The Dungeon Heart watched the battle intently. Now that most of the battlefield was an official part of him, he could analyze the magical structures of every used spell. His attempts to absorb the equipment of fallen fighters failed so close to the invaders, however.
Whenever his servant defeated an opponent, he also received a message about the XP he also received.
Opponent defeated:
Thief (Level 6): 120 XP
Duel fencer (Level 5) x0.8: 80 XP
Skeleton Warrior (Level 1) x0: 0 XP
Fighter (Level 5) x0.8: 80 XP
Fair Play Bonus (20%): 56
Selvara, who was still trying to help with her few spells, stumbled: "What? I thought he was doing pretty damn well for a non-fighter class."
Blood tendrils grew from the druid's blood, adding to the general chaos. For the moment, however, the attack was halted as the attackers were busy freeing themselves or their trapped comrades. Some of the defenders had also been engulfed, however, as the tendrils of blood made no distinction between friend and foe.
The young assassin held his head and cringed as he looked around frantically, "Who are you? Where are you?"
"Does this pact have any other side effects that your familiar fairy didn't mention?"
Weylan quietly confirmed the instruction and crept through the darkness. Close to the wall, he carefully peeked out. The only one stuck in the thorny vines nearby immediately caught his upturned jackal ears. He suppressed a curse and whispered: "That's one of the rangers, I'm trying to get further into the cave through the darkness."
"I can't kill an ally!" Weylan's whisper was loud enough for the two cultists to take notice in the darkness and look around carefully.
Malvoriks voice of thought became more urgent:
Weylan hesitated for a few more breaths, then steeled himself and stepped out of the darkness, stooping low. A lunge brought him into range. The ranger recognized him immediately and his eyes lit up in anticipation of finally being freed. He refrained from shouting so as not to attract the attention of any cultists and simply nodded to Weylan with a grin.
The noise of battle died away as Selvara cast a silencing spell over the area around Weylan. The assassin stared for a moment and then stepped even closer. Then his hand with the shadow dagger passed through a gap between the vines, directly into the ranger's kidney area. The ranger's mouth opened in an inaudible cry of protest. Weylan turned the dagger, pulled it out and stabbed again. The ranger tried to dodge, but only made the thorny tendrils wrap around him tighter. More thorns dug through his leather clothing. His movements quickly weakened. With a final reproachful glance at Weylan, he dissolved in a shower of sparks.
Opponent defeated: Ranger (Level 6): 120 XP
Fair Play Bonus (20%): 24
Weylan looked guiltily at his bloodstained dagger.
The Assassin looked up, obviously deep in thought, "What?"
That worked. He finally started moving. Malvorik rubbed his mental hands together and performed the steps he had already discussed with Selvara so as not to lose any critical time.
Character class increased: Dungeon Master to level 7
Select trap construction plan...
Select trap trigger...
Select new monster race...
Select feat...
He ignored and delayed the other decisions and chose the feat for which he had needed the extra level: Sanctuary
Sanctuary
Prerequisites: Dungeon Master Level 6+
Additional dungeon classification.
As an exception to the usual rules, this can be combined with other life-enhancing dungeon classifications. Cannot be combined with non-living classifications such as undead or constructs.
Effect:
Allows intelligent and/or non-intelligent creatures to stay in the dungeon permanently.
Invaders can be offered a pact that makes them part of the dungeon. The pact does not grant immunity to traps or monsters, but allows the Dungeon Heart to exempt pact partners from some types of trap triggers if desired and to order monsters not to attack them.
Enables the creation of real sunlight in which plants and living creatures can exist.
Enables the Dungeon Heart to communicate directly with all pact partners.
All duskgnomes, as well as Weylan and Trulda, received a message:
Pact offer:
Malvorik offers you the opportunity to seek permanent refuge in his sphere of influence.
In return, he demands that you swear not to deliberately harm him and to keep his secrets.
Accept Yes/ No?
Selvara had already prepared everyone to expect this message, so Malvorik was immediately flooded with prompts that his offer had been accepted. No one refused.
Skorr Collad (Tunnel Scout Ranger Level 6) has accepted the pact offer.
Rhyll Marran (Mushroom Gardener level 5) has accepted the pact offer.
Marrila Arrom (Teacher Level 5) has accepted the pact offer.
