“Yeah, no. Fuck that,” I reply, without hesitation. Source is my only lifeline, I can’t risk losing it for a gamble. Without Source, I’m just a really weak guy with a spear.
“Wait,” Quinn rubs her temples, reconsidering the way she phrased the price. “Sorry, as soon as I said it I realized I made it sound melodramatic. It will be a temporary Source restriction, but only Ambient Source. You’ll still be able to get notifications and level-up, but your body won’t be able to absorb and purify Source to regenerate your supply. I have some potions that can directly fill your Source pool, so…”
“Still, I don’t love the idea,” I shake my head, vetoing her suggestion. “Why can’t I charge up a spell over an extended period? Its called the fucking ‘Unmoving Mountain,’ it isn’t going anywhere.”
“Ugh, I mean, that MIGHT work, but the bigger deal here is that the engraving will amp your magic,” Quinn looks up, probably trying to find a nice way to tell me I’m pathetically weak. “It will increase your output by, roughly, ten times. My magic is mostly visual illusion based. Even if I made an illusion that is ten times stronger, it won’t be able to kill anything.”
Oh. Well, I guess trying to find a nice way to say that she is pathetically weak is a better, but still not ideal. Couldn’t she just create an illusion so powerful it tricked the creature into truly believing it died?
“I mean, I see what you’re saying but…”
“Master, if I may,” Kandra smoothly slides into the conversation. “As a former Floor Master, I have some knowledge that may be of help.”
“Go ahead Kandra,” says Quinn, the annoyance and helplessness levels swirling in her aura rising.
“Given the power of your foe, even multiplying your strongest attack by ten wouldn’t be enough to seriously harm it, not to mention killing it.” Kandra promptly informs me, not pulling any punches. “Your best bet would be to sick your black flame on it, the way you did with me, but that would aggro the entire Dungeon against you the way it did previously. Even if you managed to avoid detection while your flame lowers the Unmoving Mountain to your level, the time it would take to possess it could be weeks if not months. The Unmoving Mountain is not like the Floor Masters and their kin, it is a creature of the Dungeon that is millennia old. It’s experience, coupled with its size, would be a gigantic hurdle in your path, especially if the Dungeon releases it from its constraints.”
“Constraints?” Quinn and I echo in unison.
“Yes,” Kandra nods. “All of the creatures you meet in the Dungeon are but a shadow of their true selves, unless given special permission. The Dungeon exists in several parallel dimensions simultaneously, with the level of difficulty varying. This relates to the purpose of the Dungeon as a tutorial for new Awakened.”
“You’re saying that the Dungeon’s purpose is to make us stronger by presenting appropriately levelled challenges?” Quinn effortlessly connects the dots.
“Exactly. Me and my fellow Floor Masters on the lower levels of the fantasy dimensions, the Vampire Lord excluded, were the weakest of the current Floor Masters at a mere Rank 2,” Kandra waves the wings of her flightless bird form like hands while she talks, using them to gesture. It looks incredibly strange. “As a Guardian on one of the lower floors, the Unmoving Mountain is probably restricted to Rank 1. However, even as a Rank 1 its power far surpasses mine at my peak.”
“Fuck,” the word slips from my lips.
“What do we do now?” Quinn asks, turning to me.
“Master,” Kandra waves her stubby little wings. “I may have a solution”
“Please,” Quinn replies. “Kandra, anything you can tell us would be extremely helpful.”
“Before I can present my idea, I need to ask a few questions,” Kandra states, in a matter of fact tone. “Quinn, by your estimates how long do you think we have until your husbands finds us?”
“Well,” Quinn grimaces. “I’m sure he’ll notice the missing map, so it depends on where he starts his search. If he starts from the bottom floor, we might have a week. If he starts from the last floor he was on, we might have a month. If he ropes in someone who’s only been to the tenth floor, he might already be here.”
“Fuck,” I repeat myself.
“Master, you mentioned that you have a Monster Core, correct?” Kandra rudely interrupts my pity party before I can really get in the full swing of things.
“Yeah, I’ve got one.”
“Have you seen any benefits from using it?”
“I mean, I got taller, grew fangs and claws, and my ears got pointy. That is about it though, besides feeling super aggressive.”
“Hmm. Have you been suppressing your Monster instincts?” Kandra continues to interrogate me.
“Uhm…” I avoid eye contact, feeling guilty all of the sudden. “Not really suppressing them so much as feeding them to Wisp.”
