I. Uh.

Hm.

The webweavers scuttled away from my presence, their thoughts singing with praise as I rather hesitantly inched my way between them. Their dismembered brethren was very dead, killed by venom at least before he'd lost his limbs, but it was rather clear this had been a planned death.

So. That was something.

They turned their eight eyes in the vague direction of my point of awareness as I reached out, dissolving the dead arachnid's body; the webweaver schema flowed through me, bright and rich with information. They knew which of them were egglayers but only used neutral pronouns, seeing themselves as mere limbs of some Great Spider below, not worthy of identity or thoughts or dreams. They only existed to serve me.

I did the mental equivalent of an uncomfortable cough.

Followers. True followers, the ones that my latent dragon-heart knew I wanted, but. Well. When I'd thought of kobolds worshiping me, it had always been the vague idea of endless pampering and going out into the wide world to bring me more silver for my hoard. It hadn't exactly included ritualistic sacrifice.

But.

I'd accept it? I suppose?

Their ghostly white bodies skittered after me as I not-quite fled from the scene. I certainly wasn't fleeing. They were my creations, I was their creator, and I absolutely refused to be unnerved by whatever society they were building within that twisting web.

I tested the schema out far away from that particular tree, though.

The newest spider of my halls blinked and looked around, a neat eleven mana sitting under its pale carapace; not a terrible cost, but certainly not one I'd be continuing to spend. I'd let them reproduce on their own. I gave it a sharp little prod of the mind, sending it skittering back to the original tree, and promptly left that side of my dungeon.

I only got about halfway before something else pinged my attention.

A point of awareness, hovering over the Underlake, turned as something shifted at the edge of its vision. The lone silverhead who'd escaped from her school swam closer, curious, and my point of awareness got a front row seat as a chunk of stone shot from the darkness and impaled clean through her scale-protected head.

Interesting.

A new fish swam through the cove entrance; two feet long, bright yellow interlaced with black and grey stripes, with a narrow mouth and wide, swelling cheeks. It shot forward with whatever the exact opposite of caution was, looking all the world like it owned the place, and its gaze drifted over another poor silverhead just minding its own business near the roof. Its cheeks swelled.

Another spike of stone shot out of its mouth and struck it dead.

Well, now that was an insult I wouldn't be leaving unanswered.

Certainly not a threat on the level of Seros or the sarco, but I rather gently spread the knowledge there was an intruder through the floor, pushing barely even a suggestion into my creatures' minds, nowhere near a command. If they were at all interested in fighting some new threat, they were welcome to try.

As typical, a small army of creatures perked their heads up and swam to engage.

The silver krait arrived on scene first, snaking through the bloodline kelp; but interestingly enough, he only took a moment to eye the size of this new fish before giving up on it, swimming back to his den. A handful of greater crab hatchlings glared in frustration at the invader far above their own miniscule heights. Even the cloudskipper wisp paused in her endless running, two ear-like growths of mist cocking to the side as she stared through the water.

But it was a school of silvertooths that made the first move.

Already kicking into a blood-frenzy as the two silverhead corpses drifted to the sandy floor, dozens of them swarmed forward with red fins flailing. The fish inhaled again, cheeks bulging strangely past the various stone chunks it'd apparently just stuffed in there, and started firing. Even the silvertooths, with their increased armour and raw power, couldn't survive a single hit; lifeless some fell as the rest of the school charged.

The fish rather quickly figured out that this strategy wasn't going to work and gave it up, spinning on its tail and darting for the entrance; but the same pressure that had welcomed it so invitingly now fought against it, just enough of a current kicked up that it had to struggle to make it back to the entrance.

And silvertooths, while not particularly smart, were rather fast.

They fell upon it in a frenzy of teeth, ripping through its scales and fins with a fury. It had perhaps a second to regret its decision before it died.

The only one who regretted their decision was me, however, as I had to hurriedly dive into the midst of fangs and try to dissolve the damn thing's corpse before it was fully consumed. Bloody silvertooths.

The school snapped at each other, confusion not really a recognizable emotion past their frenzy, but the mana from the kill was enough to soothe their ruffled fins and soon they swam back off, hunting for a more tangible kill to satiate their hunger. Good riddance. Another second and I might've lost the schema.

Speaking of.

Triggerfish (Common)

Ill-tempered at best, it spits shards of stone, coral, bone, or whatever it can get at its enemies, aiming for soft spots like gills or eyes. In a pinch, it'll even use its own scales as ammunition.

