Chapter 46: Connections
Monday, April 3rd, 7:31 PM
Dungeon Ciara
When Mitch touched the harbor’s waters I sent my aquatic minions to intercept. Seems like there’s always another Nicolas…
You attacked Michael and tried to stab my former student, Rachel Wallace.
You. Are. Prey, I hissed as I let my Dungeon mind take charge.
The four Hellmouth bass I’d recalled arrived quickly to greet Mitch in the harbor channel. As Mitch neared the shore opposite my Dungeon, while the UCSC students were distracted asking Joe about his healing, I had my shark-mouthed fish pull him under so six of my Nemesis crabs could latch onto his hands, feet, and clothing.
My minions dragged Mitch wide-eyed to the bottom, then my crabs held him fast while the Hellmouth bass tore his body to pieces like giant piranhas. When they finished, I absorbed the evidence.
The Dungeon inside me calmed, and I felt zero guilt for my actions.
Nobody harms my humans without consequences, and anyone who tries to kill them will die.
I’d been savage with Mitch’s punishment, but I couldn’t see a more logical option. He tried to murder one of my former students, even after being put in his place twice. There was no way I’d let him try again—the way things had escalated, he probably would’ve come back shooting.
After Joe and Mike led the new arrivals to my fruit orchard, I absorbed the snow from the other side of the harbor so there’d be no way to tell whether Mitch had climbed out and wandered off.
Done and done.
I’ll need extra beds for the students.
I shaped and furnished a new set of houses closer to the harbor gate, just far enough from the occupied buildings to avoid interference from human auras.
After the new arrivals had received a basic orientation for how things worked at the Dungeon, they retired to the housing I’d provided, and many of them paired up into rooms. They were much more energetic in their bedroom activities than the first big group of survivors I’d taken in.
Ah, youth. I shrugged.
A late encroaching fog obscured the dark silhouettes of fishing vessels.
[Hey, Mike… those boats you and Joe were watching—they’ve anchored near the Boardwalk.]
“Hm. I still don’t like it,” Mike muttered.
“Yeah, but there’s no way a flotilla of enemy ships could make it past our navy,” said Joe.
“I know. Even after the bombs, our carrier groups and subs can annihilate anything the enemy tries to send. Even if they somehow made it across the ocean, they’d be sitting ducks for our planes once they approached the coast. Still…” Mike scratched his chin.
“If they found a way to distract enough of our military, I suppose,” Joe mused.
“That could only work if they knocked out all satellite communications. I doubt they managed that.” Mike frowned.
“But you never know.” Joe shook his head.
“You never know,” Mike agreed.
The unknown vessels worried me, but I didn’t know what I could do aside from growing stronger. With that in mind, I considered how to fill out my minion ranks. The frustrating thing was that Giant Pacific octopuses were still beyond the scope of my mana capacity.
“I have a suggestion, my dear Silt Siphon.”
[Ah! Sven…]
He smiled.
[You do it on purpose, don’t you?]
“I’m not sure what you’re on about, Melting Pot.” Sven gave a toothy grin.
I sighed.
[Fine, Limp Lizard, what’s your suggestion?]
“Finish your second floor and start a third.”
[That’s it?]
“Have you lost touch with your instinct, Dungeon?” Sven deadpanned.
[No. But I haven’t finished creating minions for my second floor, and—]
“Finish your second floor. Gain strength… while you can.” Sven disappeared.
My instinct had been pushing me in that direction the entire time, but I’d been holding out for a big cat. Of course, I had one of those in my Dungeon, but Siobhán snatched Peanut right in front of me because I’d opened my big mouth… Stone. Thing.
There was no way I could bring myself to murder her new pet.
Damn Sven. He’s probably right. And my Soybean’s just being herself.
I brought up the minion creation interface.
What do I need? Sven’s pushing for me to get stronger. My most effective minions so far have been…
I crafted another spider minion for my Redwood Forest, but this was different. Instead of being 300% as large as normal, its Argiope body size was 500%. I changed the coloration to match the bark of redwood trees but left its black pattern, and instead of replacing its venom glands, I added the Black Widow’s to what it already had.
That way, these could inject either toxin, or both.
Now, what to call them? Brown and Red Widow spiders are already a thing. Red Woodow? Hah. No, but my dad would’ve approved.
Canopy Crawler.
Eighteen Canopy Crawlers received spawn points atop trees spread through my second floor. Their first order was to build a network of silken highways with which they could move from tree to tree and access my minion tunnels to reach the surface. Larger and faster than my Dire Widows, the Canopy Crawlers made quick work of the task while I pondered the design of my final minion for the second floor.
