Uno

After my quick escape, I spent the next few hours on the fourth floor, observing the changes. Some of my minions were still bumbling around, ensuring that every uneven wall, off-center pillar, or unplanned hole in the floor was taken care of. Amongst them the silvery-grey figure of Sculptor zoomed from wall to wall, repairing any cracks it found and then immediately carving a new part of the story, adding it to those already depicted on the other stone canvas.

Like the third floor, which was mostly covered in greenery by this point, the fourth level started to acquire its specific theme. Its unique feeling combined hospital coldness with the gloom of a graveyard. Or maybe rather the solemness of a tomb? Each of the similarly sized rooms spread around the area was fitted with a sepulcher-like structure built in the middle of it. In the beginning, I wanted to create a bunch of glass tubes extending from the floor to the ceiling, filled with rejuvenating liquid, and prepared to both contain and keep their prisoners alive.

In the end, it proved too impractical to implement - especially when it came to putting things in and then taking them out. I compromised my vision and made them simpler, focusing instead on creating a bunch of stone sarcophagi with an easily accessible cover and a small, glass window buried in its upper part. Attached to them was a bunch of wires and smaller tubes, providing oxygen, food, and water, while at the same time removing any waste. Their presence looked a bit out of the place but I was pretty sure that the sentients wouldn’t be able to understand their purpose.

Or so I hoped.

Sculptor left the insides of the rooms alone, focusing instead on the entrance and the corridors leading into them. This gave them a truly desolate and utilitarian look. Adding to the atmosphere each chamber had a heavy, iron door separating it from the outside.

This sobriety contrasted with the outside walls, where every single free space, baring the floor, was filled with pictogram depictions of operations and experiments... if they were sculpted by a person who only heard about them. They reminded me of Aztec sacrificial ceremonies with beating hearts torn from the victim’s chest while barbaric priests and their servants chanted praises to their thirsty god.

Yesh.

At least Sculptor decided to include this level's inhabitants in the pictures instead of replacing them with humans. I squinted my eyes trying to compare the monsters themselves with their descriptions. A few minutes later I was forced to conclude that it did a great job immortalizing them into the stone.

My newest creations were half-mechanical, and half-organic, with a generous dose of Anima thrown in the mix. Their lower halves resembled spiders and were made from metal. Their pedipalps were replaced by human-like hands. There was also a pair of sharp utensils usually safely tucked under their iron carapace.

The upper part of the creature was comprised of an overgrown lizard, looking a bit similar to the kobolds. Most of the specimens had scales in varying colors, ranging from brown, through the grey and even black, with rare brighter hues sometimes appearing. Their faces were longer and more animalistic than their kobold cousins with sharp teeth and small, reptilian eyes.

Both their legs and tail were atrophied and completely assimilated into the metal parts, their bones, and muscles seamlessly turning into levers, wires, and clockwork. However, their most unique feature was the fact they possessed four arms - two bigger, meaner ones located in the upper torso, and two smaller, more delicate ones, growing from the stomach area.

In the beginning, the system was confused about their creation, yet since then the description stabilized, reading as follows:

Spider-walker Butcher

A distant cousin of the Kobold race, these Spider-walkers had adapted to working closely with machines, in the end even joining their very flesh with the unfeeling metal. Such a union would be normally impossible, yet was made real due to the intervention of a Dungeon Core.

While weak and small these abominations are capable of working in groups, using their deep anatomical knowledge to attack and defend by targetting other creatures’ weak points. Due to the circumstances of their birth, it’s hard for them to exist outside the dungeon and they can’t reproduce naturally.

The Butcher variant shows great curiosity to both the outside world and their closest surroundings. They’re easily amused yet hard to distract, focusing their efforts on understanding the surrounding world.

Threat level: F+

Besides these guys two more variants emerged, Spider-walker Soldiers and Spider-walker Generals with threat levels E- and D respectively, the latter was even capable of casting enhancement magic.

It was all good, if not for a small caveat.

They were freakin’ tiny! Even the Generals were at most one meter in height!

Thankfully I wasn’t planning to use them as a defensive force, yet I couldn’t feel some disappointment seeing my freshly born creations. I knew that size was not everything, yet it certainly had its advantages.

Shaking my head I left the Spider-walkers to their own devices. I had to gather some specimens for them to experiment on. They had to be alive too. Bummer.

