The Dungeon Master stared at me for a few moments. “You know, most people who hear that my story starts so long ago say, ‘hey, you look good for five hundred.’ To which I’ll reply that I’m actually six hundred, and I take great pride in keeping up my youthful appearance.”

I wrote this down, but did not speak. Honestly, with his face and skin all blurred out it was hard to tell anything about how old he was. His voice was somewhat youthful and he carried himself in an energetic manner but that could never be used as a basis for assumptions. With a gesture, I indicated that he should continue.

The Dungeon Master frowned, I think, but he continued. “I was brought over to this continent during the exodus of Gnomes from the Southern Continent. Since I didn’t have a physical form, I stowed away in the crystal along with Himia, who I brought with me.”

“A couple of things,” I said, holding up my quill. “The Gnomes came here just under four hundred years ago, not five hundred.”

“Well, I’ve been asleep since then so forgive me if I haven’t been keeping track of time very well,” the Dungeon Master sullenly claimed.

“I suppose I can forgive this one,” I replied, writing that down. A lot more questions were starting to form in my head about the Southern Continent and what caused the Gnomes to flee, but I held them for later. He’d probably answer most of it by just telling his story. “Also, is that the same crystal that has been brought to the center of the Thousand Year Blizzard and features prominently in the story dungeon you trapped me and my team in?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” he answered, and I gestured for him to continue. “When we had fled Delphara, what you now call the Southern Continent, we didn’t have a lot of time. The Gnomes went through great lengths to get me out specifically because of who and what I am. Oh, you probably don’t know what I am, do you?”

“We don’t have any records of someone like you that I’m aware of, no,” I confirmed. “Though I’m sure Berald, the place where Razorbeak stole you from, has some records hidden fairly deep in the archives about you.”

I watched the Dungeon Master’s posture tense at the mention of Berald, and took note of it. “I’ll get to Berald,” he said lowly. “Back in Delpharat, I was what is known as a Dungeonborn. Well, that’s what my father called us. He was always a strange man. A Human, not a Gnome. Always tinkering on things in a workshop far out of the way, but dignitaries would come and visit every so often. His name was Keith Carr.”

“Is that him as your story dungeon’s mayor?” I asked. Then I frowned. "And you choose to portray him as a chubby skirt chaser?"

“Based on him, but he’s been dead for centuries now. He left me with, well...." He shook his head. I sensed some familial tension, but didn't push. Ultimately, it didn't matter what kind of relationship the Dungeon Master had with his father. "Dad also created Himia, although she always disagreed with him on that. She said they came here together, and then he’d sigh and change the subject and hear nothing more of it.”

“Came here from where?”

“I… don’t know. Whenever I tried to get Himia to elaborate, she'd refuse,” the Dungeon Master responded slowly. “He was always making something miraculous, like a battery that could store the sun’s light to use at night or a stone slab that records books and lets you read them later. I gave my dad's personal one to Ori in an attempt to court her. Oristrella, I mean. I'm really taken with her."

"Focus, please," I requested.

"Right, sorry. Well, whenever he'd make something like that he’d get this wistful, far-off look and tell us that it came from someplace far away that he could never get back to. We’d be concerned every time he got like that, but Himia told us not to worry.”

“We,” I repeated, catching onto that word once it was separated from Himia.

“Yes, we,” he confirmed with a nod. “As a Dungeonborn, well, you’ve already figured out most of what I can do.”

“Please state it clearly for the record.”

“Oh, right, of course. Well, I can take over dungeons from their owners. Only when they agree to it, though. I think I may be able to take over a dungeon by force, but I've never tried it before. By the time I had any need to, I don't think I would have had the energy to complete the task. Any dungeon I own I can move things around, buff the monsters, oh, and I can travel between them at will.”

“Buff monsters, is that similar to what you did to us?”

“A little bit,” the Dungeon Master admitted. “I labeled you as denizens, gave you all a power boost, and then released you. The power stays. I gave it to Razorbeak and his first mate, Swiftfeather, but I didn’t have the energy to give the boon to his whole crew.”

“So those two are the only… tier two, as you call it, in their whole ranks?” I asked.

“Yes, correct.”

That was interesting, and I made a separate note of it. “I see. Anything else?”

