As Aric emerged from the crystallized core, confusion and disorientation gripped him. He blinked in the dimly lit chamber, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The memories of the tragedy he had barely survived came rushing back like a torrential storm, and his heart ached with grief. He staggered back to the dungeon core, tears welling up in his eyes as he called out for his master.
"Master Elyros!" he cried, his voice echoing through the dungeon's cavernous passages. He banged his fists against the red crystal, causing orange sparks of pure aether to bloom where he struck. "Master, are you in there? Please, answer me!" His desperate pleas hung in the stagnant air, unanswered and haunting.
His sorrow turned to seething anger as he remembered the treacherous ways of magical society, the scheming and power-hungry meisters of the Weirden Tower, and the betrayal that had led to his family's downfall. He cursed them all, his voice laced with venomous bitterness.
Amidst his cries and curses, a commotion echoed through the chamber. Aric's heart raced as he realized he was not alone. He cowered behind the dungeon core, his fear welling up as he anticipated a ferocious monster, ready to tear him apart.
To his astonishment, the creature that approached him was anything but ferocious. It was a peculiar-looking monster, large as a small horse and vaguely canine in appearance, but with scales like a lizard in place of fur. Aric's fear gave way to fascination as he cautiously watched the creature, its twitching ears and snout the only indication of its intentions.
The monster seemed utterly disinterested in him, as if he were no more than a minor curiosity. This bewildered Aric, for he had heard tales that dungeon monsters were aggressive and territorial, attacking humans on sight. He couldn't fathom why this one showed no hostility.
Curiosity eventually overcame his caution, and he ventured from behind the dungeon core to see if it would react. It did little more than glance at him. As he studied the creature, a troubling realization washed over him. If dungeon monsters were not responding to him as they should, then perhaps he was no longer human.
With a sense of dread, Aric turned his gaze toward the crystalline surface of the dungeon core, using it as a makeshift mirror. His reflection revealed a visage that sent shivers down his spine. His skin was unnaturally pale, like porcelain, and his hair seemed almost a living flame, as vibrant as flowing aether. His pupils, once round and human, were now square, a peculiar and unsettling change.
As he observed himself, he also became acutely aware of his physical form. He was no longer the young man he once was but had been transformed into the body of a five-year-old boy. He stared at his diminutive hands and then back at the alien reflection, struggling to comprehend the strange and unsettling reality he now found himself in.
Aric sank to his knees and gradually realized he had curled into a ball at some point, but it hardly mattered. Despair weighed heavily upon him. Everyone he had ever known was likely dead. His continued existence felt like a cruel twist of fate. His life had not ended with the fall of the tower, but it had become a hollow shell of what it once was.
His thoughts drifted aimlessly, unbidden and unwanted. The injustice of it all gnawed at him. It made no sense. The tower had crumbled, and he should have perished alongside it. Death should have claimed him.
Yet, he remained, lying beside the dungeon core, days melting into a haze of numbness. The will to carry on had abandoned him, but death remained elusive. No monsters came to end his misery, and he felt neither the biting chill of the dungeon floor nor the gnawing pangs of hunger.
In the gloom of the dungeon, isolated from the outside world and illuminated solely by the soft radiance of luminescent crystals and moss, Aric lost all sense of time. It felt like an interminable instant stretched into an eternity, but gradually, that agonizing moment relented. His thoughts began to regain clarity, yet as he mustered the strength to rise and took those initial, unsteady steps away from the dungeon core and into a nearby tunnel, he moved as if shrouded in a mental fog. He had neither destination nor purpose; he simply wandered.
The coarse, dark stone beneath Aric's feet felt strangely distant against his bare soles, his feet devoid of the sensitivity he’d once possessed as a human. His eerily pale skin had seemingly grown resistant to temperature fluctuations or tactile sensations. Along his meandering path, he encountered crab-like creatures, moving with careful steps to avoid disturbing their ranks. Much like the earlier monster he had encountered, these beings did little more than brandish their claws in a half-hearted display of warning. Aric paid them scant attention, for he knew from his readings that the Corple Magister species posed no threat to him, even if they’d had a mind to.
