Days passed.
Or maybe it was months?
Erin had no clue.
Regardless, however, time continued.
In that mysterious and unidentifiable amount of time, Erin messed and fiddled with all that he could; the results?
First and foremost, Erin could not leave the cavern he found himself placed in.
This caused him to sigh.
No. No. Let’s be honest with ourselves. Erin urged.
First and foremost, Erin could not leave the dungeon he found himself placed in.
That’s right.
After incessant amounts of trial and error, brainstorm galore, and doing everything and anything in his power to move the beautifully vibrant crystal orb that was his main body — Erin came to the unfortunate conclusion that he was a dungeon core and thus could not leave his own dungeon grounds.
What, then, are Erin’s dungeon grounds?
And, if he really couldn’t leave as he had said, then how was Erin able to contend against the light?
To summarize… Erin confounded his thoughts.
Dungeon’s are entities of mana. As such, they are famed for both absorbing ambient mana and for producing it.
In other words, whenever Erin breathes in, he absorbs mana.
And whenever Erin breathes out, he expels mana.
Furthermore, the mana from beyond the tunnel of light, the mana that is absorbed, feels convoluted to Erin.
Like sludge in the sewers or an oil spill amongst a river — the mana that came from the outside felt inexplicably dirty.
Meanwhile, on the other hand, the mana that Erin produced himself, that pervaded his dungeon and the caverns yet to be claimed — felt pure and clean.
In addition to identifying the two forms of mana, Erin also discovered what he was able to do with the mana that he was endlessly spewing out into the world; he could create.
Could he create anything? Perhaps.
All Erin had gathered is that he is able to turn pure mana into matter. The form and type of matter created is wholly dependent on Erin’s wishes; the only caveat being the amount of pure mana available to work with.
For example, Erin had tried to conjure a mouse.
Simple, right? He thought.
Wrong.
When he attempted to conjure the tiny beast, light flickered before him; particles of illuminated sparks appeared like snowflakes and converged in the air, then swirled in front of Erin.
The particles coalesced, forming the rough shape of a miniature mouse on the stone floor, but amidst the conjuration, Erin’s mana extinguished.
The particles tumbled apart and burst in the air before ultimately fading out of existence.
Failure. Erin observed.
Unfortunately, moments after exhausting his mana, Erin entered a slumber.
…
Time passed.
Unrecorded and unknown.
Erin breathed in. He felt warmth.
Mana surged into his core and condensed.
Erin felt something, something different.
In his chest — his core — he felt the warmth expedite.
As if his heart grew larger, doubling in size, the mana in the ambient air flew towards him and sank into the crystal orb.
Within the orb, a new star birthed.
Another flash of light. Another deep slumber.
Erin awoke to even more mana, nearly bursting at the seams. His chest felt tight. His breaths ragged.
Pure mana was gushing out of him and Erin had no clue what to do with it.
I have to use it. He realized.
So, Erin directed the mana into the earth beneath him. He slammed it into the stone walls and the hanging stalactites.
Slowly but surely, the mana conjoined with the cavern and Erin’s knack for sight expanded.
He was in a cavern, not a particularly large one, although; as beyond the tunnel of light stretched the outside world.
He was on the edge of a cliff with a view of the sea. Puffy white clouds shifted overhead, filling the blue sky with pudgy marshmallows and blurring the brilliant sun that beamed high above.
Ivory-colored birds trekked across the horizon; some dove into the depths of the sea, catching fish and crab alike, whilst others continued on their journey: some heading away into the falling sunset, some breaching the shores and ascending the mountain.
Erin saw lizards and ladybugs, bees and beetles; all standard variants of life filled the outer world. Meanwhile, waves gently cascaded along the sandy shores of the beach further below.
For all intents and purposes, the outside world was —
Is beautiful.
…
For a time unrecorded and unknown, Erin simply watched the world.
More specifically, he watched the sunset.
His first sunset.
Technically. Erin added.
First in this life.
While Erin basked in the sun’s setting glow, a ship appeared on the horizon: a hulking galleon, a behemoth of a beast. As it grew closer, Erin noticed that the ship's once-proud sails were torn and flapping like wounded wings; as a result, the galleon struggled to maintain its course.
She tore through the sea, bulldozing through salt-infested waters with a course set directly to crash into the mountain’s base; an amalgamation of rock and coral, a brilliantly lit up and colorful reef packed to the brim with schools of fish and other various forms of sea life.
Erin, naturally, continued to watch.
From beyond the edge of the planet, more ships cut through the sunset, all in tow of the first mighty galleon.
The pursuers darted through the foamy water with ease, each vessel propelled by gusts of wind summoned by mages standing at the prow, their hands alive with arcane energy.
