“The witch remains unchanged, when even you have become so different.” The humble outhouse that once served as the Eternal Dungeon’s entrance was gone. In its place was this proud and imposing mausoleum of black stone, fully decorated as if it were the crypt of a long forgotten monarch. It took up enough space to fill half of the simple hamlet that was once erected around it.
I looked at the witch’s hut behind me, and at Meria who was seeing me off.
“Say, what did you do when the dungeon expanded?”
“Expanded?”
“Yes. It used to be an outhouse, remember?”
“Oh.” She thought it over for a few seconds. “Yes, it’s changed in recent times.”
Judging by how the massive construction has been incorporated into the roads and the surrounding architecture, I doubted that it was something that happened ‘in recent times’.
Then again, if they got a very powerful mage to work with them, then it's more than possible. But this all looked lived in and older.
“What did you do when it shifted?”
Again, a pause. Beings like us should be able to think so much faster than a common human. “I must’ve activated the battle function of my house?”
“Battle Function?”
“Yes. It takes a lot of magic that I will need to stockpile again afterwards, but I can make my home walk.”
“Walk?” I blinked. “Well, okay. I’ve seen weirder things."
“There are plenty of weird things in this world, yes.” The witch chuckled.
We stood around for a few seconds until I asked, “Say, are the memories of an immortal difficult to remember?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you are an immortal right? The Eternal Dungeon gave you your reward?”
Another pause. “Yes. I succeeded and I’m an immortal. But I am not sure. I’m no expert on immortality.”
“But you are one.”
“Yes, I am.”
This was getting nowhere, but Flowar had already ran through the many questions against Meria when we were children, and she still gave the exact same answers now. So if anything, wasn’t her memory actually amazing for being able to remember all that?
It was all very strange.
“Well, thank you for the help Meria! I’ll go to the dungeon now
“Good luck! Tell me if you succeed! Don’t be stingy with those tips!”
But you’ve already succeeded…
I pretended that by ‘tips,’ she meant to give free money to someone, so I tossed a whole gold coin at the guild booth right by the entrance. The receptionist squeaked out a thank you, to which I only smiled before jumping straight into the shadowy void that was the dungeon’s actual entrance.
I felt the familiar sensation of space twisting, although of a far more sophisticated make. It showed just how frivolous and unnecessary the gaudy entrance and building was, for I had arrived at a completely different place.
It was the same perpetual sunset I remembered, in a place that was now far larger. In front of my eyes was an expansive rocky graveyard of tombstones and crypts, practically crawling with what must be thousands of shambling skeletons battling against parties of adventurers, and even entire platoons of soldiers. The undead never ran out, for more and more joined every minute as they rose from the ground, from a rest that did not quite prove to be eternal.
The adventurers fended off the assault of the skeletons admirably, each making their way steadily toward what I assumed was a far off portal. I could only assume of course, because the next doorway did not used to be so far away.
There was one cluster of soldiers nearby, in uniform armor and acting with a discipline the adventurers lacked, even if they were individually weak. They held a common formation of great-shielders forming a shell around everyone else, while the rest did damage from behind them. It worked very well, as the skeletons all had abysmal technique, barely able to use the swords and spears they were spawned with, and lacking any tactical acumen save for the simple and beatiful philosophy of ‘CHARGE!!!”
Except they didn’t even yell. Only chitter.
I knew that dungeons had means to limit their visitors, separate them into smaller groups, but it seemed that the Eternal Dungeon had chosen to allow entire armies in. It created a battlefield fit for a whole entire war.
It wasn’t a setup meant for a solo adventurer like myself, but I didn’t mind so much. It was always nice to be able to guiltlessly stretch my magic against hordes of weak and brittle enemies.
I took a step forward, and the world echoed out in response. A few of the undead were already shambling toward me, raising their weapons in crude and basic stances. Such a sorry attempt never had a chance of reaching me as seeking roots erupted from the ground and restrained them.