Before leaving I inspected the deepest of my floors, noticing that maybe - just maybe, leaving the stairs up in the middle of my hospital rooms wasn’t the best idea. The upper floor was patrolled by the nigh-indestructible Berserker yet I couldn’t guarantee that some rats wouldn’t slip by.

Pun intended.

I scanned the sleek floors with my gaze and ordered the western and northern entrances to be barricaded, the Drones already starting to fill the blanks.

This would force any visitors to go east, then north, and either trudge through the arena or walk in a big circle, leaving me ample time to prepare a welcoming committee.

Satisfied with my work I drifted to the second floor, focusing my attention on both human soldiers and Guardian’s little kindergarten.

The former tried desperately to break the stalemate, battling mostly the Ratlings and their subordinate Lebirs. At this point, it just felt like an exercise in futility, the Geinard Kingdom's army rarely losing ground or even soldiers. My troops continued to counter-attack, yet it was clear that they were being continuously pushed back and forced to retreat away from the staircase. Sometimes they managed to gain ground only to lose it hours later. My grip on the second floor was still strong yet I already could feel it slipping. It was only a matter of time.

The humans were learning. New tactics were thought of daily. Their alchemists managed to harvest the first floor’s Fiery Dandelions, making use of their acids. Besides them some robed individuals - probably Master Vincent’s pupils - were flinging their magic, gaining levels at the cost of my defenders’ demise, growing ever more powerful. Worst of all the soldiers’ tactics and cooperation grew constantly, with each scar and fierce battle.

I smiled bitterly.

Dungeons were created as places of training and advancement. As resource sites. And, despite my best efforts, it seemed like I was fulfilling that role splendidly.

My attention turned elsewhere.

In their hall hidden under the second-floor lake, Pale Tribe Kobolds were still training. Their hissing voices were full of pain and tiredness. And, as my spectral form arrived nearby, I could hear them better and better.

Entering the chamber proper I noticed that something unusual was going on.

Most of the kobolds were lying on the ground, their bruised bodies sprawled helplessly. In the middle of this meat pile, two scaled youths were crouching, catching their breath, while glaring at each other in a show of silent determination. I glanced at them briefly but quickly changed my target. The kobolds of the Pale Tribe had changed since my last visit. Not only did their bodies grow larger and more muscular, but their disfigurations had also become more pronounced.

Each of them had a small, grotesque stump replacing either their arm or a leg. Most dealt with it by using crude prosthetics - those with damaged legs focused on making a transition between metal and flesh as comfortable as possible, gaining some speed and agility. The metal arms were used to increase defense or damage by incorporating either spikes, blades, and other tools of destruction or shields.

“Stand up!” A stern voice echoed off the walls, stirring up the surroundings. “Stand up and continue your battle, soldiers! Do you think your enemies will wait for you!”

A singular pained hiss answered Guardian’s speech, only to be joined by a second one. “Y-yessss, Leader.” They responded in unison.

The two kobolds were desperately trying to stand up, their bodies bloodied and battered. One of them was using a two-handed staff, covered with metal on both ends. The second challenger wielded a club together with a shield attached to his metallic arm. Both were using a crude breastplate, helmet, and short, leather pants with iron plates as part of their uniform.

The metal was forged in a utilitarian and practical way - which somehow felt familiar. It was also too crudely made to be considered useful for my other creations.

“Prepare…”

“Fight!”

At Guardian’s command, two exhausted reptiles straightened their backs, only to slowly drudge closer, their metal legs visibly chafing with each step. Out of the blue, the kobold armed with the staff started to twirl it, smacking the opponent’s head. The shield wielder covered its face and weathered the blows, coming closer and closer, with its weapon poised to strike.

I used this time to observe the surroundings a bit more carefully. A few kobolds were already conscious, either sprawled on the ground or leaning against the nearby walls while gasping for air. They observed the battle with crazed intensity, murmuring under their noses, comparing strategies, counter-attacks, and gambles made by the combatants. All this felt like a sports meet combined with a gladiatorial arena.

“Haaa!” With a shout of effort, the slightly slimmer kobold managed to surprise its opponent with a low sweep, its wooden staff aimed to break the enemy’s balance.

