Am I a monster? My reflection shimmered in the calm river water. I still look human – but only mostly. Thick black lines radiated and branched out from a similarly jet-black circle in the center of my chest.  My hands traced the lines, prodding them. I couldn’t feel them. No indents or gradients. No ruggedness or slickness. No nothing. Felt like typical, fleshy skin – I imagined it as how body art or a tattoo would feel. I cupped water in my hands and splashed it on my face. I looked human. But I didn’t feel like it.

  I touched the dark, pulsating orb at the bottom of the dungeon. So what? Who wouldn’t? The dungeon core we found was raw and unrefined. A small, quaint orb. They have always existed fused or attached to another being, demon or monster. Sometimes, a core was powerful enough to evolve into its own being. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity was in front of me – I was not going simply slice it with my sword and toss it away; the mysterious orbs with their arcane magics and powers made my eyes shine with curiosity. But, instead of learning anything, I fused with the orb.

  The resulting pain overloaded my entire body. It felt as if molten metal replaced the blood in my veins, scorching and incinerating every fiber of my existence. On the outside, my body was subjected to a hellish chill comparable to being stripped of all clothes and placed within the frozen ice of a winter tundra. The boiling of my insides and the instant frostbite forming chill was a torturous suffering I wouldn’t wish on the scourge of the world, let alone my most hated enemy.

  However, once it was done, I could feel it. Not the dungeon orb somewhere inside my chest cavity, but the dungeon itself. A queer, small thing it was. When we stumbled upon it, my captain even joked that it was a baby. That same baby still caused the deaths of everyone – but me. And now, it felt like an extension of my own body. I could see the nooks and crannies. Hear the creeping of the critters and the splashes of water droplets. Smell the fresh soil, the blossoming fungus and plants, and the decaying dead. It was as if I was walking through the dungeon in my mind. Much to my dismay, I could now literally get lost in my own thoughts – I was already directionally challenged as it is.

  I sat outside at the base of a grassy hill – staying in the dungeon was uncomfortable as if I was crawling around in my own skin. Tall trees and cute critters surrounded me. No one expected to find a dungeon in such a scenic venue. If the circumstances were different, I was sure the sight would have stolen my breath.

  But, the dungeon. The dead. The core. The fusion. I just couldn’t forget it. My body shivered and my teeth chattered. What should I do? What’s happening to me? I felt lost like a baby that wandered into the woods on a moonless night. My head throbbed with sharp pain and I tried to rub it and the anxiety away. Did I really become the dungeon? Or did it become me?

  I wanted to get away from it. All of it. My life was neatly set out before me. Barely passed officer school – but still passed. Joined the military with plans to work my way up the ranks. Serve out in the field and expeditions for a handful of years. Maybe find a cute village girl in my service time and settle down with her on whatever land the government gave me for my military service.

  Then I went and touched the orb and took a wrong turn into who-knows-land. I didn’t expect to fuse with the damn thing, all I wanted was to prod it to try and figure out its arcane powers and mysterious workings. Even if I didn’t discover anything it, recovering it for study would have earned me accolades and praise from everyone – probably a few promotions too.

  Was it still too late to just leave? Pretend this never happened? I got up and walked. The direction was meaningless. An escape, a solution, help, I wanted to find anything that could put my life back on track.

            A thousand needles stabbed through my skull. Fire burning my eyes dry. I struggled to breathe as no air could pass through my swollen throat. Acid turned and churned within the depths of my stomach. No matter what, I could not move any further. Each step I took away from the dungeon brought death one step closer.

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  I collapsed outside of the dungeon entrance in a small clearing. Leaving the dungeon area was not an option, it seemed. The pain had left me drained of energy, but the walk did clear my head a little.

  I still couldn’t convince myself I wasn’t screwed. I fused with a dungeon core. Monsters and demons that have one are normally killed on sight, no questions asked. Not to mention I was now attached to the dungeon itself. They destroy the land as they grow, attracting monsters and evils to it. Go into any town or village. You wouldn’t find a shortage of people who hate the damn things.

