'I must be crazy.' I thought to myself. 'All that training and all that fighting against Ripper and Ghouls and Gargoyles and all the other monsters down here have made me go insane. Why else would I be going back to the kill zone? I mean, sure. They didn't shoot my dumb ass dead the first time, but who's to say I didn't get lucky? Who's to say the beans won't decide that I'm not good enough to tell them what to do? Why did I agree to take this risk?'

'Because you are weak.' A little voice whispered in my ear. 'You are weak and feeble and slow. All the other teens your age are strong enough to kill you. All of them had a massive head start. Worse, most of them are bullies. They will not protect you or your family if anything bad happens. They won't be there for uncle Uter or aunt Cheryl or Eva.'

The whispers were sordid and vile.

But that didn't make their words any less true.

As much as I had grown accustomed to life her in Dunstonberry, I couldn't shy away from the fact that my family was basically being kept hostage. And if Mr. Robertson was willing to basically burn down an entire Alaskan township, he'd probably have no qualms in doing away with us if he thought we were too much trouble. Granted, I was pretty sure I was too useful to kill or imprison right now, but there was no guarantee that our arrangement would save the rest of my family if Uncle Uter did anything stupid.

The truth was, we couldn't leave, and the only people we could truly count on were ourselves.

I felt a pang of guilt at that. Thinking back to my friends. To Marco and Ramji and Drew. I did like them and I did respect them. But I couldn't say if they would be on my side, should anything happen.

'Probably not.' I reasoned. 'They have their own families to think about. Moreover, they grew up with this being normal. I can't expect them to drop everything after a month of knowing me. If it came down to it, they might try and stop me from leaving. Thinking that they're doing me and my family a favor.'

It was the truth. No matter how bitter it tasted.

This whole arrangement with Mr. Robertson might guarantee some level of safety.

For now, at least.

But then again, it might not.

I simply didn't know him well enough to make a judgement on whether he would stick to his word or stab me and my family in the back when it suited him. The only way to know for sure that we would be safe, was if I could physically guarantee my family's safety. I needed to become strong enough that, even after the coming apocalypse, nothing could hurt me and mine.

'I hate this.' I thought suddenly. 'I hate thinking like this. Being all paranoid and distrustful. It feels wrong. It feels like I'm somehow betraying my friends' trust in me.'

I shook my head to dispel those thoughts and descended further down the spiraling steps.

Drinking in the magic as I stepped back onto the now-changed fourth floor.

"It... tastes different." I noted. "From the lingering magic on the stairs, I mean. I hadn't stopped to notice it before."

"That's not good." Coach Russell commented. "It means that whatever changes your minions are causing are having an impact on the ambient magic of the Dungeon. Which really should not be possible. Certainly not at your level."

He sighed.

"Anyway, forget about that for now and focus on..."

A hail of gunfire cut him off. Bullet-like seeds ripping his civilian shirt apart in mere fractions of a second.

For a moment, I feared that they might actually hurt him. But then I remembered who I was dealing with and felt stupid for even considering the possibility.

Indeed, coach Russell looked nonplussed. His face showing hints of mild bemusement, rather than pain.

'Holy cow. They're hitting his face head-on and they're not even damaging his beard. Actually, forget about that. They're not even damaging his eyes! How high are his stats!?'

Coach Russell looked at me. Almost as if he could read my mind the way Elsie had been able to.

He gave me a sincere smile.

"Don't worry Cecil. Like I keep telling you. You're my favorite pupil by far. You might think that title comes easily, but I can assure you it doesn't. You have the natural talent and the willpower to not relax your efforts, even when the pain is weighing you down. Even when the temptation to stop should have been overwhelming. You'll get to my level eventually. In fact, I have a feeling you might even surpass my current bottleneck with ease. Just keep moving forward with steady steps and you'll find yourself there before you know it."

He gave me a thumbs up. Even as the biological bullets kept striking his bare chest and face.

"Now then, I couldn't help but notice that all the bullets are coming towards me and none are coming towards you. That's a good thing. I'll just stand here as you work. Take your time and bring them under your control."

"Yes, coach Russell." I replied. Before letting loose a barely audible, "Thank you."

----------------------------------------

Connecting my magic to the network of living flora that surrounded us was easy. Bending them to my will, was hard. So much so that we spent a good amount of time trying to get the beans to stop firing at coach Russell.