The peanut gallery voices grew louder, their opinion easy to discern - that this was a winning move.

Yet the reality betrayed everyone’s expectations as the shield-wielder jumped into the air, before smashing down on its unsuspecting opponent. Its club smacked the iron helmet, producing a loud sound before sending the attacked kobold to the ground.

It desperately tried to get up, but its battered body refused to cooperate. After a few seconds of struggling, the staff-wielder surrendered.

“We have a winner.” Rumbled Guardian, while coming closer to check on the fallen kobold. After a few minutes, he spoke with relief. “You’ll be alright, no broken bones, no damaged organs. Thank our Lord for your sturdiness. It is a gift rarely given.” He hummed. “Now go, rest with the others.”

“Y-yessss, fa-... Leader! I will do ssssso.” The loser hissed while lowering its head. The already conscious kobolds guided it to the resting part of the chamber. In that part of the hall, a collection of blankets and clothes was spread on the ground, looking like they were mostly stolen from the human outpost or defeated adventurers. Nearby a small bonfire was providing light and warmth.

“With this battle, you’ve become a leader of the tribe!” Guardian coughed, yet continued his speech. The weary lizard straightened its back in response. “In the name of our Lord, the Dungeon Core Uno, I hereby name you a Kobold Sergeant and leader of the Pale Tribe Kobolds! Wear this name with pride, until you’ll earn a more illustrious title!”

“Hisss!”

“Hissssss!”

“Hiss!”

The rest of the kobolds cheered loudly, bringing a toothy smile to the exhausted winner’s face.

Guardian stepped back, leaving the newly appointed leader to its companions’ embrace, as they smacked its back and hugged each other in a display of camaraderie. Even the runner-up seemed like it was okay with the ruling, its shoulders shaking from laughing too much at a joke.

[Are you satisfied with your toys?] I sent grumpily to Guardian.

[My Lord!] He sputtered. [They are not toys! These are elite warriors I trained with utmost care!]

[Did you?]

[Yes!]

[What would happen if I ordered you to use them to attack the invading humans?]

[I-I… I would follow that order gladly, my Lord!].

[And then they would all die, right?]

Guardian took a deep breath, his gaze landing on the celebrating reptiles. The closest of them noticed his unnatural stillness.

“Are you alright, Leader?”

“Do you need to ressssst?”

They asked while tugging at his armor.

[They would gladly die for your glory… my Lord.] He answered, his hands balling into fists.

“Leave me for now. Rest.” He spoke at the same time.

“B-but…”

“That’s an order!”

“”“Yesssss ssssssir!”””

Despite their unease, the kobolds followed Guardian’s directions and started to settle down near the fire.

[No matter how strong you think they are…] I muttered. [Their physical defects are just too much. No agility, no speed. Even if you train them, there is a wall that they simply can’t overcome.]

[Hard work will be rewarded, my Lord! That’s what I was teaching them!]

[And yet you created not soldiers but toys.] I pressed on. Was I jealous of his family? Maybe. This was however a dungeon - and the dungeon creatures needed to be useful or perish. I needed warriors, not children. [They would die to the weakest of the invaders. Is that the role you want for them? An experience fodder?]

[N-no! I… I… Y-you are r-right, my Lord.] Guardian’s voice cracked and then his gaze turned steely like suddenly his whole personality changed. [Shall I dispose of these failures, then?] He picked up a nearby sword, which unlike the rest had a working edge. His words distorted, a chorus speaking instead of a single voice.

[[[My mistake shall be washed with their blood!]]]]

His large form charged forward before I had time to process his words.

[[[No failure. Never again.]]]

With each large step, Guardian’s figure came closer and closer to where the kobolds were celebrating.

“Prepare yourself!” He shouted. “Enemy attack!”

Deformed creatures reacted quickly, if still somewhat clumsily, barely believing their caretaker would attack them.

The first hit struck metal with a loud clang, and a bronze-scaled kobold with a shield was sent flying. A blow came back in response, the wooden staff bouncing helplessly from the Guardian’s armored form.

[Do not kill them!] I shouted quickly. [Even trash can be recycled to better serve my plans!]

[[[What?]]]

[That’s an order!] I screamed, using his own language.

Guardian stopped his movements, startling the surrounding reptiles. The kobolds used that time to reform their ranks, still unsure about what was happening.

