Level 1 Guard Slain - 1 Experience Gained
Level 1 Classless Slain - 1 Experience Gained
Level 1 Guard Slain - 1 Experience Gained
...
After a series of notifications, Malcom felt his mood falling, his mental state slipping back into a glower. 'I told them to scout! I told them to go, find information and return! They're killing even more!' - 'It's helping, though, isn't it? They're not killing as many, and the mana... feel it flow faster...' - 'It doesn't matter how nice the mana feels when my summons aren't obeying! They're going to make everything harder! Every single person they kill is one less lead toward Amanda! I was going to interrogate them, or force them into finding her for me!' - 'And how was that going to happen? They won't obey. They're so deep in delicious hatred. They would die before they listened. They might even try and find Amanda themselves, only to keep her away from us, or worse.' The mental argument with himself resumed all over again, that argumentative rebel that sought to strip his rationality away.
'Is this still my voice? My thoughts? Am I going crazy?' Malcom felt his confidence waver briefly, pondering if there was more to this system that entangled his soul. Trying to analyze his decisions, he felt that several of his choices were things that made sense to him in the moment, but didn't seem to be furthering his goal. Why did he even feel the need to seek out people from nearly the first moment he came into sentience in this sphere? He had rationalized his scouts as a way to find Amanda, and yet his first orders hadn't been for them to locate her. He just went trying to find people in general, like he was being driven to task. 'Who are you, whispering in my mind? Are you real?' Silence was the only response Malcom received. Was he really struggling to keep his mind from fracturing, and simply created a fanciful excuse for his odd decisions? As if to mock his analysis, a rush of euphoria drifted from him, much larger than before. There was a new surge of mana coursing through his core, and if he still had a body, he would have shuddered in delight.
His core actually expanded in a slow, steady stretch, diameter growing inch by inch. The hard surface of his core pressed against the statue of Amanda that perched on his pedestal, the touch of the statue's hand against his core growing firmer and firmer, until the statue's hand released a low groaning crackle of complaint. Fractured lines formed across the hand, his core continuing to expand, and the noise brought momentary confusion to Malcom's distracted mind. 'What? No! My love, I'm so sorry! I lost myself in the moment!' Hastily, he dumped mana outward to shift the statue away, in severe excess. The mana that flowed in silver-hued lines from his core nearly launched the statue away, catching it only a moment from shattering it against the opposing wall, over twenty feet away. It was as if he no longer knew his own strength, and mana coursed through him like a raging river. 'What's going on? Why is this happening? Stop! I just need a moment to think, I need to... need to... gather...' So much mana, faster and faster. It was as if each moment the rate at which it was flowing into his core was increasing more and more. An instinct tickled at the back of his mind, telling Malcom it was due to his aspect of hatred. What had happened that made so much hatred flow around him?
Mana Available: 100,000/100,000
Mana storage is now full.
Please consume mana or create additional storage.
Failure to do so in a timely fashion may cause mana overflow.
How? His mana reserves had felt titanic! There was no way that he was going to be able to fill it for a very long time. How was he supposed to spend all that mana to compete with the deluge that drew in faster and faster. Picantch weren't even worth considering, Crowforged would barely make a difference either at the amounts of mana involved. While mages required the largest amount of mana to summon, they also required his attention and deliberation to do properly. 'Summon Mechanical Caster. Force bolt. Mana shield. Lesser blink. Mana meditation.' Malcom chanted the repeated orders of the first of his casters he had created, over and over and over, as fast as he could manage. One after another, thick blobs of mana arrayed in his core room, starting the process of forming. It wasn't enough.
Mana Available: 126,242/100,000
Mana storage capacity significantly exceeded.
Emergency mana overflow is now proceeding.
Warning: Uncontrolled venting of mana may have unintended side-effects.
The strain of the mana influx stabilized, no longer growing significantly worse, but certainly not improving much. Malcom couldn't even summon any more creations, as his core room was completely occupied, and he couldn't summon anything beyond his core room. Where to spend the mana? Where to spend the mana? A dense, silver-hued vortex began to form in the skies over a small hill in the midst of the grasslands. It was almost an inverse tornado, the silver-laden wind rising in a spiral from the ground where the dungeon was beneath and heading for the skies overhead. Pure, silver-sparkling mana formed into raindrops in the skies, flinging themselves outward from the spiral in a desperate bid to head anywhere else, to lessen the mana density in this location. The showering, glimmering rain was flung for miles and miles in every direction, the spire of silver wind rising higher and higher, like a pillar connecting to the sky.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Where the mana-droplets hit the ground, the dusty browns of the earth darkened heavily, and a fragrant sense of life emerged from the soil. The grasses that were soaked by the droplets shot skyward, inching upward at a visible pace. The greens deepened, growing more lush and vibrant. A few stalks even thickened and no longer resembled grasses, but stalks of corn with their thickness and firmness. Tree branches whipped in the wind, waving desperately for the mana to shower down upon them. Emerald-hued leaves had veins of silver coursing through them as the mana was drawn inward toward the trunk of the tree. A virtual paradise was being created by the mana, as if nature itself rejoiced at the power provided freely and in abundance by the raining magic power.
However, changes quickly began to manifest upon the land. This river from the heavens poured from a poisoned chalice, after all. The earth's deep browns continued to darken, well beyond what could be explained by the increased vitality and nutrients of the soil. Deep, earthy browns faded darker and darker, stained black like oil had been soaking the soil. The taint grew upwards along the grasslands, the blades of grass becoming true blades as their surface darkened to black obsidian, waving threateningly in the breeze, clashing against one another with a sound like drawn swords gently caressing down one another's length. The leaves of the trees lost their deep greens, hardening similarly to the grass but to a lesser degree, with silver sharpness playing across the edges of each leaf and continuing to run down the veins toward the branch.