I would feel my thoughts drifting away as I concentrated. My senses and their impressions melting into the plant-matter strewn all about the cave. Bloody nerves losing themselves into seeds and their fertilizing corpses with every new breath I took. When a snapping sensation would take me out of the experience. My all too familiar human senses coming back into focus as the deeper sections of the mutated green beans remained a mystery.

Some parts of us were still connected after every attempt. But none of them cared to listen to anything I had to say.

Not at first anyway.

The state of affairs slowly improved after each new connection. My mind melding and cutting a little bit further into the ephemeral mental mass of the collective. Eliciting a twitch here and a brief pause there. It was hard and it was slow going and endlessly frustrating. Yet, there was also a feeling of conquest that came with it all. A feeling of satisfaction at solving a complex puzzle in front of me or swaying the opinions of a large group of people.

I didn't even notice how fast time seemed to be going. My full attention dipping back into the task every time I was made to surface. It might have been mere minutes, or it might have been hours for all I knew.

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'Or days. Weeks and months. Hard to say. There is such an alien conception of time here in the minds and hearts of the beans. They have some of my memories. Of how life on the outside works. Of how guns and strategy work from my time playing Psychic Rampart 2. Of how I am under duress and trapped her with my family. They know that Elsie harasses me and that coach Russell forced me to break myself training, though they apparently cannot process the complex feelings of gratitude I have for him. They have some inherent instincts that plants should not have and they recognize that they come from me. Yet they too share that healthy suspicion I have within me. The same one I have for the others. They do not fully know whether to trust me, despite not wanting to hurt me. How very, human of them.'

Each new stab drew me closer to the center. Until they finally started somewhat accepting me as the nexus of their operation. On this floor, at least.

"Stubborn little buggers aren't they?" He commented after the artillery finally died down. "You'd think they'd have given up after ten minutes or so. Or at least changed up their tactics after realizing their current ones weren't working."

"I doubt the thought even occurred to them." I told him bluntly. "This whole ordeal might have been about calculated risks and training for us, but in their minds, it was always a fight for survival."

He shrugged.

"I guess that's fair." His eyes scanned the pit once more. Focusing on the now thickened tendrils that covered it. "The water isn't coming back."

"No. I isn't." I agreed.

"That's worrisome." He said. Actually managing to sound somewhat worried. "The Dungeon doesn't work on the usual rules of objective reality. It is a point of convergence, where magic forces gather in high concentrations. Each floor is its own unique biome because different kinds of magic cores tend to spawn in certain areas. That means that, as much as you irrigate the second floor, it will always be a dessert. The same thing should have been true here. This lake has been drained half a hundred times over the course of my life. Either by some concentrated training with the [Sun] core or with some other core that either evaporated or otherwise moved the water. Yet, the lake never stayed drained for long. Maybe a couple of minutes at most."

"Maybe the vines are draining the water faster than it can regenerate?" I offered. My mind still trying to reach the deeper connections of this, hivemind-like collective.

Coach Russell shook his head ruefully.

"No, that wouldn't make sense either. The waters always used to push back harder and harder the longer the lakebed stayed dry. To the point where the entire floor would sometimes flood if someone with a [Sun] core kept it dry for more than five minutes at a time. The magic simply flows in a way that is attuned to water here. To the magical concept of water, I mean. Including notions of flexibility and inevitability and mystery. It... it's weird. I can't explain it without the textbook in front of me. Never been one for categorizing and documenting things like Carlyle."

He paused to rub his eyes, in a motion that almost made me forget how utterly inhuman this person was.

"The point is, it, the floor naturally knows no other way to manifest on this floor. Keeping these waters at bay should have been like fighting against the ocean with your bare hands."

He nodded to himself.

"No. I think these plants of yours are affecting the Dungeon on a deeper level than either of us realized."

Well, I wasn't going to disagree with him on that at least. My own magic reserves were running dangerously low by this point. My muscles relaxing and losing their tension in spite of myself.

More than once, I found my eyelids closing on their own. My body drifting off in search of a few hours of quiet rest.

I would catch myself most of the time. Usually before losing consciousness entirely. Though coach Russell did have to kick me awake once or twice.

While it meant I had more opportunities to get a feel for the finer, more delicate movements of magic from myself to the beans and from each bean to the collective as a whole; it also meant that there was a constant stream of details that were slipping through my fingers. Some mysteries that remained obscure.

