After Kuzo’s Addendum slayed Smoky, the trio left the dungeon.

Although Smoky had tragically been vanquished, the iron gates that barred the adventurers continued descent did not open.

Instead, Hyzen gathered their deceased party member’s supplies — what hadn’t been crushed, at least — then tended to Kuzo’s wounds.

With a visible hole in Kuzo’s gut, an average life potion wouldn’t cut it. Hyzen wrapped Kuzo’s abdomen, he applied a translucent paste and wrapped it again.

Then, Kuzo gulped down a life potion — it wouldn’t seal the wound, but it would temporarily act as a magical blood bag.

By the time they returned to the beach, Kuzo was already moving better.

Meanwhile, Hyzen scribbled in his notebook; he drew a picture of a cloud then tore the page from his booklet.

“Origami Arts: Miniature Nimbus.”

The torn piece of paper ignited with light. From the light, a small cloud sprung to life. The cloud lacked facial features and a voice, so it instead communicated with its shade and occasional zaps of lightning.

The cloud maneuvered itself to the forward ship’s sails. It blew a massive gust of wind that propelled the line of ships into the sea.

Normally, Erin would have watched them go.

The sunset had become his favorite pastime, after all, but there were now more urgent matters at hand.

Smoky was dead and Erin had no clue what to do.

He sat in Smoky’s Boss room, beside the beheaded creature. Blood pooled underneath him, and due to the flickering torch light from the column’s sconces, Erin still saw depth in Smoky’s eyes.

Can I revive him? Erin thought.

But how?

Erin sat beside Smoky’s head, but then, he suddenly felt warmth radiate from Smoky’s chest.

Erin’s attention snapped accordingly.

His mana tendrils sank into Smoky’s fur and penetrated his being. Erin’s fingers delicately caressed Smoky’s core, a bowling-ball sized orb, black as night, embedded directly underneath Smoky’s heart.

From the center of Smoky’s black core, an ember sparked, small and fleeting.

The warmth projected from his core was diminishing, Erin could feel it.

So Erin did what he had done to everything else in his dungeon thus far; he pumped more mana into it.

The mana’s tides around the lagoon shifted. The currents in the air as well, that slithered through the spires of rock above, changed course if only by a millimeter.

It shifted from Erin’s core to Smoky’s.

Then, the embers ignited.

From ember to flickering flame, a spark of light, then a smoldering flare; Smoky’s core turned brilliant, white and black coalesced within — shadow and light.

Smoky’s core burned bright. The pools of blood beneath boiled and steamed; red mist surged into the air as goops of hemorrhaging blood clots flopped unceremoniously across the cracked tile floor.

The thrombi slithered, then reconnected.

Smoky’s head flowed upon the burbling river of blood; his paw too.

Then, from bubbles of blood, spires of red liquid rose from the pool. It spanned across the air, from Smoky’s body to his head, before it merged with the others.

Slowly, Smoky’s body was put back together again; his torn muscles and sliced apart skin healed, the scars vanished, and from just above his core — his heart beat.

Holy shit… Erin watched in awe.

Although he had been the one to enact it, resurrection — or whatever the hell had just happened — was a sight Erin was not prepared for.

Before he even knew what he had done, Smoky stood before him again.

The behemoth squirrel trudged across his arena and reclaimed his cracked golden acorn. Then, Smoky leaped into the air. He jammed the giant acorn into the ceiling once more and then returned to the arena’s floor; where he laid on the cracked tile and promptly succumbed to sleep.

Meanwhile, Erin’s vision faded. The light which penetrated his eyes dimmed; his connection to mana was no longer as intense as it had been.

Is it exhaustion? Erin pondered.

Perhaps from Smoky’s resurrection, Erin’s grasp on the world’s mana lessened; as it did his own.

Mana exhaustion had Erin even weaker, but how could Erin exhaust his mana when he pooled it from the world itself? Surely, Erin hadn’t used that much in comparison.

So what had happened?

What exactly caused Erin to be so tired?

He thought back to the adventurers.

Adrenaline? Erin considered.

Am I exhausted simply from stress? From the fear of the adventurers finding me?

Something about the thought unnerved Erin, he didn’t want to feel that way towards the adventurers… but he did.

And Erin had to accept it.

He was scared.

Scared of what people might do to him if they found him. And again, although Erin couldn’t explain it, he knew.