Branches flexed and curled, whip-like. No longer content to beg the heavens to provide more mana, they aggressively swept through the air, fighting at the falling mana-rain in defiance, trying to grasp at it and draw it in by force. Tree trunks blackened, cracking and fragmenting as obsidian, spiraling spires forced outward from within. The trees no longer radiated any sense of nature, of peacefulness. They seemed to be daring any to come and try and fell them, to meet the jagged spikes ringing each trunk in defiance, palpable malice filling the area. Like a cancer, the changes slowly spread as far as the mana-rain could reach, a threatening circle of blighted hatred-drenched lands growing for miles and miles.
Malcom struggled from his stupor, his mind grasping for ideas through a thick fog. 'I remember... I could spend more and more mana to expand the Dungeon! If I expand as fast as possible, maybe I can control the mana... Just... dig deeper. Spread wider. Make tunnels into labyrinths, delve deeper, deeper, shove the earth aside, claim, claim. The land is mine. All I can grasp is mine. I will take it all. I WILL HAVE IT ALL BACK.' Malcom descended into a maddening rant, the words flowing from him as mindlessly as the mana he sought to expel to useful purpose.
The showering mana from the skies petered out to a halt, the silvered tornado slowly receding back into the ground as the excess mana was channeled to other purposes, but the damage to the surrounding areas had already been done. In fact, infusing his mana into the surroundings had fostered a sense of connection to the lands. It was already inundated with the same mana as the Dungeon. As a matter of fact, the flock of Picantch had already flown from their cramped, overpopulated roosting on the initial spiral staircase and taken to the mutated trees without hesitation. Making several new nests in each, the near-sentient swaying and grasping of the branches seemingly showing no objection to housing the new occupants.
Ever deeper, ever outward, the dungeon expanded in every direction. If any observer had been down in these boring tunnels, they would see the hive-like assortment of expansion progressing fractions of an inch per minute. This didn't sound very impressive, but the sheer size of the expansion was mind-boggling. Every direction that the half-sphere of underground that was reachable was being steadily intruded upon, spreading the domain of the dungeon without care. Now that the vast income of mana was being channeled to useful purpose, Malcom looked out over the dozens of forming Mechanical Mages crowding his inner sanctum. 'What the actual fuck just happened...?'
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A small, mana-painted mirror with a slight flaw was being used to deliver a report. Sir Vayne knelt in his mithril armor, his helmet removed as he bowed respectfully toward the mirror. "My Liege, Kremston has devolved into utter chaos. If something isn't done, we're going to lose the foothold for assault. All our preparations are going to waste. The secret food stockpiles have all but burned away, the reserves intended for the offensive have all but evaporated in a single night of madness. I can't even begin to imagine how far back this will put back our plans of assault across the blasted Valdweald. This must be the work of elven spies. They've hidden themselves in the deepest reaches of the wild for too long, their natural barriers protecting their arrogant frailty. They took advantage of the chaos of some new manner of dungeon-spawn assaulting the town to sow chaos, and even the secret warehouses were burned away. They know some measure of our plans."
A snort of derision replied from the mirror, but Vayne refused to lift his head, shuddering at the thought of the consequences that would come if he were to be blamed for this disaster. He had to convince His Majesty that things were progressing in ways that no one had predicted, to lay the blame on another. "It is solely because of the weakness in readiness that occurred because of this new dungeon's interference. Who could have predicted a dungeon forming that hunted outside its boundaries? My Liege, we must deal with this issue swiftly and quietly. I must request elite forces to intrude upon the dungeon and eliminate the growing risk as quickly as possible. Then we can resume our advances toward the elven lands without worrying about a new threat striking us from behind, or laying chaos to our supply lines."
Fingers tapping against a hard surface answered him, leaving Sir Vayne stewing for long minutes, sweat running down his face and dripping onto the hardwood surface beneath him. "Very well. We have decided how We will handle this issue. We shall send the adamant-rank royal guard team to handle this threat to Our domain. It may also help vent some ire at the disruption of Our plans." A steely voice used to absolute authority reverberated through the room, and Vayne struggled to keep his relief from his voice in reply. "Thank you, Majesty. Your will shall be done, the dungeon will cease to exist. I shall find the location and be prepared prior to their arrival. We will handle this swiftly, lest any prying ears discover this momentary diversion of forces the issue requires."
Unfortunately for Sir Vayne, this entire discussion was not quite as secure as he might have thought. The method of enhancement to the mirror was a secret, handed down for emergency contact to the royal family, provided to a mage who was unaware of its importance. It was a secure, private connection designed to bypass any listening ears, and avoid any enchantments that sought to pry into magical communication. It's such a shame the mirror had a small flaw that had not been brought to attention, and thus the message was all but shouted to the heavens for anyone trying to listen in. Quite a few forces would be very interested in the movements of the highest-level troops of a kingdom being maneuvered around, and the vulnerabilities such a movement might create. And that's not to mention the elves, who now had concrete evidence of forces being amassed to assault them. The fragile peace that the land had enjoyed in recent memory was about to have some very... interesting changes. Plans years in the making being disrupted, tensions between the races being escalated by the revelations, it seems the world was poised to let vent a little hatred, with the spark of impetus being a newly-formed dungeon.