As he ventured onward, the tunnel gradually expanded into a vast chamber. It was dimly lit by crystal stalactites and stalagmites, almost connected at some points, seeming to Aric like the teeth of a great beast. The yawning abyss stretched out below the precipice he’d found himself on, beckoning him forward. Carefully approaching the edge, Aric peered down and discovered that the chamber's base was filled with water. Amid the glowing stalagmites, he observed large, shadowy forms drifting lazily through the depths.
Suddenly, a long, limbless creature appeared startlingly close to him, swimming silently through the air. The eel-like entity pulsed with bioluminescence, briefly rendering itself visible before fading back into obscurity. Aric teetered dangerously close to the edge but managed to steady himself before tumbling off the precarious rock ledge. As he watched the mysterious creature glide away, feeling a mixture of surprise and relief, an unexpected burst of laughter overcame him.
This subterranean realm teemed with peculiar wonders and intriguing life forms. Aric couldn't help but wonder if he might be the first to experience a dungeon as a neutral observer, unburdened by the loathing and dread that would grip a normal human in such an environment. The threat of imminent death had a way of skewing one's perspective, he mused. Without that shadow clouding his eyes, he found this alien world to be astonishingly beautiful.
Aric continued his exploration of the dungeon, gradually becoming accustomed to its labyrinthine passages and the peculiar inhabitants that dwelled within. At one point, he discovered a mundane patch of vines and wove the strands into a makeshift loincloth, covering his shame, much to his relief. He doubted the magical beasts cared, but it at least put his mind at ease.
Surprisingly, he developed a fondness for some of the creatures, despite being aware that they would have attacked him mercilessly if he had intruded upon their territory in a conventional manner. The blink-bunnies, which occasionally allowed him to cradle them in his arms before disappearing, were his favorite.
Time remained an enigma in this subterranean realm, yet Aric felt as though he had spent weeks wandering its depths before he encountered humans for the first time. Back in the tower, tales of adventurers had been scarce, and no epic sagas had been penned about their exploits. Scholars of the Veridus Tower viewed dungeon excursions as a trifling pursuit, preferring to dedicate their precious time to scholarly research. He’d heard tales of lesser meister families that delved into dungeons in search of magical beast cores to bolster their knowledge or wealth, but the Veridus had always considered it unnecessary to risk life and limb when such resources could be more simply procured through coin.
The adventurers Aric stumbled upon comprised a modest troupe of five individuals—three men and two women. Hidden in an alcove, Aric observed them covertly as they established a camp in one of the quieter sections of the dungeon. He listened to their conversations and laughter, relishing the sound of human voices after spending so long among nothing but monsters. Nevertheless, their presence stirred an inexplicable ache in his heart, a feeling he did his best to push aside.
"Watch your swings, Gardle! If that axe of yours comes anywhere near Arren's head again during a skirmish, I'll set it aflame. I won't tolerate you injuring our leader on account of your oafishness," scolded a voluptuous young woman as she flicked her brown hair impatiently. Her staff hinted at her status as an aethermeister. Her warning was directed at a burly man clad in half-plate armor.
"Those little buggers are quick, Kera. I barely had time to breathe, let alone aim. Did you want me to let one of them bite into your beautiful skin before I've even had the chance to savor it?" Gardle replied with a hearty laugh. Fury flashed across Kera's face before swiftly dissipating. Her emotional composure was another sign that she was an aethermeister, in Aric’s eyes.
"I'll be keeping one eye open while I sleep, Gardle,” Kera retorted firmly. “If you dare approach my bedroll in the dark, I can’t say which part of you I’ll sever, but it will be something that Isa can't mend.”
The other girl, dressed in white robes, chuckled nervously. "Kera, I can heal any—"
Kera's icy gaze silenced the younger girl, causing her to swallow hard as she turned to Gardle, who in that moment appeared the less dangerous of the two.
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"It won't grow back," she affirmed quietly.
There was a brief silence, followed by the entire group bursting into boisterous laughter. Aric, hidden above, stifled his own laughter and rolled onto his side, endeavoring to prevent himself from joining in their mirth. After all, the man with the long hair, armed with a bow, remained vigilant even amidst their joviality.
Aric couldn't predict exactly how they might react if he revealed himself, but he held no delusions that he would receive a warm reception. He felt drawn to their warmth and camaraderie, yearning for the sense of belonging that he had once enjoyed in the tower, yet he was acutely aware of the gulf that separated him from them.
