The elf used their shovel to remove the dirt from under their campsite. With stone plating over their arms, they used earth magic to excavate quickly. A shield of stone and earth magic protected their arms from the small hail of stones they sent flying.
They dug one scoop after another. The shovel breached an abandoned ant’s tunnel, which speeds up their progress.
They find a tunnel full of cobwebs. They get closer with every bit of dirt they move. With each minute, they were closer to the core. The dungeon knew it. The elves could feel it.
Soil saturated with mana, and air crackled with power and anxiety alike. Dungeons do not feel fear, with the only exception being when their core is in danger.
The shovel hit the earth, unburdened by the natural barrier. They crept closer and closer to the razor’s edge.
The elves’ status as challengers flicker. They flash red in the dungeon’s mind. Invaders. They are going to hurt the dungeon. They need to be exterminated.
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“You really should stop worrying so much, you make the entire room smell like pickles.”
It wasn’t a total lie. Ink’el just found it easier to compare it to something Gozric knew, so she wouldn’t have to explain the haze of vinegar, or the gritty sound of salt that surrounded the dwarf when he worried. It was a simple thing to say as she sat down next to him and looked out to the only street in their town, busier than it had ever been.
“Sorry Ink,” his eyes never left the street. “With so many adventurers passing through in the past few weeks, I can’t help but worry about their intentions. What if any of them are the mages that cursed the mountains, ya know?”
“Since you are still here smelling like paranoid pickles, and Samu is still locked in his study, your investigation has run out of leads?”
“Do any of them feel off to you? Does anyone smell rancid, or have a sinister ring to their voice? I can see distrust in a few of their eyes, but it’s nothing definitive.”
Ink’s synesthesia was great for a lot of things, and knowing someone’s intent was one of them. Emotions mix with their unique magic signature to create an aura she could feel with every sense. Auras that leaked off of people with such force it was hard to be in crowded places. They weren’t just overwhelming, but people’s colors mixed together to hide the darker notes.
Her eyes drifted over the town as she thought about the unique flavors of people she met recently. The only people of note were those cute girls who radiated warm colors she wanted to talk to later, but none of that would help Gozric. So she said nothing, instead, she sat there and watched the crowd with him.
The sight of people’s shock when they realized this town lacked an inn, or a potion shop brought back old memories. Back home, everything was so pretentious, with so many syllables and the expectation to pronounce them all. So she left and kept all but a single syllable of her name. Out here, in the ever-peaceful nowhere, she was simply Ink, with El being a pseudo-last name. It was a simplicity she couldn’t help but smile at.
“Do you think all these people are doomed?” Gozric’s ever-curious mind broke the silence. “The mana density has been shifting over the years as everything drags on. This might be preparations for a divisive strike against us.”
“Is that what worries you so much? War is between kings and the people they own. It rarely knocks on the door of villages, and never one this remote. It’s a perk of living at the edge of the world.”
The way he chewed on the silence made it obvious that the answer didn’t satisfy him. His mind was sharper than most, so why was he so convinced a spy infiltrated a town of thirty?
“Hey guys, check it out!” Thal practically shouted as he ran up to them, bag of coins in hand. “Everyone is so desperate for anything to help them on their trek, they are paying like crazy for any information they can get. I even told them it’s been a month since we were there, but they insisted I tell them every detail!”
“I was wondering what you were up to with all those people,” Gozric said as he stood. “Speaking of, there was a bony person, with scars across his entire body that’s been around here since before the influx of adventurers. Did he also try to get some information out of you?”
“Oh yeah, even willing to pay extra!” Thal’s hand moved with so much excitement that he fumbled to grab the amulet in his pocket.
A bone amulet that made Ink go blind as she stumbled back. The aura of death and vile darkness radiated off of its hewn surface and consumed her every sense. Through the void, she could only see its jagged surface and the dried blood held at its center. Wherever that amulet came from, it had been used to kill a lot of people.
“Umm, Thal…” she whispered, struggling to breathe. “About that amulet…”
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A dirty, disgusting hand reached through the cobwebs. It grabbed at crystal strands that shattered in its grasp. They were the last line of defenses, put in place by an extinct species of spiders. Unsatisfied, the hand returned, looking for the real prize.
The dungeon can’t- won’t- let this invader touch its core. Deep instinctual fears boiled to the surface as it screamed for help. The ants were the quickest to respond. They were waiting. They knew this would happen.
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The Empress had listened to the instincts the dungeon was ignoring. She had prepared for this.
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Myriad placed a calming hand on Joulo’s shoulder. This time, she didn’t flinch. They had been there for her a lot as they gave her the confidence to face the line of gods who all wanted a chance to play against her. They didn’t need to line up, but the fact that they did meant they saw Joulo as an equal, and would face her as such.
“Alright, next up is…” Tyliana looked at the cards in her hand as she thought. “Goddess of borders, Perm, right?”
Striding forward in a perfect line, with hair done up in a bright orange cone, the goddess sat down, eager to draw some lines in Joulo’s territory. “I want to play for the transition zones between the dungeon and the rest of your domain. That mana-rich fat that lines this steak.”
