Chapter 6

Preparation

With a frantic patter of fleeing feet, the kobold scampers out of the dungeon. I can almost taste the acrid tang of its terror, a bitter-sweet sensation taht reminds me of a fine wine. The air grows heavy with the weight of its panic, as if a storm is brewing within the confines of my dungeon. Like tiny lightning bolts, wisps of mana roll off the kobold, and I greedily snap them up.

The kobold’s frantic footsteps echo through the stone corridors, each footfall reverberating with the intensity of its fright. The sound itself is like a rhythmic drumbeat, a testament to the power I hold over these feeble creatures. Their terror fuels my anger, granting me a temporary satisfaction that quells the burning hunger within.

The damp dungeon walls give way to the dark exterior of the swamp as the beast flees. Desperately, it seeks the refuge of the murky depths of the swamps, and though I can’t give chase, I still follow it. The swamps, a fitting domain for such wretched creatures, welcome it with open arms, as the trees block my vision of the pathetic creature. The splashes and squeals of my fleeing quarry showcase my power and victory over the attackers.

And as the kobold reaches the edges of my magical vision, a new notification fills my vision.

Dungeon Attack Defeated

Invaders Repelled

You have been granted a new Spawner Slot!

The realization of something I hadn’t even conceived was stunning. That my dungeon could be limited by size or ability hadn’t even been a possibility to me. Now, I had to contend with the possibility that there was a whole myriad of blockades against my further expansion. At the very least, the notable progress was a welcome reprieve from these concerns.

I currently had two spawners active and had just unlocked a third. The trouble was, I had no idea what to fill it with. Sure, creating a new spawner had become much easier now, but the stickler was that maybe there were steps to using more advanced spawners that I wasn’t aware of.

Before I could do anything like expanding, I begin rebuilding my mana reserves. The lack of reserved Focuses alone is enough to spur me into action. I have to make sure I’m ready for the next challenge, or at least prepared to expand when the opportunity comes. A cold snap spreads through my being as I ponder the idea of being caught unprepared. I can’t let that happen. After a bit of effort, I’ve created a new pair of Swamp Ferns that are now happily spreading across my main chamber. Their glittering purple flowers once again accent my dungeon with faint light.

The process is slow but mostly mindless. The endless cycle of consuming, refilling, and repeating is so easy that I barely have to devote any thought to it. So, with little to do, I surveil my surroundings.

The entire dungeon is wrecked or scarred in some way. Even the rocks that make up my walls bear scars of the battle. Flecks of blood remain all over. Though the kobolds didn’t make it into my main chamber, the various boulders and detritus also show the impact of their invasion.

Resolved, I fix these various flaws. I dissolved each rock with a torrent of magic. Each splatter of gore is scoured with determination. I will have a clean dungeon, dammit. With that done, I begin to scour the surface as well. Though I have much less control over the surface, I’m able to move and reshape things a bit.

A bit of work later, I have a tidy stack of fallen logs and other detritus surrounding my entrance. The berm of muck and rotting wood almost resembles a village wall, though a lot more ramshackle. One thought keeps occurring to me: how easy it was for the kobolds to even get into my dungeon.

The ‘wall‘ I now have wouldn’t stop anything larger than a small critter from gaining entrance, I need to do more. Maybe some kinds of traps, or a way to warn me of incoming invaders.

My mind immediately jumps toward those Watershrooms I made some time ago, and how my mana had warped them and forced them to grow. Maybe I could use them to block up my entrance? I quickly discard the idea, though, as I can’t harvest quite enough mana to make the massive mushrooms that I want. I do at least have a healthy block of magical myconid growing near my main entrance.

Instead, I settle on better protecting myself and my spawners. If invaders can’t reach them, they’re less under threat, I reason.

Working slowly, I begin the excavation of a new chamber and connecting tunnels. It also seems like a good idea to create connecting side tunnels for my various rooms. Having observed my Ferns and Mana Worms in action, I conclude it’s better to give them an easy to move around without being seen.

With an eye on the outside, watching the cycle of days and nights, I can say it takes several days to complete this new renovation of my environment. After that, I now have a much nicer dungeon, at least in terms of size and features.

I have moved my spawners into a new third chamber, connected to future chambers with tiny tunnels. My previous main chamber is now swarming with open holes and hiding places for my minions. My Ferns have also fully adorned the entire space top to bottom. Even the shadows in this chamber are accented purple with their glowing flowers. The air is thick with the earthy scent of damp soil, and rich with various clouds of refined mana. The purple accents create an eerie ambiance, casting a haunting beauty upon the chamber. Each open space feels alive, pulsating with the energy of my growing empire.

I will one of my serpent minions to grab my Core in its maw and slither into the new chamber. And with a little finagling and a few moments of picking me back up again, they manage it. I’m secreted away in a crevice in the rock, hidden from view and much harder to get to, safely behind the vanguard of Spawners and minions.