[M-my Lord!] He barely squeezed a small whisper. [I-I knew i-it was just a t-test!]

I shook my head. If not for your madness… I would’ve gone with it. Yet these creatures are clearly his mental anchor. Then the hard way it is.

[Sure. Continue the battle. Teach them the endurance that a real soldier needs.]

[What are your plans, my Lord?]

[They need to get enhanced. For now, focus on their strength and endurance.] I nodded to myself. [Then, when the first ones are ready send them down to the fourth level. But inform me first! I’ll tell the Butchers to take them in.]

[B-butchers, my Lord?] His voice trembled.

[It’s just a name. They’re a part of the medical crew I’m cultivating on the lower floors. They’re healers. Don’t worry.]

At least this way I’ll be able to kill two birds with one stone.

[Y-yes! Thank you!]

With a silent nod, I cut the link and instead observed the one-sided massacre. Guardian was now using the flat side of his blade, either sending the hissing kobolds in the air or bashing them down.

“Vigilance is the key!” He screamed. “Never forgo the sentries! It will cost you blood or lives!”

Despite his overwhelming power, the kobold tribe didn’t relent, their battle cries filling the air. It was a useless struggle, their opponent was untiring and heavily armored. Yet they persevered.

Maybe there was some hope for them after all.

Only time will tell.

Soon only one figure was left standing - it was of course Guardian.

His large frame stood out amongst the bodies, broken weapons, and spilled provisions. His face was hidden behind the helmet, yet I could swear that he was smiling.

My invisible form was just leaving the room when I heard his words.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Our mighty and benevolent ruler, the Dungeon Core Uno bestowed upon me a secret containing your future! You will be trained and strengthened until the invaders will tremble at your mere sight! Rejoice, soldiers!”

What followed was a wave of hissing, screaming, and shouts of dedication coming from the slowly recovering kobolds.

“And to prepare you for it we will conduct this type of training every day! Surprise attacks, strength training, and endurance training are on the menu!”

This time the shouts were much less enthusiastic.

“Don’t worry, the dungeon will heal your wounds!”

Only silence followed the last statement.

I wished I could float a little faster.

After that embarrassment, I was ready to leave the second floor and continue back to the surface... yet something drew my attention.

There was a discrepancy I could sense but it took me a while to understand what it was.

I noticed a small, nearly invisible tube sticking out from the Central Pond Room water. It wavered slightly from time to time, swaying on a non-existent wind.

Normally one would think it was just a lonely reed, growing in the muddy ground…

Yet as a creator of this place, I knew that no reeds grew here!

It was suspicious… so suspicious.

Diving under the brown pond waters allowed me to discover the perpetrator - if I could even name it so… because draped in dark, loose clothing was a small kobold.

It was staring with its unblinking eyes at the nearby human soldiers. Most of its focus was diverted between invaders wearing robes or carrying glass vials.

I was sure who this little scoundrel belonged to at a glance.

[Non… what the hell is your pupil doing on the second floor, so close to the humans?]

What came back was a wave of annoyance, like someone waved her hands at me in dismissal. The damn revenant girl was getting better at word-less communication.

[That’s not an answer. Do you want us to get killed?] I hissed.

[Training.] She spewed out one word like that explained anything...

[I can see that! I was asking about why your wannabe ninja is training in the most dangerous place in my dungeon?]

[Danger. Good.]

A moment of silence passed as she continued in a questioning tone.

[Ninja.]

[That’s not what’s important!]

A feeling of disagreement washed over me. I sighed loudly. How was it that a dungeon monster like her was so annoying to deal with? Sometimes it was like talking with a child.

[A ninja is a type of stealth-oriented assassin and spy using short swords, poisons, and throwing weapons. Happy?]

Another emotion, this time of satisfaction and wonder, was an answer.

[Now… Get your disciple back. And, for the future, I forbid it from appearing close to the invaders unless I distinctly tell you so!]

An ethereal sigh was her answer before Non suddenly appeared from the creature’s shadow, snatching the black-clothed kobold. It struggled for a moment only to disappear nearly immediately. The waters turned turbulent only to quieten down immediately. No invader discovered anything.

Next, Non asked a single question.

[Me.]

Thankfully I was getting better at the subtle art of “Non’s interpretation”.

