Have you ever seen a slime eat 12 suits of armor? I never have – and never thought I would. It ate them all in one sitting, viciously dissolving the armor piece by piece. I shuddered, thinking about having to feed this slime with a giant’s appetite.

            The slime consumed the last chunk of metal. It floated around, slowly disintegrating in the guts of the slime. “Satisfied?” I asked the little one who sat contently.

            Yes.

            “Alright,” I said, “Now that cleanup is out of the way, the next order of business is to make somewhere to sleep that isn’t made out of dirt. Let’s go.” I made my way deeper into the dungeon.

            The slime, however, did not follow. No.

            I turned around, “What do you mean, ‘no’?” I frowned at it.

            Sleep.

            The slime didn’t move, so I walked over and took a look. I poked and prodded the jelly monster, but it did not stir from its slumber. It was, without a doubt, asleep. Most monsters don’t actually sleep – and that included slimes. However, the world’s understanding of how monsters worked was so little. It was a challenge to study monsters, even slimes. They are violent, vicious, and will not hesitate to kill. I was in a special position; after fusing with the dungeon core, I might now be able to interact with monsters without being attacked on sight. A few shrewd bookworms and dubious research students back at the academy would do very unethical things to have the same opportunity I have.

            I went down the levels to the 5th and final floor. The halls of the dungeon were barren and quiet except for the low hum of nothingness. It was a singular large, empty room. I decide to make this my chambers for what better place to have my residence then at the bottom of my dungeon. I couldn’t help but smile at the idea; it felt like a cartoonishly evil thing to do.

            Standing in the center of the room, the direct center of the entire dungeon, I expanded my dungeon senses. Nothing that happened in the dungeon or near it would go unnoticed if I wanted, but observation was not my objective. Mana is what I was searching for. To make any alterations to the dungeon or create new things, mana had to be an ingredient, I figured. Discovering my mana pool and learning how to manage it efficiently was a crucial element in surviving in this new life.

            I found the pool of mana. I felt heat drain from my quivering body. A cold sweat broke out. Magic was never my strong suit, but this was too much. As a practice, higher learning institutes like the officer’s school test applicants. My magic and mana rated… low. Below average. Still, it was too much. My mana then was a glass of water. My mana now was a great lake.

            Deep breaths. In. Out. I calmed myself down. Yes, it was crazy, but maybe it was only for someone not trained in magic like me. The pool of mana is a lot because I can only compare it to my previous, pitiful pool. For other mages and magical beings, something like this might be normal. No matter the case, what mattered is how much I consume when utilizing my dungeon powers, not the sheer volume I have access to.

            Two rooms, that’s what I wanted. The path down from the fourth to the fifth floor would lead to an open, multi-purpose room of sorts. I would alter the layout just a little bit so the center of the dungeon would fall in the back which I would section off for my own, personal room.

            I tapped into the pool of mana. It flowed out like water. In my mind, I carved out the layout and began applying mana. The dark lines radiating out from my chest glowed.

            The room shifted and distorted, almost as if I was hallucinating or witnessing an illusion. A thin, dark mist wafted through the stale air. With the dungeon center as a pivot, the dirt walls shifted and lurched. I gave form to the pathway down, fashioning soil into a spiral staircase. At the bottom, I had it lead into a corridor that prefaced the main room. Without any idea of what to do with the larger room, I ignored it for my chambers at the back. A dirt wall seeped out of all edges of the dungeon and sectioned off the two parts.

            I stopped, panting heavily. The work was exhaustive, but it wasn’t done yet. I checked my mana pools. A noticeable drop in its level. The next step was to replace the dirt and soil with something more pleasing, like stone. I hoped it would last me.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

            The same way I created the notebook, I used the mana to mutate the soil into slabs of stone. Bit by bit, I turned the fifth layer into solid smooth silver stone. My knees shook with weakness and my muscles flamed with soreness. But, I wasn’t done yet.

            I punched out a rectangle in the now stone dividing wall. My mana poured out and grew a door in its place. Each step a labor in its own, I somehow managed to get through the door and into my chambers. With the last chunk of my mana, I made what my heart craved most. Four legs, a soft coat, two fluffy bags. My knees trembling with weakness, I collapsed on it. The bed was a much-needed luxury.

            A few minutes of rest was a must. The lake of mana I was in awe of earlier had become a puddle a playful child would stomp in. However, mana was pouring back into it drop by drop. I worried.

