In the end, however, I had to make a decision for the turtle's evolution.

And my decision was made by one single thought—new and fascinating strands of life.

Now, as a dungeon core, I had a certain level of pride in my ability to create life. To weave together strands of mana until creatures emerged on the other side; one of my finer features, if I happened to say so myself. Even as a sea-drake, I had been limited to my form alone, no others around me. Not that I'd needed others, mind. I had been plenty strong.

But now I filled my halls with creatures beyond counting, and some little schema was telling me it had powers in a similar vein.

I doubted it was true creation, or even anything similar, but rather an… adaptation, in a way? Creatures that lived on the reefback turtle's shell could be adapted to live there, to provide defense and offense, to live in harmony. Maybe they would be minor changes, like switching colours to better match the reefback turtle's palette? Or full changes, in a symbiotic relationship like the moss and lichen from before?

Who knew. But it was a fascinating question—and thusly I curled around the lichenridge turtle, guiding her slow, fumbling movements through the water to the lagoon, where she could curl up and avoid larger predators. In the depths, some ten feet deep, she looked like a boulder beneath the crystal blue waters.

There I selected reefback turtle.

She disappeared under a pale glow, her thoughts softening out in a vague idea of change and the impression of rolling blue seas with white sands. What a little delight—she knew exactly what her new home held for her.

Her schema spoke of carrying full ecosystems on her back, swimming close to sunlight—or quartz-light, in my case—to give them nourishment.

And.

I wasn't one to particularly hedge my bets, since there was always a chance to be proven wrong and that was simply not allowed to occur, but still, the thought lingered. Because carrying ecosystems on your back was many, many steps away, but still did I know of the world-holding turtles, enormous beings almost beyond comprehension, with full islands or even continents adrift through the sea by their mighty power.

Were they around today? Unlikely. Even in the aftermath of the Dead War, where much of what was known had been destroyed and the new countries were young, squabbling things fighting over the scraps of empires crushed under the weight of the War, it was difficult for whole islands to come and go without being noticed. And I, as the greatest sea-drake, would certainly have noticed if some turtle thinking itself a landmass had meandered onto my territory.

But they had existed, and that meant, much like the terror-beast that fed on dragons of ages past, I could recreate them.

I curled a few more points of awareness around the evolving turtle and slipped back to the rest of my floors. More creatures kept spilling into my lovely coral reefs; prismatic dartfish in glimmering, billowing clouds, but also as young fry, lurking in the lagoon and terrified of all shadows. Roughwater sharks, far too brutish to ever survive long enough to evolve in the Underlake, now prowled overhead with an elegance to their movements that hadn't been there before. Greater crabs, ungainly in new waters, scuttled over capturing coral reefs with pincers outstretched. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

I hadn't yet decided on a name for them—anytime I tried, I ended up with something that only described one of the rooms, rather than them all. A curious problem. It could be interesting work, be a dungeon core. Little difficulties like that.

But soon there would be new creatures on this floor, as shown by the parade happening up in the midst of the Jungle Labyrinth.

All two dozen freshly evolved kobolds had finally made it past the Underlake, even with their terrible swimming abilities. Red scales and all, they were undoubtedly fire-drake descendants, the fools. It had been almost painful watching them flounder through the Underlake.

How hard could it possibly be to figure out swimming?

But still they had made it, shaking themselves as water sprayed off their scales, the shamans making annoyed warbles as their crown of feathers were soaked through. I hoped they'd get used to that, considering the lagoon was incredibly full of water.

And that wasn't all, because as the dozen and a half kobolds picked themselves up and made plans to continue delving deeper, something else emerged from the Jungle Labyrinth. Tall, lean, with violet scales and twisting horns, Rihsu peered through the darkness.

Ever the leader, Chieftess marched to the front of her group, ready to engage whatever threat was coming to attack her people, before she seemingly recognized who was in front of her.

Chieftess and Rihsu stared at each other.

Rihsu was the larger of the two, lean and powerful with deep maroon scales, but the Chieftess was more lizard-esque, with blood-red scales, charcoal spines down her back, and eyes gold like an arrow's fletching. Both were far different from the squalling little kobolds that had first come to existence in my halls.

