Where does one find inspiration?
It’s a question Erin had spent a lot of time pondering as of late, in conjunction with his daily mana exercises, of course.
Over the past two weeks, Erin had learned a lot about mana; the most important? The difference between creation and alteration.
For example, when Erin tried to create a mouse.
What exactly did Erin try to create a mouse with?
He tried to create the mouse with mana itself; that’s about as good as trying to alter the air itself into a mouse.
In other words, creation is an extremely wasteful and mana-hungry practice. Possible nonetheless, but for creating life especially, it takes an enormous amount of mana to facilitate that level of spontaneous creation.
On the other hand, there’s alteration or the modification of existing matter to better suit Erin’s desires.
Alteration costs about a million times less than creation and although it slightly limits his creative freedom, Erin discovered; it wasn’t by much.
He had experimented a lot, after all.
A lot more than liquifying stone and splashing it around his dungeon.
I mean, what was I thinking? Erin thought.
When it came to alteration, Erin considered himself an expert; with just the stone found in his cave, Erin could effectively modify it to match the form of any other solid matter.
Erin also discovered that creating life — pretty much across the board — was difficult. With the stone he had laying around, the closest thing Erin could simulate was golems.
The golems, however, were far from living creatures. In order to operate autonomously, Erin must first condense mana itself, solidifying it into a crystal ball, and by thus planting it into a stone-shell Erin could meticulously distribute the stored mana, from the artificial-core, to the premade joints and ligaments of the golem.
It was tedious as fu-
Simply isn’t worth my time. Erin concluded.
But if this rule of mana that Erin had discovered holds true, then how do dungeons populate their floors?
Good ol’ fashioned fuckin’! Erin yelped.
Oh so he can say it?
Moreover, the best method to populate the dungeon – from what Erin could gander – was to facilitate artificial-ecosystems throughout its many floors. By utilizing this method, Erin not only did not have to trapify every inch of his dungeon, but it also meant that he did not have to artificially recreate every slain creature in his dungeon.
Erin could only imagine the mana cost of respawning every monster. The thought alone made him shiver.
By raising a general population in his dungeon, presumably somewhere secluded from the main path, Erin would have back-ups for his back-ups.
It was truly a win-win case scenario.
Back to alteration, however, the obvious caveat here was that in order to start life Erin must already possess life.
Meaning, he must tame the outer world’s life first; then he could modify it, evolve it, and shape it into the magical beast Erin dreamed it could be.
Alteration also meant that in order to begin a new species within the dungeon, Erin needed two compatible members of the original species – so that he could evolve them both accordingly.
It was this stipulation that somewhat proved a problem for Erin.
Put simply, Erin only had one smoky squirrel, Smoky himself.
Over the past two weeks, Erin also decided on a definitive name for his squirrel companion, Smoky; and Smoky, likewise, received a similar mana-treatment as the first floor of the dungeon.
At present, Smoky stood twelve feet tall. He was everything Erin had envisioned: bigger, stronger, and better.
Smoky’s black fur tapered off into thick layers of smoke. His eyes shone like embers, brilliant orange, and his claws grew razor-sharp and golden.
Three golden stripes lined Smoky’s back – each traveled down one of his three tails. Smoky’s tails, meanwhile, were six-feet-long and covered in thick, bristled, thorn-like spikes.
From a distance, Smoky looked fluffy, but in reality – he was anything but.
In addition to his overwhelming new size, Smoky also carried around with him a giant, golden acorn; the acorn sat like a pot in Smoky’s paws – it was huge – weighing more than a ton, and along its cupule-crown black spikes protruded towards the acorn’s stem like the hilt of a blade.
Smoky wasn’t the only representation of change, however.
He also no longer resided within the dungeon’s core room; instead, Smoky had his own room.
The Boss room.
Major discovery number two, brought to you by the past two weeks, Erin could not move his core, yes; but he could move the podium that his core sat upon.
Without further ado, Erin presents the first floor — the Acorn Halls.
The dungeon sprawled beneath the earth like an ancient tomb. Immediately upon entering, the dungeon space opened up; vaulted ceilings stretched high into the rocky mountain supported by grand columns that rose from the stone floor, each carved with intricate patterns of oak leaves and winding vines.
The Romanesque architecture was unmistakable, to Erin’s eyes at least, as every aspect of the design was infused with an acorn motif, giving the space an almost otherworldly, naturalistic twist.
The columns with which held the ceilings were not smooth marble as tradition, but were instead etched with lifelike leaves, curling around the column’s length as if they grew naturally from the stone itself. Amidst the foliage, acorns appeared in meticulous detail, their smooth forms embedded within the carvings, their golden sheen’s caught in the dungeon’s torchlight, glowing in the dark.