[Not yet.] My answer came and I could hear her attention shift. [There is time and place for everything.] I continued and could feel some of her enthusiasm returning.

[It shouldn’t be long before my second-floor succumbs to the more… base impulses of this body.] I harrumphed. To say it was irritating was an understatement. [At that time I would need your help with snatching a few individuals.]

[By that moment the cat would be already out of the bag. After all only active dungeons heal their damaged walls and floors.]

[Kill.]

[No. I will need them alive. But you can hunt them. A bit of fear never killed anybody.]

A feeling of disappointment returned but I could also feel a raw excitement of a beast that was about to be let free from its leash. Soon after Non’s presence reappeared in her quarters with black-clothed kobold safely secured.

The little guy was trembling, desperately trying to escape his Revenant master’s clutches.

It was of course a futile endeavor.

Ignoring its struggles I started moving.

And then I stopped.

[You can even train on the little guy. Your kidnapping skills I mean.]

Not waiting for an answer I floated up.

A familiar sight greeted my eyes - the first floor of my dungeon. It had changed tremendously since the last time I was here.

Not only there was a collapsed section to the east but also my earlier “elite” monsters - Jailer Jonathan and Decapitator were kept from spawning by a constant stream of invaders. The castle rooms had been turned into makeshift barracks, where human soldiers and adventurers rested.

Even worse, the Conservatory, where I planted some of the more dangerous plants had a wood-laden trail through the middle of it, allowing for unobstructed traffic. Pale-faced and robed individuals were hopping between my Fiery Dandelions, Knife Bushes, and Copper Grass, taking samples and noting things in their leather-bound journals.

Guarding them was a small group of barely equipped militia, armed with wooden shields and crude spears. Each of them sported a small kite shield emblem - the symbol of the Geinard Kingdom.

South from the Trial of Single Combat, a small line was forming, human warriors waiting for a chance to gain a level or even a unique skill. The Lebir Spar-masters glared at the challengers with an air of superiority, yet the compulsion to test their mettle had long overcome their hatred for the living.

I shook my head.

If my plan won’t succeed I would end up just like these fools.

A slave to my nature, forced to live the rest of my life as a tool.

Never.

I would rather die.

With teeth clenched I moved northward, to glance upon the idiot-smith, a Bile-brain Golem that I left some time ago in charge of a forge. Its work was sloppy and disappointing. Despite this, I still decided to check its work. Who knew, maybe the clumsy fool improved in some way.

What I found was… curious.

The room was much crowdier than I remembered.

Most of the people present were simple carriers, stealing smith’s supply of ingots and even finished weapons and armor. To my surprise, the Bile-brain ignored them unless they took too much, at which point it… boinked them.

Yeah…

No deadly attack, no bout of rage, just a little love tap on their heads, to which they reacted in a similarly pacifistic fashion, returning the ingots to their place.

This was… uncanny.

There was cooperation here, something that I didn’t account for.

Besides peasants milling about, there was a single figure dressed in robes, with a small notebook kept at the ready. With his balding head, small goatee, and squinting shortsighted eyes, he looked like a perfect stereotype of a nerdy scholar.

Each time my idiot-smith was doing something out of the norm, like avoiding the humans walking around or changing the way it worked the forge, another out-of-breath murmur was leaving the robed individual's mouth.

He kept gasping about “self-correcting routines” and “ability to learn”, yet I didn’t see anything too strange about my creation. Especially considering it wasn’t a robot, but a living (but not breathing) abomination. Additionally, a very stupid one.

Shaking my head I turned to see the effects of its work.

Unlike humans, the idiot-smith was able to sense my presence and immediately stopped working, thus spreading chaos amongst its human ‘servants’. The robed individual also reacted, its screams turning to higher and higher octaves as I ordered the Bile-brain to lift some of the weapons and armor into the air.

It complied and lower-than-average were presented to me.

I looked them over, making the smith twist some of the more complicated ones from side to side. Not much time had passed since I left it alone… and there was some progress.

Surprising.

The Bile-brain was trying to overcome a lack of creativity by trying out different designs. I wondered where it had found them, but various pieces spread about in the room answered my question. Humans were feeding my creation, trying to enhance it… Strange, yet understandable.