He knew the human’s would experiment upon him, would take away his freedom, enslave him, hurt him.

Visions scattered around Erin’s mind: men in white lab coats, scalpels and needles, syringes and gauze… and pain.

Eternal and unyielding pain.

Of course, in his visions, Erin saw good too. He saw ice cream at the park and ducks at the pond, but for some reason those memories were fleeting.

They seemed…

Further away. Erin thought.

Erin didn’t want to hate humans.

He didn’t hate humans.

But maybe I have to? Erin thought.

To survive…

Or at the very least.

I can’t show mercy. Erin decided.

Not anymore.

With the death of his compatriot, and thus his resurrection, Erin’s tone of mind shifted. It was about time for him to get serious.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

As a result, Erin compiled a list of things he needed to get done.

At the top of the list — make his dungeon a living nightmare.

***

Kuzo and Hyzen returned a day early.

During their travel, Hyzen copied his notes; a gift to the Duke and a thank you for sending Kuzo instead of one of his other, less-approachable mutts.

By dusk, Kuzo returned to the Moor castle.

He pervaded through the castle’s corridors and hallways before he arrived at the Duke’s main office.

Kuzo entered and gave the Duke his report; in addition to Hyzen’s notes.

Duke Moor paid close attention.

“You did good.” The Duke said after a long streak of contemplation. “How sure are you that someone was there before you?”

“I’m afraid I’m not very sure at all, sire.” Kuzo replied.

“Oh? Elaborate.”

“There were no footsteps; not in the dungeon or on the beach, nor on the way up the mountain. The two abandoned vessels still contained their rations and emergency funds, and the mana enhanced acorns in front of the dungeon — the bowl was still full. Any adventurer from one of our local Guild’s would have looted the fourth born’s men and ransacked the acorns, just as the fourth born’s boy had done. Yet the dungeon’s first floor was cleared… separate its Boss.”

The Duke scratched his chin.

“The only adventurers who wouldn’t loot are high-ranking ones… but if they were high-ranking, why wouldn’t they clear the first floor?” Kuzo continued.

“If they were in a rush?” The Duke said.

Kuzo’s eyes widened.

“You think they sensed us, sire?”

“It’s possible, but there exist alternatives.”

The Duke paused.

“Did Hyzen tell you what rank he’d report the dungeon as?”

Kuzo nodded.

“Yes sire, he said he would suggest B-rank.”

“B-rank?” The Duke raised his brows.

That was remarkably high for a first floor evaluation.

Kuzo noticed the Duke’s reaction and offered his input.

“The first floor was not B-rank; rather, Hyzen felt it had the potential to quickly reach the B-rank threshold. He believes even before its tenth floor.”

“A new dungeon starting at B-rank… and unique to top it all off. How could the Empire have overlooked it?” The Duke racked his brain.

There were too many questions surrounding this dungeon. In his gut, the Duke knew to stay away; from the Empire’s property, from the unique dungeon — but the merits probable were exquisitely vast.

Unique dungeons, regardless of their rank, consistently withheld the most worthwhile of treasures. Why?

Because unique dungeon’s formed as a result of a change in their inner-workings of mana. In other words, unique dungeons mold, create, and infuse mana into the world in ways no other dungeon could mimic.

Loot from unique dungeon’s are one of a kind; the manacorns, for example.

Their abilities and their enhancements are those that push the magical world forward because they inherently do something different from the rest; and where human experimentation consistently fails — the dungeon’s consistently succeed.

But is the timing even appropriate? The Duke thought.

Does the Moor Dukedom have the resources to invest in something like this? An across the sea dungeon raid?

Even worse, under the nose of the Empire?

The Duke paused and considered his pieces.

Was there any way for him to stake claim to the dungeon?

“The galleon’s wreckage?” The Duke spoke. “How far gone was it?”

“Strips of cloth and tattered boards, sire.”

That could work… Duke Moor thought.

“Kuzo, get me Bram.”

“Yes, sire!”

***

First, Erin needed more animals.

Since creating flesh and blood from mere mana was not an option, Erin’s only solution was to herd the animals already local to his dungeon.

For example, Erin noticed that bats lived on the backside of his mountain. There were also the pelicans and the urchins that lived along the shore.

Ants, beetles, dragonflies, starfish, rabbits, and of course, the worms that squirmed underneath the soil.

