-0-0-0-0-0-
The Dungeon, Medea Island, Kalenic Sea
The Next Morning
-0-0-0-0-0-
As dawn broke on yet another day, guilders began their delves, utterly unaware of the negotiations between Neo and the very dungeon they were delving. I was initially uncertain of precisely what I wanted out of this deal. A breeding pair of an animal I haven't yet encountered, each time I answered a few questions? More than acceptable, in my opinion. Yes, it would only be until they removed the bounty, but if they had the power to do that, they would have already.
I think it will take a while for them to push this through, especially since the guild seems beholden to the local nobility wherever it exists, regardless of their vaunted neutrality. I was the reason the colony above was founded. I'm also their greatest source of income and their freshwater source. I expect to be receiving new animals for a good, long while.
Two of my older sprites underwent their transformation into Spirits a few hours into the day. Both were among the first I had summoned, as with the air spirit. I had also recently transferred them from their old golem into ones made of that three-way alloy that I've decided to call 'Potentium' for its incredible effect on Spirits.
The first, an Earth spirit, could freely manipulate the earth around it, and its body could shift to any kind of stone it desired. It gained a fair amount of bulk and could redistribute its mass around its body. The Spirit relayed its masculine nature and, when prompted for a name, just hummed and wandered off, exploring the mines. The stone golems already in the mine followed him around, obviously curious.
The second was a fire spirit. Like the other two, it was impossible to tell that it possessed a golem body unless you already knew. The flames that now made up the 'female' spirit's body were primarily orange, though the fire that looked to be in the 'core' of her body was a blue-white mixture. She looked like a living flame in a humanoid shape. I don't know how fire can have curves, but she managed it.
This spirit I showed to the lava caverns. She seemed pleased.
I'm not sure how much the humans know about mana-beings' lifecycles, but if they know of elementals, I'm sure they'll be freaked out by my having some wandering my floors.
With that out of the way, it's time to address my prisoners. I've decided their fates.
The three 'heroes' I'm going to execute. Their memories, skills, and magic are more valuable to me than any future experiments I might run on them. And keeping them alive serves no purpose since nothing I've tried has gotten past their ' defenses.' That damn interference. I'm 100% certain it's some kind of divine protection. It's separate from them having cores since coreless humans still have this protection. I can experiment on any old human to get around that.
The priest, I'm also going to execute. I'm sure that he will drum up some holy order and have them purge me if I ever release him. He also holds knowledge of magic I need. Potentially some manner of life magic, or even just healing spells. Beyond that, he refuses to interact with the monsters sent to give him food and eats a bare minimum. He's far too skinny to be healthy. It's... more merciful than letting him rot here.
Kataren, well, I have plans for her.
The woman has been very cooperative and displayed significant trust. I had her escorted to the drake-kin's 'village.' Here's hoping she has some more character development. I've also decided to slow down the Kobold and Drake-kin reproductive speed since their numbers are... quite significant now.
Gah, I'm distracting myself. Get it over with, man.
My mental gaze focuses on the three 'heroes.' They've long been plunged into unconsciousness and brought down just beyond my core room. Better to more quickly absorb their mana, you know. One by one, they are placed within a guillotine-like structure, and with a mental flick, the mithril blade falls. Once, Twice, Thrice. Three shades of mana absorbed later; I move on to the priest.
He hadn't had a collar, so I had to wait for him to fall asleep first. Like with my capture of the heroes, a shadow golem snapped a collar on the drooling man. He was also dragged down to my core room and placed on the guillotine. So the blade fell a fourth time.
I know I've just crossed a line, but honestly? I can't find it in me to care about these people, even after gaining all their memories.
Blace was a frigid bitch to most people. It wasn't a defense mechanism or anything, but more an example of how channeling mana can change a mage more subtly. 'Hotheaded' fire mages, 'slow' earth mages, etc. I already knew Titon and the other, Dorin, were arrogant arseholes. They used their fame and power to solicit man... favors... out of the women of various towns they passed through. They never cared about the consequences of these little flings, only their satisfaction.
Polit was once a priest of a small temple to the God(dess?) of Healing, Asana. The being he worshipped was apparently non-gendered in some way. Not that mana beings have genders in the conventional sense. He served there, healing the sick and wounded who stumbled their way to the temple. One day, many years ago, the temple and surrounding town were razed by a wave of monsters who had surged out of two nearby and unknown dungeons. He had vowed to destroy as many of them as possible; they were evil and malicious beings in his mind. If I HAD released him, he would have done exactly as I had thought he would.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
The context is nice, but the skills and new abilities I've gained are even better. It turns out Polit DID know Life Magic. Healing is a subset where you infuse life mana into a person, which helps speed along their recovery. Given that it also regrows limbs, I believe it taps into the patient's DNA and uses that to determine what should be where. Blace also provided Ice magic. The far more comprehensive knowledge of mana, its various interactions, and forms was less expected. But welcome, nonetheless.
Down on the Eighth floor, I granted the Ice Foxes their magic. It was a pleasure to watch them play and experiment with it. With so much snow covering the peaks, they had plenty of ammunition for a snowball fight. And let me tell you, snowballs created, levitated, and thrown with magic makes for an exciting battle. I convey the concepts of an avalanche, raining spikes of ice on an enemy, and using a blizzard to cover their approach. There is only one pack of them for now, but given that the vixens are heavy with pups, I'm sure that will change in a few days.