“….” I can feel her stare boring into me, disapproval hanging over her like storm clouds. “You’ve been robbing yourself of power.”
“What do you mean?” Quinn jumps in.
“Is there a way for me to get strong enough to kill the Unmoving Mountain?” I try to usher Kandra to the point. Every day I’m reminded that I’m just a shadow of my former self, the last thing I need is another opportunity to feel bad about myself.
“You Awakened should really spend more time figuring out how this world works,” Kandra glares at us in turn, reprimanding us. “Let me explain. You are both familiar with goblins, yes?”
You know, for all that Kandra acts submissive, I have my doubts. Especially at times like these. Why did someone with so much knowledge and a fair bit of power, voluntarily decide to be my familiar? She must have a motive.
“Okay, I’ll use them as my example,” She barely waits for us to nod, before barreling on with her explanation. “Goblins are born with unformed Monster Cores, which makes them a member of the Monster race. When a goblin fully forms their Monster Core, it becomes Lesser Monster Core, which evolves them into hobgoblins. Monster Cores evolve in one of two ways, as far as I am aware. Either they slowly expand by absorbing ambient Source, or they absorb the life force of slain enemies. When a goblin develops their Core, they undergo a qualitative change. They become smarter, stronger, faster, and meaner. Do you understand so far?”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Yes,” I respond, my mind racing. This makes so much sense. No wonder that voice in the beginning was so insistent that I couldn’t be a goblin. Starting off with a Monster Core would’ve been an evolutionary head start. Starting off so weak I would’ve been far more inclined to obey my Monster instincts, leading to a sharper rise in power especially after my first evolution. The Mana Cores that slimes have must work the same way.
“Good. You, however, have not changed that much from a base human, despite evolving not once, but three times if you include your Vampire evolution. If we can unlock your potential then perhaps you’ll be strong enough to kill the Unmoving Mountain,” Kandra says.
“Without the engraving?” I ask, hope welling up in my heart.
“I’m not sure, but-“
“Why don’t we do what we can for now and revisit the engraving idea when we have to?” Quinn interjects.
“Yeah, I mean… I’d rather not, but if it is our only choice I’ll do what I have to do…” I admit. “Anyway, what do I need to do to unlock my potential?”
“The first thing you have to do is stop feeding your Monster Core energy to that flame,” Kandra glares at me, like I’ve committed a great crime.
I sigh, summoning Wisp into being in front of me. Wisp, takes the form of five balls of fire slowly spinning around each other. It waits, patiently, for me to command it. I stare at it, reminded of the time it saved me from being eaten alive, a memory that still haunts me.
“Wisp,” I ask, dreading the answer. “What will happen to you if I stop feeding you my Monster Energy?”
“I do not know, Master, but I suspect I will fade away. Ambient Source is not enough to sustain us.” Wisp replies in its echoing voice, its flames dimming. I can’t help but feel guilty for even asking.
“What do you mean?” I ask. Maybe if I can understand why then I can find a different solution.
“Sorry, I forgot to mention that,” Kandra answers in lieu of Wisp. “Cores, like my Mana Cores, absorb Source and condense it into a more potent form. The Core uses this energy to evolve the host body, allowing the host to slay more powerful creatures to further evolve the Core. This purified energy is one of the reasons Cores are harvested after slaying Monsters.”
“So, it’s a symbiotic relationship with a focus on slaying stronger and stronger enemies. That would explain all the aggression I’ve been feeling. Hmmm…” I ponder the implications, trying to think of solution. If I’m the host for Wisp currently… “Wisp, what would you need to survive? At this point you’re practically a Monster Core yourself. How about a host body? You can feed off of its kills as well as the Ambient Source that it purifies naturally.”
“Perhaps. I am willing to try,” the flames echo, sounding hesitant. Loyal to a fault, my Wisp.
“Kandra, could you make a slime for Wisp to possess?” I address my newest familiar.
“I will try, Master. I have not spawned since I became yours. Perhaps some of your DNA could-“
“Bitch, don’t you fucking dare,” Quinn, who had been listening silently, growls her hand drifting toward the hilt of her sword.
“Quinn, relax. She just wants some blood,” I gently tease the flustered angel. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“Fuck you,” she scrunches her nose at me, wings a flutter.
“I love you too. Mwuah,” I blow her a kiss.