Erin noticed a few other species of life that lingered around, but they were lone instances; most likely predators that traversed alone and frequented Erin’s sphere of influence.

And I need pairs of everything… Erin could not forget.

With these beasts in mind, however, Erin got to work.

He decided upon bats; not only were they mammals — like squirrels — but they also paired nicely with Smoky’s black fur coat.

One might be convinced to go with rabbits as they certainly looked the most like squirrels, but Erin had to consider his available space too. Since the first floor of his dungeon was already about as large as he could make it, Erin needed some other place to herd his new species.

Since the second floor is the only readily available space, the bats that will inhabit the first must be born on the second. In doing so, Erin must also ensure that the bats have an available path from the second to the first; one that the adventurers could not take themselves or that did not impede the bats.

It is due to this requirement alone that Erin felt the bats were superior to the rabbits; as the bats could fly.

First, however, he needed to catch them.

Erin snapped his attention to the rear-peaks of the mountains above him. A short mountainous cave appeared; on the ceiling, the bats hung.

They were small, only about a hand's length, and their head’s were covered in thick, black fur. Their wings wrapped around them, tucked tightly in an effort to resist the bite of the cold mountaintops.

The bats had black eyes, small hands, and short snouts.

Erin’s gaze sifted through the bats, he searched for the thickest one.

His attention stopped. Erin had found him; a bat that triumphed over his brethren — twice the size — with fangs that hung from his lips and talons that decorated his nails.

Then, Erin willed his mana. The invisible tendrils of pure energy moved unseen through the air; it slithered underneath the bat’s skin and coursed into the small mammal’s heart as a core had not yet been formed.

Erin’s first obstacle.

So he narrowed his scope of attention. Erin directed his stream of mana slightly ajar from the bat’s heart, underneath, then focused on pooling it together.

The mana surged, it spiraled over and unto itself. It formed the shape of a ball and condensed. After a few minutes, the mana grew physical and a black core formed within the bat.

As more mana flowed into the bat’s lightless core, color surged and sparks of light, like solar systems, grew into being. The sparks collided, explosions of energy burst in sequence as the bat’s fresh core came to life.

The core intertwined itself with the bat’s flesh. It surged with mana that spread throughout the bat’s being, strengthening and enhancing its already prevalent features.

But with the core developed, and Erin’s imprint left upon it, he set out to further evolve his newly acquired pet.

Bigger! Erin thought.

Always bigger!

The bat’s flesh expanded. Its little arms protruded out, muscles encircled its flesh while tendons snapped together. Then, its teeth lengthened and its skull widened.

The bat underwent a metamorphosis.

It grew to the size of a toddler, but much wider and thicker than any human child could hope to achieve.

The bat walked on its forearms, like a gorilla, and its once thin, rubbery wings transformed to that of steel: hard, resistant, and metallic.

The bat's fangs hung below its chin and its eyes sparked with newfound vision; deep red irises hid behind a veil of dark sclera.

The bat beast plopped onto the cave floor. It pranced around the darkness and stretched its newly formed features.

Then, the bat felt something click within its brain; a calling, a command — something willed the bat down the mountain’s rocky slope towards the beach’s shore.

Shortly after, whilst the beast bat traveled to his dungeon, Erin scouted the others in search of a mate.

Naturally, Erin searched for the biggest female bat there was. Once he found her, Erin enacted similar changes: bigger body, bigger arms, bigger teeth, and most importantly, red eyes.

The eyes were special because they translated light itself; meaning, the bats were capable of sight in pitch darkness and in brilliant light, an important aspect for what Erin had in mind for his second floor.

In addition to the basic evolutions, Erin also added minute details to his bats; strips of gold fur grew around their ears and down their spine. He gave the males wider ears and the females darker claws. Erin also made the female’s slightly smaller than their male counterparts, not by much, but by enough to notice.

While the two bats-

Bat-Apes! Erin corrected.

While the two Bat-Apes traveled down the mountain, Erin began construction of his second floor.

First, he emptied the space beneath the Acorn Halls; he willed the stone to become thin and brittle — into dust — then conjured a breeze to sweep it yonder.

With the second floor hollow, Erin cut crevices into the earth. He created extremely long, thin ravines that disappeared into the depths below.

The ravines littered the floor, any misstep could spell certain doom as Erin erected spikes and blades between the pitfalls.