This was the magic that I painstakingly learned after years of meditation within the forest, and it was never meant to be a finisher. It was only meant to slow down and restrain, for I was not alone, and all I ever wanted was to support my friends as we achieved our dreams.
But now I am alone.
And magic so cruelly responded to both my wants and my needs, giving me more power when there was no one left to protect. The roots under my control grew larger and thicker within the span of seconds, and the skeletons struggled within their bonds, still swinging their weapons at me from dozens of meters away. One of them in particular had a familiar spear, which it thrusted just slightly off center. I recognized the skelly as the one we fought a lot as children, whom we were even able to nickname as “Phel.” Even now it hasn’t learned, it hasn’t changed, for the undead never did.
I allowed them to stay like that for a few more seconds, continuing to flail uselessly. The magic of raising the dead relied on the memory of magic itself to reshape what once was, and it appeared that these skeletons just weren’t all that memorable in life, retaining only the bare scraps of the fighting prowess that they’d painstakingly honed.
Or maybe they just sucked that hard from the start. Who knows?
The roots and vines constricted, breaking them apart into pieces, and ending their misery for the moment. It was typically not possible to raise them again after that, their very existence forgotten by the magic, and without intact remains to make the world remember. But this was a dungeon, the normal rules didn’t apply. It just kept on bringing back the same people.
I walked forward, bringing up large towering roots to clear a path for myself. They were almost full trees in and of themselves, but my powers weren’t able to make lasting plants out of nothing. That wasn’t the foundation that I laid.
The people who were here to fight and make a living looked at me and the disturbance that I caused, momentarily distracted. It proved nearly fatal for one destructive mage that reminded me of Amylis with the kindness reflected in her eyes. I chose in the moment to help her, just because I could.
Roots coiled around the four skeletons that surrounded her, while softer vines melded into the large gashes that ran through her body. A stronger flex of will from myself, and the wounds healed, the plantlife almost melted into them in the process.
It was still important for me to master healing, when I was left alone. Arguably, it was even more important, for a solo adventurer. And thus magic gave me what I wanted, after a long and grueling struggle
The woman that I saved tried to thank me, along with the rest of her party, but I just waved them away. “Your distraction nearly proved fatal. Don’t let it happen again.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
They were surprised at my words, but they bowed in gratitude nonetheless, before immediately snapping back to awareness. Skeletons kept on dying upon my passing, the graveyard parted in the middle as if to welcome me. Enterprising adventurers looted the skeletons that I killed, and I paid them no heed. I knew how difficult it could be, especially as a full party. Some of the soldiers sent me their greetings, other regiments were accompanied by nobles who just stood back. I had no idea why they were even here.
This particular woman who wore a puffy dress in this environment tried to step through the wall of vines and roots that I traveled with, demanding that I let her pass and speak with her. I paid her no mind, nor her cries of treason, as I arrived at an imposing gate of bones. This too was much larger and more ominous than I remembered it being, but the core idea remained the same. The passage was already open, and I stepped through, finding myself once again in an entirely different place.
The sunset had turned into a soft midday. A landscape of hills and plains expanded out in front of me, and the bone door behind myself looked almost out of place. The plantlife here couldn’t quite be called verdant, but the grass underneath my feet wasn’t dead either. It was at least better than the terrain of the prior floor.
I watched the faraway groups of adventurers moving with practiced steps. Those who remained wary and alert were wise, and those that did not would likely never reach my rank. Not that it was ever easy for someone who relied on a party, but not impossible. Certainly more realistic than any of those soldiers camping nearby gaining true strength. Few of them would even qualify for slayer-rank.
I walked forward as I continued to observe my surroundings. This floor was supposed to feature a single territory of goblin zombies that the challengers were meant to raid, but perhaps it has been turned into a different kind of floor entirely.
I decided to use my crown of antlers, willing a small canopy of leaves to sprout above my head from the wooden horns that grew just a little larger. I felt the wind through them in order to get a better picture of my surroundings, eventually revealing to myself that there was blood and rot in every direction.
