There was something wrong with this dungeon, Phthalo knew. Davis had insisted that there was a baby core somewhere around, but the giant didn’t think so. The monsters were too sophisticated for a mere baby, even if it was working together with a Hidden dungeon. Phthalo thought that this was a single abnormal dungeon, working alone.

Newborns were not refined. They had no sense of design or theme, just the single instinct to dig. Hidden dungeons were slightly more intelligent, often moving locations and nursing newborns. It was difficult for them to dig and create monsters on their own, but they could easily work together with another dungeon to do so. No Hidden dungeon in this area was advanced enough to instruct a newborn like this, though.

Abnormal dungeons were usually born from godly intervention, made for a greater purpose than themselves. Another clue to the fact that this may be an abnormal dungeon was the color. The clay skin of the golem had matched the average core color in this area, but the core itself did not. It was amber, a mixture of mainly soul and partly surge. Soul mana was incredibly uncommon in the area, so Phthalo thought that it was out of place.

A small rat hesitantly sniffed at the lifeless purple golem, sniffing sorrowfully at the shatter-dust in the chest. Phthalo glanced at the pouch around her neck, and back at the rat. She squeaked in Rat, and the little thing perked up.

“Squeak, wik wik tee?” “Wouldst thou accept a small mercy, to gift thou back thine master in a singular fractal?”

The rat paused for a moment, flicking it’s ears and grooming its speckled white fur. “Wik, tik tee.” “Please. This land is sacred, and your people have defiled it. Give us our Archon and leave. Never return unless you have atoned for your actions.”

Phthalo nodded solemnly, digging out the correct glowing shard from the pouch and tossing it at the being on the ground. “Live on, rat. Live on.”

She discreetly pressed her right thumb onto her left palm, transferring a small amount of woszett into the air and closing her eyes for a second. The prayer of guilt, used after wrongfully killing an innocent. Her mission was to dismantle the Shatterkin from the inside, but Phthalo wasn’t sure she could stand this much longer.

“Thal, let’s go you big oaf! Can’t stay much longer here, we’re hitting the road.”

Phthalo picked up her javelin and set off.

-----------------

The first sense to return was not even mine. The fuzzy static of my butterfly golem’s senses gave me something to cling on to, to drag myself back to consciousness. I could see grass swaying gently in the wind, bright flowers bobbing enticingly with pistols covered in pollen. I pull myself away quickly, shaking myself from the distraction.

The forest was alive, the chatter of birds and buzzing insects filling the air with song. I was tempted to sing along, but I didn’t. The air was fresh, and my view slowly expanded from several points. The inside of many pouches, rubbing against the corpses of other dungeons is what came to me first. Dear god, how many dungeons have these guys killed? I can’t perceive outside of the pouches, so there must be some… Nullstone, I think she said?

Since nothing can really come from continuing to look through those perspectives, I return to my body. My leg is reattached, though a thin golden line banded my knee. The arrows had been pushed out and the wounds healed, small dimples the only evidence of their actions. My chest, formerly gaping open, only had a deep starburst scar. Last but not least… My face.

My eye, the one I made, was gone entirely. Instead, a new one made of opal and white glass had taken it’s place. A deep, smooth gash of a scar went over it, and my eyelids had a small section missing at the edges. It’s better than nothing, at least.

A white rat with brown freckles quickly scampered up to me, and I sat up to greet it. As I do so, my vision doubles and I feel dizzy. Ah crap, what’s happening this time? I reach around with mana, and finally notice the miniscule shard of mine on the ground. I try to scoop it up, but feel some kind of resistance.

You cannot reabsorb this essence. Please gather all shards and remove external influences before attempting once more.

Goddamnit! The rat, sensing my mounting frustration, lays a single paw on my leg. Its eyes were a warm chocolate brown, reminding me of… I can’t remember. I hate this. I can’t even think normally without literally getting tortured. At least I remember that, now. I gently grab the rat, lifting it up to my chest and petting it. My rats, all of them, I could feel. They were worried, afraid, and generally stressed.

It would be best to recover for a while, I think. No use in charging into a situation without full health. My birds seem okay too. Early and Dorothy were farther along in their acquisitions, and Rose had started on the path of healer. Blanche wasn’t doing much, yet. With a grunt and great difficulty, I maneuver myself into a standing position. The rat squeaked in worry, climbing from my arm to my shoulder as I begin walking.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Flashes of memories dance across my vision, far away and trapped behind a veil of infinite yellow mana. With a breath, I take some in and watch as a memory that was definitely not mine plays in reverse. Once it finishes, I manage to decipher what occurred. A person with weird deer-elf ears and a tail was shackled to a nullstone floor, with nullstone chains. They look up and meet the eye of whoever’s memory this was, and a gasp of shock came from the viewer before the memory abruptly cut off.