Saturated with mana, my entire dungeon feels new and thriving, and I’m filled with the hope of ambition and possibility.

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Another task I decide to tackle here and now is creating a tougher minion. But, since I don’t have memories or other blueprints to draw upon, I’m stuck searching the swamp for a monster to work with. Perusing on the waters of the surface, I rapidly find a lifeform that might work.

Hidden within the muck of the swamps is a tiny little animal, looking like little more than a rock—but, aided by my mana-infused sight, I spot them—and their form seems useful.

A tiny little clam, brown with black spots, rests in the mud. I’m able to detect it purely by the tiny wisps of mana I notice being latently absorbed by the creature. The little aquatic creature siphons blue and green wisps of energy at a steady pace, so at least I know what to feed it.

And so I do just that, I am able to make the small mollusk grow by feeding a stream of refined Earth and Water Mana into it. Within mere minutes, I have a much larger mollusk, the size of a small rock and it’s marked as a minion. Now, the next step—making a clone.

The process is intricate and difficult, but not impossible. A siphoned supply of potent magical flow starts the delicate work. With just a bit more effort, I can twist and mold the mana into a new form. With a mild amount of mental force, I wedge a Mana Focus into the slot that the pearl would otherwise be in, creating a new minion with minimal modification. The surface of the brown clam tingles with the smallest swirls of greenish-blue magic, hinting at being something more than just a denizen of the swamp.

Minion Upgraded!

Level 0 Pitiful Clam becomes Level 7 Swamp Clam

The rock-like clams themselves were much less refined than the Ferns currently swarming around my inner chamber. But having a new minion that more easily blends into the rocks is pretty helpful. One problem I note right away is a lack of a suitable space for them to rest in. They are clams, after all; they need water.

So the question is; how to turn Water Mana into water? A few attempts at simply mentally commanding the mana into the desired shape fail. I resolve to simply gather more mana into Focuses while I think through the issue.

Before I can get to work though, a series of heavy stomps breaks my concentration. Something huge is making its way through the swamps toward my dungeon, and it doesn’t take long until the monstrous form shows itself.

A giant golem of dark, night-like glass is pushing its way through the trees, right in my direction. Its eyes boil with a constant stream of purple, deathly energy, leaving no uncertainty to its latent power. Panicked, I rouse my few minions for another desperate defense. Each step is explosive, reverberating through the soil and muck. Even I can feel the denizens of the swamp fleeing from its presence. Every step contains an implicit threat. I don’t need to see what this monster is capable of to understand. This massive monster would crush me under its massive feet with ease.

As it nears the tiny hole in the ground that marks my dungeon, its pace slows. With a guttural tone, it finally speaks. The words reverberate through my mind like an explosion in the distance, booming with concussive force.

“Well, well, little dungeon. It would seem you have grown since we last spoke.“ Its voice is low and monotone, booming through my mind like a falling boulder. “But if I may, I will proffer some much-needed guidance.“

Mentor’s Influence Activated

Refined Mana Focus Blueprint unlocked

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

The explosion of images in my mind’s eye is immediate. Within an instant, I learn why my previous efforts had failed or were doomed to failure. They reveal tiny imperfections I never would have noticed. A crack here; or a missed layer in the mana lattice there, each one a compounding error in my work. In awe and curiosity, I’m lost examining this new revelation.

Sadly, my reverie is broken by the voice of that giant monstrosity outside, creeping back into my thoughts. A revelation of who I’m speaking to joins the voice.

“Be sure to use that to great effect, but first, I must thoroughly examine your progress.“

“Holy Hells, you’re that dungeon from before?“ I exclaim, extreme confusion overpowering my tone.

“I am, I thought it would be rather entertaining to show you a little treat, a simple trick you may one day learn to perform.“ gargled the creature of glass-like stone.

Another notification pops up, telling me that this giant is some kind of death magic Avatar, I take its lack of a level or stats being listed as a clue that it’s far beyond my league.

“Do not be concerned with my influence, I am only trying to help you,“ says the gargantuan Avatar, though I really can’t believe them. There’s so many unknowns, so little that I actually understand. He continues, “You have been chosen for a great purpose, though you must prepare to face it.“

“But why me?“ I ask, genuinely curious and more than a little annoyance creeping into my tone.

“I wish I had better answers for you, young one,“ says the boring voice again. “Sometimes, the cruel twists of fate ensnare us in ways we cannot predict.”

He pauses for a moment, as I sense loud bangs and tumbling rocks near the edge of my dungeon.

“Does this thing think it will actually fit?” I wonder as I rapidly get my answer. Before my eyes, the towering behemoth of obsidian glass shrinks and distorts. In an instant, it’s through the entrance and worming its way down into my domain.