...
He rushed through the relevant menus and gave up the outpost as a sphere of influence. Messages immediately appeared stating that there were no longer any intruders in his area of influence. Construction work was now possible again.
Number of players no longer exceeding Golgoroths rules.
Fair Play rules deactivated.
Mana regeneration normalized.
Mana usage speed normalized.
Restrictions on the number of monsters normalized.
Control limit normalized.
Somewhat disappointed, he noticed that the influx of mana had reduced from the previous flow to a normal level. Malvorik had hoped that this would continue for a while longer. However, he only took a few heartbeats to skim over the relevant messages before he began to finish building the escape route. With full mana reserves, the dungeon heart drilled its way through the rock at maximum speed. At regular intervals, it formed the indentations that would serve as steps.
He could now only keep an eye on the cave area from the outside and through Selvara's eyes. Light and darkness flickered and the sounds of battle alternated with eerie silence as Selvara used up her mana reserves for the two spells. Enemy mages and necromancers invested time and energy in casting their spells again and again. They were getting more and more annoyed. One of the cultists had briefly seen the dungeon fairy despite her invisibility and informed the others. More and more nets, arrows and fireballs were fired at flickering shadows, forcing Selvara to slowly retreat.
The blood thorns had used up their magic and were now nothing more than an immovable obstacle that only held out for so long because the cultists had problems cutting through the tendrils with daggers and swords.
When the steep tunnel reached the end, Malvorik could hardly stop himself from digging further.
The duskgnomes did not hesitate, but climbed up as fast as they could. After thirty meters, they emerged in a large room. Two long-armed humanoid creatures stood a short distance away and gestured to them to continue to the left.
Meanwhile, the assassin had surprisingly managed not only to survive, but to retreat to the tunnel entrance. He, Skorr and Trulda stood right in front of the entrance as the last posse.
Trulda looked at Weylan's hand, which he pressed firmly on his stomach. "Are you badly hurt?"
"All right." He ignored the messages from the world voice flashing in his field of vision. His life force was dwindling, but he would still be able to fight long enough. If the cultists stormed the tunnel in a few moments, he would die anyway.
Skorr looked doubtfully into his face, then his eyes wandered to the blood-soaked shirt lying under Weylan's hand. "I'm afraid I'm out of healing potions. Do you have any left?"
Trulda shook her head: "Remind me to get some as soon as we get through this."
The tunnel emptied. But not fast enough. Children were carried up, old duskgnomes were supported. Some had become stiff during the long break in the narrow tunnel.
The glow of magic. Two necromancers strutted out of the tunnels. Two tall, gaunt figures. Beings made of a dark mass that kept flickering, allowing pale skeletons to shine through. There were red lights where eyes should have been. Fleshless faces turned around and looked disparagingly at those fighting. What Malvorik had previously thought were necromancers, turned out to be mere mage skeletons. Controlled and supplied with magic from afar by the real leaders of the undead. The zombies, who had come separately through the other tunnel from the surface, fell to their knees and submitted to their new masters.
Malvorik could only watch impassively as the two necromancers began to mutter dark incantations. Pulsating black lightning gathered around their writhing hands. Arrows flew straight for their skulls, but two undead with large round shields threw themselves between them. They stopped the fire with their shields and upper bodies.
The necromancers froze for a moment as they finished their spells. The last three rangers who were still wearily on their feet held their spears in a defensive stance. The necromancers raised their arms. Bundles of light-swallowing darkness swept up to the two archers entrenched on rocks. Shadows swept over their bodies, then their empty clothes fell to the ground. A bloody mass oozed out before dissolving into blue sparks.
The cultists and undead charged forward with a cry of triumph and overpowered the last of the rangers. Without slowing down, they ran on towards the exit tunnel.
About thirty duskgnomes were still crowded in the tunnel, waiting to escape upwards.
Trulda stood a few meters inside the tunnel and pushed forward: "Skorr, cover my back. Only one can fight here. I'll be the first to hold the line. If I fall, you take over. Then Weylan."
Weylan wanted to object, but Skorr held his hand against his chest and shook his head: "She's right. You'll get your turn soon enough. Probably only a few heartbeats after me."
He turned to Trulda: "You can hardly use your two-handed mace in this narrow corridor."