Annoyingly enough, I recognise but can’t place where I knew the prisoner from. I shake my head and set the memory to the side, for when I can physically handle thinking about it. I enter my maze and ask one of the rats to retrieve the shard stuck outside, and hide it in the boss room. Looking around, I see all the rat blood painting the walls and my heart aches. It seems like the rats that were slain were back though, which is good.

On my walk, I pick up a few more rats, all scampering up my arms and squeaking in relief and comfort. Most of them left after a while of aimless walking, but the first rat stayed. What am I supposed to do now? Follow the shatterkin? Disguise myself and walk to the nearest town my butterflies can find? I pull out the two square sheets remaining in my inventory, and sit down on the floor of a random corridor.

Folding paper was easy, and let me distract myself from thinking. Triangle, triangle, rectangle, triangle, square, and after one last fold, butterfly. I set it down, and turn my attention to the amount of Eszett I had.

99 Eszett

Oh. That’s a lot. I’m glad the gods are so generous, but I’m still going to curse them. I bring the butterfly to life, and watch it flutter off. I tell it to join the first one, wherever it may be, and begin to search for a town. I use the third paper to make yet another butterfly, and tell this one to patrol the area outside of my vision and alert if someone is approaching.

I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. I want to sleep. With a sigh, I think of the darkness that would come over me when I had been forced to sleep after cracking. I search for it, reaching in every direction all at once until I finally snag something and pull it towards me. It wasn’t the thing I was searching for. It was a… letter. The one from Eszett, I assume.

The neat and professional onix envelope had a white wax seal. The seal depicted a solar system with four suns, two planets, and an infinitely vast amount of stars stretching out into the unending void. With a mental blink the mirage disappeared, and the seal was left blank. Huh, these guys really like infinite things, don’t they. Lazily, I flip it open and pull out the paper, which immediately spit out a whole ass outfit. Fucking magic, man.

The letter was still metaphysical, but the clothing was in the real world. I unfold the letter to read it, ignoring the items for now.

Dear J- wait, really? I’m not supposed to say their name yet? This is exactly why I wanted to be more involved in this- arg, nevermind… I’m just gonna start over. Kiszett, how do you work this thing again? The button? What does that d-

That was not what I expected. Was that the handwriting of Eszett, or was it a recording? I can’t even tell, the words just exist in no particular form. Slightly hesitantly, I reach out again for another letter. I find one and grab it, the same illusion thing washing over me before I open it again. The same outfit popped out, and I read the new letter.

Hello,

I’m not sure if Woszett let you know in your chat, but I am Eszett, the god of true creation. I don’t much bother with the balance stuff since it usually works itself out, but this time it didn’t. Because of Woszett’s sons. We’re all sorry to have to drag you into this mess, but it couldn’t really be avoided. Unfortunately I can’t tell you all the details, due to your poorly constructed core- what, it is! Don’t you look at me in that tone of voice, boys, you two insisted on being the ones to make J- their vessel, and you fucked it up!

Hem hem, where was I? Oh, yes. I can’t give all the details, but I can tell you (again) to go to the capitol of Dead River and meet with Noctem. I gave you a set of clothes that should match with the current fashion, but let me know if you get weird looks, ‘kay? Oh yeah, after you finish experiencing this message, an image of Noctem will be available for you to view.

My sincerest apologies,

Eszett

Once I finished experiencing the letter, as the god had aptly put it, both of them dissolved into motes of pure white energy and I sensed my eszett go up by two. I also saw a polaroid photo pop into reality, and float gently into my lap. Not even bothering to open my eyes, I studied the person who was supposedly named Noctem. Night in latin.

It looks like a young man in his early twenties, a strange mix of deer and elf ears perched at a height that would have been awkward on any other person but this one. He was grinning and sticking his tongue out at the camera. One arm was thrown over the shoulder of someone who was blotted out, and the other hand pulled at his eyelid to display warm… brown eyes…

That was my brother. Holy shit. The same brother who was killed in a hit and run after school one day. The same brother that I baked cookies with to give to our mom. I opened my golem's eyes, and stared intensely at the picture. The white spots of a deer replaced his dark freckles, and small antlers sprouted through his thick hair. Now that I think about it, Ruby had always told me that he would totally embrace being isekaied, and would make up a ‘sick new name’ to go with his ‘sick new life’. And I also remember his name.

Before I can think about it, I turn back to the memory I had taken from the woszett wall and look at the person chained to the floor. It was my brother.

Rage. Unfathomable, boiling, rage. Worse than Davis killing my rats, worse than… I don’t know, but you get it. I launch myself onto my feet, only to immediately topple back down. The darkness I was searching for earlier had found me, but not when I wanted it to. I couldn’t even fight against it, just like the other times it appeared.

I will not forget this. I swear it on my soul.