“Well, I can’t make my own dungeons, which is why I have to take others. If there are no dungeons around in my area of influence that allow me to stay, then I’m stuck in my crystal,” he said before lowering his head. “I fall asleep, then, but I don’t dream. I just kind of… float there, waiting. Aware of the passage of time but not much else. Himia was fully asleep; I didn’t wake her up until I had enough energy to sustain her.”

I stopped writing as he said that and frowned. Berald, as a city-state, broke away from the kingdom of Terent over dungeon disputes and it happened not too long after the Gnomes came to our lands. The dungeons had been transferred to state officials by the local chapter of the DoD under the threat of removal if they didn't comply. It wasn’t how things were normally done, but it was a different time where records weren’t kept as diligently as they were now.

Could the Dungeon Master have been the reason why? That would explain the shift in his mood when I mentioned Berald. If he had tried to gain a foothold there, they could have gone with such an option as to make sure he didn’t gain power. Unfortunately, the country was almost completely a Human one so anyone with firsthand knowledge would likely be dead. Regardless, I made note to look into it more.

“That sounds terrible,” I said, though not with any real empathy. While I had calmed down, I was still angry. “I assume you can alter the rules of magic while inside your dungeons?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Somewhat, again it really depends on how powerful I am at the time,” he claimed. “Moose was right, though. On the magic circle thing. Corpse, magic, create, item. I wanted to try my hand at magical item creation, take after my father's old craft a bit. I’d say it worked exceedingly well, but, I can see why removing Magic Crystals from an economy that uses them as a focal point could be disastrous.”

“Indeed, knowing what you’ll get with your Magic Crystals is better than hoping for something good to come out of it, anyway, so you should revert that once we’re done with this conversation.”

“I’ll take care of it soon, I promise,” the Dungeon Master stated. “Um, so, where were we?”

I glanced up to glare at him for losing track of the conversation, but sighed. “You’re a Dungeonborn, and I suspect there’s more of you.”

“Right, just one more,” he said with a nod. “My sister. Dad called her CC. She’s… we’ll get to her. I’d rather talk about Berald now, if it's all the same to you.”

That caused me to raise an eyebrow. “By all means.”

“Alright. So most of the Gnome ships were destroyed while fleeing from Delphara. Like, the vast majority of them. According to Himia, at least; there were no dungeons between Delphara and here, which the ancient Gnomes called Feltaro. Calling it the Central Continent is fine, though, I’ll keep using that. The ship they put me on was very large, and could take more damage than the rest, but it was mostly full of civilians.”

He paused as if gathering himself. “Unfortunately, civilians were all that made it out because the ships containing all of the adventurers, guards, and heroes were attacked first and sunk. Most of the records, money, scholars, and politicians were aboard those boats for protection.”

I hummed, but continued writing. That explained why so many conflicting accounts had been recorded. If everyone who knew what they were doing were on the boats that sank, then it would leave the confused masses to explain what was going on and they’d have too much time on the boat to speculate what had happened. Facts and gossip would get twisted, and it would lead to this situation.

“That wasn’t very forward thinking of them, putting everyone they thought was important in one place,” I stated. “As much as I hate to say it, but it seemed like the biggest boat was bait for their escape but it backfired spectacularly.”

“Himia isn’t the greatest at figuring out people’s motives, so I can’t do anything but guess.” The Dungeon Master shrugged. “Once we landed, I started waking up but it’s a slow process. I’ve been awake here for weeks and I still haven’t gotten most of my power back, for the record. By the time I had gained consciousness, I learned that the Gnomes had sold my crystal as an oddity to some of the nobles in Terent in order to buy enough food and shelter for everyone. Understandable, but it still hurts, you know?”

“Were they aware of you at the time?” I asked.

“Vaguely?” he asked more than said, shrugging again. “I think all those people knew was that I was valuable. Dungeonborn weren't really a secret, but we weren't advertised to the people, either."

He sighed heavily. "My crystal was put on display in a duke’s manor, and I started visiting nearby dungeons in order to get a grasp on where I was. That was the part they didn’t like. Said I was an infection. That’s when they started bullying the DoD into doing as they wanted and broke off to be Berald when the Terent started asking what was going on.”