I called down four kobolds from the third to the eighth. It's Snowbold Time.
-0-0-0-0-0-
The Eighth Floor, The Dungeon, Medea Island
-0-0-0-0-0-
Losk of the Hunter Tribe wasn't blindsided when the Creator chose him for a higher purpose, though he was surprised that he was among those chosen. He had heard stories from his mother and father that the Creator sometimes chose to elevate some kobolds beyond their current existence. Mushu and the various Drake-kin of the Seventh Floor were the most obvious examples. The Creator was the one who showed the Pheonix and Tiger tribes how to bond with their partners. The Creator taught the Ambush tribe how to take adventurers by surprise.
The Hunter tribe was known for raising the fiercest warriors, and the Creator used to choose from among them to replace the lost defenders in the ruins of the jungle below. At least, until it had granted the current guardians immortality. Those chosen warriors could now fight and improve for all time. Eventually, they would become so skilled no invader would ever be able to overcome them, Losk was sure.
However, this left the Hunter and various shaman-heavy tribes in a lurch. If they could not be chosen to fight for their Creator, what were they to do?
They should never have doubted their Creator.
The Creator came in the middle of a day-cycle and called three tribes to travel down to the Eighth. The Hunter, Water, and Clamber Tribes. They all migrated together, passing through hidden tunnels on the Fourth to avoid the delvers struggling against the rats. Losk was overcome with awe as they moved through the scorched plains of the Sixth. The living flame that greeted their convoy was incredible.
To his eyes, the Drake-kin and Golems that inhabited the Seventh were even more impressive. The clear blue skies and rising peaks of the Eighth felt like coming home.
The Creator guided each tribe to their own cave, one per peak. The Hunter tribe was situated in the middle peak, a reasonable distance from the path the invaders would be forced to take.
Once they had reached their new home, the Creator showed them the small cavern within the mountain and the stone homes built into the walls of said cavern. It was bare, but they had brought their furs and decorations. The Creator claimed the entrance was warded with illusions and, beyond the stone door, which would only move when a monster wished to pass, the whole area would seem barren and uninteresting to all invaders who would observe it.
Then, The Creator asked permission to elevate them.
None would dare deny The Creator.
It started slowly. Losk felt his limbs lengthen, and he could no longer feel the lethargy the ever-present chill of the mountain air induced in him. Losk suddenly realized he was no longer cold-blooded. He was still cold but in a different way. His wiry frame filled out, and he watched the color of his scales fade to a pure white. More shocking was the white fur that sprouted from his wrists, ankles, around his neck, and from his head.
Warm. That was his first thought. It felt like laying under the mana-sun, back on the Third. He blinked and looked around at the others. They displayed the same traits he had observed, with some others he couldn't exactly see on himself. Though, he did note their scales were all some shade of blue-white. The entire tribe had retained their Kobold features rather than becoming more like the Drake-kin as Losk had expected.
You have the correct form, my Snowbolds, and those who have gained Ice mana will need to practice, but you are not yet as powerful as you need to be. To survive as the defenders of this floor, it will take at least another week of mana infusions. I will give you time between each to acclimate to your new power.
Losk mentally reaffirmed his service to The Creator and pledged. Not one Invader would pass.
-0-0-0-0-0-
The Dungeon, Medea Island, Kalenic Sea
The Next Day
-0-0-0-0-0-
The Snowbold populations settled well overnight, spreading their decorations over their new homes. I anticipated a few of them bonding to Ice Foxes in the days to come. Yeti, I feel, should be born of some kind of ape or bovine. Ape for their commonly depicted form, and Bovine because the hair attributed to them was often Yak fur.
With the Eighth floor's construction and first pass tentatively complete, I moved onto the next floor. It's funny; I'm not really going any deeper right now; the progress has been more horizontal for the last two floors. 'Floor' isn't really appropriate, but neither are any other words I can think of. Section? Nah. I'll just keep using floors.
Either way. The Ninth. As I planned earlier, this would be a Canyon Floor, in the style of the Grand Canyon. The guilders will enter the floor from above the canyon, overlooking the river and a little greenery at the bottom. The exit would be on the other side, requiring them to climb down, cross the raging river, then ascend to the other side. But not just that, the exit won't just be across the way. They would have to travel through the three-kilometer canyon first. The canyon walls would be too steep to ascend any sooner than that.
There will be no easy passage over the river. No bridges, no fallen trees, no shallow or slow-moving water. No stone-strewn rapids either. They'll need to think of a solution themselves. Above the rims of each side of the canyon will be small deserts, occupied by (hopefully) scorpion monsters and Antlions—incredibly hostile territory all around. The canyon itself, I'm not sure about yet. I'll need to think about that.
Image firmly in mind, I began carving out the next floor.
It was almost meditative; the cycle of saturating the stone with mana and pulling the surface layer away, then transporting the resulting gravel and sand out to the seabed above. I'll need to take some normal sand from the surface to fill my deserts, to get the right aesthetic. Yes...
For the rest of the day, I let myself get lost in the work. It was nowhere near done by the next morning. There's plenty of digging left to do.
-0-0-0-0-0-
© Max Porteous, 2022