  If the life I had planned out wasn’t possible anymore, I would just have to figure out something else. My situation is a strange one, but it’s my curiosity and I’s fault I was in it. At any rate, I couldn’t leave. It was not even a kilometer before I got struck with those crippling symptoms. I would have to figure out why eventually. In times like this I’d love to have paper and pen. I wasn’t like several of my classmates, intellectuals that could remember everything, figure out anything, and solve and process problems in their head. Barely average, that’s what I was at best. If I didn’t jot down my thoughts and work out problems on paper, I would be completely lost.

            I felt the air leave my stomach as if I was punched in the gut, almost as if it was response to my desire for a notebook. It wasn't painful, but surely sudden. Something drained from my body, drip by drip. A pulling and pushing and churning sensation in the depths of my gut. My chest pulsed and it beat throughout my body.

            From the cave entrance came a low, short lived rumble. The strange sensations subsided and I took a look. Neatly placed at the front of the dungeon was a clean journal with a pen at top. I could feel the heat drain from my body as I went pale white. It dawned on me that I had utilized the power of the dungeon orb fused within me to create pen and paper.

  The enormity of the situation racked me once more. It was too easy for me to forget that I had fused with a dungeon core - even the sensations of my extended dungeon self I could block out to a degree. The powers of a dungeon… It felt surreal, intriguing, and even downright terrifying.

  I picked up the pen and paper and sat on a rock. On top of the first page, I wrote ‘WHAT SHOULD I DO?’ I tapped the pen onto the paper. I had no idea. I guess I had to live as a dungeon now? A strange thought considering how much trouble these things cause the world. Serving as a hotbed for monsters and demons, towns and villages could be destroyed from the evil creatures and its presence could render land unusable, too dangerous for any activity.

  As much as I wanted to call out for help, have someone to talk through and figure this out, I scribbled on my notepad that it was a terrible idea. I felt a twinge in my stomach, another acidic sting. Was it hunger and anxiety, or just loneliness?  People would be more likely to strike me down as a monster masquerading as a human rather than let me and my dungeon-self exist anyways. Not only that, but as a knight of Hevagrain, would they attempt to lay some claim to me? I created pen and paper out of nowhere - maybe not out of nowhere, I corrected myself. Thinking back, I feel I did expend mana in the process, but was there anything else like natural resources I took? I scribbled in the margins ‘test creation process for objects’ to remind myself to get back to that topic. At any rate, just as I saw the orb as a once in a lifetime opportunity, the army might see me the same way.

  Don’t get me wrong, I have pride in my country. Love, it even. The Kingdom tries hard to be a beacon of prosperity, helping out the common folk and making the world a safe place to live in. But, I wasn’t really interested in being a guinea pig or killed as a monster. I decided I had to be alone; I couldn’t draw any attention to myself, for now at least.

  Keeping my head down would be a difficult task. Part of that meant learning how to control the dungeon, maintaining its consumption and growth so no one notices anything. Not only that, but I would have to take care of any monsters and demons that would think about settling in or near my dungeon. While people might look over something draining bits of mana from the area, no one in their right mind would let monsters cultivate and gather.

  My dungeon. I thought about that for a moment. It was strange but true. Since I had merged with the orb, I became the dungeon and the dungeon became me. Whether I liked it or not, it was now my home -- it’s not like I could go anywhere else anyways.

  At the bottom of the page, I summarized my goals. First, I had to keep people from noticing me or figuring out what’s going on. Second, learn how to manage and upkeep the dungeon so I can prevent excessive mana consumption and growth as well as dissuade nefarious beings from taking residence in the area. Third, investigate and refine the powers and abilities fusing with the dungeon core gave me.

  I stood at the foot of the dungeon. Corridors of soil filled with the corpses of my former comrades and monsters. Four, I jotted down, turn the dungeon into my home. One worth living in. I wasn’t about to live out my days surrounded by dirt and insects underground.