In response, the galleon’s cannons thundered, shaking the very air itself and sending plumes of water skyward, but the smaller ships weaved through the barrage of cannonballs; their wind mages expertly manipulated the environment to avoid the massive orbs of stone and lead headed their way.
The galleon cracked as a furious wave lifted its bow, hurling the wooden beast forward, towards the looming and jagged silhouettes of mountainous coral — their peaks jutted above the surface like rows of teeth, ready to devour.
The coral reef, displaced by the galleons approach, was illuminated under the setting sun which revealed a vibrant tapestry of colors beneath the waters surface; fiery reds, brilliant purples, and shimmering golds intermingled in the alien, underwater landscape.
Beauty, however, turned to peril as the galleon’s hull scraped against the sharp coral. The wood groaned under the strain and splintered with a sickening crack.
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Then, the galleon lurched forward violently, its masts snapped as they tipped to one side, crushing the delicate coral formations beneath its weight.
Sea foam surged onto the deck as water rushed through the breached hull. The foam mixed with the vivid glow of the submerged reef, casting ghostly colors across the galleon’s ruined interior.
As the onslaught of waves thrashed the ship, the pursuing vessels circled, keeping their distance from the razor-edged outcrop.
Amidst the chaotic crash of wood and coral, the air crackled with tension as one of the mages from the smaller ships raised their hands towards the galleon; a barrier formed and contained the wreckage in a shimmering dome of emerald.
The pursuing vessels approached the shore and docked along the beach. Men, and some women, stepped onto the sand.
Most of them wore loose, baggy clothing: robes, jackets, and peeling bandages to name a few. Their colors were muted as well, as the people’s garments were mostly shades of brown and black with shimmering specks interwoven within; silvers and golds and gems — they were adorned in gold yet dressed like beggars.
Erin, meanwhile, continued to observe the scene unfold.
The magically-inclined beggars stormed across the sand and arrived before the coral deposits. The men and women gathered around the barrier, some peered past its green hue, trying to see the results of their chase; whilst others prepared bags, satchels, and cages — presumably for whatever lay inside the sinking galleon.
Minutes passed until the dome-shaped barrier dropped, and the moment it fell — all-hell broke loose.
“INCINERATE!!!” A deep, raspy voice exploded from within the galleon’s wreckage.
In tandem, a glowing beam of fire exploded from the dilapidated ship. The beam rushed forth, ignited orange, and radiated untethered heat as it melted the coral spires that erupted from the sea.
Steam flushed the area as the sea evaporated by the liter.
*BOOM*
The beam of heat veered to the left, a gust of wind from the mages manipulated its path, spiraling the monstrous source of heat into the mountain side yonder.
Earth and stone melted. It dripped from the mountain’s base and pooled down its slope, igniting the trees and flowers in bursts of erratic flames while molten rock flowed further below.
The wind mages retaliated immediately. From their fingertips, blades of wind cut towards the reef. The blades of wind, near-invisible to the naked eye, ravaged the sea.
In moments, the galleon was cut into pieces; strips of wood and iron flowed onto shore, the masts along with their sails were sucked beneath the water and slammed into the ocean floor.
As the galleon fell apart, more bursts of magic exploded from within. A black squirrel leaped off of the destroyed deck, its back lit aflame and smoking; the small mammal spread its gliders and maneuvered around the wind blades — oftentimes riding them across the air, using them like some sort of boost amongst its flight path.
In addition to the black squirrel, more magically adept creatures revealed themselves: a white deer with icy, crystalline antlers, a fox shaded yellow with three, striped bushy tails, and a falcon — silver with a scarlet beak and matching accents.
The very moment the magical beasts revealed themselves the pursuing beggars exploded with newfound vigor; their blades of wind grew both larger and faster as the personalities of the men launching them deteriorated into slews of perverted howls and insidious laughs.
By the time the magical beasts touched land, the crew members of the sinking galleon had already been slain — the last of them gurgling blood and foam as they sank to the bottom of the fractured sea’s hidden garden; their flesh and extremities bloomed along the razored-coral and painted the sea a dastardly red.
In little time at all, the escaped magical beasts were rounded up and captured; they were forced into cages all too small for them and were beaten into submission or until they ceased resisting.
Counting the beasts, however, Erin noticed that one was still missing: the black, smoke-infused flying squirrel.
Although not pertinent, Erin considered himself invested in the unfolding play. As such, he collected his drifting thoughts and focused on the form of the black squirrel.
Black… Erin thought.
Smoky…
Suddenly, an autonomous ‘ping’ sounded within Erin’s mind. Without thinking too much, Erin accessed the ‘ping’ and opened his eyes.
