Deathforged Dungeon [Dungeon Core litRPG] Book 1

"You worry us at times," a distorted and warped voice said, sounding like a man and woman were trying to speak at once. Their voice undulated and crackled with each word spoken. "You are the strongest of us, yet you play these games."

The One Who Watches said nothing at this. They only watched on as events unfolded, sitting on the air itself like it was the edge of a chair high in the sky, a couple miles up and away from the battle that took place between Jack's forces and that of Igmond. Aegisthal was doing quite well in terms of the commanding he had, keeping the majority of the Warlord's army reacting instead of planning, no small feat when outnumbered twenty to one at the least.

"Ignoring us will not make us go away. You have the power to have made that one a god at any time should you have wished. Why go about it in this manner? What value could you have gained from this, playing by the will of the gods of this realm?"

The One Who Watches merely sighed at this, snapping their fingers to make a chair appear next to them. A marble chair that was thirty feet tall but positioned so that he would be level with the head of the one who took the seat.

"Sorry, They Who Build. But that's not how it works," The One Who Watches said, reaching into their pocket to pull candy of crystallized flavored sugar on a stick and placed it in their grinning mouth.

The colossal being moved to take their seat next to The One Who Watches, revealing themselves to be a tall, lengthy being. Their arms and legs were longer than what would be proportional to their body, as were their fingers. Their skin, a sickly gray and white. Their face, or lack thereof, was like a blank, featureless mask made of glass the color of the darkest void, where no light could escape. They turned their head partly to look at the diminutive One Who Watches and also see the events unfold.

"You don't approve," The One Who Watches stated.

"No, we do not," They Who Build said while leaning back into their chair. "Please, explain it to us. We have been friends on good terms for a long time. You know we will not interfere, we only wish to understand."

"You know what, fair enough. I can do that much," The One Who Watches said.

With a snap of their fingers, a sphere of clear energy surrounded them, removing both sight and sound of their presence from the world around them so that none could see nor hear them.

"To answer your question, friend. There is no master plan for this world, despite what the gods here suspect. I was called, saw problems, saw potential, then nudged things here and there to possibly make things better, or at least plant the seed for change. Whether or not the people here take those opportunities is entirely their choice," The One Who Watches said, leaning back in their invisible chair with their legs crossed. "The gods here are, well, 'asshole' would actually be an improvement. But they suck without question. The world needs to grow, and sometimes that change only comes when there is no other choice but to do so."

"And the human? Why has he garnered so much of your attention?" They Who Build asked, their fingers drumming on the armrest of the giant marble chair with anticipation.

"Last one standing. He beat the odds. He shows potential to make something of this place. Of course I would be interested and have been watching since being invited to this world. And he has not disappointed," The One Who Watches said, starting to stand up from his seated position, his perpetual grin growing wider.

000

Aegisthal ducked from a troll's swing while in the thickest of the fighting. Arrows were raining down from the sky, bouncing off his armored body. Screams of pain from the living, groans and cracking of metal, the groans and moans of the undead. Bodies were littering the area from both sides, yet his forces were outnumbered. They were surrounded, arrows and javelins raining down from all directions, the lesser dungeon mobs falling along with the invading army's forces. But he could tell that the odds would soon shift out of their favor.

With a downward swing of the greatsword he took from an orc, he severed the leg of a centaur while twisting to use the pommel to crack the skull of a minotaur that had tried to charge him in the same move. Just as Ironhorn ran past to trample both friendly and hostile forces alike, and Aegisthal was about to crush a goblin under his foot, the world erupted in power.

Aegisthal, the mobs, the sentinels, and the enemy all froze, stopping their fights to see the source of this suffocating power that overwhelmed them all. The source was a figure in the distance from where he knew the General was located with the enemy commander. He could see the General's form, cloaked in a terrible and beautiful light. Like a flame on a candle, he was bathed in ghostly fire while his body changed. Then he felt the lesser mobs around them change, while the dead around him started to rise. Yet even they were changed from normal undead. They stood straighter, more aware and conscious of their own bodies, with far better control. All stood and turned to face Jack.

Even the mechanical titans stopped their brawl to see what was happening.

