Malcom took no action for some time, seething over the various ways he perceived this dungeon situation was slighting him, mocking him. When a human loses themselves in their thoughts, there are things to help keep track of the time or distract them from their brooding. The passage of breaths and heartbeats, making you aware of each moment slipping away. Eventually, they would begin to tire, hunger, or feel thirst. A dungeon had none of these things, and so minutes eased into hours, the light of the sun peeking into his obsidian passage fading away completely. Finally, however, one of the few sensations available to him as a dungeon drew Malcom's attention toward the present moment. He felt full, totally satiated.

Mana available: 100/100

Mana storage is now full.

Please consume mana or create additional storage.

Failure to do so in a timely fashion may cause mana overflow.

Whatever the symptoms of mana overflow were, it sounded like it wasn't pleasant if Malcom was being warned away from it. While the notices didn't seem to offer much information willingly, they seemed to need to be taken very seriously once they do. 'So. The first thing I should spend mana on is some form of defenses, considering it mentioned a need to survive. Someone or something is going to be interested in a dungeon, and not to my benefit.' He felt it was obvious, really, considering there was magic at play and he was able to produce the basic resource needed to perform it as a dungeon. He was going to find Amanda, and he wouldn't be able to do anything if someone tried to siphon mana off him to turn him into a magical battery, or worse. 'I'm not sure I'm confident enough with what sort of defenses I might need, though. If I make pitfalls, my enemies might fly. If I use magic, my enemies might be resistant. The best approach is to try a little bit of everything, to avoid being too set in with one type.'

He was dedicating a surprising amount of thought to this, and yet Malcom wasn't able to recognize how borderline absurd it was for him to be handling things this well so quickly. It was like an instinct, nudging him toward the process. The closest feeling was like standing too close to a ledge. Your body wanted to instinctively move away from the edge, recognizing the risk, even if you could deny that urge with willpower. The act of defending himself was coming to him with that same primal insistence, and he had been able to ignore it when he set his mind to other tasks, but was led along more readily as he put his mind to the matter. 'I still need to be ready to look for Amanda, so when I decide what type of creatures I want to summon, I should pick something suitable. Ideally, I want something with good mobility and good eyesight, possibly with a good memory. I don't know if I'll be able to see through the creatures, or if I'll need them to be able to report to me somehow.'

After mulling over the decision for some time, he opened the creature menu once again, which prompted him to select an archetype for his summoning. There wasn't a list to choose from, it simply awaited his input. It was tempting to jump straight into something like 'dragons' as his choice, but his gut instinct told him that was a bad idea. Sure, a dragon might be impressive, but the fantasy trope generally made them massive as a target for their useful body parts, arrogant and likely hard to control, and more to the point most probably prohibitively expensive. That, or he would be able to create a dragon whelp that might be useful to him after he let it grow up for a hundred years. The flight and intelligence appealed to him, so perhaps he could try to go for a broad category and slip in dragon as a possible option within it? He needed to experiment to see how much he could get away with. It was much easier to work broad and narrow it down than to lock himself into an overly-specific specialty right from the start.

Choosing creature archetype: Flying.

Error, incompatible input.

Please specify a narrower archetype, genus, or classification.

Well, it had been a shot at the moon, but you never knew how exploitable something was until you tried it. It didn't sour his mood, much, but that was only because Malcom hadn't been having any hopeful thoughts since this entire ordeal began. 'Stupid goddamn thing.' He swore to himself to vent his ire a little. With what he wanted, he felt some compulsion toward the air in his choice. Sure, he was land-bound himself, but he wanted the mobility and freedom of searching that could only come from the skies. Plus, in any situation where one side could fly and the other couldn't, the advantage was almost always in favor of the side with superior maneuverability. 'Maybe I'm thinking too much about this, I don't even know if the creatures I might want to pick are even choices I can make. Plus, I'm actually starting to feel a little over-full, like I've had too much to eat. I need to make a decision before something else predictably terrible happens, like I explode...'

Choosing creature archetype: Avian.

Input accepted.

Level 1 summon unlocked: Picantch

'Right, so, nothing I know anything about then. I hope this thing comes with a summary. Bestiary? Dictionary?' Malcom's attempts at conjuring a relevant menu yielded no result, so he resorted to opening the creature menu once again. The Picantch was listed at a cost of 5 mana, so he could call up a small flock of them if he felt the need to do so. For the time being, he opted to create just one to get an idea of what he was working with. When he made the decision, the sensation of being too full faded rapidly, and the silver glow playing around the razor-ridges of his core brightened significantly, a flow of glittering particles seeping from the core to an area near one of the obsidian spikes jutting from the ground. A vague blob of energy gathered, slowly growing more sleek and streamlined as the creature seemed to be molded directly from the mana as if it was clay, the silvery hue fading away to leave a monochromatic bird about two-feet in height perched atop the rocky spire.