She grinned at him: "I'll manage. I've got another little trick up my sleeve. Stand back."
Before he could ask what she meant, she took long strides towards the exit and stepped out into the cave.
Malvorik watched in amazement as she gave up her only tactical advantage.
The attackers stormed forward on a broad front. The two necromancers stayed behind. Malvorik watched them for a moment. Why hadn't they used their magic earlier?
Successful use of history knowledge skill.
He remembered. Necromancers were immortal, but not invulnerable. An inner instinct prevented them from risking their potentially endless lives. They had never fought on the front line. They had only ever been seen when the enemy had been largely overcome. Then they emerged and dealt the enemy army the deathblow. These two would also remain in the background until the last obstacles had been overcome. Then they would enter his dungeon. He remembered a few cases where dungeons had been overrun by necromancer armies. Their dungeon hearts had soon after served as a focus for powerful incantations or had ended up at the tip of a mage's staff. He suddenly remembered vividly the feeling of nausea he had known well in his life as a human. However, it quickly passed again in the crystalline body.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The dungeon heart turned its attention back to the attackers, who were about to pounce on Trulda at any moment. They didn't even bother to use spells or ranged weapons.
Trulda took another step towards them and held out her mace like a staff. She spoke loudly and with an emphasis that seemed unusually formal and dramatic to Malvorik: "You... shall not... pass!"
The warrior in plate armor with the glowing red sword braked abruptly and spread his arms. The other cultists also stopped and stood in a semicircle ten paces in front of the alewife. Trulda's stance seemed to Malvorik as if she were threatening to strike the ground with her mace. One of the cultists at the back pushed forward a little: "What's going on?"
The warrior gestured for him to stay back, "I have no desire to walk into a trap."
"There's no bridge over an abyss! This is a cave. Solid stone floor!"
"Can someone check the floor? How thick is the stone layer? Is there a hidden ravine or pit? I've walked into a lot of traps. We're winning anyway, no need to fall into the depths of Moria or some such at the last moment. If they had a way out, they'd have disappeared long ago."
Malvorik listened uncomprehendingly. Obviously it was about a cultural or historical background that he did not know. He analyzed the magical aura around the barbarian for a moment, but apart from her leather dress, he couldn't detect any magic. The ground offered no obstacles either. The cultists' mages were obviously terribly poorly trained in clairvoyance magic. So far, he had only observed mostly attack spells. Two stepped forward and pulled out scrolls with analysis spells. Casting spells on scrolls was a miserably slow form of magic and the Dungeon Heart began to mentally gnash his teeth as he heard the terrible pronunciation. One of the two was clearly barely able to read the runic script fluently.
Selvara rolled her eyes: "Is this the right time?"
"Don't you have anything else? You always have a thousand plans and ideas."
"Stop that thing already! Your Mooskito is the most hideous creature anyone has ever invented. Besides, you don't have the schematics for a cow or a mosquito, nor the time to create one now."
"How long would that take?"
On the mirrored walls of the heart room, sketches and notes on further spell constructions raced by.
"Can you use it to turn your rats into something more useful?"
Down below, one of the mages completed his clairvoyance spell. His scroll disintegrated while he looked at the ground with shining eyes and made testing movements with his hands. The second mage made a mistake while reading aloud and his scroll crumbled to dust without producing any effect.
One of the cultists stepped forward: "There's nothing! Let's just run them down!"
The thief next to him held him by the arm: "Don't! This is madness!"
Behind the thief stood a true giant of a cultist. Clad in three layers of leather armor, his shoulders as broad as an ox. Until now, he had followed the whole thing with an uncomprehending stare. At the exclamation of the cultist in front of him, his piggy eyes suddenly came to life. He knew the cue! With a loud: "This is SPARTA!" he kicked the thief hard in the back, sending him flying a meter through the air and then skidding another meter across the ground. Trembling, he quickly picked himself up again and looked around in panic.
The mage with the shining eyes finished his examination: "There is no magic and no trap. The ground is solid rock. At least twenty meters deep."
Trulda pushed the staff to the ground with a dramatic gesture... Nothing happened. While the cultists were still staring at the spot where the staff had thundered to the ground, she turned and ran back into the tunnel. Only after a slight bend that took her out of sight of the cultists did she stop: "Are they finally up there?"