Well. That description certainly fit the cantankerous little beastie I'd seen. Fitting, really; narcissism aside, it had killed a truly impressive amount of silverheads and tooths without gaining so much as a scratch. As powerful as my monsters were, they were still only learning how to deal with ranged threats; something that this triggerfish would definitely give them a challenge.

Its schema was fascinating; much like some of my other creatures who used mana to enhance their abilities, it wasn't just spitting the projectiles. The inner linings of its gills were stuffed full with water-attuned mana and a second before it fired, it spat a thin stream of mana to clear the way. Then its next shot practically flew in a perfectly aimed path with no obstacles and in fact being sped up by the mana, and promptly embedded itself into some poor thing's skull. The triggerfish rarely missed.

Fascinating. I wondered what it could do with ice-attuned mana; would icicles be more effective? Not saying that stone and coral wasn't, mind, but I–

I froze. Coral.

My points of awareness darted back through the Underlake, digging hurriedly through its projectiles; but rather heartbreakingly, it was only chunks of stone and silt. Not a single polyp of coral in sight. Bastard.

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But it would do well on this floor. Coral fish though it was, and its yellow would be a bit flashy when surrounded by the majority silver-grey that filled the Underlake, I had no doubt it would scrape out a living here. A quick glance back at my core confirmed I had thirty points left; enough for a handful. I doubted they were a schooling fish, anyway.

A dozen bloomed to existence under my watchful eye, burnished gold instead of yellow because yes I still enjoyed making changes, and promptly swam off to wreck more havoc. I watched a group of them dart through a tunnel, their stripes catching the algae-light; another aggressive breed. They matched with the silvertooths, great crabs, and roughwater sharks; a floor full of swarming monsters, ready to attack at a moment, and underneath lurked other dangers, with the electric eels, silver krait, and mimic jellyfish. And then above, ever casting his enormous shadow beneath, the sarco crocodile loomed.

Compared to the previous two floors, it was far more dangerous. Even getting past the murky water and choking presence of the bloodline kelp, or the dragging currents and crushing hole in the center, or the twisting tunnels with no air spots and the wavering lure of the algae-light would be a nigh impossible task for any terrestrial invader. Then my creatures rather beautifully came in to complete the deal.

It had come quite a ways from its humble beginnings.

I knew that sealing it would mean I would be limited in my changes for the future, kept from constantly upgrading it and strengthening it and keeping it going; and when I moved my core down to the fifth floor it would weaken somewhat, my ambient mana decreased, but I knew it was ready. My focus would be for later floors, greater floors, and this one would hold as it needed to do.

So I gathered my Otherworld mana around me and spread it through this floor, infusing into the limestone and water and creatures; I drank deep of the chill, the brackish tinge, the pale light. I let the auras of all the beasts flow through me, brushing each of their minds.

Thankfully, I already had a name picked out.

The Underlake.

The title settled deep into the floor, rooting into the stone like a living thing. Every creature shuddered as their new home became apparent. The Underlake, cruel and unmerciful, sea of predators.

Congratulations! Your floor has attracted the attention of the gods.

Some wish to become Patron of the Underlake. Please choose from the boons they present.

I won't lie, there was a small moment of relief that there were gods willing to sponsor my floor. Considering all the bloody work I'd put into the thing, I certainly would have been devastated if they didn't find this floor up to their liking.

Not that I cared, of course.

Once more I reached up to that intangible thing beyond the message, flying free of my core's restriction and wandering into a vast space, stars too close together and inky purple between; and above, even higher than I could ever reach, floated those same bubbles as before.

Gods.

I slunk my way upward, summoning the best subservience and general thank-you-lords-and-ladies attitude I could muster. It was rather impossible not to feel lesser; they were waiting in this spot for me, their attention turned on my hall, and it was quite a long journey of scrutiny before I managed to get high enough to reach them.

There were more than last time, even though this was an aquatic floor. Seemed like my dungeon was doing well enough to attract more attention. I preened even as I combed through their proffered boons.

A god that reeked of sulfur offered to make the waters of that floor acidic, burning all invaders while my creatures swam unhindered; one with the faint presence of starlight rather lazily said he could turn my waters pitch black, impossible to see through; another extended a gift of ever-shifting rock to pin and trap invaders.

All glorious. I couldn't wait until I had enough power to try some of these tactics out myself.

Some were repeated gods—I remembered the goddess of fireflies from my last floor, though her boon seemed less suited for an aquatic floor—but most were new, and I dove through them all. There would be no decision made off only lacking information.

