Charles

former Blueflame noble

We went deeper, with the halls growing dimmer and the lights sparser. The Floor Guardian room was empty, hidden under the same lake that our guide earlier emerged from. A curious design - it was hidden just under our noses this whole time, which turned out as a surprisingly effective solution, as long as it was unknown to the delvers.

Then again even knowing where to go I couldn’t really imagine forces under my command beating the armored monstrosity walking ahead. Not without engaging in some dubious tactics like bombing the whole place or invading the room with an overwhelming amount of people. Tactics that the dungeon might have an issue with. Tactics that were problematic now that I wanted to parley with it.

A thought for the future, then.

Not to mention that the metal chains keeping the Guardian captive (and sane) were gone, which seemed to be an upgrade, not a downgrade, considering he was not currently berserking. It was only by cutting said chains we managed to destroy him earlier.

My new magic might be powerful, and the level of my class had risen to twenty-one, but I only had one life to spare, unlike the bosses and monsters spewed by the dungeon. It wouldn’t be a problem in normal circumstances, human ingenuity proved its worth again and again, and yet these halls had already shown themselves more than difficult, and with a learning enemy, the risk of dying was just too great.

Walking underwater was a horrid affair. We were fitted with some kind of breathing device (a rough mask with a connected tube providing fresh air) and told to keep our hands on the rope attached to our guide. There was a bit of a fuss since my men weren’t happy with something dungeon-made stuck to their faces but I managed to calm them down, and a few minutes later we emerged in a humble room, our hair and clothes completely soaked.

“Why are we even here?” I mumbled, trying to get water out of my robe. The green flame was mildly useful in drying, its destructive properties were just too hard to precisely control, at least at my level. “Couldn’t we jump in through the scar? It’s a direct route to the third floor.”

“It is only proper to allow you to walk the path of a real challenger. There is no honor in skipping ahead.” The Guardian rumbled with disgruntlement. There was something else here. Disappointment, or maybe just tiredness? It was hard to judge his mood by the tone of voice alone. Especially when his face was covered by a helmet.

“The Geinard Kingdom really degraded with time.” He continued his preaching. “To think that you people try to use the easier way every time, instead of paying a toll in blood and sweat to defeat us rightly.”

“I feel it’s unfair to say it this way.” I grumbled back, unable to keep myself silent. A monster or not, I would not have all the hard work done by me and mine likened to cheating.

“Oh, and why is that?” The armored knight was still walking, but he slowed down, half-turning his enormous body. Yet nothing bad happened, no retribution, no attack. Instead, I felt like I was once again in the old mansion’s study, debating my tutor.

“What we’ve become is a direct effect of the earlier generations' actions working out the way you described it, sire.” I fumbled with words but continued speaking out seeing his curt nod. ”They kept their head high and faced difficulties head-on, bleeding and crying. The heroes, the villains, the courageous, and the self-sacrificial… they went into battle, into dungeons - and died out as a result. They went extinct, like a legendary griffin! It wasn’t a simple process, nor was it quick… but why do you think the current Kingdom uses everything possible to reach its goals? Why do we stoop to the lowest things possible, now even using the undead to further our reach and to preserve our kind? It is not by choice!”

“I don’t abide such things and yet I understand why my King and Queen were tempted to do so!”

I stopped my tirade, breathing hard as my gaze grew more weary by the second. “We’re weaker than before, straining our backs against impossible odds, facing an inevitable extinction. But we refuse to die.” I repeated my words in a whisper, more to myself than to anyone else. “We refuse to die.”

There was a modicum of silence before an angry shout broke it to the pieces.

“I don’t understand! You should die with pride! Die standing! The honor is worth more than mere blood!” As if to accentuate his point the Guardian hit the nearby wall, leaving a hole inside, with a few pieces of brick falling crushed to the ground. “The glory of your ancestors beckons! Why do you not answer? Even a coward can find redemption! Why is your spirit broken?!”

His anger didn’t deter me in the slightest. Was I seeking death? Or was I just fed up dealing with the fools?

“Would you say the same if your death brought ruination to your wife, children, and friends? If defeat meant they were wiped from the face of the earth, would your moral code still matter then?” I asked quietly. “Where chivalry ends and survival begins? You see the problem from the position of strength. We are weak. And weak need to use whatever’s available to them. Better to live crawling than die standing.” I summed up my… no - our, humanity’s stance. The Geinard Kingdom took it literally, but wasn’t it the same case with the Dross Republic? It’s just that instead of scrapping the barrel even further, like we do they had given up and were trying to escape.