Skorr shook his head: "The last ones need another two or three minutes."
Trulda nodded: "We can manage that." She gripped the mace near the center so that she could swing it better in the confined space. Shouts of protest and battle cries were heard, then the pattering of many feet. The cultists charged.
Malvorik saw the warrior with the glowing sword send a few cultists forward with daggers and spears. Weapons that were far better suited to the narrow tunnel than his long sword and wide-ranging fighting technique.
The dungeon heart cast the spell on his intended target, who had rushed over at its command and placed its furry hand on the crystal. It folded up with a loud smacking sound. The transformation took longer than Malvorik had expected. After a dozen heartbeats, however, the new rat ran away on wobbly legs. For the first few jumps, the rhythm wasn't right, but then the body's instinct took over.
Skorr and Weylan had no room to fight next to Trulda. They had to stand idly by a little way behind her as two thieves tried to get at her at the same time. One struck with his spear, the second pushed past with daggers in both hands. In doing so, however, they obstructed each other considerably. Trulda leapt forward with a furious roar, grabbed the spear behind the point and deflected it past her to the side, causing the knife fighter to stumble. Then she slammed the mace into the spearman's face in a backhanded blow. The skull bone cracked under the force of the barbarian's fury. She reversed the direction of the blow with a vengeance and knocked a dagger out of the other's hand. The second dagger dug into her thigh, but that didn't stop her from ramming her knee between her attacker's legs.
Now entangled in a dense tangle, she was able to show off her superior physical strength. Weylan had told her that she had increased her attributes evenly to 12. In fact, her physical strength and charisma were at 14 due to the increases she had received for level 5. Barbarian Fury increased her physical strength by a further 4 and also made her immune to pain, sleep spells and stuns. The dexterity-built revenants were unable to use their abilities in the confined space and were battered until they disintegrated into blue sparks almost simultaneously. Through the sparkles, a crossbow bolt raced up and slammed into her left shoulder without warning. The arm immediately went numb and fell uselessly. Even barbarian fury did not help when tendons and muscles were severed. Swinging the mace with her right hand, she rushed forward two steps, causing the attacker with the light crossbow to stagger back in fright. With the two spearmen right behind him, however, he was unable to dodge and took a blow to the kneecap, which cracked under the steel. With a shocked whimper, he collapsed to his knees... and immediately logged out. The body disintegrated, leaving behind a pile of equipment and clothing. Trulda thundered her weapon through the vacated space before the two spearmen behind could react.
Malvorik analyzed the situation. The gnomes in the tunnel were hurrying their ascent, but the last three defenders would all be dead by the time they reached the top the normal way. It would be close. As long as there were attackers in the tunnel, he could not close the way. The steep climb was supposed to be forever defensible, but his plan called for a much more definitive method.
At the top of the tunnel, the lurking stranglers came running up with a thick bundle of rope that he had sent them off with minutes ago. Weighted down with a stone at the end, one of them let the end rush down past the climbers' backs.
He waited until everyone was in position.
The stranglers joined the duskgnomes on the ropes. The rope only stretched for a moment, then they started to move. Faster and faster. The duskgnomes in the tunnel skillfully braced themselves against the tunnel wall and accelerated their ascent with quick steps against the wall. Malvorik was surprised until he remembered that duskgnomes grew up in caves. If he had simply handed them a rope, they would probably have come up with a similar idea.
Weylan looked around in irritation, still not used to the voice in his head: "Are you serious? As soon as we go out there, they'll start pelting us with arrows. Here we can make up for their numerical superiority, outside they'll tear us apart."
Skorr agreed with him. Trulda didn't answer at first, as she was already in another scuffle with a cultist. Then she growled: "We... have... already... discussed this!"
She emphasized each word by striking a cultist in the face with her elbow. Due to the uncoordinated rush, the fastest opponents were the first to enter the tunnel. Something Malvorik appreciated, but disapproved of as unprofessional on principle. All lightly armored cultists without shields. However, Malvorik could already see someone with a short sword, shield and chain mail waiting behind the next enemy. According to his assessment of the fights so far, he would cause the barmaid massive problems.
Weylan visibly wanted to object, but the duskgnome grabbed him by the arm. When he turned around, Skorr looked him grimly in the eye and shook his head.