Their camouflage turned out better than I’d hoped. After building massive orb webs between the trees bearing Argiope’s signature zigzag ornamentation, my new spider minions effectively disappeared from view as they nestled their bodies into creases in the redwood bark.
One of these would probably make an effective boss for this floor, although…
I made one more Canopy Crawler in my core room, but changed her primary color to a handsome slate-gray with jet-black legs and a deep-blue hourglass on her belly.
So pretty! I think I’ll call you… yikes. Not yet!
I’d almost named her on the spot.
That could have been devastating with so many humans in my houses—especially since most of them are busy socializing and mating. They’d never see a surprise attack coming.
All my minions received orders to pull back into the Dungeon, with half my Nemesis crabs carrying a large quantity of mana-rich seafood they could dispatch as soon as I named my second-floor boss.
When preparations were complete, I said her name.
Midnight. My new boss shone with blue light and grew as large as Nita.
Hunger threatened as my mana plummeted to thirty percent, but this time, I endured. Barely. My crabs killed their catch, and the danger passed.
My minions resumed their usual operations while I had Midnight construct a web to guard my core.
Her solution was fascinating—a series of individual, interlocking orb webs six meters across behaved like gossamer facets against the sides of the spherical space. Two more webs blocked the entry, and she lined the remaining surfaces with silk to help her move quickly through the room.
Midnight’s size, coloration, and movement speed were all impressive. Accelerating from a dead stop along one of her silken lines, my new boss could cross the entire twelve-meter diameter of my core room, to rest against the opposite wall in just over three seconds.
As a final touch, I dilated all ninety-six of the tunnels I’d made between the false cores so that Midnight could duck inside and reappear from any of them.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
With my boss complete and busying herself with improvements to her lair, I checked to see if I could dig deeper than 250 meters.
Ah, it feels wonderful to descend. The Dungeon in me cooed.
My vertical test tunnel eventually stopped.
450-meters depth. That’s better than I expected. I might be able to do what I wanted, after all.
I hollowed out a two-kilometer minion tunnel that ran beneath New Brighton State Beach, twenty meters below the depth of my core room.
Two humans entered through the Crow’s Nest, headed toward my crickets and bunnies.
Ah, Bruce O’Neill.
I recalled the dark-haired young man’s name from an earlier conversation while observing and vetting the students to identify troublemakers. To my relief, none appeared to have bad intentions, save the one I’d already dealt with.
Bruce walked beside Rachel Wallace, whose head rested against his shoulder.
Where are they going? That tunnel leads to training areas…
They ducked inside a side alcove to kiss. Rachel pulled Bruce’s hand to her breast, broke the kiss, and whispered, “Get in.”
Oh. I see.
They dropped their pants and Rachel leaned against a wall, sticking her butt out as Bruce positioned himself.
“Dungeon sex,” cooed Rachel with a mischievous grin. She shot Bruce a wink and pushed back open-mouthed as he entered her with a grunt, and I returned to my business.
At least it doesn’t bother me to see these things. It’s nice that I’m a Dungeon since I don’t feel embarrassed about witnessing it.
Michael and Rihelah had cured me of that with their antics.
Eighty-one times in half a day? How in the hell can they manage that?
I knew it must be the magic.
My old body would’ve landed in the ER if I’d laid with a man who had half of Michael’s energy.
I looked thoughtfully at the couple in my Dungeon. Rachel stared back, open-mouthed, softly moaning as Bruce undulated behind her.
Nope. It doesn’t bother me anymore. In fact, it’s nice to see humans doing things that aren’t cruel or violent. As long as Rachel’s into it, Bruce can screw her all he wants.
I chuckled.
My old self would’ve died from embarrassment. And envy.
Despite my words, I frowned when Bruce pulled Rachel’s hair, and she cried out.
Still, it’d be nice to experience that for myself—if I had a body. I should’ve dated while I was a young woman when men showed so much interest in me. Heh. It’s easy to say so, now that I’m so aggressive… but I completely lacked the guts to do anything while I was human.
They did some maneuver where Rachel jumped at Bruce and he caught her before they continued.
Wow, that was skillful. Sex looks fun.
At least they’re enjoying it. I probably would’ve, too…
I sighed, staring at my core.
Oh, well. Nothing to be done about it now. At least I’m pretty.
By dawn, I’d hollowed out half the space for my third floor. There was a lot of hollowing out required between the places I’d outlined with tunnels and that was fairly mindless work, so I looked around while I continued.