The knight spread out his arms, before roaring to the heavens and then pointing his finger in my direction. “But you are strong. Why the weakling mindset? Why the fear? Just move through the danger like a swift, sharp blade! Live a life worth remembering! Be a hero or a villain, not a bland nothingness!”

“I remember where I came from.” I answered calmly. “And how there’s always someone stronger. Someone more ruthless, someone with a conviction that lets them throw everything but power away. I am not a man like that. I won’t let my pride get the best of me, not when I have so much to lose.”

His answer was only a heavy gaze, which I returned in kind.

A moment later we once again started walking, with only the sound of footsteps breaking the silence, our anger forgotten. Our guide was muttering under his nose, while tilting his head, listening to some unheard voice, and yet his steps were unhurried, confident.

“Besides…” I started, before immediately stopping.

“Yes?” The Guardian’s eyes drilled into me, radiating intensity I rarely saw in the usually mirthful figure.

Unable to retreat I took a deep breath and then continued speaking. “Besides don’t you and your father know best how hollow glory seems when death beckons and everything seems lost? Who will sing the songs about your battles, who will extoll the heroes, when humanity ceases to exist? When we are but dust and bones scattered by the winds?”

My words seemed to have bitten deep. Maybe they were especially effective for one carrying Waltzer's blood? Or was it the betrayal he hinted at?

The Guardian, Daniel Waltzer, turned with a foreboding slowness, the power of his rage brightening the helmet’s slits. Wisps of red energy flew above his head, disappearing into the ceiling. My retainers moved between me and him without a wasted word, their weapons ready to intercept.

“All I can hear is excuses! Excuses that your people think our deeds were for nothing. That the weaklings who live in the present will forget us and our foes. That they will not learn nor strive for greatness. They will not work for the same power that we traded our best years for, but instead, whimper pathetically on the graves of their betters! We, who shielded humanity with our blood and steel are to you but tombstones crumbling with each passing year!” He roared with righteous fury, a sword suddenly in his hand. He stepped forward and spat words through his clenched teeth while pointing the blade in my direction. “I. Will. Not. Allow. That!”

Despite the anger and the hostility, I could feel the despair in his tone. An ancient, lost in the present, clinging to the past glories. So I did the only thing that made sense.

“PARLEY! Parley!” I shouted raising my hands in the air, as his red eyes were gazing at my soul. Despite the nervousness, I emerged from behind two bodyguards with my head held high. Then I spoke slowly, carefully, weighing every word. “What I am truly saying, is that your power, and that of your Lord will need living, reliable allies to keep the legend alive. A community, to remember those, who sacrificed themselves for humanity, and for the Geinard Kingdom, even if I am not a part of the latter anymore.” And as someone bearing a class named User of a Tainted Fire, I wasn’t sure if the first part applied to me either.

“Ha. Very well. As long as you understand.” The knight answered, slowly sheathing his weapon. “I’m not the one to judge, but that’s a weird stance to take when bargaining.” I could feel his anger dissipating as we spoke.

“I didn’t take you for a man interested in such trifles, Sir Guardian, that’s why I need to speak directly with your Lord.” I quipped back.

“Isn’t that true.” He chuckled. ”My father always said that in this metal head of mine, there’s naught, but battle and wine. Not that it matters now. Let’s continue then, but remember - my Lord is not easily swayed, and neither is he easy to understand. Keep your honeyed words ready. You will need them.”

Then, as if nothing happened, we started walking once again, leaving both Master Vincent and Adam unsure what to do. They were prepared to give their lives in my defense, and while I was immeasurably grateful for that devotion a short chastising was needed.

“Please let me do the talking, and from now on don’t unsheathe your weapons no matter what.” I whispered urgently to the two old men. “We’re deep into the dungeon’s territory and if words won’t save us, nothing will.” They both answered with a nod, their faces wrinkling with concern.

Adam was still keeping a free hand on the handle of his rapier, now sheathed at his side, while Master Vincent observed our surroundings with childlike excitement, which was frankly unbecoming of his age. I might’ve made a mistake by bringing him here. His loyalty was questionable at the best of times and right now I worried that he might jeopardize my efforts be it accidentally or by design. Because if there was one thing that a real mage was loyal to, it was power.

I chuckled a little. By my own definition, I wasn’t a “real” mage, then. After all this desperate overreach was not because of power or magic, but because of a certain woman’s fate? And I guess my people too?