It was producing arrowheads, spearheads, small metal shields, swords, axeheads, breastplates, gauntlets, greaves, and more.

After surveying the most outstanding pieces (which were of much worse quality than those worn by the soldiers on the second floor) I started to communicate with the forge monster. I was no smith, but pointing out a few places where iron was too thick or too thin was enough to get it started.

The idiot-smith returned to its work with a flurry of enthusiasm and a breath of relief coming from the surrounding humans.

At some point in time a group of reinforcements arrived from the surface - no big hitters though, only poorly armed militia… wearing armor and weapons made by my Bile-brain.

Oh.

Now that I thought about it Guardian’s kobolds were also using idiot-smith’s designs. I wonder… how did they move them through the second floor?

A few seconds later I noticed a Ratling tunnel behind the electric forge and a few more hidden here and there. After wasting some more time I was sure that these entrances were a part of the underground network encompassing the entirety of my dungeon.

Smart.

The commotion quietened down, while the robed individual was breathing down the smith's neck, glaring with anticipation at its newest work.

I shook my head and left the room going straight to the surface.

My Evil eyes were somehow still alive, and a few more were even sprouting here and there, unlike earlier, when I was forced to seed them manually. Out of those new ones, only three managed to survive, their gross appearance being a reason for destruction.

One specimen had been even replanted into a flower pot by some eccentric mage. I lost connection to it but I could still sense its location. What a shame that was - I was curious about what they were doing in their laboratory.

Most of the silvery trees and Sundews ended up cut or uprooted and the freed space was immediately turned into fields of corn and wheat, with some root vegetables growing on the side. I was surprised as they weren’t here the last time I checked.

The guards were especially vigilant around the fields, which was easy to understand considering the Kingdom faced a famine.

It wasn’t my intention to provide for the human invaders though...

At least there was a silver lining to the whole situation as the latest catastrophe with the Ogrekin forced the outpost leader to relocate his office to the outside. It was a funny coincidence too. The four former bodyguard warriors were kept in a makeshift hospital some ways from the central buildings. Yet just before their change, they were moved to prison, which was just next to Mages Tower (which was, by the way - not a tower), Charles’ quarters, office, barracks, and canteen.

These big guys literally tore both the ceilings and walls apart while trying to get free and escape downwards to my dungeon.

This meant a whole lot of trampling, screaming, and good, jolly destruction.

Nobody died though.

Ogrekin were trying to escape, not kill and normal humans were smart enough to avoid them. There were some broken bones, and bruises but nothing too life-threatening.

How do I know this?

Because everybody and their mother were talking about it!

I guess that living in a god-forsaken outpost in the middle of nowhere kinda cut on the amount of possible gossip. Before Charles and his old butler, Adam arrived at their terrace I was already informed that my half-monsters started to get accepted by the community, which was a large improvement over my expectations of them getting mercilessly slaughtered on sight. I guess ordering them to stand down helped.

Ogrekin still had guards milling around them but wore no chains, and the public consensus about them seemed to be “stupid but helpful gigantic boys”. It also seemed like their “official” name was changed to “half-giants”. I was still a bit sore about the system not recognizing Ogryns… but what can a core do?

Anyway, while I listened to the latest rumors Charles and his servant arrived. The former sat down behind his desk and began moving some of the papers around. His face looked a bit pale, his red eyes and hair also changed and were now more similar to spilled blood than earlier carrot-like color. He was sweating, even though the temperature was far from scorching.

After a few moments, Adam couldn’t endure it anymore and started to speak.

“Are you alright, Master?” His worried gaze scanned Charles’ face. “Do you still have trouble sleeping?”

“It’s hard to sleep when it’s so hot, you know.” The man in question mumbled back, wiping his forehead.

“Your state keeps worsening, then?”

“Yes, but I can’t really call this an illness, now can I?” A wry smile appeared on the redhead’s face. “Master Vincent says it’s no magical disease.”

“Then what about common ones? How about getting an opinion of one of the capital’s doctors?”

“Haha! Good joke! Did you already forget I lost my nobility? Do you think they would ride all this way here just to check on some no-name with no money? Ha?” Charles shouted, his skin quickly turning tomato red.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, Master.” Adam said while bowing deeply.

After taking a few deep breaths the former noble spoke in an even tone. “No, it is I who should apologize. I don’t know what came over me… Sorry.”