            The dungeon was taking in mana from its surroundings – as it naturally should. All life needed some sort of mana to exist, like blood or air. With the dungeon sucking in mana, that would mean there was less available for the ambient life, but there were no signs of any such deterioration to the area; while others areas infested with dungeons become wastelands due to the drain, there was no indication that the land here was undergoing the same. Where was the mana coming from? What was happening? I did not know, but an important enough question to give me a headache.

            I took out my notebook which has proven to invaluable to me (the thought of adding a work desk or table crossed my mind but that would have to be left for later). A note was added to investigate the mana source. As customary, I made myself an updated to-do list. With a room built for myself, the next thing to explore would be monster creation. Creation was one of the dungeon core’s basic abilities – I had to figure it out.

            Twirling the pen between my fingers, two other items crossed my mind. They were theories on typical dungeon functioning. First, the dungeon takes in mana from its surroundings. Larger dungeons are attributed for draining more mana from the land, but that was never proven. I wrote on the paper ‘theory: the larger the reach of a dungeon is, the more mana it will absorb, the same way the roots of a tree might absorb water’. It was a simple theory, one that many would just assume to be true. However, I did not feel I was in a position to assume; I had to be sure.

            The second pertained to what I would call strength. Many dungeons are filled with dangerous monsters that would tear normal people to shreds. No slimes or anything weak like that. While it was possible for them to be born strong, it was also made sense for weaker monsters to get stronger over time. I wrote, ‘theory: mana can be used as catalyst to improve or strengthen existing monsters or items’. There was much less basis for this in current studies, but ideas like this were thrown around. Being fused with a dungeon core, I was put in a unique position of being able to test it. As a summary, I capped off my day’s notes with what I thought to be a list of mana usages as a dungeon master: store it, create with it, or improve with it. Subcategories were left out as I was not too sure on them yet.

            With that out of the way, I let myself sink into the soft mattress and fluffy pillows. No time to sleep. Nowhere to rest. Too much to do. Too much I didn’t know. I was stressed the moment reality hit me. The throbbing headache and constant anxiety was more than enough proof. Sleep was vital. Even for a human fused with a dungeon core. I let my lead filled eye-lids close.

…

…

…

            Horse hooves stomped the soil dusting the air with dirt. Armor clattered and clanged with each stride. The neighs of the horses mixed with the grunts of men. My eyes opened, body sweating, heart throbbing. I could feel it. They were coming.

            I stumbled out of my bed. Dashed through the dungeon. The slime was nowhere. I kept running. Outside, in the light of the morning dawn, I went to meet them.

            Their horses trod around me, encircling me. Their armor, their emblems, their movement, there was no doubt in my mind that they were knights of Hevagrain. I stood my ground, not budging an inch. My mouth went dry. My heart beating faster and faster. Their stone gazes piercing me.

            A knight broke the circle and steered his horse towards me. He stopped, standing right over me as a tower. A sign of strength – a show of power. “Who are you?” He asked.

            “Corin.” A fake name; I couldn’t let them know who I was.

            The knight continued to question me, “Do you live here?”

            “Yes.”

            “Have you noticed anything strange?”

            I thought for a second. “What do you mean?”

            “Just answer the question!” Another knight barked, startling me.

            He raised his hand, silencing his companion. “Let me ask this, then,” he said, “Has there been any travelers around here? Anyone passing through?”

            I slowly shook my head, “N-no, nothing I’m aware of.”

            The rude knight audibly clicked, “You’re useless, aren’t you? Live here and don’t know a damn thing!” He shifted on his horse, readying himself like he was about release his frustrations on me.

            “Silence!” Their leader commanded. “He is just some country hick – don’t waste your time on him.” He trotted away and the circle around me broke, following their commander. They broke into a gallop and disappeared into the thicket of trees.

            I exhaled the tension from my body and collapsed on my butt. To think the knights would come this quickly. I was beside myself. One wrong move would have meant my death. I loved my country, but not all of our citizens and soldiers were upright – something I understood intimately.

  Without a care in the world, the slime casually hopped by my side. It gazed off into the brush and turned towards me, Why no kill?

  I laughed. “Why didn’t we kill them?” There were a lot of problems with that ideas that this slime didn’t seem to get. A murderous little thing it was. It was somewhat cute and endearing, but I just hoped it would not be problematic.

  Again, it asked, Why no kill?

  With a sigh, I said, “A rat should know better than to challenge a lion.”