He was no longer truly human, and no matter how he approached them, they would not treat him as such. He understood that much. Yet, despite the risk, he couldn't resist stealing another glance at the group, torn between caution and desire.
For two days, or at least, for roughly two of their sleep cycles, Aric shadowed the adventurers, his internal struggle palpable. He experienced a moment of inner turmoil when they encountered the blink bunnies, but he clenched his teeth and refrained from interfering. It wasn't unjust for them to defend themselves against hostile monsters, no matter the affection he held for those particular creatures. Though his appearance had changed, his human spirit still guided his actions, and he refused to align himself against them.
Yet, his restraint couldn't prevent the bitter tears that welled in his eyes when one of the blink bunnies teleported into his hidden alcove and limped to his side, a deep gash marring its flank. He tenderly cradled the wounded creature in his arms as it breathed its last. The bunny dissolved into shimmering motes of aether, leaving no physical trace save for a thumb-sized gemstone—the mana core. Aric clutched the core tightly before calming himself and securing the stone within a pouch attached to his loincloth.
After the adventurers had settled into camp for the third time, their journey took a sudden, violent turn. A trio of colossal flying eels descended upon their unsuspecting party, silently materializing among them as they slumbered. Even the sharp-eyed archer failed to detect their approach, and he was swiftly devoured by one of the monstrous creatures. Not even the sound of his scream escaped its voracious jaws, leaving the rest of his party unaware and defenseless.
"Wake up! Defend yourselves!" A high voice resounded through the rocky chamber. To Aric’s surprise, it was his own.
The adventurers swiftly roused themselves, leaping from their bedrolls and brandishing their weapons.
"Where's Kelvin? He was supposed to be on watch!" Kera exclaimed in frustration, her back protected by Gardle and Arren as they formed a tight defensive formation around Isa. Kera summoned a small inferno at the tip of her staff, though she didn't release the magic; it merely served as a deterrent against the snapping maw of the nearest eel.
"He must have been taken by surprise," Arren replied, his voice steady but tense, masking the sorrow that flickered in his eyes. "These are Morrow Eels, ambush predators. They swallow light and sound—and even men—whole. Kelvin is lost to us; focus on maintaining your flame."
Arren's leadership shone in that moment. The luminescent patterns on the eels' elongated bodies flickered and dimmed, draining light from the surroundings. Only thanks to Arren's timely warning did Kera manage to maintain her spell despite the creatures' attempts to disrupt it.
Seeing their efforts thwarted, the Morrow Eels hesitated and withdrew. Before they could fade into the shadows to launch another ambush, Arren issued a command to Gardle. The burly man wasted no time, springing several feet into the air and cleaving down upon one of the eels with his massive axe. The eel emitted a pitiful cry and plummeted to the ground as the magic that kept it aloft died with it. Its companions lunged forward in retaliation, aiming to seize Gardle from the air. Yet Kera reacted swiftly, releasing her spell and engulfing the creature's maw in flames. Simultaneously, Arren dashed forward, inflicting a grievous wound beneath the other eel's jaw.
The eels’ assault was not entirely deterred by Arren’s brutal strike. Only his quick thinking allowed him to position his axe in time to prevent the eel's jaws from snapping shut around him, at the cost of his arm. He bellowed in pain as the limb was run through by the creature's jagged teeth.
Arren, quickly repositioning, delivered a decisive blow to the eel, ending its life. As Gardle retrieved his arm from the dying creature's mouth, he turned to confront the final adversary, only to discover that it had already succumbed to Kera's flames.
Surveying the surroundings for further danger and finding none, Gardle, now drained and fatigued, knelt heavily with a resounding thud.
"Isa, tend to Gardle," Arren directed, though she was already at his side, her hands emanating a white light.
"Terra, goddess of life, heed my plea. I stand before your servant, a warrior fallen in your name. Accept me as your vessel, and bestow your mercy upon my unworthy hands, that he may rise again to protect the living," Isa intoned the prayer with her eyes closed, her small hands cradling Gardle's injured arm. Her golden locks fluttered as if stirred by an invisible breeze as the radiance extended from her palms and enveloped Gardle's arm. When the light faded, his wounds had vanished.
As Gardle stood upright, supporting Isa, a broad grin spread across his face. "Isa, my savior. I think I might be in love with you."