The ravines themselves, however, were too simple. Erin needed to complicate his second floor; he needed adventurers to spend a lot of time down there.

He needed them to get lost down there.

Erin overlapped many ravines. He stretched some of them into canyons and added walls around them; by day’s end, a ravenous maze had taken shape.

Alongside every step of the maze, ravines and canyons coddled the path; one step away from perilous death, one step away from disappearing into the void.

At the bottom of the crevices, the ravines connected and formed one, massive canyon. This canyon was where Erin planned to herd his bats.

They would colonize the depths of the second floor, surviving in utter darkness, multiplying like fiends, until the second floor was overrun with them. They'd scour the depths of the crevices with the aid of their ravenous, iron-clad claws.

In the dark, they’d be predators; and from the depths, they'd latch onto adventurer’s limbs and ankles and drag them down into the treacherous void.

And if the unlucky adventurer’s in question survived the fall — they’d be thrown into a festering nest of Bat-Apes; never to be seen by the light again.

After a few days of work, the second floor’s rough draft was complete; the canyon was formed, the crevices split the earth, and the maze was coming along smoothly.

For light, Erin found it in the form of algae. First, he copied the algae that grew among the coral reef.

He layered it throughout the second floor, near the corners of cliffs and along particularly daunting pathways; he made them glow green-blue, just light enough to see rough silhouettes in the distant dark.

At the end of the second floor, Erin constructed a bridge of stone. The bridge led nowhere yet, but Erin would find a purpose for it soon.

During this time, Erin also revisited the first floor. He trapified it to the gills and spread his Bat-Apes throughout its corridors.

With the traps, however, a new issue presented itself; how exactly to automate and replenish them?

For example, Erin could create a simple arrow trap. He could link it to a tripwire and forge it so that when someone pulled the wire, an arrow was fired; but what about the second person, or an hour after, a day after?

Erin needed to consolidate his workings of mana, he needed to compute it, so that he could spit it back out in a pre-functioning form.

Erin needed to devise runes.

Or do I? Erin thought.

In the first corridor of the first floor, Erin created an arrow trap. He drew wires underneath the tile and linked them to specific pieces. Then, hidden behind the dungeon’s walls, Erin created a rotary for the arrows: an automatic-arrow-loading-system.

At the base of the arrow rotary, Erin enacted his will.

Form a steel tipped arrow when this space is vacant.

The mana reacted to his pleas.

It stuck to the stone like ink and formed miraculous geometric patterns, all inner-linking, until the final stroke was set and an arrow birthed into form.

The rotary spun and the arrow docked.

Then, another arrow formed.

The rotary spun.

Luckily, when the rotary met its max capacity, the mana stopped forming arrows and the complex geometric patterns dulled; a sign that mana no longer flowed through them.

With that success, Erin expanded. He added more traps to the first floor, some more dangerous than others.

Then, Erin continued onto the second.

He constructed a rune array to reconstruct the stone bridge an hour after its collapse. Erin also created a slew of stalactite traps that would hopefully fall from the ceiling and impale whomever was below.

By the time Erin felt satisfied with his second floor, two weeks had passed. The first generation of Bat-Apes had been born and were already proliferating the second floor.

The traps all worked automatically; Erin had tested them.

Moreover, Erin also decided to move the manacorns further within the dungeon; post the first floor Boss, Smoky.

Erin designated them as a sort of ‘drop’ for defeating the first floor. Erin wasn’t sure where he had learned the term from, but it felt eerily appropriate nonetheless.

The way it worked was simple; Erin created a podium at the back end of Smoky’s Boss Room. There, beside the gated exit, Erin placed a single manacorn.

In addition, Erin formed a rune underneath the podium's base.

When Smoky is vanquished, replenish the manacorn and lift the gate.

Meanwhile, on the edge of the horizon across the sea, a galleon appeared. It cut through the sea with a trajectory set for Erin’s shores.

In an instant, Erin felt their mana cross into his sphere of influence. He snapped his attention to the open sea, then upon the deck of the ship.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Fourth born, Bram asked.

Kuzo stood beside him. The two men overlooked the sea. Their eyes were glued to the horizon. They stared at the approaching land, at Erin’s shores and at the coral lagoon that surrounded him.

“Good or not. You’ve been granted another chance. If I were you, I’d do everything in my power to seize this opportunity.” Kuzo said.