There was a splash as a single drop of golden blood hit the ground. Ichor that seeped into the stone tiles.

Joulo couldn’t focus. The world around her was fuzzy and distant.

She heard Myriad talking… saying something. They were always talking. Were they screaming?

It was so hard to focus. She was just so tired. Gods don’t sleep. Was that why she was so exhausted? Maybe she could just catch up on a hundred years of no sleep…

That sounded nice.

Footsteps, distant. Why did she get so many visitors? Didn’t they know there was a party? Why did so many people want to talk to her? Joulo wasn’t popular. She was weak, alone, and tired.

She could hear Myriad speaking, or trying to?

“Tyli… birds… exploded blood… Sushi and… god. Too much..”

Oh, maybe Tyliana was here? Joulo felt bad that she had lost the birds. The dungeon could make more, right?

Joulo’s body was warm and numb. She could barely feel as hands picked her up off the floor. When had she fallen? Why did they care? Gods were supposed to be selfish, all the popular ones were, after all.

Their voices were louder now, slightly clearer.

“Isn’t her title ‘the Inheritor’ what… domain is that?” She wasn’t sure who was talking now.

“A domain of things that don’t belong… a hundred half possessions… things that don’t belong but are forced…” oh, that was Myriad. How nice they stuck around.

“She’s bleeding… cards exploded and the dungeon… starvation… but she doesn’t have… nothing in her domain…” Were they trying to help? They didn’t need to. Joulo just needed sleep.

“I thought…. normal to have no mana… how is this different?”

“Malnourishment is not the same… being ripped out…. left drained.”

They kept trying to help. She felt bandages on her skin. They wanted to stop the bleeding. Were they worried? They didn’t need to worry. Joulo just needed rest.

Not like she could die. After all, who would inherit her name if she was the inheritor?

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

A cold, lifeless corpse. Dull color as its light faded.

Vault had protected the body of his Client, but could do nothing as they harmed themself. The pain they inflicted washed over the dungeon and its inhabitants as the Core faded.

As the Overseer, he could feel everything. Suffering and confusion, half-formed mutations, the air thick with discarded mana. The Client had been so desperate to prove himself in a fight against a delver that was unimaginably stronger. The moment the delver bled, the dungeon gained more mana than it had ever held, but that meant nothing. The Client could only cycle mana so fast. It had limitations in its ability to absorb that mana, and yet it still charged head-first into inefficient rush jobs in an attempt to upgrade the dungeon's inhabitants. It was the beating heart of the dungeon that gave out and stagnated, unable to draw in the mana it needed to cycle and keep the dungeon alive.

The only one to survive the encounter unscathed was Shimmer, as she had made friends with the feline traveler.

Of course, she had made friends, it’s who she was.

And it was who he was to worry. To worry about what would come next. He was still alive, so the dungeon Core that birthed them wasn’t entirely dead, but it lacked the pulse he had grown accustomed to. Now the lifeless crystal only unnerved him. Dead birds dissolved into mana, but did not reform. Ants were unaware of their magical capabilities hurt themselves in experimentation. Without a leader, the monsters were purposeless ruffians.

As the Overseer, it was his responsibility to lead in these dark times. Vibrations danced across the spider’s web as he called upon the denizens, only to find his message did not reach the targets. The fight damaged the web, and the spiders had not yet fixed it after the hit they took. The webs may have been down, but he always prepared, as a good detective should. Using a combination of the ant’s pheromones and latent psychic powers granted by his title, he reached out to all.

“The Dungeon is cold. We must protect both the crystal and ourselves until it recovers. For that to happen, I need-” the words abruptly ended, cut off by a rule he was unaware of. Without System, the rules that limited him would remain a mystery.

Luckily, Vault was a detective who specialized in cracking mysteries. He tried again, with measured words.

“The ant’s monolith lacks direction. Spiders, can you tie that into the crystalline network? I need-” an abrupt ending to his words. The pattern became clear. He could not command. He was not the master of the dungeon, but an adviser. Following his advice, the spiders descended into the depths of the ant’s hill to touch their most prized possession. Inevitably, biology took hold as they disregarded their goals in favor of the hunt. Casualties rose as chaos descended.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

He could not stop them. Ten percent only followed his command to retreat, for Vault was not the leader of battalions, but of a few lost soldiers. A commander that held no respect nor authority over the monsters stuck in evolutionary limbo. He could not grant them the release of evolution, as he was powerless.

Yet he was not alone.

The dungeon may not have had a boss capable of stepping up, but it had a leader who already had.

Shimmer, a friend of all, welcomes all who flocked to her for comfort. Her mere presence had heralded the end of the insectoid slaughter. Under her watchful eye, crystalline webs spread like parasites that grafted the enchanted monoliths to the rest of the dungeon, and to Vault.

Through dingy webs in the dirt, he shared his knowledge with the insects. As their days passed, he would add to their generational grimoire and guide them. He may have been unfit to be a leader, but he could be a puppeteer who guided and led. The dungeon would not wither under his care.

But he needed help.