Revealed before him, still ascending the rocky mountains with which held Erin’s core, the squirrel fled from the beach and continued soaring higher until it passed Erin’s dungeon’s entrance.
As if drawn to him, however, the squirrel barreled down, spiraling like a bullet, and glided directly into the maw of Erin’s home.
Immediately, another ‘ping’ scratched the back of Erin’s mind; although this time, the ‘ping’ remained active and while the squirrel meandered through the caverns, Erin knew — perpetually — exactly where the squirrel lay at any given moment.
I guess that’s helpful. Erin nodded.
For a while, Erin studied the black-lit creature. It was no larger than any typical squirrel and although smoke readily peeled off of the mammal’s fur — it behaved and moved in much the same fashion as any other mundane creature.
Hey little guy. Erin thought.
He envisioned himself scratching beneath the squirrel’s chin and nuzzling up against its soft, raven-esque fur.
And, against all odds, the squirrel reacted.
It leaned into Erin’s nuzzling and purred as its chin rumbled with glee. The next moment, Erin felt something in his chest spark.
Similar to the pinging sensation and yet not at all, Erin felt a piece of him displace. A small fragment of warmth broke off and meshed with the squirrel itself — sinking deeper into the mammal’s own core until swallowed and absorbed.
From that moment onward, Erin could feel the beast in a manner never before experienced.
Jump. Erin willed.
The squirrel jumped.
Sit! Erin commanded.
The squirrel sat.
…
Can you hear me? Erin asked.
The squirrel did not nod its head, unfortunately, but it did react to the question itself. In other words, the squirrel looked around the bleak cavern in search of the voice or will that had condemned it.
…
Roll over!
For time unrecorded and unknown, Erin played with the smoky squirrel. It provided him a means of escape, a momentary breath from the insanity of his situation.
I realized it earlier, but…
This was not Earth, nor was it a planet familiar. Erin had known, of course, from the moment he saw himself in the radiating violet core — but he hadn’t truly accepted the fact until now.
Magic! A rush of warmth brushed against Erin’s heart.
Mimicking excitement, perhaps?
Nevertheless, Erin’s memories betrayed him; he retained no semblance of who he was or where he came from other than the fact that he was Erin — not in the flesh as he once presumably was — but in the form of a glowing, purple rock.
Likewise, Erin knew things.
He couldn’t exactly explain how he knew things, other than the fact that he simply knew them.
For example, Erin knows what a pencil is.
A number 2 pencil, yellow, made of wood and graphite… Erin recounted.
But he had no memories of using a pencil himself, of stabbing it into erasers or gnawing at the thin film of metal at the pencil’s end — and yet he still knew.
“I think I saw the little bugger fly off up there!” A voice echoed.
“Aye — bugger must be drawn to the mana.” He rambled.
Erin, drawn by the beggars conversation, shifted his gaze unto them.
Two men climbed the mountain.
The first was an aged man with squared shoulders and a firm gaze. His demeanor contrasted, however, with his tattered, grimy cloak that hardly hung from his body.
His clothes appeared to be barely more than rags, patched and threadbare, scarcely enough to stave off the ocean cold, yet his stance suggested a strength that defied his appearance.
His eyes were sharp and intense, hidden behind a tangled mess of white hair that fell around his face like a wild mane; in addition, his long and unkempt beard brushed against his exposed chest, but did little to hide the scars that were etched into his weathered skin.
Behind him, an adult man followed a few paces back. While walking, he shifted uncomfortably in clothes that echoed the same helplessness as the older man’s — patched trousers and a cloak frayed at its edges.
Despite the similarity in their attire, the second man seemed ill at ease; his posture was hunched over and his hands were clenched underneath his cloak — as if trying to shrink away from the filth that clung to the fabric.
His face was cast down, pale and gaunt, with lines of tension pulling at the corners of his mouth. He brushed a loose hair off of his face, white, whilst his hands were shaking.
“The mana is concentrated in that there cave.” The older man said. “Little bugger must be in there!”
The two men spotted Erin’s dungeon and confidently approached it.
At present, the cave entrance was bland and bare; a gaping maw into the cliff-side of a rocky, spiky mountain. Spires of stone jutted out from the cave’s entrance, like teeth — prickly and protruding — and eager to rip into any available entails of flesh.
The two men followed the narrow path to the dungeon’s entrance. In the meantime, they made sure to remain careful while traversing across the mountain’s steep ledge.
On the other end, whilst they were still walking along the path, Erin similarly tried to garner their attention; he called out to them, but to no reaction.
Then, the two men stepped over the spires of stone barring the cave's entrance and plunged into the dungeon.
When they did, something happened to Erin.
The warmth in his chest, it caught a second wind.
