Ultimately, I decide against it. I don’t even have a real need for monsters at all yet, which will surely change in the future. When I have enough resources to properly make them. If someone comes in search of my core, I’ll shrink down and have Early carry me away. That’ll work. Probably.

Okay, back to my tunneling! It takes practically no mana at all, and is pretty quick and accurate. I could probably carve stories into the walls if I wanted! Ooh, like stories of Greek gods! Those always look cool. Maybe some Greek monsters? Medusa, sirens, the minotaur… Honestly, the minotaur would be a good boss for the first floor of a dungeon. I could make a sprawling maze under this forest, and connect it to various places above ground, like in that one book series.

What was that maze called, exactly? The labyrinth? That sounds right. It also sounds like someone with a severe lisp trying to say ‘lab rat’. Heh, lab-rinse. I am clearly a god of comedy. Please keep in mind that I am entirely aware that I am not actually funny.

Speaking of rats! Wouldn’t they be a good starter monster? Something for heroes to cut down en mass before reaching the terrible beast that must be slain. No one would actually die in my dungeon, after all. Dungeons are for exploring, looting, and having a generally good time! Also, I straight up just don’t want to kill people.

The entrance could easily fit three people shoulder to shoulder, but narrows down to a two-person hallway about 10 feet in. The path splits in a fork there, and one curves around and behind the stairs for a dead end while the other goes down and splits off again, this time into an offshoot. The offshoot opens to a small chamber, which is where I spawn my first rat.

It almost surprised me, honestly. The spawn was practically instinctual, and reminded me of how strange my situation was. I’m… a gem made of amber, that can also think. And change shape. And manipulate the environment in wacky and impossible ways.

I can definitely change the abilities and appearance of the rat as well, but it would take much more mana than simply creating them. My monsters can mutate on their own from stray mana, though, so I think I’m just going to leave him be. I should probably make him some companions too, just to keep company. One hundred rats, total, seems good.

I work slowly, making each rat slightly bigger than the last until I reach the hundredth rat. I want to make them special. The 99th was the size of a large hog, but this one… it will be the size of a bull, with horns and a nose ring to match. I make it’s claws like daggers, tail whip-like, and have its neck cloaked in a thick black mane. As a final touch, I make its eyes glow very slightly. If I saw that thing at the end of a maze when I was still human, I would probably drop dead before it even touched me!

I direct my bull-rat deeper into the maze, temporarily expanding the tunnels and adding branching paths and twisting turns that all led further underground. Soon enough, I had a completed maze and a final room. It was directly under my tree, a tall coliseum-esque arena with seats for on-watchers, if there ever were any. There was something missing, though… I critically eyed the boss room, and took note of bull-rat clawing at the ground and huffing. Sand!

Quickly, I transmute the soil in my inventory into sand, spreading it on the floor, and digging slightly deeper in order to fit more rich red sand. Some landscaping could be done to help heroes beat my bull-rat, who I should probably name. Boss monsters all had names, didn’t they? So, maybe something like Ratricia or Ratrick. Ratburn, Ratatta, or even Ratticus. Wait, since I’m going for a Greek or Roman theme this level, I could name him Julius Cheesar! Ha!

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

With no small amount of glee, I officially name him Julius Cheesar and feel a hefty amount of mana and an eszett leave my possession. It must take more mana to name stronger monsters. Cool. Speaking of mana, I feel incredibly drained! That’s entirely logical, since I made an entire maze, 100 monsters, and a whole ass arena, but being logical doesn’t mean I have to like it. I zone in to my nest, and am entirely surprised at the cracking shells of the three eggs around me.

As I watched in awe, three ugly ass sparrow chicks slowly chipped away the shell imprisoning them. The moment one of them finally escapes it begins to age rapidly, from newborn to juvenile to adult. What? No seriously, what?! Did my mana use somehow move along the aging process? Early seems just as bewildered as I, perhaps even more so.

We both witness the rapid aging of the two remaining. This is literally the weirdest thing I’ve ever been forced to behold. Should I name them or something? Eh, why not? I definitely have enough mana left to name them, though still not much. The trio all looked very alike, but had a few distinct differences.

Under her beak, the first sparrow had a small tuft of white feathers. I dub thee, Blanche! A barely noticeable amount of mana left my core, and I could see out of her eyes. This might become problematic if I want to continue naming creatures. Is there a way to— ah, there we go. The moment I wish to remove her sight from my mind, it does so. Neat.

The second one had a warmer palette, so keeping with the theme, I name her Rose. The last was a bit more unique, having gold eyes and a visibly sharper beak. Dorothy. There we go, all three named and without mind-vision. I think I could go for a nap right now, though. It’s been an exhausting… how long was it again?

———————

The chief of the shatterkin was a beastman named Davis. He had been raised since childhoodhood by dwarves, and had been given a name to match. Sadly, despite the good nature of his caretakers and the overall kindness of dwarves, he had turned out to be a rotten man. A bully, thief, and scoundrel, Davis was kicked out of his village soon after both adoptive parents died in a dungeon raid, no longer able to protect him from himself.

Davis entirely ignored his own actions prior to their deaths, however, and blamed the dungeon itself for their untimely demise. Davis had begged for weeks for them to enter, and get him a cool sword or set of armor. He had promised to be good, threatened to be bad, and everything in between, and had finally convinced them.

Now, nearly 40 years later, he was still the same rotten egg that broke into the baker's home and wrecked the ovens. Davis has a self appointed mission as well. To shatter every single dungeon core in the Black Woods, no matter if they are newborns or established.

“Hey chief, the map’s showin’ a newborn’s just popped up! Set course southward?”

“Aye, Yin, but give those damn ‘orses a break. Fuckin’ bastards’ll need it.”

With a chuckle, the elf gave a joking salute and sauntered off. Davis turned back to the dull purple shards before him. A good set of twins, might have become deadly if he hadn’t taken care of them. A grin revealed sharp feline teeth, and he stowed away the shards in a pouch on his side. These, like all dungeon core shards, would sell very well as reusable mana crystals. His orange striped tail swished in thought. He may even get a few nights with some lionkin ladies in the next town, if he gets lucky at a brothel.

He didn’t notice the pure white butterfly settled on the trunk of a nearby tree.