.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Thirty days since awakening.
Unnamed dungeon
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
The cavern trembled as it collapsed, the rocks starved of mana and died, rotting off in the core’s eyes.
Tendrils snapped as the mana it embedded into its flesh was exhausted without its name, its claim holding it.
Despite the situation, the core refused to let it go, which, ironically, made maintaining its remaining territory worse. The best the core could do as it was pushed back was to control the collapse, hoping the Void would do its job without losing anything until the remains can be reclaimed.
Just like this, one by one, its remaining floors fell, each containing the ruins of civilizations that had attempted to tame and control, failing that fight to destroy it. All swallowed as a monument to their hubris, claimed by the dungeon as both a trophy and an environment for its floors.
Of course it was that infamy that led the last civilization to nearly kill it. When your name is well known and many want to kill you, no matter how little, records will be left behind. As information builds up, coming up with effective methods to kill a dungeon becomes much easier.
Such as ways of separating the core of a dungeon from its body, dragging it to the surface to be dealt with by standing army.
In the end the core was left with only one floor, not even an eighth of its previous size. Though much manageable, the core still found it a significant drain, with the high numbers of monsters too advanced for its current size feeding off the mana supply to maintain themselves in the smaller territory.
Nevertheless, the core refused to cull their numbers. After all, they were all its children, creations made on its whims. They shouldn’t be punished for the core's own aptitude for they didn’t ask for such gifts from the core.
The core hummed as mana gathered within itself. It must grow quickly. There is much to do before more gnats come.
Forcing a mote of it to its surface, it crystallized. Perfect. It remembers. Time to do that again.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Twentieth cycle of the fifth gift
Fifteenth day of the thirteenth segment
Pirate ship Karl Marx
*cue Soviet music*
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Waddles pulled one of Jack’s men off the helm, dropping the body onto the deck as Org took back control.
“How many times do I have to tell you, boy! We’ll run out of mana before we even cross half that distance!”
The man spat on Waddles’s boots, “I have a name ya know, and it’s John.”
“I can call you whatever I want, boy. I’m asking why were you trying to get us killed?”
“On what basis?”
“Arrrggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! -Waddles picked up John by his collar, his words forced out of his clenched teeth softly but with immense intensity- This is the fifth time you’ve done this and this is the fifth time I have to fix your mess, boy. Our shipwright might be happy to wipe your ass but I certainly am not. Do you understand?”
Waddles only got a face of spittle for his trouble, which earned John a deck plastered onto his face.
“Tony! -Waddles scraped the spittle off his face, searching his pockets for a work towel.- Check on this nameless minion and make it an example to the rest of Jack’s men.”
Waddles walked off to check the hull, grumbling on the way.
——————-
“Reina.” Eliza snapped her fingers.
Reina looked up from her map, “Yes boss? What did I do wrong?”
“Just wondering when we will get to the ascended’s cave.”
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“Uhhhh… -Reina looked back down, flipping through her maps- In… huh…I had to replot our course to compensate for the weaker hull, so about two sets if the weather permits it.”
“It’s not weaker, girl! We’re running out bringof mana faster!”
“Same difference! Aren’t you supposed to be fixing the ship with Franky?”
“We ain’t fixing anything!”
“Technically it’s maintenance.”
“GET BACK TO WORK YOU IMBECILES!”
“Yes, Boss!”
“Sure Boss.”
“Ugh. Reina, -Eliza held onto the bridge of her nose- keep doing what you’re doing. I’m joining Argus, Brooks, and Gordon. I have a few nameless minions to chew out.”
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Forty days since awakening.
Unnamed Dungeon
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
There are multiple ways of claiming territory, all of them will involve imbedding the core’s processed mana into the surrounding material, breathing life into it and making it into flesh.
In theory it was possible to claim the open skies as one’s domain if one was willing to constantly spend a nearly limitless amount of mana reinforcing one’s claim, the reasons for this are twofold and not relevant to the core.
All it needs to know is enclose the space away from the sunlight and extreme heat. Though the extreme heat is more of a nuisance it need not pay attention to compared to the wall that was sunlight.
Tendrils bore into the stone as opposed to the ping of mana young cores usually sent out.