Even deep in thought, I noticed that the environment around us slowly changed. The walls were still made from bricks, and the ceiling which many strange contraptions were hung under remained the same, yet the brownish material they were made from started to grow wetter, more glistening, and with this change creepy white, bone-like structures appeared for the first time.

I faintly remembered them from the second floor. Maybe from the first?

Noticing my interest the guide spoke up.

“These little things are called Bone Lichen, or, as your people call them - Water Moss.” He added after a second. “It’s mainly because of its white coloration and its tendency to form tubes full of water.” He gingerly poked one of the growths. It bent under the pressure, rebounding to the original shape a moment later. “They’re completely safe, both for consumption and drinking. Not the tastiest, or so the other denizens tell me. One of the small gifts created by our Lord.”

“Do they have to look so gross, though?” I asked, displeased. The amount of Lichen was growing bigger the more we walked. It turned the walls in the likes of a bone-strewn catacomb.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Things just ended up that way.” The Guardian shrugged, before continuing his walk. In a few minutes, the tunnel widened into a large cave, fitted with a false light and containing arable soil.

What welcomed us was… overwhelming. The idea of a jungle located so deep underground was preposterous, yet here it was. Dungeon magic made the impossible, possible. I devoured the sight before with greed. So much life. Life meant food. All these supplies were a method to keep our oldest enemy, starvation, at bay.

The whole place was filled with plants - the large, silvery trees we saw on the surface, complete with smaller chompers located near their roots, but also completely new specimens, like bushes with thick leaves and yellowish berries, thorny vines clinging to both the walls and majority of the trees, or triangular plants, each with a single blue flower blooming on their top. And that was only the beginning, as the rest of the unknown flora stretched behind the first growths.

The air was rife with weird smells, mostly those of decay, but there were a few others, that were harder to place.

“Welcome to the Experimental Gardens and here I present you its caretakers.” The Guardian boomed happily, pointing towards a group of rats waiting for us… no, they were called Ratlings, weren’t they? It would not look good if I slipped and called them what they were. I still wasn’t sure how much the Dungeon Core cared about its servants.

The monsters present looked distinctly different than the ones we’d met before. For one they actually wore clothing, even if these were but brown, bland pieces of material, decorated with small bone idols. On that topic, a few pieces of said bone - or maybe it was the white moss we encountered earlier - were also hanging from their neck and arms. They looked like a part of a wild tribe. Their atmosphere was also strange, and it took me a while to notice why. Compared to their compatriots they felt mellower, as if they were less gifted with feral intelligence and hunger, with calm curiosity and patience taking their place.

Amongst them the largest rodent stood at attention, its height nearly reaching my waist. It was wearing a more complete brown robe with a burlap cap sitting comfortably on its head. However, the most eye-catching feature of said monster were its eyes, with a familiar green haze contained within. It was the same tainted flame I was intimately connected with, ever since my class evolution.

Upon seeing it I unconsciously drew upon my mana, creating a small flame levitating just above my palm. The green spell swirled and danced, drawing its - his - gaze. With a small bow, the rat screeched out a series of sounds that sounded suspiciously like a greeting.

Our guide confirmed my guess a moment later. The Guardian coughed, before speaking out in an unsure tone. “This is… Feeder, the Council Rat responsible for this small piece of heaven.” Despite his face being completely covered I detected hints of laughter. “He greets the fellow acolyte of the blessed flame and hopes that our Master will grace you with more of his power.”

The Guardian chuckled, before translating again.

“If any of the plants catch your fancy Feeder will gladly describe their functions and dangers. He will even give out some pieces for free.” Another screech resounded, accompanied by a few more strange sounds. “And please don’t touch any of them unsupervised. Some are quite dangerous.”

“Yes… yes, of course.” I nodded quickly, before falling into thought. I couldn’t really lead an invasion so deep into the dungeon in order to gather provisions but getting some samples should help the farmers and the Silver Oasis on the whole.

Sadly I was not fast enough, as Master Vincent decided to hijack the discussion.

“How were these plants even made? I can sense at least a few rare affinities, thunder, poison, metal… so interesting.”

“The base specimens were made by our Creator and since that time we’ve put effort into diversifying their ranks. Handberries, Rock Fruits, Clinging Thorns, Bifurics, Sweetdrain Bushes, and many more were created by these hands.” The rat leader couldn’t look prouder, counting the number of plants made by his subordinates. He waved his hands excitedly in the air. It would be cute if not for the constant reminders that it was one of the dungeon’s creatures. “By carefully exposing the chosen strands to the altering power of the warp-stone we managed to keep a whole 5% of the results viable!”