She rolls her eyes at me, but doesn’t pursue her threat of violence. Kandra, swells into a larger version of herself, her dense bones expanding. Once she reaches a critical mass, she abandons her bird form, becoming a shapeless mass of goo, filled with a large assortment of bones. A single tendril of slime separates itself from her main body, followed by a single bone. The bone warps and shifts, collapsing in on itself to for a sphere. The sphere expands, three holes open two in the side, one on the bottom. The holes reveal the sphere to be hollow on the inside.
Kandra motions for me to add my blood to the blob containing the vague mimicry of a skull. I oblige, using a sharp fang to effortlessly part my skin. I press my wound against the blob, allowing my blood to leak into it. Like a fruit on tree it swells, ripening to the point that it falls off of Kandra’s main body. I wordlessly command Wisp to possess the body, cutting it off from feeding on my Monster Core.
Obedient to a fault, Wisp plunges into the newly formed slime. The five balls of flame head straight toward the glowing skull, surrounding it. The flames around the orbs ignite with the full fury of their combined power, consuming the slime and its immediate surroundings in a raging column of dark red flame. I curse under my breath, pouring out my Source to form an Ice Wall around the flames.
The moments tick by, the flames continuing unabated. I shift from foot to foot, not just because I’m nervous about Wisp (which I am), but because without Wisp leeching away my Monster Core energy, I can feel it building inside me. The extra energy is making me antsy, and more than a little extra nervous. Kandra didn’t mention what I’m supposed to do with the energy.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get your turn,” I say out loud, remembering my promise to Mr. Narrator. “Consider this a test drive, just to see if it works you know?”
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Quinn eyes me suspiciously, but entwines her hand with mine anyway.
“My Narrator.” I respond, watching the flames flicker behind the ice wall. This cave feels extra small with a massive fire in it. What a surprise. “Don’t you talk to yours?”
“Narrator?” Quinn repeats the word quizzically, her head tilting to the side as she looks at me.
***
With deft hand movements, Charles slices the blood orange in half using a single claw. He quickly chops off the ends as they have too much rind. Using quick and measured movements that only come with much practice, he slices the orange halves into even pieces. He gently lifts each piece to mouth of the jewel encrusted pitcher and squeezes the juice in, before dropping in the rest of the fruit. He does so at his own pace, neither hurried nor slow. Once every piece has been squeezed and dropped, he touches his claw to his mouth, tasting the citrus flavor of irony that comes when a Vampire eats a fruit known as a blood orange.
From a drawer in his elegant desk made of dark grained wood, he pulls two bottles of dark red liquid. One bottle contains a delicious wine won in a game of cards from an apostle of the god of luxury. The other bottle contains the blood of a raunchy member of the Fae’s Summer Court that Charles had the pleasure of enthralling in his youth. It doesn’t matter which bottle is which, because they both entered the pitcher in their entirety.
Charles picks the pitcher up by its handle, frost spreading from his fingertips to envelop it. With a firm twist of the wrist, he causes the liquid inside of the pitcher to swirl, mixing it together. The concoction complete, he pours it into two waiting glasses. Taking a deep sip, Charles savors the mouthful, letting it slide down his throat, calming his nerves. When he is stressed, a blood and wine sangria always seems to hit the spot.
Across from him, Henry nervously sips his own glass. After sharing Elizabeth’s news, Charles had been uncharacteristically silent. Instead of asking questions or issuing commands, he had instead pulled a piece of fruit from a special ring. The delicious drink made of rare ingredients did little to assuage Henry’s fears. Lost in thought, he practically jumped when Charles finally spoke.
“In summary,” Charles pauses to pour another glass for both of them before continuing. “Your youngest brother, Snowflake, has the ability to evolve in a way that is not limited to his racial heritage. So far, he has evolved a Monster Core, as well as the ability to see emotion. He is currently being chased by an enemy far above him, and his only plan to escape is to attack a Guardian only slightly less above him, correct?”
“Yes, Father.” Henry says. If he did not already possess the pale complexion inherent in Vampires, he would have no doubt paled further.
“And,” Charles speaks slowly, picking his words with care. “Your sister reported Snowflake asking about a race known as the Lesser Tyrant Empathia?”
With nothing else to add, Henry has no choice but to answer with the same response.
“Yes, Father,” he says, weakly.
“Excellent!” Charles roars, slamming back the rest of his drink before shattering the glass on the table. “Your Uncle and I have much to discuss! Tell your sister to take no actions, and you can hold down the fort while I’m gone!”
With a wink and a roguish grin, Charles steps into one of the many shadows pooling in the corners of the room. Before Henry could register what just happened, his father had already disappeared.