I poked into both their heads, examining their thoughts. Which were particularly flavourful, in a way. Chieftess knew Rihsu, admired her strength, but she had evolved as well—they were on more even footing, and she didn't know what to expect from Rihsu now. With her tribe, though much reduced in number, behind her, she was prepared to fight if it came to that.

Rihsu, on the other hand, was mostly confused. She had noticed something changing, which was why she had come to these higher floors, and here she had found the shift. She was no longer the strongest of the kobolds.

And she was not particularly pleased at that fact. Her eyes narrowed to slits, the webbing between her claws flexing as she brought them up to her sides; Chieftess stiffened as Rihsu uncoiled, ready to attack, ready to prove herself–

Not happening.

My mana burned and coiled between them, lashing out in great billowing waves; a tangible air barrier snapped into existence between the lot, a horrible, inefficient use of mana, but it did the job. Rihsu snarled as her claws bounced off, the air straining to hold her back.

As much as I loved watching my creatures fight and grow stronger, I wouldn't be having these two go off and murder each other. Chieftess needed to lead her tribe and Seros needed Rihsu as a follower.

And, more importantly, I had a task for her.

I poked my way into her skull, extending tendrils of mana; it should be simple enough to tell her my instructions, to get this all wrapped up–

Hm.

I pushed a little harder.

Nothing happened.

It had been such a pleasant day I'd almost forgotten that Rihsu had sworn herself away from me. I could still read her thoughts, somewhat, but even now I couldn't tell nearly as much as I could from Chieftess. Just a lingering sense as opposed to proper thoughts.

And I couldn't instruct her.

Why had I allowed her to live, again?

But it was, at least, not an unsolvable problem. I reached deep through my soul, through the Otherworld connection that sang endlessly with a crooning tune, and summoned my eldest Named creature.

After only a minute, Seros emerged from the tunnels.

He arose like a beast of old, droplets shimmering over his scales, frills extended and eyes burning through the dark. I, quite neatly, had overlaid the previous interaction in his head so he knew what he was coming into, and his gaze was fixed on Rihsu. His claws tore deep into the limestone as he arrived, and mist steamed off his scales—oh, was that hydrokinesis? Was he purposely creating mist to look more impressive? He was more draconic by the day—and even Chieftess averted her eyes.

She needs to guide them down, I whispered through our connection. It wasn't technically true—Chieftess could find her own way to the sixth floor, but I preferred this. Rihsu could help train the other kobold warriors and they could teach her more about tools and strategy. It wasn't looking to be an alliance, judging by Rihsu's reaction to the other kobolds, but it could at least be a truce.

Seros nodded, striding forward until he was closer. He towered over them both, horns arched primly in. He extended the frills trailing down his neck and something– something moved in the halls, something deep and old, blanketing the air around them like a physical presence.

Rihsu dropped to a bow, head lowered, tail going perfectly still. She hardly dared breathe.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I, with only a small amount of smugness, sprawled overhead with all my points of awareness. Even if she wouldn't listen to me, on account of swearing her soul to another, the one she had sworn to was still listening to me. Though it took a bit of roundabout communication, my orders would still go through.

Seros was a kinder being than I had been as a dragon, though. After a moment, he let up on his gravitas, the pressure disappearing from Rihsu's back, her tail beginning to move again even as she kept her head lowered.

A dragon's presence was a fickle thing. Dragon-fear was known and feared, and it wasn't based on nothing; it was a true, physical power that seized at the heart and tore at the confidence. Then there was dragon-awe, a speechless wonder beyond clouds and stars; dragon-courage, where the weak became mighty and the mighty became gods; dragon-fury, in which cities burned and coastlines crumbled; and a whole other slew of emotions that were so powerful they could only be called draconic.

That was due to gravitas.

Dragons carried a certain… weight around the world with them. Something heavy and ancient, older than the being that commanded it; and here, Seros had found what small scrap he could summon in this form. Not for everyone, hardly even a prickle, but for Rihsu, his sworn follower, she felt it.

So now she bowed in apology and awe. Message received.

Seros stepped back, giving her room to function, and Rihsu clambered back onto her claws. She warbled something low in her throat, horns raised high and proud, but she would obey Seros—and me, though she didn't know it.

Chieftess stepped forward, claws curling like she wanted to hold a staff but had none, and inclined her head. A leader to a warrior.