“Ooooh!” Master Vincent exclaimed in awe. “Isn’t that a manipulation on the grand scale? There must’ve been hundreds if not thousands of experiments! And a 5% survival rate for the new species? Amazing!”

This was the first time I saw a rat coughing in his… hand? Paw? “The survival rate is about 2%” He screeched, clearly embarrassed. I could feel it even through translation. “Some of the specimens turn out infertile or just not used to the underground environment and thus perish, despite our best efforts.”

“I see. A shame.” The old mage nodded before continuing his line of questioning. “Do you have any pieces of this warp-stone available? I would love to continue your experiments on the surface!” There was a red flush on the otherwise grandfatherly face. There it was - the greed for the knowledge I knew so well. Some may call it shameless but even the powerful sometimes begged for handouts.

“We aren’t supposed to share it.” The rat answered. Seeing Feeder’s hesitation Master Vincent immediately pounced at the chance.

“But it isn’t strictly forbidden, right?” He grinned. “It doesn’t have to be a donation either. I can trade for it, just tell me your price!”

“That is not the essence of the problem.” Feeder answered. Only now I realized how weird the name was. Who even named the creature? Was it the intelligence behind the dungeon? “The warp-stone has unintended effects. Its magic changes anything that stays in contact with it, be it flora or fauna. Even dungeon monsters. It's in the nature of the stone to do so. To force change on the surroundings.” He added after a second of hesitation. “As I said before, the transformations are mostly negative, often ending in disastrous effects or straight-up death. Curiously, the animals or monsters have at least a fifty-fifty chance to come out alive, and one in five for the mutation to turn out beneficial.” There was something chilling in his recounting. How many creatures were sacrificed to gain that data, I wondered.

In his greed, Master Vincent completely ignored these considerations. “Surely you worked on suitable containment?” He asked slyly.

“We did, but no material known to Ratlings was able to isolate it. We theorize that the reason lies behind its ability to resonate with the souls around it, but that is nothing but a wild guess.”

“Souls?! By the Gods…” The mage gasped. “How do you move it then?”

“Our race is anything but not prolific. There’s always an array of fools volunteering to carry the pieces. All for a chance at greatness.”

“What…”

“Ehem.” The Guardian’s deep voice interrupted the talk. “We have only a few minutes left on the clock. Ask your last questions and we leave.”

I nodded and raised my hand, before turning red.

How long was it since I behaved like a student?

Ignoring the chaos in my mind Feeder asked sharply. “Yes, how I can help you, Acolyte of the Flame?”

“Do you have any fast-growing plant that is ready for human consumption?” I asked, preparing for a refusal. Why would the dungeon even grow something like that? It was counterproductive to feed the people that raided your home.

The rat hummed, before nodding. “Most of them are either dangerous or straight-up poisonous, but there’s one that meets your conditions.”

“Oh?”

“It’s called Azure Potato, named by the Creator himself. I believe that your people call it Blue Root?” His face scrunched with displeasure. “It doesn’t even look like a root!”

“I think I recall this plant.” Master Vincent pipped up. “But wasn’t it mildly poisonous? I mean the proliferation rate sure is something, but it’s considered more of a weed, taking up the precious space needed to grow wheat.”

“That only shows how ignorant your people are. Azure Potato loses its poison after a thorough boiling, leaving a nutritious if somewhat bland flesh behind. Then it can be either eaten as it is, fried, or thrown into a stew. Truly a wonderous plant! It’s one of the Creator’s originals too!” The rat bounced in place, showing his happiness.

“What does the word---” Adam’s words were interrupted by the Guardian.

“We need to leave. My Lord mostly finished his preparations.” He grumbled. The detour came to a close.

“Yes, of course.” I agreed. It wouldn’t do to leave our host waiting. We could always raid this place, now that we knew it was here. Blood for food and power - wasn’t that the dungeon way?

There was a small commotion when Feeder bumped into me, his paws leaving something in my hands. Both Adam and Master Vincent froze, not sure what to do.

“It’s a small present.” The Guardian explained with a huff. “A Rock Fruit seed, which can be farmed and then mixed with Azure Potato. When growing together, they can mitigate both poison and the bitter taste.”

