My physical body is sleeping soundly. This body, if one could call it that, is incapable of sleep.

As a core, how and why would I sleep? I consume and produce mana constantly, and I have two houses and a school to operate at any given time. It's hardly a chore - if anything, I take great joy in engineering the complex and fascinating miniature ecosystems that make up my dungeons.

Underneath my bed, Theory is happily expanding her network of tunnels into a full-on cave. I don't have the slightest clue how she keeps the floor from collapsing, but I've extensively tested the weight limits of the floorboards and they haven't changed at all.

At any rate, the vast majority of my attention is expended on maintaining the school, seeing as it's by far the largest and most complicated to maintain. At the moment, I'm trying to figure out the most powerful way to improve my snake. It's the creature with the most potential, along with the salamanders, but I'm not entirely sure which direction to take it. One thing for sure, I'm going to appreciate that anatomy book.

Perhaps I should give a name to this snake. The boss of my room, Theory, has a name. Dillon's supervisor, the beetle Minion, has a name (albeit a rather uncreative one). It stands to reason that the boss of the largest section of my dungeon has a name as well.

If I had thumbs to twiddle, I'd be doing so. What exactly does one name a snake? Is there tradition behind it, or perhaps some sort of culture focused around snakes that I'm not aware of?

Well, it's not as though he'll be offended if I give him an unusual name. I haven't employed him for long enough to have an intelligence approaching Theory's yet - I'd be surprised if even Minion has a similar intellect.

With a final decision, I simply call him Noodle and continue on. I can always give him a different name later, and I doubt that the option will stick very effectively.

A snag interrupts my thinking, and Noodle raises his head curiously. Pushing my perception around, I find the location of the disturbance, and my core vibrates in fury. Even my physical body's chubby hands clench angrily, my forehead scrunching up.

It's Richter.

In the middle of the night, with a small army of technicians, guards, and assorted assistants, he's organizing the setup of several enormous machines, pulling them in through the freight entrance in the back. The purpose is obvious - he wanted mana for himself and thought I wouldn't notice if he took some while I was gone.

Well, I did notice. And I have no intention of letting him steal a single iota of my mana.

Ignoring any sense of subtlety or intelligence or even strategy, I seize Noodle and begin to pump mana into him at an incredible rate, condensing the energies around his now-writhing body to the point where it becomes visible. As I perform the interaction, Noodle begins to rapidly grow, his scales rippling and lifting as his molting accelerates, snakeskin shedding from his body in droves.

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Richter's workers are remarkably efficient, and less than five minutes later, one of the machines hums to life. The drain on my mana is instantly noticeable, and I nearly growl in anger. I go to all the trouble of setting up a deal with him and he tries to go beyond my back?

Well, if he wants war, he can have it. I've got more materials and far more experience in defending something.

The tiled floor of the school hallway tears open as Noodle's head, no longer quite so small, shoves through it. Instead of the dull green-and-brown mottled color he'd possessed originally, his scales are now rippling a glowing blue of pure mana with tinges of striking violet stripes. I don't know where the purple came from, but the aesthetic is the last thing on my mind at the moment.

Unfortunately, I couldn't work any fangs in, but Noodle is now large enough to eat most people whole, and that's not even taking into consideration his species' phenomenal ability to process foods that technically should be too large for their bodies.

Even with the massive drain of mana funneling into Richter's machines, I'm still able to continue fueling Noodle's presently mindless rampage of glory. He'll likely revert back to a much smaller state after a while - no creature can permanently withstand that kind of infusion on their first try for very long, after all - but I don't need him for very long.

I only need him to make a point.

With a subtle whisper into his mind, I direct Noodle to take a left, followed by a right, down the hallway, through the teacher's lounge, and to the loading zone. He's too big at this point to fit through doors, and I'm forced to repair the wreckage left in his wake as a result.

The expended mana is worth it. It's indescribably worth it, actually.

The moment Noodle blasted through the exit door, reducing the wood and plaster to splinters, I see Richter's face pale. "Shut it down! Buy us some time to get the tanks loaded!"

With a buzz of activity, the armed and armored men that followed Richter in begin to line up single-file, readying unfamiliar weapons. They're in my dungeon, though, and I can see the inner workings of their weapons without the slightest issue. I can see some kind of powder loaded in tiny cartridges, packed behind the narrow barrels. I don't know what they're for, but I don't really need to. Converting the powder to mana, I gleefully watch as their fingers click the triggers uselessly, Noodle approaching fast.

The gigantic snake, still growing, crashes into the well-formed line of soldiers hissing loudly. Tail thrashing all over the place, he manages to catch several of the men in the ribs, launching them across the room with ease.

I'd forgotten how fun it was to attack people.

Richter is still shouting at his men, who are loading a reinforced glass container full of glowing blue energy into one of his trucks. The machines responsible for the process are complicated - I could probably learn a lot from them with time, but I have neither time nor patience.

They're too dense at the moment to absorb, but I don't need to absorb them as they are right now. Wrapping his mouth around one of the devices, Noodle picks it up and hurls it at the others. The sound produced by their impact is satisfying in the extreme.

Richter's men have already loaded up the tank of energy, and it's no small amount. As for his soldiers, their knives are utterly useless against Noodle's steel-tough scales, but I can think of a use for them.

Curling his tail around the arm of one of the soldiers, I direct Noodle to break his arm, and the man promptly relinquishes his hold on the knife, screaming. Instructing the enormous snake to grab the knife, I watch excitedly as Noodle hurls it with maximum force towards Richter's truck. Manipulating its path, I change its trajectory slightly, and it slices his cheek open.

Soldiers scrambling, they succeed in getting their teammate out of danger's way and retreat with their metaphorical tails between their legs.

I'd consider it a victory if not for one incontrovertible fact.

They got some of my mana.

I've been robbed.