The sun is beating down and pounding the earth like sticks on a war drum.

Two of the three walls surrounding the kingdom have already been breached. Houses and premises burn, and pillars of smoke rise from their ruins. The subjects scream and run from the blue-skinned, dark-armored, bloodthirsty smiling elves. Fiery boulders continue to fall from the sky, hurled by the mighty arms of blind cyclopes. Minotaurs and centaurs lead the enemy march, the former sending the human soldiers flying through the air with the backhand of their clubs, and the latter impaling everything that confronts them with two-meter-long spears.

The castle in the center remains intact, but for how long? Trenches were erected at each of the entrances, and the order was given to attack anyone who tried to get past them: whether enemies or simply peasants seeking shelter.

The human soldiers' countenances are covered with sweat and horror. Even the third squadron captain, who from the top of the last wall watches the dark army approaching, harbors no trace of hope. They defend the kingdom not because they expect to win. They defend it because they are commanded to do so, and because death is surely desirable in the face of the slavery imparted by the dark elves. Likewise the Cyclopes, Minotaurs, and Centaurs were not driven by any ideal or value.... But the horror they felt towards their cruel masters.

Inside the castle the tremors are felt.

"This way, your majesty," says Arrax, a pale, lanky fellow with black hair falling down both sides of his face. His robe is silk, of a design overloaded with gold and silver ornaments, as is often the case with presumptuous magicians. Arrax leads the way to his laboratory located in the bowels of the castle dungeons.

King Marc, a white-bearded ruler with a stern face, is accompanied by his three sons, wife, a squad of elite soldiers, and Hilda, the second squadron's captain, a tall woman with battle-hardened features, the golden fringe of her wavy hair covering the patch she wears over her right eye. From the way she constantly aims the sword at Arrax, it is clear that she is wary of the mage.

Hilda assumes that Arrax sold them out to the dark elves. The warrior was prepared to cut the wizard in two. It is impossible that Arrax's promise is real. It is impossible that anything is capable of saving the kingdom. Although it is also true that she, and the rest of the captains, also assumed as impossible an attack of the dark elves under the sun. Hence the strike took them all by surprise. Hilda grits the teeth and shakes her head, rejecting any trace of hope. Especially a hope coming from Arrax, whose attitude and morality was always gray to black.

They reach the cells. The occasional prisoner tries to reach through the bars to grab the king's sons, but the soldiers keep them at bay with shouts and slashes in the air. They reach the laboratory, a long area with a high, vaulted ceiling. Arrax orders his hooded disciples to hurry and move the bookshelf at the back, revealing double doors.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"What are you hiding, Arrax?!" Hilda asks, clenching the hilt of her longsword.

"There's no time for our discussions now, captain! Follow me!" replies the wizard.

Hilda already felt a weight in her stomach, dreading what was coming. But all her expectations were turned to ashes as she stepped through the gates.

The gray crystal, six meters high, floats above a darkness pit, remaining inert, barely reflecting the light. Around the well are carved into the stone six magic circles whose lines are so twisted and complex that trying to follow them with your eyes gives you a headache.

Except for Arrax and his disciples, all raise their faces to the crystal and are speechless. The king's youngest sons do not know what it is, but shudder at the pressure exerted by the silent object.

"A dungeon core?" King Marc mutters.

Hilda is the first to react, pointing her sword at the wizard.

"Arrax, damn you! You brought such a dangerous creature into the kingdom?! What were you planning?!"

The wizard puts his hands up.

"I didn't bring it. I created it from scratch," he replies with a hint of pride in voice.

"Liar!"

"Why would I lie about this, dammit! Our enemies will show up at any moment and kill us all!" Arrax covers his mouth and clears his throat in an attempt to calm his voice. "Although you could say that the elves were very opportune.... Only today I finished the last remaining step before presenting this new weapon to his majesty... The ritual to forge an artificial soul"

"There is no such thing as an artificial soul!"

Arrax recoils, as if the captain's accusation caught him off guard, but he quickly pulls control himself and points an accusing finger at Hilda.

"What do you know, gorilla woman?! Magic is full of mysterious ways that someone as primitive as you wouldn't even be able to imagine!"

King Marc, glimpsing the beginning of an eternal fight between these two, exclaims:

"Silence both!"

Hilda and Arrax bow the knee and lower their heads in apology. The king's attention remains fixed on the wizard.

"Arrax, be honest, can this thing save my kingdom from the claws of those worms that crawled out of their underground lair?"

"Possibly"

"You're not sure?"

"No, your majesty..." Arrax swallows. "I would have preferred to run tests first, but..."

A new shuddering of the castle, caused by the impact of a catapult blow, is enough to illustrate the reasons for Arrax's predicament. King Marc sighs and nods, giving the wizard permission to proceed. Arrax stands up and orders his disciples to place themselves on the magic circles, he taking place in the last one available.

The six magicians concentrate. The outline of the circles is illuminated with an aquamarine glow. The power of magic is felt like electricity in the atmosphere. The wizards' robes are stirred by a wind that rises from the well. Invisible threads are stretched out into the ethereal, beyond the galaxy of Fantasia.

Arrax extends his open hand in the direction of the crystal.

"We need a soul to save us all! A soul that is ideal! Even if it is heresy to the heavens to ask for it...! Awaken and obey, Dungeon!"