The exhausted girl, without lifting her head from his shoulder, raised a hand and playfully struck his chest as if wielding the world's lightest hammer. "Shut up," she uttered quietly. Gardle's hearty laughter resonated through the chamber, raising his comrades' spirits.
"She's out of your league, Gardle. Keep dreaming," Kera chimed in, her voice carrying warmth as she gazed at the scene, her heart relieved.
However, Arren's demeanor remained solemn, keeping up his guard. Despite their apparent triumph, he maintained his vigilance.
"Stranger, I must thank you for your timely warning. We would have surely perished without your intervention," Arren called out, projecting his voice to resonate throughout the cavern. His gaze swept the area, lingering near Aric's concealed perch among the rocks above the party. As he advanced forward toward his hiding place, Aric's heart raced with trepidation. Against his fearful expectations, the adventurer halted and retrieved something from the ground.
"If you choose to remain hidden, so be it. On behalf of my party, I, Arren of Rendale, express our gratitude for your assistance. Please, accept this small token as payment." With these words, Arren hurled a small object in Aric's direction.
Reacting on instinct, Aric reached out and caught the object before it could strike him. The sudden movement brought his pale hand into view, illuminated by Kera's flame. Isa gasped at the sight, but the others remained silent.
Snatching his hand back as if it had been scorched, Aric froze, unable to make a single motion. His thoughts raced with self-recriminations. Fool, he berated himself. May the pit take you, Aric, you witless dungeon spawn.
Yet, surprisingly, Arren, the leader of the adventuring party, turned away, as if dismissing him as a threat. Aric had no doubt that Arren remained on guard, prepared for any sudden movement on his part. Nevertheless, this act allowed some of the tension to seep from Aric's chest, if only slightly.
Should he reveal himself now? He had aided them; perhaps, in their gratitude, they would not execute him on sight. But as Aric observed the lingering apprehension among the group, especially the fear in Isa's gaze as she continued to peer in his direction, he realized he couldn't. In their world, monsters remained monsters, and men remained men. There was no place for a being like him—certainly not as he was now.
With the party packing up and departing, Aric chose not to follow them this time. He remained ensconced in his concealed alcove, shrouded in shadows, long after they had departed. He had no reason to move. As a dungeon monster, he was not truly alive. His body was composed of aether and required no sustenance. He could remain there, motionless as a statue, for eternity if he wished.
He had been so close—not to reclaiming his old life, but to experiencing something resembling humanity once more. He had even spoken to them, even if it was only to issue a warning. The isolation of the dungeon felt all the more piercing after glimpsing the camaraderie within the party, its brilliance almost blinding.
Aric cast his gaze upon his hand, upon the black orb gifted to him by Arren of Rendale. It was a mana core, the remnant of the Morrow Eel's shadow magic. He considered discarding it—what use would a mana core hold for him in this dungeon, devoid of the tools required to study and harness its power? Without a tower to provide him with mana? Monsters were born with a finite amount of mana within them; when they expended it all, they perished, dissolving back into formless aether.
Yet, a different thought struck him, and he lowered his hand. What spells resided within his own core, he wondered. As a magical being, he should possess innate magic of his own.
Aric delved into himself, centering his consciousness as he had been taught to do from a young age. One needed perfect self-awareness, comprehension of mana, and attunement to aether to wield magic. However, despite the familiar process, something was altered now. He sensed the mana within him and the aether without more acutely than ever before. There was an excessive amount of mana—enough to induce mana sickness and claim a grown man's life. Where had this abundance of mana come from, he pondered. Had it remained in his soul after the calamitous fall of the Tower Heart?
There was something more subtle occurring just beneath his notice, something he had never experienced. The aether flowed around him as always, but now, as he concentrated, he could perceive some of it being drawn toward a specific point in his chest.
He had found his core, and it was absorbing aether like a siphon and emitting mana in return.
He gasped as he withdrew from his introspective trance, falling forward and just barely catching himself. Clutching his chest, he breathed deeply, attempting to regain his composure. This changed everything.
The innate magic residing within Aric's mana core was the culmination of countless generations of aethermeisters' work—the very foundation of all their formidable abilities. Inside him lay a Tower Heart. He was a living mana tower, writ small.
He stood, clutching the dark orb in his hand. His mana surged, and the world turned black.