Regardless, I managed to get to a point where the beans would at least consider following my orders. Sometimes. If they weren't too busy doing something else.

"I think I got it." I said. Wincing with the effort to remain upright.

"Okay, can you get them to leave the lake alone?"

I tried to flex my will on the collective.

"They don't feel like it." I answered with a sigh and an exhausted heave.

Coach Russell arched an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe I misspoke." I admitted. "Maybe I can't so much control them as I can gently dissuade them from doing things I don't like."

He huffed in annoyance.

"I see now. So that's the spot."

"The spot?" I asked in confusion.

"Yeah. The spot we need to work on. Regarding your abilities. It seems they have quite a kick to them, but that you're having problems controlling the way your magic affects living things, as well their actions after they've mutated. Again, this is... unusual. At least for cores with somewhat similar powers. For example, when Sean forces a monster or living creatures to undergo a Dino-transformation, he has a lot of influence over them. Though, granted, he can only affect four or five at a time. So, it is a little different. I guess we'll have to check your progress after getting some more stats under your belt."

He paused once more.

"Speaking of which, care to show me your Analyzer again?"

I did so. Turning my wrist so that both of us could see the screen.

Name:

Cecil Fowler

Core:

[Life] (7th Stage) / Gains skills from: [Adaptation] / [Constitution] / [Healing] / [Hunger] / [Effort] / [Animal] / [Plant]

Level:

1

Vitality:

7.3

Endurance:

6.7

Potency:

4.8

Precision:

4.9

Fortitude:

6.5

Skills:

[Drain] / [Perseverance] / [Heal] / [Transform] / [Spawn] / [Terraform] / [Over-Mind]

My eyebrows rose at the changes. My jaw dropping to the floor as I read and re-read the numbers and words on the screen.

Vitality and Endurance had both gone up, though not as much as Precision. It had jumped up from mid-4, to almost 5 in the brief time I was experimenting with the beans.

Moreover, there were the new Skills to consider. [Terraform] and [Over-Mind].

"Why?" I asked. "How? I don't remember getting these. I didn't notice any changes."

Coach Russell snickered.

"I guess this would be your first time then. Since you were asleep when your core finally formed."

He gave me a slightly condescending look.

"The Analyzer isn't going to ring with bells and whistles every time you get a new Skill or stat point. All it does is monitor the flow of magic from your body and make adjustments as to what it thinks you're using it for. It isn't a hundred percent foolproof either, so sometimes it names new Skills in ways that don't quite describe what they do. This time though, I think it has a pretty decent idea of what's going on. After all, you managed to connect with these beans in ways you couldn't do before with the monsters from Alaska, right?"

"I guess." I conceded. "Yeah. I guess that's true. But that only explains [Over-Mind]. I did not [Terraform] anything."

He gave me a generous nod.

"True. But your plants did and you connected with them."

It was my turn to look amused.

"Is that how it works? So, what? I can expect to grow gun-organs sometime soon?"

"I don't see why not." Coach Russell said seriously. "After all I've seen today and how versatile your ability seems, I would honestly be surprised if you couldn't."

He let out a deep sigh.

"But enough about that Cecil. The final point is that you can't control these beans to any meaningful degree. Not yet at least. Normally, after seeing this much progress in only six or seven hours, I would be tempted to let you keep going at it tomorrow. But I'm not sure these changes would be reversible if I let the beans stay here overnight. I'm going to have to kill them, after I escort you home."

I shook my head.

"What do you mean six or seven hours?"

"I mean the time that's gone by, of course. What? Did you think we've been down here for a few minutes? My kids came down with Elsie and I told them to leave and tell Carlyle and Homer what was going on. That was five hours ago. Casper came down to check on us twice. Don't tell me you were too zoned out to notice?"

I was.

Indeed, I wasn't even sure if coach Russell was making all that up or not. I... had just been so engrossed in the pulsing thoughts of the collective that, everything else had fallen by the wayside.

'Oh my goodness. What's happening to me?' I thought with a start. 'Am I going to start losing time like this more often?'

I looked down at my hands. Noting the way the skin had transformed into tree-like bark without my input.

'Can I really call myself human at this point? What if they affected me somehow? Like I felt myself affecting them? Where does Cecil end and the beans begin?'

My eyes fell upon the fourth floor once more. Seeing how different the landscape had become. How little of its original form remained.

It was a contrast that nagged at the corners of my mind. All the way to the surface.