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The Picantch tipped its head to one side, seemingly displaying curiosity toward the core, intensely staring at the sphere, while Malcom examined the bird in turn. It was a bird that seemed suitable to being stealthy, being primarily black-feathered, with a circular pattern of white on the middle of its wingspan that almost resembled eyes. On a natural bird, this was likely some form of pattern designed to be displayed by flaring the wings out, possibly for mating rituals, or as an attempt to intimidate potential hostiles. As the creature released a surprisingly deep trill in the direction of the core, the parted beak displayed teeth. Multiple overlapping rows of teeth, even, the sharp and pointed design indicating it was carnivorous... or was that merely a feature of necessity, to give the bird the ability to fight to defend the dungeon? The interior of the beak looked more like a blender than anything else. 'Well, I suppose that flying piranha-birds aren't too bad of a result. Hm. Fly outside?'

At the instruction, the bird flew to the end of the tunnel, circled around outside briefly, and rose leisurely into the night sky. Despite the fact that it almost immediately left his view, Malcom was able to sense the direction of the bird as it circled around the small hill that contained the entrance hallway, as well as a vague sense of distance. Not enough to let him know any specific measurements, just enough to be able to tell the bird was widening its circles each time it went around. Perhaps it took the order as a request for it to patrol? Or it just wanted to stretch its newborn wings. At least he didn't summon them as little chicks. 'Come back inside.' Malcom was pleased to find out that the bird, despite being clearly outside of his domain, responded promptly to his orders and returned to its previous perch. Aside from preening its wings with its beak, it didn't show any reaction to being ordered about. The fact that it was preening its wings at all, though, showed that the creature possessed some level of instinct or intelligence.

'What did you see?' The bird trilled a pattern of song that lasted a few seconds at the question, but it wasn't an answer that he was able to get any information from. So getting a magical recording or replay of what his summons saw was out of the question, then, huh? 'Was there anything else outside?' This time, the bird offered a sharp, singular chirp and bobbed in place, bouncing enthusiastically. 'I'm going to hope that means yes. Was there anything dangerous to you outside?' The Picantch tipped its beak upward, almost seeming to display arrogance at the question, a sharp squawking reverberating through the cave. 'Don't you mouth off to me, you feathered bastard! I get the feeling that was bird for something insulting!' His temper snapped quickly and easily, though it was pure speculation on his part. After all, he was trying to decipher bird behavior he had never seen before. Still, he felt the slightest bit better at getting to vent his ire toward something that seemed sentient enough to form a response. The Picantch ducked its head and huddled down on its perch, tucking its head underneath one wing like it intended to sleep, or was making a show of ignoring him.

'Hopefully these birds are only a pain in the ass when it's not important...' Malcom griped to himself, taking the initiative to summon another nine of the birds. That meant he had spent a full half of his accumulated mana on birds, but he didn't have any better ideas for it at this moment. 'Alright, you lot. Stuff your beaks and pay attention. Five of you can be in here, resting, or whatever else you birds need to do at a time. Build a nest if you need one, I don't know. One lookout directly outside, flying around the area. If anything dangerous looks to be coming around, try and lead it away. If you can't, and you think you can beat it with the rest of the birds, fly in here and get them. The other four, I want you to travel the area around and look for people. Towns. Roads. I want to know what's around me, even if I have to get you feathery jackasses to play charades to tell me later.'

The small flock took a moment and seemed to be establishing something of a pecking order, the one that was summoned first strutting around the others and squawking at them, batting at them with its wings, and generally looking like it was trying to establish itself as the bully. Perhaps it was a situation of older brother pushing the younger brother around, as the five birds sent out to do the job he outlined were the last five that had finished their summoning process. The other birds scattered around the tunnel, finding what they found to be the most comfortable perches upon the assorted jagged crevasses and jutting spires and settling in for the night.

'Now that I have a start on the creatures, I should probably look into managing some sort of expansion. I don't feel safe just sitting here at the end of the first hallway. Any schmuck with a rifle- or, well, a spell or whatever else either- could just blast away at me down the tunnel the way things sit right now.' When he thought about expanding his dungeon, a menu popped up in Malcom's vision displaying 'Rooms' and the option to excavate ground at the cost of mana and time. The faster he wanted it done, the more mana he could pump into the process. If he didn't care about speed, he could be thrifty, but it also gave him options for an emergency should the situation arise. That was good to know. For now, he began the process of turning the circular room his core resided into a spiraling staircase that moved steadily downward. He chose a design that left a center column of open air as a gap in the middle, and also around the outer edge as well.

The end result looked something like someone had carved a five-foot-wide obsidian staircase and ignored the need for load-bearing supports. The eerie sight of slick-looking black stone forming a hovering staircase spiraling downward into darkness would be rather significant. Add in the fact that jagged spikes of the material stuck out at the edge of the stairs, where it could cause stumbling or even stabbing threats the entire way down, it would take a special kind of bravery to venture down into this dungeon. After about two hours, the ten-foot drop that he had created wasn't the most threatening-looking, but he had no intention of stopping. Malcom didn't want his birds to need to hit a vital point to bring down a threat. Even a minor wound that caused flinching in the wrong direction or panic at the wrong time should be enough to send any would-be interlopers on a one-way trip to the bottom of the staircase. He kept himself digging downward, his core constantly descending to be at the lowest point, sinking further and further into the depths of the earth.