Shards, upon fusing into a Dungeon, give birth to phantom constructs known as core spirits. The physical appearance and the capabilities of the spirits are determined by the beasts from which the shard originates. These unusual lifeforms have the power of independent thought and it is rumoured that they reflect different aspects of the Dungeon Master’s personality.

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Sand adored core spirits. If there was something that could break his uncaring façade and pragmatic demeanour, then it was the adorable antics of a new-born spirit. There was something he found utterly comforting about their unswerving, unconditional loyalty.

Leo, for that was the name of the palmtop lion - Sand had deemed it so - was greatly confused by the incomprehensible human that was fussing over him. Had the imbecile not seen his mighty figure as he wiped out a horde of undead with but a single roar? Had he not experienced his majesty as he looked down upon him regally from his perch upon the highest boulder around? Then why was he so brazen and impudent? Why wasn’t he threatened by the warning growls and gleaming fangs?

The human was insane, wasn’t he? He should have guessed it right after the boy burst out into that inexplicable fit of laughter.

Wait! Why was the human scratching him beneath his mane at… just the… a little to the left, no a bit to the right… aah… that’s the spot. Melting under Sand’s ministrations, the lion leant into the caress before awakening with a start. No! Only the Mistress could touch him there. How dare the brat affront his dignity?!

Leo opened his maw to freeze the audacious lad into an icicle before shattering it into a million pieces but a command transmitted by the Mistress stopped him short and instead of a stream of bone-chilling wind, a contented purr emerged from his traitorous mouth as Sand hit the spot again. Embarrassed beyond measure and forbidden from harming the source, Leo simply closed his scarlet eyes that resembled his Mistress’ and gave up with a huff.

At least it felt good.

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Sand descended the mountain with the tiny blue lion perched atop his head; its forepaws crossed and its head raised arrogantly. Leo's scarlet eyes surveyed his domain, his pristine white mane fluttering in the light mountain breeze.

Guided by Leo’s tail (the spirit smacked the side of his head it wanted him to turn towards) Sand approached the bottom of the mountain unchallenged by any other roving bands of undead. The temperature rose with decreasing altitude and proximity to the centre. Instead of snow, he saw more and more runnels of blood merging into burbling brooks that crashed down steep scarps before integrating into one of the broad rivers that meandered into the bowl-shaped valley.

As Sand passed by what he had mistaken for a particularly symmetrical conical mound beside one of the brooks on the lower reaches of the mountain, the ‘mound’ suddenly came to life, the rattans that had been tightly coiled into a spiral unfurling and lashing out at him like lightning. An unprecedented sense of crisis covered Sand and his heart thumped powerfully in his chest. His honed instincts that had made the journey across the river of time with him tensed his muscles, preparing him to dive to the side.

He needn’t have bothered.

Leo snorted; twin jets of pale blue smog flowing out of his nose, expanding instantaneously into a smoky wall. Every vine that penetrated or even touched the smoke flash froze, disrupting into motes of powdery ice. Exuding a grating shriek, the Weeping Willow retracted its vines and wrapped them around itself into a tight spiral. When the smoke wall cleared, other than a layer of rime, the mound was indistinguishable from the surrounding bone-white stone.

Sand narrowed his eyes as he waited for his accelerated heartbeat to return to normal. Recalling the appearance of the tree as it attacked, he recorded it for future reference. The trunk had been short and squat with the rattans lying atop it like an unruly mop of hair. Profound black eyes and mouth stood out in sharp relief from bark the colour and texture of bone. The ‘face’ had been twisted into a mournful grimace.

There was no conclusion Sand could draw from just this much information as he hadn't encountered a creature such as it in his previous life. He did have a guess but he didn’t dare to make assumptions. Not in a Dungeon as special as this one.

Raising his hand, he scratched behind Leo’s mane as thanks. A habit he had picked up from interacting with Purr (nobody had ever accused Sand of having good naming sense), a feline Core Spirit that had inhabited his Dungeon in his previous life.

Sand was inclined to believe the rumour about core spirits reflecting aspects of their master’s personality. He would bet good money that Purr got her poker-face from him. Leo leant into the caress before awakening to what he was doing and self-consciously batting the offending finger away with his paw. Sand idly wondered what that said about his captor as he resumed his journey.

From his elevated vantage near the peak of the mountain he hadn't been able to clearly resolve the topography of the central basin with his mortal eyesight. Now that he was a bit closer, he could make out the gentle undulation in the terrain and the conical ‘hills’ of varying sizes that dotted the area with the highest concentration along the banks of the rivers of blood. If those hills were the same as the deceptive mound he had just encountered, then the basin could reluctantly qualify as a forest.

Stolen novel; please report.

The density of the forest increased, peaking at the midpoint between snowy mountain and fiery abyss before tapering off as one approached the central pit of fire. Sand took careful note of the arrangement. Every detail of a Dungeon – specially an embryonic one – could reveal a great deal of information about it. This was why a Dungeon mage rarely let others into their inner world. Knowing how their Dungeons worked could expose their weakness and make it easier to counter them in a fight.

The Enzeal Princess had unknowingly let someone with the experience and eyesight of a Dungeon mage into her inner world. After all, how could she have expected for the random human slave she had chosen to be the rebirth of a two-hundred-year-old devil.