Rihsu's forked tongue lashed behind her lips, but she turned on her heel and started the long march down to the sixth floor, to the lagoon that would be the kobolds new home. Not Rihsu's home, if her little display today hadn't made it abundantly clear she had no interest in rejoining her old tribe, but for Chieftess and her followers.

A little rivalry would be good for them. Rihsu hadn't been pushed in a while, and I was curious how she would respond to this.

But for now, she led them down, cutting through the endless identical tunnels with the confidence that training her for weeks had granted her. She knew the way, and though these kobolds would likely never have a reason to rise above the sixth floor, they would at least have a chance at making it through themselves. Maybe.

I had worked very hard on making the Jungle Labyrinth as confusing as possible. If they could at least struggle a little, that would be very appreciated for my ego.

But with Seros here, there was one more task I had for him. His thoughts drifted towards curiosity as I instructed him to head up to the Drowned Forest, but he slipped into the Underlake with nary a splash. The armoured jawfish snapped at him but he directed the currents to spiral up, emerging into the canals and poking his head up, swimming through with brief lashes of his finned tail to propel him forth with a speed none of my other creatures could manage.

He pulled himself onto shore in the first room of the second floor, shaking water droplets off his scales, and turned to face the creature that had come charging the instant she had felt someone approaching her Ancestral Tree.

All jagged claws and slavering fangs and pure white eyes, the vampiric dryad crept through the halls of my Drowned Forest. Already she had encountered a kobold hunting party, and alongside her crimson-bark protection over her skin, several scales had been stuck there like some kind of grisly trophy. She had slain the kobolds then dragged the corpses back to her Ancestral Tree, letting them bleed over the roots, and consuming only the last drops for herself.

Not a terribly effective system, considering she was doing all the work and needed more sustenance, but her thoughts were full of only feverish devotion and I doubt I could have convinced her otherwise. The Tree got the majority.

And now I had to convince her to let me move said Tree.

Which. She was a sentient race, there was no doubt about that, but she lacked the certain… elegance that led to sapience. On her way, certainly, but not there yet. Which made reasoning with her particularly irritating.

Safe, I crooned, again, like I could just keep doing it and eventually it'd get through her idiotic skull. Here, unsafe. Need distance from opening.

Her pure white eyes flicked to the entrance of the floor—the entrance in which her Ancestral Tree sat, a whole whopping one floor from where adventurers could enter. She, the dryad, could live and die without consequence; but if the Tree was attacked, they both went down. So, for all that the Drowned Forest was the perfect hunting grounds, the Tree could no longer be there.

And besides, the dryad was free to travel however she wished. I just needed to move the Tree.

Move down, I said. More prey beneath. More blood.

She snarled wordlessly at the nearest wall, like I was just crouched behind it like some gremlin. Very rude.

Seros stepped forward, tail flicking from side to side as his frills extended. His lanturn-esque eyes burned beneath the quartz-light. He rumbled something that echoed through his chest—something convincing, or at least what he thought was—and inclined his head down.

My little diplomat. There was a reason I had Named him.

The back-and-forth went on for a while, the dryad hissing objections that mostly boiled down to I don't want you near my Tree and Seros arguing that they had a vested interest in keeping her Tree alive, me poking my own opinion in to show her brilliant images of the lagoon and the other trees growing throughout the atole. A paradise.

Then I hammered home all the various tunnels that she could use to go to other floors, and have access to ample amounts of blood.

She hissed, claws flexing, but eventually nodded. Begrudgingly. Frustratingly. With ample amounts of anger.

Such a wonderful creature. That stubbornness would carry her far, just so long as I didn't have to keep fighting it.

Seros rumbled, then walked closer to her Tree. She hovered beside him, fangs drooling sap, every thought like a lightning bolt of watching him. Not a single branch would be bent by Seros or she would kill him.

Well, she could certainly try, but a draconic monitor would not be felled so easily.

My mana sunk into the limestone, loosening it in sprays of dirt and silt; the vampiric mangrove shuddered as its roots were pried free, leaves shaking, and Seros shuffled closer until he was right beneath it. The tree wasn't too tall, only twenty feet or so and identical to a regular vampiric mangrove—likely a hidden method to protect it in its dryadic infancy, to keep pillagers from finding it before it could properly defend itself—with a thin trunk and not too much weight to it.

Which was why my plan would work.

