folds inward and intensifies in power. This process replicated across the entire sphere is like being surrounded by the most beautiful mounds of gold coins and wondrous treasures. Like the secrets of ancient magic laid bare before a powerful mage, I feel as though I’m staring down a treasure trove of mystical secrets waiting to be unraveled.
Like a toddler with a new toy, I peer at my newly revealed Core in awe. The spread of mana was pretty haphazard before, looking more like a puddle suspended in the air than the tight spiral I was expecting. As if something was controlling my actions, I worked. With practiced moves that should have been unexpected, I pluck at the strings of this particular instrument.
The rainbow of glass-like threads spins into tighter and tighter spirals, snapping together in tiny flashes. As the threads of mana intertwine and tighten, a soft hum reverberates through the chamber, filling the air with a delicate melody. The flickering stars cast a mesmerizing glow, illuminating the room in a celestial dance that would outshine the most awe-inspiring rainbow. The sheer power contained within this tiny space is palpable, a tangible reminder of the immense forces at play.
Time stands still as I work, with all my attention focused on the matter at hand. My mind works as if it’s not under my control, following some hidden design that I can’t see. The completion of my efforts should have been a moment of celebration, but something else blossomed in the back of my mind. The haziness from my vision is gone, but it looks to have revealed sinister details I had previously missed.
Something feels off now, seriously off. This new sense of awareness blew through me like a chilling wind. I felt as though I was being watched. The ever-present anxiety of being stuck in this alien form returned, and I couldn’t push it into the background at this moment. Something was clearly wrong.
The once-familiar surroundings now appeared distorted, twisted. Shadows danced menacingly, morphing into grotesque shapes that seemed to leer at me with malicious intent. Every shifting stone or wisp of air held mysterious threats.
My thoughts, usually sharp and focused, became fragmented and disjointed. The icy fingers of anxiety gripped my mind, freezing my ability to think clearly. Untold numbers of fears and questions burned through my mind, paralyzing all other thoughts.
The air felt heavy, suffocating, as though it was laced with a palpable sense of danger. Was there something lurking in the shadows, watching my every move? Or was it something more otherworldly?
Paranoia and panic gnawed at the edges of my sanity, whispering sinister possibilities into my ear. Those possibilities drove me to act. I had to move fast, and I knew what I needed to do.
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As I push out from the borders of the swamp, things start to twist and change. The small denizens of the swamp aren’t nearly as peaceful as I remember them. Tiny little creatures dart across the surface and into the woods, as if fleeing something. The din of insects and smaller life is whisper quiet, and more than a little disconcerting in its absence.
And it’s not just the swamp itself that changed, even my perception of the world is warped. The edge of my awareness is different now. Not sure when it happened, but it would seem that something big has shifted out there. The edge of my sight, previously a murky sea of grey nothingness, is now completely obsidian in shade. It’s not like a thick fog, but rather an endless night that even the most brilliant light cannot pierce. Curious, I push my sight towards this new border.
Before I can reach the obsidian wall, a shrill alarm pierces my thoughts. That familiar pressing feeling once again draws my attention away. I know exactly what this pressure was: a coming invasion. Four figures made their way through the swamp, becoming clearer in my hazy vision as they got closer.
The levels and stats listed on the menu would make me pale if I had a face for the blood to drain from. Rather than give into the despair of being overwhelmed, I steel myself for what’s coming.
I watch them approach, and they seem rather skilled. Their movements are quick and precise, much more coordinated than the likes of the Kobolds. I flick my vision over to Mana Sense to get a true appraisal of their power, and something else shakes me for an instant. The mana spirals of these adventurers aren’t nearly as tight as I expected. Compared to the rampant maelstrom of mana spewing from the Avatar, these four are nothing. Their spirals are little more than a light fog of magic—no focus at all. Another thing stands out about them—their eyes.
The mana that suffused their forms seemed to stop dead around their eyes, but that wasn’t the only thing pushing fear into the front of my thoughts. All four of these interlopers have the same glassy eyes. The icy, mirror-like shine blots out anything remotely human about them. The twisted visages exist somewhere between alive and dead.
As opposed to the first encounter I had with the kobolds, no hidden well of knowledge opened up to inform me about what was happening. From what I could tell, these were just normal people—but they clearly weren’t. And that alone sent my thoughts spiraling into concern.