It lit ablaze!
Erin’s core burned with intensity! Like a raging fire, Erin felt his senses heighten and his thoughts accelerate; his attention immediately snapped to the two people’s presence — against his own will — as Erin’s senses began screaming at him that something was wrong!
He was in danger!
Erin didn’t know why! Erin didn’t know how!
Something in his chest, in his core, burned with an intensity that screamed “KEEP THOSE TWO AWAY!”
So that’s what Erin did.
Acting on instincts that weren’t his own, emotions he thought had been stripped of him, Erin began to create.
First, the visual.
Erin had to see his creation before he could create it.
How did Erin know that? He didn’t.
Instincts.
In his mind’s eye, Erin saw it: he saw the stalactite hanging from the corner of the cave’s ceiling. He saw it lengthen and sharpen while a disguised gleam reflected off its newly shiny exterior. Erin saw it harden and constrict.
Come to a fine point! He demanded.
But Erin wanted more; he didn’t want to just push the two men away. No!
His blood screamed at him to cripple the two men; to prevent them from ever coming back!
Erin visualized the metallic stalactite spinning as fast as possible. Why?
Rotation propels penetration! Erin thought.
But how did he know that?! He didn’t!
But he did.
The two men took another step into the cave.
Then, upon the tip of the spinning stalactite, a soft orange glowed.
The orange glow, an ember in the darkness, yet light nonetheless.
From the corner of his eye, the older man caught sight of the glimmer.
His demeanor contorted into one of rapt seriousness.
His eyes bulged out of his eye sockets!
FIRE! Erin roared.
In the blink of an eye, the old man’s palm shifted backwards. From his hand — an enormous gust of wind slammed into the other man’s chest!
*BOOM!*
The stalactite — NO — the iron javelin detonated off the ceiling, a loud explosion followed suit, and the spinning piece of metal tore through the older man’s chest, eviscerating his heart and shattering every bone in his chest.
Then, the javelin hit the stone floor beneath the man and sank into the ground as if it were water.
A second later —
*BOOM!*
The dungeon floor exploded! Millions of pieces of stone and rock rained down the mountain-side; some of them propelled with such vigor that the still-waiting beggars among the beach below were sliced apart like tofu — with pieces of their flesh peeling off their figure and littering the shore.
Meanwhile, the iron javelin continued.
It razed into the sea and disappeared under the ocean, likely obliterating the seabed in much the same fashion as it did the mountain-side.
Thus far, three seconds had passed: in the first, the javelin tore through the man; in the second, the javelin tore through the mountain; and in the third, the javelin tore through the sea.
In the fourth second, Erin was mercilessly assaulted by an impending sensation of coldness.
Frost griped at his heart, its touch brought alongside a venomous sting that ironically burned greater than any amount of mana-burn Erin had experienced before.
In the fifth second, the mana from the older man’s corpse burst apart; it quickly spread throughout Erin’s dungeon — throughout him — before it was violently thrashed into Erin’s core, sucked in by a ravenous vortex that fed upon mana itself.
In the sixth second, Erin collapsed; his senses vanished and all that was left was black.
…
The story may have paused for Erin — but for the man blown out of the dungeon — the young Noble in disguise — who skipped across the ocean’s face like a pebble and sank into its depths…
The barely-staying-afloat man clung to his life, paddling his arms with every last ounce of vitality within him.
He churned through the water whilst foam impeded his view and clogged his lungs; he eventually breached the shore, tumbling over thick chunks of rock from the exploded mountain-side.
He stumbled onto the dry sand, what was left of it anyway, as large sections of the once glistening sands were now muddied red, soaked in the freshly spilled blood of the man’s eviscerated crew.
The man’s eyes locked wide. He saw a woman in the sand, hunched over face-first. Her hips protruded outwards — a piece of stone impaled her to the beach where she drowned in her own blood.
Molly… He recognized her.
He saw a man with dark brown skin, a full beard but a bald head — a much smaller stone, although just as deadly — pierced through his left eye and nailed his skull to the hull of one of their ships.
Isaiah… The man clenched his fists, but they were no longer shaking.
He stood up and stepped through the marsh of his comrade’s blood.
He walked along the beach to the furthest of their vessels; there, three more men had already gathered in addition to a single woman.
They were all that was left of the minor fleet of beggars.
With their captain having returned, the men quickly hoisted the sails and prepared for departure; meanwhile, the woman double-checked the cages aboard the ship.
Each cage contained its own magical beast: the white deer, the yellow fox, and the silver falcon.
With their loot gathered and their mission a technical success, but an otherwise overwhelming failure — the group of four men and one woman left.
They sailed into the night, illuminated by the gigantic full moon above, and returned to the horizon.