“Now, can we focus on the present?” Charles immediately changed the topic of conversation. ”Start with the half-giants. What are mages saying?”

“Nothing new, Master. Truth to be told we can only speculate. Their bones and muscles seemed thicker, and even their heads and eyes turned bigger, yet their intelligence only decreased as a result. They’re like five-year-olds, constantly needing to be reminded about what to do and when to stop.” He grunted. “On the other hand, their strength seems monstrous, they can easily break iron poles and lift wooden logs.”

“Anything more?”

“They seem to barely remember their families… even if their wives and children try whatever they can to remind them.”

“Haaaaah.”

“Also… there is another request from Master Vincent for a half-giant... autopsy.” He finished with a grimace.

“My answer remains the same - no!” Charles roared, his hands hitting the desk in rage. I noticed small, smoldering holes were left in the wood. “These are loyal servants, who were guarding me with their lives and I won’t have any of these robed fuckers cutting them open just to satisfy their sick curiosity! It’s not up for discussion!”

“I see.” Adam answered, meticulously crossing out something in his notebook. I noticed that a small, satisfied smile appeared on his face.

A moment passed before the former noble calmed down, his tone nearly returning to normal.

“What about the other thing I asked you about?”

“Your siblings, Master?”

“Yes.” Charles answered while closing his eyes.

“According to my sources, your father sent them with our Ancestor, Iron Hand, and Green Succubus.”

“Let me guess, Akkan was forced on Hekkan of Ash, to strengthen our familial relationship, Souldi followed Iron Hand, and Kinth was sent after Green Succubus to try to woo her?”

“To the letter, Master.”

“And what of their fates?”

“Unknown, Master. Our sources are… conflicted. The only thing they can confirm is that all three forts - Kojin, Grode, and Frist had fallen silent.”

“That’s not all, is it?” Charles asked, his red eyes staring sharply at the servant.

“Yes. Kojin is reportedly shrouded in clashing fire and water magics, creating a hellish death zone. It is unlikely that anyone other than Hekkan survived.”

“Even my brother with his famous blue flame? Blueflame’s blood carries resistance that others lack, right? Tell me it is so!” The red-haired mage's voice trembled.

“Unless the Ancestor intervened directly…” Adam let his voice trail into nothingness.

For a moment both the servant and his master just stood there, a heavy silence smothering the air between them. A much paler Charles spoke in a hoarse voice.

“How about Grode then?”

“The battle in the fortress and its surroundings still rages, the spies reporting inhuman figures slaughtering each other and then instantly reforming. Not much more is known at the moment. Anyone foolish enough to come closer gets attacked by both sides.”

“So the golem master met his match? Curses…” After taking a deep breath he continued. ”How about Frist? It’s the closest location and the one I’m most interested in. After all, Agness went to reinforce them, right? With Lord Hawk no less.”

Adam once again shook his head. “Our scouts report a large army of undead near Frist. Skeletons, zombies, ghouls, and large abominations have been reported so far. We predict that there are vampires, liches, and maybe even other restless dead monsters hidden amongst them.”

“I-It’s like… like somebody intentionally created counters to Geinard Kingdom’s powerhouses.” The former noble murmured under his nose. “It’s not like we were hiding them, so it could be anyone, really.”

“But there is no motive!” He grumbled. “We have no neighbors deranged enough to sic monsters on our land. If one country in the Northern Kingdoms Alliance crumbles all of us will follow!”

“I don’t understand it! I just don’t!”

“Gods damn whoever was responsible.”

“Monstrous times bore monstrous creations, Master.” Adam added.

“I know that, but it still doesn’t make any sense. Even if it was some cult or a single perpetrator there is no way to force monstrous armies into marching without power! At this point wouldn’t it be easier to just attack us directly?”

“Enough. I will only grow angrier if we’ll continue this topic.”

“As you wish, Master.”

“What about Agness, then? Do you have any news?” Charles stood up from his desk, his figure looking unusually frail at the wooden outpost backdrop. He turned towards the fields, his hands clenched on the railing. “Or my brother?” He added after a moment of consideration.

“I’m sorry.”

“I-I see…”

“The scouts noticed that the undead are still fighting, so not all is lost.”