The golem, though crouched within my chambers, is now moving carefully throughout my tunnels, looking them over. Its large and distorted form just barely fits within my halls, and its movements are far more careful than I expected. Through my somewhat hazy mana vision, I see them paying particular attention to my walls, now thoroughly saturated with plant tendrils.

”You have done well for yourself, many dungeons do not survive this long.” The flexing serpent of glass and deathly magic slithers its way through my inner tunnels, arriving directly in front of my Core and Spawners. Tension fills the air with a sweet scent, not unlike sweat and fear. “Perhaps it is better I show you what I mean.“

A flash of images invades my mind, overriding my conscious thought. What is initially a blur of color and motion forms together into a cohesive series of events. I watch with abject horror as I see a troop of green-skinned humanoids ripping apart some kind of beastly entity. It looks like some kind of large, mutated gopher. Another flash shows the goblins, or whatever they are, grasping a small dungeon core, and then smashing it to bits in a frenzy.

“Is this what’s waiting for me?“ I ask, trepidation plain in my voice.

“Those invaders you faced? They won’t be the last,“ the obsidian golem says, its tone soft and even. It spoke with the steady confidence that screamed experience in this matter. With no recourse, I choose to trust his judgment in these matters, though I regard his future plans with a healthy dose of suspicion.

“So they will consume everything?!“ I intoned, worry slithering out and consuming my thoughts.

The notification about the ‘Dungeon Invasion‘ flashed over me, cementing my fears. I make the decision there and then to not sit idly by and wait. Damn anyone if they think I’m just going to wait to be eaten.

“Only if you allow them to, you are already taking significant steps towards preventing that tragedy from happening.” the beast’s tone remains flat and impartial as if it’s talking to a child he doesn’t want to upset.

My path ahead is clear, I know what I need to do. Sure, I don’t trust this other dungeon, but it hasn’t led me astray so far.

I set to work creating my new Minion Spawner, this time trying to insert my newest clam-derived creation. The process is slow and careful work, but my previous practice makes my maneuvers much more confident. With practiced movements, I bend and weave layers of magic together after plucking them from my surroundings.

With each stitch of magic laid down, my new spawner takes shape. Each stitch resonates with a faint hum, filling the room with a melodic symphony of arcane energy.

The mana melts and bubbles, laying down like layers of molten glass. Warm and tingly feelings spread through the air as I work. Strangely, even my minions seem to take notice. The tendrils of my largest Fern slither over and begin teasing at the edge of the blueprint, though they dare not interfere.

As I work, the gigantic Avatar remains silent, watching my efforts.

Curious, a question forms in my mind, “Say, you showed me those images. Is that something I’ll be able to do too?“ I ask, projecting my thoughts into the ether.

Its response is once again emotionless and matter-of-fact, “in time, you will collect memories and learn to better utilize them.“ Several pebbles tumble from the walls as the enormous being shifts past my Spawners, settling directly in front of my Core. “For the time being, I would focus your efforts on expanding in the way you are now, another attack may soon come.“

That settles that, then. “Those kobolds would think twice before attacking me again,” I thought with the sure confidence of victory filling my being. And with that, I set about more expansion of my dungeon.

While I was busying myself with my tasks, a tiny scaled being was fighting for its very life. The same kobold—now well beyond my sight—was fighting a battle for survival against something much more menacing than any foe it faced in my dungeon.

A skeleton wielding a rusted and pockmarked shortsword was circling the snarling kobold, weapon gleaming with malicious, purple magic, the same as its eyes.

The skeleton and kobold danced around each other, experts at moving through the mucky terrain of the swamp. For every leap and slash of claw or blade, a riposte or dodge countered it. The living and the dead twirled around each other in a deadly symphony. The clash of steel and scales echoed through the swamp, saturating the air and mud with primal fury.

With grace unfitting its form, the skeletal warrior whirled its blade in a vicious slashing motion, nearly taking off one of the kobold’s limbs. And though the glancing blow wasn’t fatal, blood still splattered across the algae-slick rocks. The kobold howled in pain but quickly recovered, its eyes gleaming with feral determination.

The agile kobold used its claws when it could. For each snarling leap toward its foe, its claws couldn’t seem to find purchase against the rotted, mossy bones of the skeleton. And each time, the small reptilian being came away with a fresh wound.

The kobold flicked its tail and launched into a full retaliatory strike. With a howling madness, it leaped for the skull of its opponent. A strike aimed at the base of the neck hoped to end the fight but its hopes were dashed when claws glanced off of hardened bone.

Razor-sharp claws were no match, it would seem, as the dance was over after only a few moments. With one final slash, the kobold’s head was sent sailing into the mud.

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Deep within a dusty tomb, shadows and magic stir. A heavy, robed skeleton carries a limp kobold corpse down a hallway, before unceremoniously dumping it into a pile in a side room. The air here is wracked by the smell of blood and rotten flesh. The dust itself seems to fear touching some surfaces as if magic holds any aspect of life firmly in an iron fist.