Where traditional Roman symbols may have appeared, the acorn’s cupule — its crown, as Erin called it — replaced them, a clear emblem of status and reverence. Each cupule varied slightly: at the start of the dungeon the design was minimal, but further in, closer to the Boss’s room, the acorn’s cupule twisted and erupted with thorn-like spires, spikes to ensnare its wielder.
The stone floors appeared worn from centuries of use, yet the acorn theme continued in the patterned mosaics beneath each step. Small tiles formed elaborate spirals of leaves which radiated outwards from larger, centralized acorns, creating a sense that the dungeon was rooted deep into the earth like an ancient oak.
Needless to say, Erin had invested a lot of thought into the dungeon’s bells and whistles. For all the architectural design and intricate detailing Erin committed to, the first floor of his dungeon… wasn’t exactly the largest.
Erin had tried to expand it, but just like the light from whence he awoke — there was something repelling his expansion, pushing him back and keeping him holed up in a nice and tight little space confined within the mountain.
This repelling force naturally provided Erin with a lot to experiment with. For instance, why could Erin see a mile out into the sea, but he could not touch anything out there?
When he first awoke a couple weeks back, Erin had simply assumed his newfound vision coincided with newfound reach… but he was mistaken.
So after a few days of testing, Erin discovered his limitations; he could ‘touch’ everything within his dungeon’s grounds with no problem, that meant everything from the cave’s entrance to Erin’s core room, to further beneath.
Further beneath?
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Erin found it odd too when he first discovered it.
For some reason, Erin was specifically guided downwards. As previously mentioned, Erin could already see further into the depths than any other direction — and that sight, for some reason, came with increased reach.
But why was that?
Well, Erin believed it had something to do with the surface’s ambient mana. Put simply, the outside air contained super dirty mana whilst the air that was underground, perhaps untouched for hundreds of years, felt cleaner and was easier to bulldoze through.
Easier to collect and absorb too. Erin added.
Precisely, so with this understanding, Erin came to another revelation. It wasn’t that he couldn’t touch the outside world, it was just that his connection was convoluted.
Erin could touch the outside world, it was just laggy.
Something that Erin could do instantly within his dungeon might take an hour on the surface; and depending on the desire, the task Erin is attempting to complete, working on the surface could potentially take as long as weeks to get something useful done.
Just like the golems, it simply wasn’t time/cost effective.
Unfortunately, Erin did want to make one edit to the surface. He needed someway to get another goddamn squirrel in there, after all.
***
Following his audience with the Duke, Kuzo immediately left the castle grounds and headed into the city below. He set off in one of the Moor’s carriages, an illustrious hand-crafted carriage constructed of maple and accented with splashes of silver and streaks of white.
Within the carriage, the seats were lush black-velvet, soft to the touch, and above, adorned on the roof of the carriage, a myriad of colors were painted to depict the world’s annual star-fall; an event that occurred every decade, a shower of stars plummeted from the sky with each trailing a vibrant color of its own.
Kuzo, on the other hand, was more interested in the Moor’s quick horses than their luxurious carriages. Thanks to that, Kuzo arrived in the city of Moorndell before nightfall.
He strode towards the city’s northern Guild of Adventurers’ branch and rapidly bound his horses to their available stables.
Kuzo stormed inside.
The residents within gave him curt stares and hawty attitudes, but nobody dared say something. Everybody in there knew who Kuzo was – he had a reputation that preceded his noble employment, after all; recognized as “White Flash” Kuzo.
He ignored their stares and stormed towards one of the Guild’s secretaries; a woman, cute, short, bubbly, blonde.
“Get me Hyzen.” He told the girl.
“Yes, sir!” She chirped.
Not ten minutes later, Kuzo sat across from Hyzen in a private room. The room was luxurious, of course; it had to be since the Duke sponsored this branch.
Meanwhile, from across the glass coffee table, Hyzen wore a dreadful expression; his eyelids drooped heavily over his eyes, wide dark bags sagged underneath, and the parts of his eyes that were visible were clearly bloodshot.
He was, however, a meticulous man: neatly combed brown hair, a tidy mustache, silver spectacles. He kept himself clean and presentable which coincided well with his high-end attire; he wore a homburg hat with a gray vest and a white undershirt, gray pants, a maple belt, and black leather shoes.
“You know that’s not how the Guild operates.” Hyzen groaned.
“I don’t work for the Guild anymore.” Kuzo said.