“Thank you!” I bowed, quickly stowing the oblong seed into my pocket. No matter what, this trip was already a success.

“May the Creator guide you, Acolyte!”

We left the Gardens in a strange mood. Each of us was filled with a sense of melancholy now, that we saw another side of dungeon creatures. A side that nobody else suspected. A side that couldn’t and shouldn’t be shared with the outside world. My people didn’t need to know that the meat they hunted belonged to a sapient species. The burden was mine to bear.

It took a few more minutes to delve even deeper, with the Floor Guardian being a giant rat this time. Or should I say humanoid rat? Unlike Ratlings who moved on all fours and still looked like enlarged animals, this specimen oozed violence only exacerbated by his large claws, powerful legs, and muscular body. While its eyes betrayed intelligence there was also a lot of pent-up anger contained within.

The monster’s muscles tensed just as we were walking by while a growl escaped its mouth. Waltzer responded with his own snarl - a warning that stopped the beast in its tracks. It still eyed us as one would a mortal enemy.

As soon as we left the room and delved deeper, breaching the fourth floor the Guardian leading us stopped and turned around. He bowed slightly in our direction. “I am sorry for the poor display. Berserker doesn’t have a good track record when it comes to sapient races. He even died a few times when fighting against some of your fellow adventurers. Still, this reaction was unacceptable. You’re here as guests.”

“I understand. It’s hard to see past animosity.” I agreed easily.

“And the wheel of hatred continues unabated.” Adam muttered sagely while looking back. “How old is he?”

“A week, or maybe even three? I don’t really remember, and neither does he. Most of his life was spent in a hazy rage, fighting against your people.”

“I see.” There wasn’t much more that I could say.

We arrived on the lowest floor, the fourth one. The atmosphere changed once again, the earlier brick walls transforming into rock hallways, filled with a bunch of carved reliefs. It would be a nice place to observe the artistic prowess of the dungeon…

If only their topic was anything other than human sacrifice.

As we moved the reliefs changed, but each of them was a variation of the same situation. A figure was secured on a sacrificial table, with others arranged around it.

The weapons the cultists carried varied from small but sharp-looking knives, to drills and even butcher-like cleavers. The sacrifice was also always carried similarly, with pieces of flesh either taken from or forced into freshly cut wounds.

It was both hideous and fascinating.

Both of my bodyguards observed these carvings, Adam sharing my reaction, while Master Vincent simply stared, deep in thought. Was there a meaning I didn’t understand hidden under the gruesome facade?

Sadly, I didn’t have time to ask, as our tour had come to an end. We were funneled into a large room, with a simple table located in the middle. Around it were a few stone chairs facing the nearest wall with a black gem and some machinery poking out. I immediately noticed that the gem was the dungeon core, even though the reaction from its magic was more muted than I expected it to be.

Still, only a fool would make any suspicious moves right now, as I felt the Guardian and a few new monsters gather around us.

Instead, I focused on the metal thing sprouting above the onyx mind. It was a metal rectangle not wider than 20 centimeters, with a hollow inner part and some kind of rod growing in the middle of it. A gray, unassuming item.

Which immediately told me it was important, because, aside from the monsters, chairs, and the table it was the only other thing of note in the room.

The moment later its purpose become clear, as we were assaulted by a sound attack!

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Everyone around me, be it a monster or human fell to their knees, using their hands to fruitlessly try to block the rising noise. Soon I felt wetness pouring from my ears and nose.

EEEEEEEEEEEEE-”-ree, one, two, three, one, two, three. Oh? Ooooh! Is it working? Yes! YES! YES! I am a genius!” The unbearable scream turned into a somewhat frantic male voice. There was still a metallic tone contained within but the sound was at least bearable. The person on the other side sounded vaguely surprised. “Wait. Why are you people on the floor?” Then it started to mutter. “We aren’t too deep, so it's not a lack of oxygen. Maybe magical pressure? Or they were attacked? By whom - enemy, or rogue creation? The big rat sure wanted to take a bite… But then again Non also was looking a bit sus---… No, no, I’m not accusing anyone, stop your tantrum, girl!”

After a few seconds of speaking nonsense aloud, its attention returned to the room.

“Wait! WHY ARE YOU LOT BLEEDING?!” Its ridiculously loud scream nearly ruptured my eardrums again.

The people and monsters around me rolled on the floor.

That was my first encounter with the “intelligence” behind the dungeon.

My first face-to-face encounter with Uno, the Madman.