Calling Shimmer over, he approached the entrance to the tunnel that hid both him and the Client’s core from the world. Its edges still blacked with soot. He peered out of his home to see Shimmer for the first time. Emotions boiled like a cocktail, a mix of failure, success, love, loneliness, and regret. He gazed upon everything he had ever strived for, and his body burned as she gazed back.

He wasn’t born to handle the light, especially not the brilliance that was Shimmer’s illumination. The shroud of shadows he clocked himself with burned away, reviling a weak slime unfit to survive in this environment.

Worry filled him as it flooded through his connection with Shimmer. She was no idiot and saw the harm her presence brought. Yet he beckoned her closer. He needed her help.

“After the last battle, that mana stone you ate gave you a new affinity, didn’t it? The ability to photosynthesize, huh?”

She pulled away, fearing what would happen as he drew nearer still. Smoke filled the tunnel, yet the flames that ignited along his body only slowed his approach. The pain only increased as he grew weak, but he suppressed them to make sure nothing passed through their connection. She didn’t need to know.

“I can see it. I can see what that ability means. You can turn sunlight into food, just like any plant. Only you are far greater, as mana-photosynthesis makes food for the dungeon,” he stumbled, exposing a gray crystal he held.

Doubt and worry surged within Shimmer as she accidentally shared all of her emotions with him. She didn’t know he could feel her emotions, and he planned on keeping it that way. He made sure only to share the pride he felt for her as he pushed the colorless crystal of the Client forward. Webs still clung to its surface, a surface that once glowed half as bright as Shimmer herself.

If anyone could ignite its spark, it was her.

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

Baros, at the edge of the village, tried very hard to not asphyxiate during his own workout routine. After he recovered from his…. accident he realized just how weak he was. He needed to get in shape, so had done a whole fifteen pushups followed by a lap around the village. A task that had his lungs give up on him before he even started sweating. Defeated by his own inabilities, he dragged himself home.

He pushed the door open as he flopped through the doorway, content to just lay on the ground for a while when he heard voices.

“Yeah I’m packed, not like I needed much anyway.” A familiar feminine voice came from the back room.

“Good, I would hate for you to be careless and force us to make a return trip. Oh, it would seem Baros is back.” Pulling his face off the floor, he saw a mage dressed in pure white entered the room. The crimson eyes of his cousin, Dekrin, poked past the bandage wraps he wore around his face.

An attempt to pretend to be a white mage, or a lunar one? But Baros had insider knowledge after a quick peek inside his sister’s diary. He knew how to look for the signs of Dekrin’s blood magic. Scars, pale skin covered in cuts, and the need to hide it behind way too white clothing. Ok, maybe that last one was Dekrin specific, but the point still stood.

“Oh yeah, I forgot he was here,” called the voice of his sister as she entered the room, dressed in travel gear. “How long has it been anyways, like a week? Well I’m glad to see you well Baros, but I’m leaving again.”

“Umm… its actually been a month. But how long-” A cloud of dust ‘accidentally’ kicked up by Dekrin sent him into a coughing fit.

“Oh you have no need to worry, I’ll keep an eye on her while she’s gone. Though if you think you can do better, you are welcome to fight me for it.” He didn’t even turn back as he strode through the doorway, exiting the house. The way he had almost asked for a fight unnerved Baros.

Avice, his sister, paused over the spot where Baros lay only for a moment. Her hair, recently dyed blue, fell over her shoulder as she knelt down just long enough to flick his nose, scolding him.

“I told you not to go through my stuff. And I know it’s hard, but imagine what it’s like for me, ok? Try to understand I am doing this for us and don’t make it any harder.” Her voice had a tenderness to it he rarely heard. It was moments like this that let Baros believe it would last. That way this war would end and they could live simpler lives. One where their parents weren’t dead and Avice wasn’t always away.

Yet, the tender moment hardened the moment she turned to catch up with Dekrin, leaving Baros once again.

“Perhaps this time will be different, and she’ll only be gone a week,” he let himself believe. A comforting lie that lasted for all of five seconds before determination set in.

He wasn’t strong.

He wasn’t a magician.

He wasn’t going to change the world or end a war, but he didn’t need to.

All he had to do was find that dungeon, its Core capable of becoming the ultimate weapon.

In a hurry, he packed. His sister’s door was locked, but he was thin enough to fit through a hole in the wall. The benefits of being poor, Baros mused to himself as he pilfered several magical weapons and items from Avice’s private stashes. She probably wouldn’t notice…

Just as he turned away, something got his attention. His sister’s spell book, inherited from their father, sat there, pristine as it whispered secrets. Its aged leather exterior begged to be opened.

Surely she wouldn’t miss just a single page, right?

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Two figures walked west as they chased the setting sun. A forgotten village at their backs, and their true home ahead.

“Do you think we need to worry about him?” a wizard in white asked.

“No, my brother doesn’t know any magic or even how to properly use magical items. Besides, I don’t see him surviving the dead mana field.”

“If that’s case, things are progressing perfectly, as I am sure the Culu Grub has only grown where I left it.”

“You have it enchanted to only awake at my presence, right?”

“Obviously, but as a backup, it will also awaken in the presence of the Necronomicon”