“But I do!” Hyzen argued. “You can’t ask me for an inspection and claim I’m only coming with you for personal reasons; the inspection inherently makes it the Guild’s matters!”
Kuzo didn’t speak. Instead, he crossed his arms and looked at Hyzen.
Hyzen tried to match Kuzo’s stare, but under the scrutiny of Kuzo’s single eye, Hyzen began to crack.
He shook his head back and forth, but even still, he opened his mouth.
“You know I can’t do an inspection without my apprentice.” Hyzen argued.
“Send her somewhere else. She doesn’t even need to know you were gone.” Kuzo pushed back.
“For three weeks?” Hyzen countered. “Are you out of your mind!”
“Hyzen!” Kuzo’s voice sparked. “I came to you for a reason and I’m telling you to send her somewhere else.”
Hyzen bounced his knee up and down. He continued to shake his head no, but just like before, his mouth betrayed him.
“Fine.” He said.
“I’ll send her on a quest tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you at the docks at two past dawn.”
Kuzo smirked. He leaned his hand over the glass table between them and grabbed Hyzen’s.
“I’ll see you there, partner.” Kuzo shook his hand.
He stood up to leave, but before he could open the door…
“And so help me god, Kuzo, if you are even one minute late, I will walk.”
Kuzo grabbed the room’s door handle and pushed it open. At the same time, a grin spread across his face.
He never changes. He thought.
***
Two weeks later…
Adrift at sea.
Kuzo, Hyzen, and Bram’s generic follower looked at a map unfurled across a wooden chest. Fresh markings and routes littered the map in addition to notes written by Hyzen – details of the sea’s patterns, the wind’s currents, and other important information useful for the Guild.
Their vessel was nearing the end of the Empire’s border. In one more day of travel, they’d reach as North as they could travel – the end of the western continent.
If they didn’t discover the galleon’s wreckage soon…
“There!” The generic man shouted.
“Those are the mountains! I’m positive!”
Kuzo and Hyzen both ran to the edge of the ship. They followed the generic man’s finger and spotted an eruption of rock that superseded the very clouds, its spires were treacherous and snow-tipped, and beneath its long and near-vertical slopes, a colorful seabed of protruding coral surrounded the mountain’s lagoon.
Strewn around the lagoon in various places, strips of wood and ruptured barrels floated amongst gentle waves.
Beneath the clear waters, the galleon’s sails were ripped into strips and intertwined with the sharp coral that pervaded the reef.
Along the coast, two ships – identical to the very vessel they rode upon – were abandoned and left to rot in the ocean’s salty tides.
Two hours later…
Kuzo, Hyzen, and the generic man jumped off their ship and onto the Empire’s land. First, they explored the beach.
The large splotches of blood that had once painted the shores had long been removed by the tide. As a result, there wasn’t much red left to be found.
Kuzo collected a few stray body parts: a few fingers, a toe, a handful of teeth, and a whole leg. Additionally, the man who had been nailed to the side of one of the ships?
He was still there, although large chunks of his flesh were missing, particularly around his neck and thighs, and his body had begun the process of decomposition; he practically already looked like a zombie.
Next, Kuzo approached the coral reef. He had planned to destroy the galleon past the point of recognition, but the deed had largely already been done.
There simply was no more galleon; instead, what took its place was nothing more than scattered planks and ripped fabric. Even the corpses of the galleon’s sailors had vanished from the sea, likely sucked away by an undercurrent invisible to the naked eye.
Either way, with the body parts cleaned up and the two ships in tow — there lay not a speck of the Duke’s patronage on the Empire’s land.
Kuzo inwardly sighed in relief.
Next order of business then, Kuzo cast his gaze skyward, towards the outcropping of stone that extended over the shore; a cliff above the sea and their next destination.
In front of the dungeon’s entrance, the three men gathered around a bowl of stone. The bowl was built embedded into the ground, molded from the stone floor itself, but it was what lay inside the bowl that stumped the three men: acorns.
Golden, slightly enlarged, acorns.
Hyzen furiously scribbled in his notebook.
Meanwhile, the generic man bent over and picked up one of the acorns.
“What are you doing?” Kuzo asked.
“No! No! Let him, Kuzo! Let the boy be curious!” Hyzen smacked Kuzo on the shoulder with his notebook.
Kuzo ignored him.
“We don’t know what these acorns are. And they weren’t mentioned in the fourth born’s report, which means this bowl and these acorns-”
“Appeared within the past month??!!” Hyzen scribbled.
Hyzen knelt down beside the unassuming stone bowl and began taking measurements of the creation.