And so I reached up and brushed against the outer aura of a god. I got a sense of old, fanged teeth; but not teeth, merely stones sticking up from crashing water, the gurgle and rumble of the ocean beyond. Beneath them all something old lurked, something deep and crashing.

Mayalle, Goddess of Whirlpools.

She allowed my fumbling presence with an amusement that carried the weight of centuries. An old god, which made sense; the currents of the ocean had existed long before any sentient races started worshiping.

But as I rather foolishly stumbled around trying to communicate with her, I could see that she wasn't a particularly well-loved goddess; from the knowledge I had received from the merrow's souls, the thirteen gods they all worshiped were gentler beings, caretakers of currents and coral reefs and things that swam. She would have no followers there.

But she wasn't a particularly feared goddess either; for while sailors hated whirlpools, they feared maelstroms far more, and there was a god for that. So it was the one receiving the hesitant sacrifices to keep from destroying ships or ruining towns. Mayalle was left alone.

Which made sense that she was coming to me.

I might have pouted a touch at the thought. Rhoborh hadn't been a well-known god either, and while I was certainly thankful that any deity wanted to bless me at all, it was getting rather irritating only ending up with the slim pickings who couldn't go anywhere else. What kind of floor would I need to create to make the god of the sun pick me?

But there were advantages.

Once more, her option to me was handcrafted, shaped as though she had been watching me—another uniquely horrifying thought—flounder through attempting to do this myself. It wasn't like the goddess of lesser deserts, whose halfhearted offer of a shifting, sand-dune-esque ground seemed quite content to ignore that this was primarily a water-based floor, or the god of sunflowers, who only offered a schema. No, Mayalle had thought about what she offered.

Much like I'd tried to make with the cloudskipper wisp, her boon spoke of twisting currents, but sideways. It funneled directly out from the entrance, tugging all beings out of the cove and into my halls, where it would then push them further in and quite prevent them from getting out. Exactly what I'd done to the triggerfish but actually, you know, effective.

Something perfect to stop all those who wished to leave.

I wished I knew more about the politics of the gods. Why did they care so much about sponsoring dungeon floors? Of course the general meaning that it was a way to spread their mana on Aiqith to attract new priests and worshippers, but why then focus on granting blessings that would make it easier for the dungeon to kill said potential priests and worshippers?

Unless I had any desire in selling my soul to a god, it didn't look like there was a way for me to find out.

But hers was the best. Out of the nearly three dozen options, most others only accented the violence of my floor; it was already plenty aggressive. I needed something to keep their prey stuck.

So I reached out to her, to that old, fanged aura with the weight of centuries, and rather humbly—in my opinion—accepted her mana onto my floor. There was a touch of surprise, as if she hadn't expected me to choose her, then her agreement.

A contract burned between us. She would grant me a boon, I would let her push her mana onto my floor and fulfill future requests she would give me. Typical god stuff. I accepted.

Then the Underlake exploded in power.

Schools were tugged apart as a whirlpool surged to life in their midst, roughwater sharks flailing from their lazy patrols; greater crabs were pushed back, splaying flat against the ground and armourback sturgeons floundering in the depths. The poor cloudskipper wisp barked as the paths she'd once so easily trod now changed, waves stirring on the surface and rupturing all her carefully-shaped clouds. She howled something challenging and started to run again, doggedly starting a one-wisp war against the power of a god. I could respect that.

Rather thoughtfully, the whirlpool's power only extended halfway through my hall; it didn't push invaders all the way to the entrance to the next floor but only to the thick of the bloodline kelp forest, where they'd encounter all manner of other threats. Just something to keep them from leaving.

And so Mayalle's power surged through the Underlake.

I sat back, watching it flow through; my creatures would take some time to adjust, learning this new danger, and would grow stronger because of it. Rotten merrow and other beasts could enter but not leave, and while I was rather positive my presence was already known, now I didn't have to worry about something escaping to spread secrets of my floors, to tell all other invaders of what to do. No more nightmarketers stealing my creatures to resell, no cowards peeking in and out, no creatures deciding they no longer wanted to fight and meandering out. Now I had a whirlpool. And I knew that there was more; much like with Rhoborh's symbiosis, I could feel that there were hidden side effects, little changes I couldn't understand at the beginning but were already spiraling out into massive changes. What would this bring?

…would this much movement help Seros' hydrokinesis? Hm. Something to test.

But for now, I basked in the power of my latest completed floor.