Michael and Rihelah had already begun their morning ritual—meaning that Rihelah was in the open-mouthed process of easing her lower half onto Michael’s proud salute. I was about to look away, when Rihelah spoke and her words caught my attention.
“So, how long do you think it’ll be—mm, you feel amazing—before Joe gives in?” She rocked her hips back and forth after her pelvis met Michael’s.
Michael replied, “Uh… I dunno? Maybe after Joe’s done healing?”
“But Siobhán’s super gorgeous, and she adores him. How can Joe resist her?”
“You’re prettier.” Michael smiled at her.
She smacked his shoulder. “I know what you think, Mantis Brain, but—mm—yes. Like that.”
Michael remained silent, playfully smirking as he worked inside her.
“Aren’t men basically willing all the time, though? Mm. So good.” Rihelah chewed her bottom lip.
“Not every man’s like that.” Michael shrugged.
“But you are.” She winked.
“Only for you.” Michael grinned.
“Mm. I love you, Michael.” Rihelah bent to kiss him.
I’m happy for my Ryebean.
Joe lay in bed, frowning at the ceiling, his fists clenched tight as tears leaked down his temples. Aside from when he learned he could never bring his wife back, Joe had remained impressively stoic—though I worried he bottled up too much.
Then again, I didn’t know enough about men to understand how they handled grief. Most of them seemed to loathe crying in front of women, and I understood that, in my own way.
There were times when men I’d felt attraction for had ugly-cried near me while I was alive—mostly during my undergraduate studies. Despite each having a good reason—they’d lost dear friends or family members in each case—my feelings for those men had always changed in the aftermath. I began thinking of them as mere friends rather than potential husbands. I’d rejected the three who showed interest and convinced myself it was because they only wanted one thing.
That was a lie. They were decent, kind men.
My Dungeon mind had a much easier time processing those painful thoughts, and, for the first time, I did so without shutting down and blocking them out.
The truth is, I no longer believed they were worth my time.
That thought stung.
Was I so shallow that I’d stop feeling attraction over something so childish and petty, despite my crippling self-image?
I hated to believe it, but the evidence pointed to that conclusion.
Maybe I wasn’t such a good person.
Siobhán cuddled her extra pillow in the next room, holding it just below her chin as she stared at the wall. She shut her eyes and whispered, “I need to be patient.”
Siobhán’s frown curled toward a smile, but that didn’t last. She whined, “Why can’t I just be supportive?” She sniffled, wiped her snot away, and keened, “I’m so selfish.” Siobhán covered her face with her hands and sobbed quietly.
My sweet Soybean… You’re kinder than you think. None of us are perfect.
Joy was usually stoic, it surprised me to find her curled up like Siobhán. “I’m tall and ugly,” she choked out in near-silence. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and there was a sizable damp patch on the pillow she clutched in her arms. It made my heart ache to see her like this.
“Nobody loves me…” Joy mumbled that familiar, devastating phrase through a whine.
My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I’d thought that Steven’s rejection hurt, but this was worse. Infinitely worse.
My Joybean—she’s living through the same hellish nightmare as I did. I understand her feelings too well. I… lived them—for decades.
How can I help her? Oh!
While she continued her soft, self-deprecating tirade, I placed words on her ceiling in my handwriting.
----------------------------------------
My dearest Joybean,
All my life, I believed the same of myself for being short and plain. I allowed anxiety and self-doubt to consume my time until it ran out. Given our circumstances, there’s no telling how much time we all have left. I hope that you’ll find the courage to give yourself a chance.
You’re a wonderful young woman, and you’re worth it.
—Ciara O’Connor
(A scary murder hole who loves you.)
PS—I understand now, that all my beans, you included, truly love me. I lost my life, became a Dungeon, and you three stood by me without hesitation. If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.
----------------------------------------
I considered sending private messages to Joe and Siobhán as well, but their situation was one I had no experience with. Unlike Michael and Rihelah, those two had only recently become acquainted. So, I left it alone.
Mike was awake, busy with an exercise routine in his room at the surface. I didn’t know what to say since I didn’t currently have business with him. He was gorgeous—probably the most attractive man I’d ever come close to.
But…
I’m not human. It’s all business.
I looked back at the surface.
Bruce had passed out in the fruit orchard, wrapped alone inside a blanket.
Where did Rachel end up sleeping—are you serious?
She was in bed… naked and snoring beside Steven Miller and another young woman.
Ugh. I’m glad I missed that.
----------------------------------------
Floors: 2
Minions: 240/240
Residents: 12/12
Denizens: 66810
Traps: 6/10