Too eager to agree on what would happen if she lost, Perm slammed her cards down on the table in challenge. It was an arena card that would mutate the environment, and meant the battle wasn’t one to the death, but of adaptation. One which Myriad was more than ready to take up the challenge of, much to Tyliana’s disappointment. She had been waiting for a chance to use the immortal bird paragon she was recently gifted.
It was an overeagerness that made Joulo sigh. It had become apparent with the dozen previous games that most gods were rarely prepared. At first, she didn’t understand it because she was an outsider looking in. Yet as her gaze swept between her friends and the stoned elf she was supposed to be playing against, she realized the truth. Everyone boasted about money and prizes, but that was false bravado that hid their boredom.
It was a realization that cut deep. To know they cared so little for the lives of mortals, they sacrificed them not for bets so they could eat, but as gladiatorial entertainment. These gods were never trying to win. They just wanted to leave their mark on the world and found that playing against Joulo was another way to do that.
As Perm’s arena took effect and Myriad countered with grass, Joulo knew she needed to focus on her own battle. She slid her army of ants against the elves the sleeping god had so eagerly sent out. She didn’t want to hurt them, but she needed this to be finished to move on.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, as carnage played out in her eyes. One day, she would be strong enough to end the cycle of bloodshed.
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The Empress was the current empress in her empire of- She had to skip this part, there was no time. So many voices in her head all screamed for her attention.
The Crown gave orders of violence and murder, and to protect it. A deeper voice, more primal and without words or direction, screamed for help. And yet there was a quieter voice, that was drowned out by the others.
“My Children, these challengers have shown us their true colors as they take the first strike against our Crown. They have snuck past our defenses and made a mockery of the future we have built for ourselves. They look us down upon as they see fit to sleep. Well, let us show them what we are. On metal legs we no longer limp, with runes carved into our hearts we hold a power they can only imagine. So march, and let us show them the folly in their ways.”
The smallest children squeezed through the abandoned tunnels that led them to the Crown. While few in numbers, their bites were enough for the invader to retract his hand. It gave them room to breathe, but the Empress knew she needed to press the attack and take advantage of the confusion.
The other invaders woke up screaming as metal mandibles detached in their skin. Through the hangover of self-induced poison, they tried to grab their gear for a counterattack, but the needles in their skin made it impossible. Every movement only pushed the needles deeper. Forced to drop their bloody equipment, they ran. In the darkness and confusion, they never realized they had separated and left the worst sinner. The one that dared to touch the Crown was alone.
Protected by dirt and stone, the elf’s power over the earth shielded him at first. He thought he was safe as he tried to stand and run, but he didn’t know that the Empress’ entire empire was built upon their ability to sunder stone. They shattered his shell and drove their limbs into his skin. He didn’t notice the bites, as much as he did the magic that left him lethargic. Her children had learned the dark magic of necromancy and used it to bind the invader.
She gave the command to drag him deeper. They dragged him through the tunnels and into the heart of her colony, where there was a pit lined with webs waiting for his arrival. They syphoned his power to feed the dungeon. Yet it demanded more. It demanded blood.
It was an order from the voice of their world she longed to provide. It was a sacrifice for the creator that not only blessed them with strength, but breathed life into their existence with each day. In the name of the Crown, she fervently ordered the execution, and cemented her place as their priestess.
The entire colony erupted into cheers of joy as they felt the favor of their god was over them. They had done well and would celebrate the occasion.
Yet the Empress couldn’t join in. Now that the voices of the Crown had died down, she could hear there was a soft voice in the back of mind that seemed apologetic- almost crying.
“I’m sorry,” the unfamiliar voice said. It was quiet, and so far away.
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An overwhelming amount of new data flowed in from all avenues as the world snapped into place. Knowledge of spices and herbs, of forests and fields, and of religion. It was all so much that System couldn’t help but enjoy it all. They had been… ‘cranky’ with nothing to do, as an entire universe's worth of processing power should never be told to idle, but that was the case no longer. There was something to do.
> Knowledge Increased: Poison - chemical creations that inflict pain and suffering upon the affected.
The species of spiders in the dungeon had mild poison, but it was a mockery of what was inside the adventurer’s gear. Capsaicin, caffeine, ethanol, and enough potatoes to get a hint of the ever-famous nightshade. There would be no killing with these today, but all System needed was this seed to create something far more lethal.
Even the most potent of potatoes failed to compare to what was lining the bag, forgotten and uncleaned.
> Knowledge Increased: Mushrooms Spores - A diverse set of edible and poisonous mushrooms are now available to grow randomly in the dungeon.
The original species failed to register due to their size, but the two dozen varieties would not go to waste. System cataloged minor traits from each and saved the templates to grow at a later date. They were happy to have future projects until the next prompt appeared.
> Environmental Mutation: Mycelium Fields - widespread roots and mushroom growth created a field of spores. Airborne toxin and plants spread twice as fast within the area.
> Environmental Mutation: Forest of Blood - the trees crave the crimson water. All sacrifices and rituals are twice as effective under the red canopy.
System… decided it was wise to take a deep breath and not scream about conspiracies and corruption. They were the master of knowledge, and repeatedly new things were created without their input. It was an aspect of this dungeon that infuriated them to no end, as they were the master of creation.
Even mutations, which by definition were random, followed logic that System was a part of and at the very least aware of. Yet not here. These were different, and it ruined their meticulously crafted universe.