Shadows dance ominously, engulfing the lifeless corpse of the crimson kobold The air grows heavy with the stench of decay, mingling with the musty scent of damp earth. The ethereal essence seeps into the lifeless body, suffusing it with a cold, unnatural aura.

From within the depths of the shadows, malice and danger dance in a macabre ballet. Eerie whispers echo through the chamber, carrying haunting melodies that send shivers down the spine. Thankfully for those around to hear the horrifying scream of a dying soul, they’re all already dead.

Beneath the flickering torchlight, the corpse’s pallid flesh takes on a sickly hue, resembling the ashen soil of a desolate graveyard. Veins of darkness crawl beneath the skin, their inky tendrils tracing a network of deathly patterns. The eyes, once vacant, now glow with an unholy luminescence, tinged purple by powerful strands of mana.

And with a final twirl of mana-infused skeletal hands, the ritual completes. Forgotten fear and sorrow remain trapped forever in a throat sealed forever by the trap of undeath.

Finally, the undead minion rises, a grotesque fusion of death and unlife. Its limbs hang limply, reminiscent of the withered branches of a dying forest. Its movements are slow and labored, as if burdened by the weight of countless souls.

Shadow hangs heavily over the stones of the chamber, seeping into every nook and cranny. Death mana twirls around the corpse, snapping itself into runic configurations with glowing lavender energy.

The legions of the Tombs of Varan’ta grow once more.

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Frustration builds as each step becomes more arduous. Every inch I expand my dungeon is an exercise in patience. And even more annoyingly, that infernal golem continues to inhabit my dungeon. Occasionally, I glance at them and note with no small amount of alarm that they are steadily siphoning mana from my environs. Though I can do little to stop them directly, a plan forms in my mind.

If there’s too little mana to absorb, they might leave, so I resolve to use up my mana first.

My mana reserves, once abundant, now dwindle rapidly. The magical energy within me feels depleted, leaving me drained and vulnerable. Desperate to continue, I make the difficult decision to dissolve several Focuses, sacrificing their power to fuel my impromptu mining. As I do so, a pang of regret tugs at me, knowing that these precious artifacts will be lost for now.

Despite my best efforts, the tunnel’s progress remains slow. The shifting of rock and soil seems relentless, constantly undoing the progress I make. Each stone I remove triggers a cascade of pebbles and wet mud, filling the void left behind. It’s a frustrating dance, two steps forward and one step back, as the tunnel seems to resist my every move.

The division of my attention between monitoring how much mana the other dungeon’s Avatar is absorbing and my work is taxing. Each hour, my progress slows by a fraction of an inch. Each of my probing mana tendrils becomes a little less precise. I push through, driven by determination and the knowledge that I must press on.

As I delve deeper into the earth, the air becomes thicker, not with mana, but that pungent brown muck that I usually refine out. The twisting tunnel I’ve dug is already extremely haphazard, but it keeps growing more so. And with less pure mana to work with, progress nearly halts.

Something strange happens at this point. The vines of my Ferns are working to keep pace with me. Their glittering flowers are less bright and numerous here but are nonetheless present. It serves as a reminder that I am not alone in this endeavor, that I possess the power to shape the world around me, even in the face of such adversity.

I continue to dig, to chip away at the unyielding rock and soil, refusing to let frustration and exhaustion deter me. And as I do, my minions put in their own effort. Vines and flower nodes shore up the tunnel walls, preventing further rockfalls. And in some cases, they even help to refine mana. The clouds of brown, icky energy are less dense as my plant-based friend secrets them away.

After several hours of work, I have a main tunnel shooting off from my newest chamber in multiple directions, and plans to add more spawners and other elements as I dig out new rooms. Even my state page is revamped a bit when I bring it up.

Dungeon Name

Nameless Den

Tier

Tier 1 (Unproven Trial)

Magical Abilities Offense Abilities Defense Abilities Special Actions

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Refining Network (Earth)

Magic Affinities Mana Tiers

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Water Mana Tier 1

Earth Mana Tier 1

Minion Spawners Resource Spawners Mana Worm Mound

Swamp Fern Terrarium Watershroom Colony

Passive Perks

Active Perks

Mentor's Influence

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My proper reward comes as I’m pondering plans, though, as the Avatar finally speaks. “Before I depart, may I offer one more tidbit of guidance?“ He takes my silence as a confirmation and continues, “about a name, you may well be quite the Lord of these humble swamps one day.“

Despite the cryptic nature of his statement, I run with his meaning. My surroundings definitely have a ruined look, giving me a lot of the same inkling a graveyard does. Borrowing from the statements of the giant golem, and my feelings, I settle on a name: Crypt of the Swamp Lord.