More mana was stripped from the liquid sand that surrounds its sea of saltwater. Remnants of a former continent that the dungeon will restore if it wishes to expand further once it has restored its former floors.
『Name: N/A (burned)
Species: Juvenile Dungeon High Core
Information/Exotic hybrid.
Capacity: 89%
Templates | Traps | Environment | Decor
>New title available.』
The core looked at its current status, now calmer, it had taken the chance to adjust it, even if it hurt its pride to ditch the word Great but the word seeing word Former hurt worse.
The core then proceeded to sink the entire island, flooding the caverns.
Motes of Aether were gathered and compressed until it ignited, forming a miniature sun that ate and tore at the dungeon with its Aetheric light.
Bearing the pain, the core strengthened its grip on its creation and plunged the sun as deep as it could, the pain lessening as the Void neutralized the Aether the sun is emitting.
Checking the sun wasn’t extinguished. It sighed in relief. Then it started pouring the mana sands it had drained down into the Void, toward the star.
Gather.
Compress.
Ignite.
Descend.
Sand.
Gather.
Compress.
Ignite.
Descend.
Sand.
Slowly the core built up a supply of void-touched glass.
The forging method, admittedly quite dangerous and finicky but it worked and what it remembers.
The core looked at the mana coral decor. “Soon. My lovelies, soon.” The core thought. Once its preparations are complete, it shall be beautiful.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Twentieth cycle of the fifth gift
Third day of the fourteenth segment
Pirate ship Karl Marx
*cue Soviet music*
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Twenty days, two sets and a half has passed.
Jack’s men, despite Eliza’s best efforts, were as rebellious as ever. In fact, they got even more rebellious in more numbers as the days went on.
Standing on the Quarterdeck, Eliza called.
“REINA! ARE WE THERE YET?!?!!”
“I DON’T KNOW BOSS! BUT WE SHOULD BE WITHIN A DAY OR LESS.”
“ARGUS!!! YOU SEE ANYTHING!?!”
Argus waved his hands wildly in an exaggerated manner from the crow’s nest.
Not. Yet. Wait. See. Something.
“ALRIGHT WADDLES. FRANKY. HOW IS THE SHIP HOLDING UP!?!?!!”
Franky looked up from the display, “MANA LEVELS ACCEPTABLE BOSS!”
“ORG! JUST KEEP DOING WHAT YOU’RE DOING.”
Org saluted with his right arm, his left on the helm. “YES, BOSS!”
Eliza. Question.
“HEY WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING MY NAME??”
Serious. Look.
Eliza raised an eyebrow and turned her face towards the direction Argus was pointing.
“REINA!!”
“Yes?” Reina tilted her head.
“Are you sure you got the directions right?”
“Ummm… yes?” Reina said, unsure of herself. “Pretty sure. I checked the course at every opportunity.”
Eliza leaned in and pointed towards the object in the distance.
“Then what is that?”
The ship suddenly shook.
“GODDAMNIT WHAT WENT WRONG THIS TIME?!?!!” Eliza drew her sword, her other hand on the pistol on her belt.
“I’m already on my way.” Franky ran over to the side of the ship and looked down. “Uh.”
No. Attack.
“It’s sand, we got beached.”
Reina‘s face scrunched up in confusion. “That couldn’t be possible, we haven't even hit any normal water.”
“HOW?!?!!”
Franky shrugged. “Don’t ask me, I'm not a manalogist.”
Everyone turned their heads to Waddles.
“What?!”
“Well, don’t you have an explanation or solution to our problem?”
Waddles crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “It’s just what the ‘water’ of the broken seas look like when drained -then a realization hit him- wait a fucking moment. The sand is supposed to sink to the bottom due to the properties of the broken seas. How the hell is there a drained sand pile here?“
“That is what we are asking you.”
“Hell if I know.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“Fine. Franky, come here. We’ll jerry rig a solution somehow.” Waddles and Franky left, heading below deck to discuss their plans.
Night fell as Reina took out her maps and instruments. Checking her positions again and again as she stared at the vault of glass in the distance, an inner light illuminating the night around it.
Check it once more. She was sure. They are at the right place.