Interesting.
The leaves fell, and my antlers returned to the shape they once were. I crossed the plains and crested through multiple hills, until I finally reached enemy territory. It was a walled village now overrun by over a hundred zombies of orcs, ogres and varying kinds of goblins.
The floor was no longer only limited to the goblin lineage, but it seemed like the basic idea was still kept, except now at a much larger scale. My slayer-rank party never would’ve gotten through here, to besiege an actual village of monsters, instead of a crude living space carved out by a mere dozen.
Perhaps if we were forced to turn back then, my friends would still be alive.
I saw movement from within a distant valley, just as I was contemplating my many options. A group of at least ten distinct and separate parties moved with purpose, making their way towards the monster village.
That made sense, to assemble a whole raid against a floor designed like this. I left them alone, unwilling to steal their prey after all the preparations they’ve already made. I couldn’t stay and watch either, for I would be sorely tempted to intervene.
~~~
I traveled across the expansive landscape that has become of floor two.
The next territory of monsters I found was identical to the first, and it was already being assaulted by a platoon of soldiers, forming neat ranks against the open gate. The two ogre zombies that were previously guarding the stone walls attacked the greatshielders out front with wide swings of their clubs, and the soldiers faltered from force. They hurriedly reformed ranks, but another two strikes followed, disorienting them further. Goblins streamed in from the gaps in their defenses that created, and the child-sized monsters climbed over their bodies, striking at armor and sometimes getting lucky to slip rusted daggers into the gaps. One such person was sufficiently distracted by this, and a wild strike from one of the ogres brought him to his knees. His allies tried to shelter him and pull him out of the frontlines, but the orcs were not far behind the ogres, and the slams of their own axes, swords, and maces held back the rest of the living humans, leaving the one who had fallen to his fate.
The deeper ranks of soldiers were of course not idle during this battle. Spears went past the shields, but it was hardly effective to poke holes into the zombies’ already rotting flesh. Swords were more effective, but they could only reach from the frontlines, and the soldiers there already had their hands full defending and holding on for dear life. Arrows were shot from further back, but the undead raised ogres and orcs retained at least some of their toughness, which were very troublesome if combined with a zombie’s unflinching resilience. You needed a few good hits to fully take out their brain, otherwise they’d just keep coming.
The goblin zombies were at least easier to take. Their bodies were far less tough, and they willingly ran into the inside of the army’s formation, allowing the waiting soldiers easier access to their weaker heads. Skulls were split and necks were slashed off.
The chaotic melee continued, until a ripple visibly passed through the living crowd. Armies gained magic capable of facilitating for such organization that you would seldom see among adventurers, in exchange for their lacking individual prowess. The soldiers fanned out as if they were truly one, they surrounded the zombies, and the ones at the front shouted and clanged their shields to get the attention of the enemies. Others stepped up beside them, using axes and swords to cleave awat great quantities of flesh and even bone from their foes. The tide of battle turned, and the soldiers gained the advantage.
I left eventually, not bothering to see the battle’s conclusion. I didn’t think they intended to fully conquer the village anyway, only to gain experience and power from the fight, as well as to loot whatever they could.
~~~
The breeze felt good against my face, as if I were a tree swaying against a gentle summer wind. Despite being ostensibly a mage, my speed eclipsed both Leon and Flowar’s when they still lived. The climb to power was like that, everything was reinforced along the way, even if not nearly to the same extent.
I reached another zombie village, only to find parties worth of adventurers dead. There were still a handful in full retreat, and I did not hesitate to help them. The fight was already over. I did not wish to see adventurers die.
My roots shot out of the ground, easily restraining the chasing zombies. The goblins were outright pulverized by their grip, meanwhile the limbs of the orcs gradually cracked open. An ogre was tough enough to not immediately fold against such a basic application, although they were still rendered immobile.