Trulda managed to break her opponent's wrist and disarm him. She turned her head over her shoulder, seeing her comrades still standing in the corridor, undecided. Instead of getting angry, she began to grin and got an almost manic look on her face. Her voice regained the strange emphasis with which she had just confronted the horde of cultists: "Run, you fools!"
The two turned around reflexively and ran off.
Trulda bent down and rammed her current opponent in the stomach with her shoulder, lifting him up and effectively using him as a battering ram. Malvorik could see that she was using up most of her mana supply. Malvorik knew it wasn't common knowledge among the general population, but mages weren't the only ones with a mana supply. Everyone had at least a small supply of mana. Non-mages just couldn't access it in a controlled manner. Certain special skills were an exception, especially for fighters. The barbarian obviously used a technique that massively increased her physical strength for a short time. Or accelerated or pushed her in some other way. When he looked for it, he could vaguely recognize a primitive form of telekinesis.
Trulda let out a hideous roar as she ran. The rest of her mana supply disappeared into her larynx. Opponents further back hesitated or retreated from the entrance. A dense cluster of five enemies shot out like a cork from a bottle of Tasfaric sparkling wine.
Construction functions reactivated. There are no more enemies in the area of influence.
Malvorik immediately began to drive a small tunnel forward.
The two of them braced themselves against the nearby tunnel walls.
Meanwhile, his rats ran in two neat rows towards the hole in the ground. Each one bit into the tail of the rat in front of it, then the first ones jumped down. The rats at the top formed a kind of living rope that lowered their falling speed to a survivable level. Only a few of the duskgnomes noticed that one of the first rats had two small horns.
The first two landed on Weylan's head almost simultaneously and jumped past him from there. There wasn't much room for them, but the living rope swept past him. Twenty, then thirty rats. Then the number of rats at the top was too small to keep the whole thing going. The last ones raced past them unchecked.
Below them, a gap opened up in the wall. Then it widened to a round hole into which the duskgnomes head would have just fitted. Small drops ran out... Then water shot out under high pressure, foaming against the opposite wall.
Malvorik turned his attention back to the fight in front of the tunnel entrance. The barbarian had driven and pushed the cultists out of the tunnel and was now standing a few paces from the exit in the cave. She tossed her opponent carelessly over her shoulder to face the armored warrior standing next in front of her.
He raised his shield and sword to attack, but before he could move, a command thundered through the cave. OrcSlayer, the obvious leader of the cultists, lowered his glowing sword and shouted "Fire!"
A dozen projectiles flew from the crowd of cultists. Almost all of them hit the unarmored barbarian. She collapsed to her knees. Blood seeped from her wounds and her weapon fell from her weak hands. She braced one leg against the ground and tried to stand up once more. Trembling, her leg gave way. She opened her mouth to shout something else, but only a gush of blood came out. She lifted her head once more... and grinned broadly.
Then her body shimmered and dissolved into blue sparks.
Weylan arrived at the top of the cave, closely followed by Skorr, both of whom rolled to the side, panting.
"What's going on? How is Trulda? Is she coming after?"
"What? Don't talk nonsense!"
The Assassin Shepherd began to stammer, but Malvorik had no time to listen to him.
"I'm in a crevice in the ceiling of the cave. With a good view of our attackers. As long as I don't do anything, they shouldn't discover me."
"They were dismantled and carried in bags of holding. They assembled them hidden in the background when the group stopped during Truldas performance. I think that was one of the reasons why they took a break in the first place. Crossbows have been of little use so far. They would have hit their comrades just as easily in the confusion. The archers also immediately took fire at anyone they saw with a ranged weapon."
"Wait... Right now they're discussing what kind of character class Trulda might have had and where she came from. The cultists are pretty sure they would have noticed her during the chase. Plus something about whether the Oktoberfest, whatever that is, exists in our world. Seems to be very important to them."
"The two necromancers and all the undead have positioned themselves around the entrance and are waiting. The rats are probably still recovering from the descent, I can't see them yet."