“Unlike the dungeon’s servants, they’re not coordinated in the slightest and the reports confirm that they barely function as an army. As long as Frist walls still stand our soldiers may have a chance.”

“I see.”

Once again a thick, dark silence descended between the two men. Both of them stared into the horizon, each of them immersed in their thoughts.

[What I would give to peek into that head of yours, mage.] I mumbled under my nose.

And Charles suddenly reacted.

“Were you saying something?”

“Uh… no, Master?”

“Is that so? I could swear I heard a whisper of something… inhuman.”

“How’s your condition, Master? Is it getting worse?”

“Hey, I’m not getting crazy! I’m not hearing voices!”

“As you say.”

“Adam!”

Charles turned, staring at his smirking subordinate before bursting into a laugh himself. A second later his grey-haired servant joined, filling the damp silence and brightening the atmosphere.

“Haaa… haaa…”

“T-that was good.”

“Y-yes. It was ages since I laughed in this God-forgotten place.”

“As you say, Master.”

“Do you want to hear another crazy idea?”

“Please enlighten me, Master.”

“I was thinking about our outpost. Our future. About the things we found. One of these things is the food that was transplanted into the outpost’s fields. Blue Root, was it called?”

“Are you talking about the small, blue plant that we discovered underground? Then yes.”

Oh, so humans had already discovered my Azure Potatoes? Too bad...

“Add to this the training chamber, an infinite amount of metal, weapons, and armor, and even how we can get magical weapons and armor!”

“Truly Brighton has blessed us.” Nodded Adam.

“Yes, maybe. My idea is a bit different.”

“I’m all ears, Master.”

“What if this dungeon is still alive?”

WHAT?

“What?”

“Hahaha, I was waiting for that reaction!” Charles grinned happily. “Think about it! The creatures underground aren’t growing weaker and more complacent! On the contrary! They’re trying out new tactics and even sometimes manage to push our forces away!”

“It has been documented that some of the dungeon-born monsters are fiercely territorial, Master.”

“Then how about this third-floor boss that got even Lord Hawk scared? Why hasn’t it already escaped?”

“Normal dungeons and especially Forgotten Dungeon types seem to inspire the loyalty of their monsters even after their core’s death. That too is proven.”

“You’re a tough nut to crack. How do you explain the still-growing dungeon’s area of influence? Even after its supposed destruction?”

At this point, I was completely in Adam’s logic camp. You tell him, old man!

“It’s a Forgotten Dungeon. Or it was. It will probably grow, much like nails and hair grow even after the death of a person. It may be similar.”

“Ugh… gross…”

[Yeah, you tell him! There is nothing wrong with my dead dungeon, you dunce!] My mental voice turned out unnecessarily loud.

“Huh?” Charles stopped his hand-waving and grew silent.

“Master? What it is?”

“It’s nothing, nothing… Just hearing things, again.”

“I’ll try to get a doctor from the capital.” Adam’s face turned sour.

“Don’t bother.” Charles smiled. “And how is the production and training of that going?”

“What are you talking abo--... Ahh! Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

Adam quickly scanned their vicinity before he started his report in a hushed tone. “The first… product is already done. The combat tests were promising. Very promising. We’re currently closely working with Master’s Vincent apprentices to find out the best activation and deactivation triggers.”

“Do you have enough supplies?”

A quick nod followed. “Yes. There is a constant flow of materials we’re currently… employing. Especially since their quality doesn’t matter in the end.”

“True.”

“Master.” Adam hesitated, his face turning worried before he controlled his emotions.

“Spit it out.”

“Is this project of yours really necessary?”

Charles chuckled weakly. “Yes, sadly it is. When all is said and done only one thing matters. Power. Strength to not be trampled. Strength to survive.”

“Strength to protect those we love.” He added in a whisper.

“Without it we are nothing.”

“For such power, any price is right, even if I had to sell my soul.”

“I understand, Master.”

“Good, because I need some rest.”

“Ah.”

“Yes?”

“Try to cobble up some armor and weapons for the half-giants. I have a feeling we’re going to need them in the future.”

As his form vanished from my sight I was left to digest this new knowledge.

Only to get interrupted.

I was getting an intruder signal… on the second floor, near the Underground Lake, where Glass Progenitor lived.

That was normal.

The fact it was coming from behind the lake… near the river - wasn’t.