I didn’t pay the monsters that hadn’t yet died any mind for the moment as I crouched against a collapsed ranger. My instincts told me the adventurer was still alive, so I healed him with my vines, and pushed him toward the others, waving off all the praise.
There were a few more among the fallen that were still salvageable, so I healed them too. Some had lesser injuries, but they had stopped, too wounded to move on. I gave them the strength to stand once again.
“GO!” I shouted at the adventurers who were thinking of coming back now that I was here. Despite the confusion, once someone had heeded my words, the rest just followed without much thought.
I looked at the zombies that were still alive, whose ires were now targeted at me. The orcs already could not stand on their own, and more roots rose up to crush their heads like a melon. I looked at the ogre who must’ve been the hardest challenge for the mortal to slayer rank adventurers, and I felt at my connection to the vines wrapping it up through my feet. I willed more power through our connection, and the roots obeyed, constricting further and bringing my enemy low. I snapped its neck… and then crushed the skull, once I remembered that I was dealing with a zombie.
It was pretty fun being this overpowered, although I would soon meet my match I was sure. I decided to explore this floor a little bit more, just to feel for a little longer how powerful I’d truly become.
~~~
Fortune smiled upon me as I managed to get a glimpse of the dungeon taking a direct hand in reconstructing its domain. It was rare for them to construct floors that would require the use of such powers in bulk, where the process would have to be in view of the visitors.
The world pulsed, and the conquered village I had arrived at shifted. I looked in awe as the previously blood-stained streets littered with the unmoving corpses of zombies and a few adventurers became twisted, as if reality itself were confused.
Another pulse followed, and then another. Zombies lying prone were made to stand back up, the damage done to their bodies were painted over anew. Blood disappeared from the streets, buildings were mended and repaired, and the dead adventurers ceased to exist.
It was a sight that never seized to amaze. Magic was often seen as miraculous by people unused to it, but this was what a miracle was to a mage.
More pulses of power followed, each dwarfing what meager strength I’ve acquired for myself. The world twisted further according to the dungeon’s desire, until it reached an abstract state close to what it was intended to be. Reality reasserted itself then, it snapped back into place. I saw down the hill the sight I expected to see, of a walled village overrun by zombies.
It’s time.
I walked up to the new creation, with the intent to destroy. I remembered when my one and true party passed through here, and both Flowar and Leon got injured. I healed them to the best of my ability, but it wasn’t perfect. We should’ve turned back then, but they convinced the rest of us that it was alright and that we would be fine.
They were wrong.
This time the zombies wouldn’t even get the chance. Not that I would ever be in danger, but I just wished to rage against the fate that once happened here. I reached the village but I was not by the gates, rather on the opposite side of it. Most of the zombies were concentrated near the entrance, and they had no way to climb over their own walls. Which meant I just had to attack them from here.
My trunk-like boots shifted, roots grew out from the bottom of them and sunk into the ground. I became quite literally rooted in place, but in exchange my powers were majorly enhanced. I was connected to every root, and I felt the world through them as the goblins simply fell apart under their touch. Orcs lasted mere seconds as they were squeezed by the embrace of my vines, and the zombies were driven into pandemonium as they started hacking at my roots, but the damage was superficial, and I was able to regrow them easily enough.
My range reached far in this state, covering the entire village. Soon I metaphorically arrived near the ogre guards. A few heavier blows landed on my roots, which I knew to be from them, but a few tugs and the monsters were easily brought to their knees. More roots followed, and they were ripped limb from limb, until finally I cracked their heads open like eggs in my palm. The way forward was finally clear.
I let out a breath, and withdrew my boots from the ground, shifting them back to weird but functional shoes for walking. I circled back toward the gate, and I marveled at my handiwork. From the broken architecture, as if ravaged by time and nature. The zombies were all destroyed, no longer clinging to existence, but inert as they should be. Not a single one ever discovered that I was hiding behind their town, instead they attacked an enemy that wasn’t even there. Their home served as their own cage for the slaughter.
I stepped into the town hall, and toward the portal leading to the next floor.