“There was almost a war over that,” I said. “But Berald was able to make a large amount of money very quickly by taking over all of the dungeons in its area and was able to buy enough protection and goodwill from neighboring countries that Terent couldn’t invade.”

“Well, if they did they would have found me,” the Dungeon Master sulked. “I was banished from all of the dungeons and thus went into a sort of hibernation. Since I didn’t want to be alone, I tried to keep Himia up and running for as long as I could so I would have someone, well, something, to talk to. That just made me waste energy faster.”

“Do you use Magic Crystals to stay awake? They probably didn’t like you messing with a big source of their income.”

“Actually, my presence makes them stronger,” he said, perking up. “Once I’m at full power, at least. I wasn’t at the time, but they didn’t bother letting me explain. Just felt they knew best and cut me off. And they did a great job of it until Raitheus Razorbeak came a little too close to the capital.”

I shifted in my seat. “He has a set path around the continent that he’s supposed to follow. It leads through Terent, but gives Berald a wide berth. Upon their suggestion, if I remember right.”

“Makes sense, the bastards,” he sighed. “I started waking up when I felt the dungeons move through my area of influence. Since there were eight of them, I woke up rather fast and wasted no time in contacting Razorbeak. He was skeptical at first, and borderline hostile, but became really interested when I said I could make him more powerful.”

“Of course,” I muttered.

“That’s when he broke me out. I don’t know all of the details of how he did it, but I imagine there was a high body count involved. Which wasn’t what I wanted, but I couldn’t bear the thought of going back into hibernation again. I was willing to promise Razorbeak anything to get me out of there, and I did.”

“I'm sure he jumped on that in a heartbeat,” I said with a shake of my head. “And then, instead of fleeing back to his home continent, he brought you up here.”

“That one was my idea, and I promise it was to help!”

“Help who?”

“Well, everyone. I’m currently working on turning off the Thousand Year Blizzard.” The Dungeon Master took in a deep breath when he saw me arch an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure you know this already, but the storm is basically one huge mana sink. It gathers magic from the whole continent, leaving less ambient magic for the people, animals, monsters, plants, everything.”

“The Theory Of Magical Permeance And Its Fluctuating Decline Throughout The Central Continent,” I stated.

The Dungeon Master tilted his head. “The what now?”

“It’s a really long treatise on what you’re describing. A little dry for my taste, but informative.”

“Oh, alright. Well, I want to get rid of it so that the people on the continent can get stronger,” he explained. “Like there used to be stories of people who were strong enough to make storms this powerful. Those are legends now, but that kind of power used to be very real. And it wouldn’t just be the mages who would benefit from that, but everyone. Even the common folk will be healthier. The monsters will be stronger, sure, but if everyone grows then I feel like that’s fine.”

“Okay, but why would you want that?” I asked, still writing. “You have so much power, I’m not entirely sure why you don’t just take what you want, especially after the way you’ve been treated. Not that I'm advocating for that, just curious.”

“I’ve always liked people,” he admitted. “Meeting new people, fixing their dungeons. Dating, apparently, as I learned with Ori. I’m not always blurry; I have a real form, it just takes energy to keep up. But even if I had some ulterior motive, there’s something coming in the future that threatens all of us.”

“And what would that be, Dungeon Master?”

“Well, as I said, I’m not the only Dungeonborn. I have an older sister, you see. And ever since I’ve been awake, I can feel her, far off in the distance.”

I furrowed my brow. This sister must have been the “we” he had mentioned before. What caused me to stumble in my writing was the knowledge that he didn’t say anything about her coming along, or even sinking with one of the boats. My quill stopped, and I looked up at him.

“She made the Southern Continental Dungeon, didn’t she?”

It took a long, torturous moment, but the Dungeon Master nodded. “Yes, she did. I don’t know why, or how, but she went crazy and began merging every dungeon she could get into. The Gnomes fled from her as fast as they could. But that was centuries ago, and this is now. Now is what matters.”

The Dungeon Master appeared to be looking me dead in the eye. “I need to remove the Thousand Year Blizzard so that the people are ready for her arrival,” he said darkly. “You may have noticed more dungeons popping up off of the coast. They’re appearing because she’s building a bridge. Dungeon Inspector Badger, she’s coming here.”