At the same time, the generic man eyed the acorns.
Its crown was sinisterly dark and spiky; an odd evolution to say the least.
The generic man wriggled an acorn’s crown and, unexpectedly, the black top popped off.
*pop*
The crown gently flew into the air before subsequently falling to the floor. Then, a small serving of mist rose from the acorn’s golden cusp; the smell was divine.
It tugged at the three men’s nostrils incessantly: fruity, salty, malty, savory, snappy.
The scent was monstrous!
Before even realizing his own actions, the generic man plopped the acorn into his mouth and began chewing.
To his surprise, however, his teeth could not even begin to dent the golden exterior beholden to the acorn; instead, a viscous liquid drooled out of the acorn’s shell and flowed down the back of the generic man’s throat.
The man, ravaged by bestial desire, stuck his tongue into the acorn and swirled it around; he was damn sure to get every last lick of the incredible nectar before he spit out the golden shell like it was a cracked sunflower seed.
Immediately, the generic man’s face flushed.
He swayed backwards slightly, almost losing his footing, then plopped down and crossed his legs in a meditative pose.
“Tell me, boy! What are you feeling?!” Hyzen pleaded.
Beside him, Kuzo rummaged through his satchel in search of a healing potion — just in case.
A few minutes later, the generic man’s eyes shot open. Sweat dripped from his forehead and steam bled from his skin. He was undoubtedly hot, but they were in northern waters; there was snow among the mountain’s peaks, for crying out loud!
“It’s like a high-tier mana potion!” The man shouted.
He quickly crawled across the ground towards the stone bowl. Then, he began stuffing his pockets with the golden acorns.
“I’m gonna be rich!” His eyes glossed over in euphoria.
To the side, Hyzen continued to write in his notebook. He flipped to a new page where he began drawing the acorn itself, he even included little notes to specify the change in the acorn’s cupule along with its shift in color and sturdiness.
“This is truly fascinating…” Hyzen muttered to himself whilst recording the data.
“What does this mean, Hyzen?” Kuzo asked.
“Is this some sort of offering? Or a trap? Why would the dungeon do this?”
Hyzen snapped shut his notebook.
“Well, for starters, I believe what we have here is a lure.” Hyzen said.
“You mentioned that when the fourth born stumbled upon this dungeon, a smoke-attuned squirrel fled to its depths, yes?” Hyzen recalled.
Kuzo crossed his arms.
“You’re not seriously suggesting that the dungeon did all this just because an infant squirrel found its way here a month ago?” Kuzo prodded.
“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”
…
“And why the hell would it do that?” Kuzo simmered.
“You might not know this, Kuzo, but squirrels are native to the East. It’s likely that the dungeon had never seen a squirrel before, let alone an elemental squirrel like the one that escaped.”
“What’s more concerning to me, and by association the Guild, however, is these mana-infused acorns.”
Hyzen picked one up.
“How much mana do you suppose it took to fill this whole bowl? Exactly how many acorns are even in here? Fifty? And if we go off of the boy’s words, that’s fifty high-tier mana potions? Can you fathom that?” Hyzen noted.
Kuzo’s expression immediately fell.
“So you’re saying it’s high-rank?” Kuzo jumped straight to the point.
Hyzen snickered.
“Highest rank I’ve ever inspected – at the least.”
“Hyzen!” Kuzo barked. “This is serious!”
“It’s at least A-rank; has to be.”
At this, the generic man’s back stiffened. He slowly retreated from ransacking the dungeon’s bowl and then stood up to face Kuzo and Hyzen.
“Look who’s decided to join us.” Hyzen quipped.
“A-rank?!!” The generic man spasmed.
“We can’t conquer an A-rank dungeon!”
“Speak for yourself, boy! Just let eyepatch over here handle it!” Hyzen said.
Kuzo simply glared at him.
He had bigger concerns to consider as of this moment.
“We’ll conquer the first floor, and the first floor only.” Kuzo said.
“Then, we’ll report back to the Duke. A dungeon of this caliber won’t go unnoticed for much longer.”
“Begs the question how it’s gone unnoticed for so long to begin with. Although unoccupied land, the Empire must have extensively searched its borders before. How wasn’t this dungeon discovered earlier?” Hyzen said to no one in particular.
“Another concerning fact we must momentarily forgo. Enough dilly-dallying. We enter now.”
“He’s so serious. And it’s all the time!” Hyzen complained to the generic man, but the man did not acknowledge Hyzen, for he was far too occupied shivering in his boots.
An A-rank dungeon. He thought. I’m as good as dead!