I was, admittedly, a little apologetic—Seros had just started to come into his own as a proper beast of the world, a tangible presence on Aiqith, and I was making him do manual labour like some common beast of burden. Not, ah, particularly draconic.

But it was important.

So on I urged him, singing through our soul's shared connection, and with bared fangs and talons that dug through the stone, Seros managed to haul the bulk of the Tree onto his back.

The dryad chittered angrily on the sidelines.

It wasn't elegant nor sightful; he had settled the trunk over the spines on his back, which meant the pure white leaves stuck out over his head like an elderly bird's crest and thorned roots dragged alongside his tail, kicking up spurs of dirt. Seros, for his part, bore it silently—at least on the outside. His soul sang a song of irritation loud enough I was surprised the dryad couldn't hear it.

But he understood the importance, so, hefting the trunk over his back and every frill trembling with the effort, Seros started to trudge his way down.

My mana—almost half full, I'd been saving for this particular event—ate into the surrounding limestone and made a tunnel for him, carving away until it was wide enough for him to pass through. Immediately afterward, I regrew the limestone and added some jagged stalactites for good measure; it was not to be an open pathway. Just for Seros to make it through with his precious burden.

Well, Seros and the vampiric dryad, who stalked at his heels like a winterwolf. Her fangs stayed bared, dripping sap like saliva, but she understood the message I'd crammed into her skull and didn't attack. Just loomed behind him like a vengeful ghost.

A mite protective, her. Useful in every other circumstance except that which I had to challenge.

One day I would have to move her Ancestral Tree again, considering the reefs were not necessarily made for her and this was not the prime hunting grounds for someone of her strength, but that would be in the far off future. And, I imagined, it would be the last time I was able to move her. Trees were, by their nature, rather stationary things, and it was only through my cradling mana that the Tree would be surviving this journey. If they kept evolving, it would soon reach a point where I could no longer move it while keeping them both alive.

Seros lumbered past the Underlake, emerging into the choking tunnels of the fourth floor. He had to slither low on his haunches and I had to soothe the insipid mind of the thornwhip algae to not attack him or the dryad, but they made it through with only relatively few lost leaves and twisted thorns. The Skylands were much the same; every beast froze to watch the progression, even that faux beast-tamer kobold with the scorching hound he still hadn't managed to convince onto his side, and Seros managed to raise his head proudly even with a full tree's weight resting on it.

The dryad, for her part, just hissed. Most creatures backed away after that.

But then they emerged onto the sixth floor, with crystal waters and diamond sands, distant rooms echoing with the haunting cries of greater pigeons and the lash of waves kicked up by cloudskipper wisps. A hungry place, one with no lack of both food and those that desired it.

Hm. That flowed nicely.

Seros slipped into the water, his hydrokinesis keeping him and the Tree well above the surface as they glided through. The dryad snarled, pacing on the edge, before diving in herself; her crimson-plate bark armour protected her from getting too waterlogged, and she swam with awkward, slashing movements of her jagged limbs. Not an elegant creature, she, but an efficient one. With Seros' mighty burden, she almost managed to beat him to the lagoon.

The lagoon in which I'd raised a very special island. Right at the center of the atole, not in front of the kobold den but in the furthest section back of the second room, an island with nothing on it. A wide, sprawling island, built onto a coral reef like the rest of the atole, with room to grow and spread and conquer.

It was this island that Seros hauled himself up on, claws sinking into the pure white sand. My mana reached out and collapsed a hole before him, intermixing soil alongside the sand, carving openings for water to run through the roots instead of choking it off in only land. Still a mangrove, even if the dryad had switched from whatever its other path would have been.

So Seros rumbled, deep and low in his chest, and shifted to the side until the Tree fell, with a thump, into the hole.

With shaking, shuddering branches, the Ancestral Tree sank into its new home.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but the vampiric mangroves and cloudsire palms nearby seemed to react, a slight twitch of their branches in a breeze not strong enough to manifest it. There was no Rhoborh's boon here, no symbiosis connecting them as one, but it felt similar to how a rabbit always knew if a fox was nearby. A predator unleashed in a room of prey.

They didn't have blood, but they had sap, and perhaps the dryad would find a taste for that as well.

But either way, the Ancestral Tree took root in the Hungering Reef, and the dryad set out to hunt anew.