Sand’s fight in the Arena followed by the chase and battle with the undead had exhausted most of his mana. What little was left had been depleted during his short frozen spell and to heal his numerous wounds. Currently, he was running on fumes.

It didn’t take long for his young body to give out, leaving him gasping for breath and too exhausted to take a step further. Plopping down on a relatively smooth rock on the bank of the brook he had been following, he kicked off his boots and massaged his chafed feet as he inspected his condition.

Most of his wounds had closed up while the deepest ones had stopped bleeding. He was hungry, thirsty and lightheaded from blood-loss. Not to mention bone-weary.

Seeing him halt, Leo thwacked his head several times with his tail to get him to move to no avail. Grumbling, he leapt off Sand’s head and trotted off – disappearing around a rocky corner. Cracking his neck and stretching, Sand got up and walked up to the brook. Washing his hands in the fast-moving stream, he cupped some blood up in his palms and drank it down. His throat bobbed as he swallowed and the coppery taste of blood suffused his mouth. Repeating the motion a few times, he finally managed to slake his thirst.

As the icy blood travelled its way down his gullet, turning into a stream of heat that warmed him up from the inside, he felt his empty mana pool start to fill up again.

Dungeons, especially embryonic ones were chock full of loose mana so anything within them became saturated with energy. A fruit grown in a Dungeon would behave similarly to a mana replenishing pill. As such, drinking the blood flowing in the stream had set him on the path to recovery.

Taking off his tattered, blood-soaked shirt, he shook it out to cast off the dried blood before tying it around his waist, leaving his upper body bare. If he was going to get into more fights, he’d prefer not having to streak afterwards. Setting his course for the centre of the Dungeon, he resumed his march.

The crimson sky began to darken slowly, covering the land in a pall of shadow. As the darkness deepened, the scarlet clouds, the snow covering the mountains, the rivers and the streams glowed red due to the mana suffusing them, lighting the region with a dim crimson radiance. It was an eerily beautiful sight.

A glowing streak of white and blue landed atop an outcropping above Sand. Something was dropped onto his head, bouncing off and clattering onto the rocky ground. Bending down, Sand picked up the object, his expression growing strange as he identified it.

He turned his gaze to the pint-sized big-cat who was staring down at him proudly from his perch on the ledge. Why would the spirit toss him the branch of one of the predatory trees? Did it want to play fetch?

As if reading the question in his mind, Leo shot him a disdainful look before pointing at his mouth with a paw. Enlightened, Sand observed the branch more carefully. It was a small section of one of the long vines that grew out of the tops of the trees like a shock of hair. The vine was segmented into multiple sections connected to each other by joints that gave them a wide range of motion. Sand had noticed it before but looking closer, the branch closely resembled a bone with the sap in its hollow interior a close approximation of marrow.

Bringing the branch to his lips, he sucked hard on one end and with a soft sound, the tube of cartilage within popped into his mouth. A mellow, strangely sweet taste permeated his mouth as he chewed upon it and then swallowed.

He felt his mana seethe as it was replenished at an accelerated rate. Working his way through the marrow of the entire branch, Sand felt that his reserves were three-quarters full and his hunger a thing of the past.

Seeing him complete his meal, Leo leapt down from his perch to reclaim his spot atop Sand’s head. Lashing his tail impatiently, the spirit indicated for the boy to get moving. Chuckling softly, Sand obliged.

As he continued his journey towards the centre of the darkened Dungeon following the course of a river, he fiddled with the hollowed branch in his hand. With some effort, he managed to snap it into eight unequal pieces, proceeding to lash them together with a strip of cloth torn from his shirt.

Blowing into the longest section, he was rewarded with a low fluting sound while the shortest resulted in a keening whistle. Taking some time to familiarize himself with the notes, he began to play the only tune he knew – one composed by Book shortly before he passed away. Something he had taught Sand on his deathbed to remember him by.

The dolorous tune reverberated across the lightless basin lit only by the scarlet glow of the blood rivers and the distant orange radiance of the fires that burnt within the central abyss.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop and listen to the music that spoke of a man’s sorrow at impending separation.

Then a weeping voice joined in, followed by another, deeper one. A tenor joined the bass and a soprano the tenor as the Weeping Willows responded to the motif of the tune. The call to music was taken up by the neighbouring trees, spreading like wildfire till the entire forest joined in the chorus following the lead of Sand’s fluting.

Unfurling their vines, the skeletal trees wept tears of blood from their hollow sockets as they raised their branches to the heavens in supplication. The glowing red tears evaporated, covering the entire basin in a radiant blood mist that rose up into the sky.

Sand narrowed his eyes, watching the clouds in the sky speed up several times as they passed over the densest section of the forest as they made their way from the centre of the Dungeon to the edge. He confirmed his guess. The trees were related to the Time shard of the Dungeon. And by the looks of it, nine out of ten, it was an Agility shard.

While he hadn't expected such a huge reaction when he had started playing the tune, it had let him pry more details of the Dungeon. Closing his eyes, he immersed himself in the nuances of the music and let himself relax.

His path was long, his goal was lofty and obstacles dime a dozen.

But… he would enjoy walking every step of the way.