"No problem. We dungeon fairies are used to going into a kind of hibernation for long periods when there's nothing to do in the dungeon. When the revenants have gone, you just open the tunnel for me again and let me out." She was silent for a moment and then sent a nasty grin through the mind link: "There's a little stream of water coming out of the passage. They don't seem to like it; they're getting all excited. Here come the rats!" She hesitated: "You do realize that they can't leave your sphere of influence?"
"Close it right away. Before something else goes wrong."
"There's a small stream of water coming out of the cave now. The revenants are absolutely not amused. The rats are now at the entrance and are building up. There's one in front that's a bit bigger... and has tiny cow horns? What have you done there again?"
Malvorik was able to see into the cave himself again thanks to his extended sphere of influence. He didn't have as good an overview from his vantage point as Selvara had from above, but at least he had a good view. Most of the revenants had reloaded their crossbows and fired another volley. A few scurrying rats were hit, but most of the bolts crashed against rocks and shattered. The mages informed their leader that they really had run out of mana and mana potions for good and didn't want to be disturbed for the next two hours. Rats were clearly not popular opponents. Nevertheless, OrcSlayer managed to send the melee fighters into battle. He was uneasy about the water ingress and wanted to catch up with the escaped duskgnomes before they managed to flood their escape route.
Some of the cleverer fighters had taken spears and were stabbing the rats with them. With little success. Powerful sword blows were more effective in the crowd. At Malvorik's command, the rats retreated a little and gathered closely around the entrance. When he deemed there were enough opponents in his area of influence, he dropped the transformation spell on the horned rat. A wave of magical energy swept the surrounding rats aside. The dust was whirled up from the ground in concentric waves around them. The rat stood up on its hind legs and grew... and grew...
Three heartbeats later, the rat minotaur scraped its paws and ran against the foremost opponent with a mixture of a bull's roar and a rat's squeal. He hadn't been able to take his weapons and armor with him when he transformed, but his strength and sharp claws made up for it. His opponents had no chance to prepare for the attack, so he was able to tear out a throat with each claw. Blood sprayed over the revenants. The boss monster swung again to disembowel the next opponent, but met with resistance. The warrior in chain mail, whom Trulda had feared to face, parried his right paw with his shield and countered with his left sword. Sharp steel against unprotected hand inflicted the first pain in the monster's young life. The rat minotaur roar-squealed again and kicked, using its foot claws. They scraped ineffectually across the knee-length chainmail. As Selvara had already warned him, his boss monster was not a difficult opponent for a trained warrior in armor. At least not without his own armor and weapons. Crossbow bolts slammed into him from two sides. Then OrcSlayer ran up from the side and plunged his magical blade into its neck. Blood sprayed over the crowd again, then the Rattotaur fell to the ground.
Selvara excitedly thought of a possible problem: "Malvorik, won't he dissolve into loot now? That will give us away!"
"Respect. Well planned."
He then ordered a cultist dressed in dark blue into the tunnel. He ran into the tunnel and then climbed up a bit against the rushing water. Then, despite obviously having a very high-level climbing skill, he lost his footing and fell down. Skillfully rolling off, however, he took little damage and quickly returned to report back.
"Okay, they're gone. There's a tunnel up there. The tread holes are totally worn and crumbly. Almost as if they're disintegrating. Must be ancient. No wonder it took them so long to get out. At the top they pushed a rock over the hole. But I couldn't get any closer as there was a water ingress underneath. The tunnel is filling up with water fast."
"Damn!" The warrior jerked his sword around, almost costing the bearer of the bad news an eye. With a look, OrcSlayer made the man refrain from protesting, but put his sword away. He raised his voice so that everyone could hear him: "Okay, guys. That was close, but we lost. We're retreating to the surface through that tunnel back there. We can forget about the extra XP for the quest, but I'll negotiate with our client Umbramar to get some financial compensation. That chase sucked. It should be worth at least a handful of gold or a few magical artifacts. So let's go. Grab whatever's left of those tree huggers and let's get out of here."
Malvorik watched the cultists march out of the cave shortly afterwards. Now only the undead were left, standing motionless against the cave wall and staying out of the cultists' way.
They just stood around for a while. Then the two necromancers came into view. With a wave of their hands, they set all the undead in motion, back down the tunnel from which they had originally followed behind the duskgnomes. After the last undead was out of sight, the two necromancers turned around again in sync and let their eyes wander over the now empty cave. Then they wordlessly followed their army.