Then one started to stomp its foot. Another holding a sword and shield banged their sword against their shield. Another thumped their spear butt on the ground. More and more were banging, stomping, clanging their weapons, leaving all of the enemy confused and frightened by what was happening. Each one of the risen undead's clarity of movement growing all the sharper by the second. Each of them carrying a light in their eyes that was never there before. Each of them starting to hold a faint glow that radiated from their center, steadily spreading across their bodies, growing brighter with their increasing fervor. Yet, Aegisthal paid them no mind. No, he only focused on the call of his creator, the power flowing off of him growing stronger, the sense of rage, pain, and drive that knew no limitations flowing through the link.

Then he felt that power flowing into him, changing him into something so much greater than he was before.

His sense of self-awareness heightened. His thoughts deepened, as did his feelings and understanding of the world around him.

He and all his fellow sentinels were ascending to something more.

000

"More than that, my friend, the cosmos needs new gods," The One Who Watches said, filled with awe as he watched what was happening. "The time has come. A new era has begun for this world. From one that was once a man, their bones shall be coated with new flesh. With steely skin and mithril muscle, they shall be born anew."

000

Jack ignored the pain as hot metal began to form off his bones. Thousands of wires and threads of metal budding and growing out of his bones and joints, materializing to twist and braid with one another to make the beginning of muscle fibers. His entire body blazed with bright white lichfire as his lichcore thumped and pumped out more mana that burned like a roaring engine. Threads of red and black grew along with the materializing muscle, spreading over them like otherworldly veins that radiated sickening energy that reeked of death. From his back, new bones started to materialize and form a new set of shoulder blades as new bones for arms gradually built themselves up layer by layer.

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Yet Jack paid no mind to any of it.

Instead, while the agony of his body changing was pushed to the back of his mind, while he felt like he might explode from so much magic and divine power coursing through him, Jack walked towards his first friend in this world.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and weak. Her skin paler than it was just seconds ago. Yet she still lived solely because Halyndra was just barely keeping her alive.

With so much power at his disposal, Jack used all the knowledge he understood of flesh sculpting, the properties of what composed a body, his knowledge of prosthetics, arcane scripting, transmutation, and the power that coursed through him like a raging river to use his spell Sanctified Transmutation.

She was immediately bathed in a gentle heavenly light, obscuring Frizzy from sight while Halyndra moved back, kneeling on both knees and her head so low it touched the ground as she prayed before him, muttering a prayer over and over again.

'Our god awakens.'

Yet even this he ignored while summoning all the metals he had available to him, using them to infuse into her body, using them to change her form, remaking her flesh and using the materials to make her all the stronger. He would not lose his friend. He would not lose his people.

"Never again," Jack said as he added the final parts to the glowing form that was reshaping itself to create Frizzy's new body, leaving her to finish her changes within the cocoon of light while his own body continued to take form, turning to face the troll, the one responsible for all of this.

000

"From the horrors of the past, he shall be made anew!" The One Who Watches proclaimed, his grin turning into a full-on demented smile as he watched the scene unfold before them, while They Who Build watched in equal measures of awe and fear. "Tempered, stronger than those that had come before him!"

000

Jack looked on at the troll with undisguised hate. The pain he felt fueled this fury while layers of muscle took shape over his frame, while two new arms grew from the shoulders of his original pair. Wings like that of a skeletal bat made of black bones emerged from his back, covered in ethereal white feathers. The red and black veins that grew over his metal muscles glowed with the white flames of his lichcore heart, his frame growing more muscular by the moment.

"I'm going to kill you now," Jack said slowly, coldly, deliberately, so that there was no misunderstanding.

000

"In his fury, he shall right the injustices of those who have been forsaken. The Abandoned. The Broken. The Abused and the Forgotten. They shall cry his name in joy! AND HE SHALL MAKE THEM ANEW!!" The One Who Watches proclaimed while they saw the growing light of Jack's ascension grow brighter even from this distance. "FOR THIS IS THE NEW ERA, HIS ERA, LET ALL CARVE HIS NAME IN THEIR HEART AND KNOW HIM!!!"

000

Halyndra felt her entire being start to change, growing in power, changing on a fundamental level. In her lord's rage and despair, she felt a desperate hope to save a friend near and dear to him in this mad gamble. She dared to look up as she felt herself threatened to be overwhelmed by this power that wished to help her ascend.

The world erupted into a dizzying light that bathed all that were within its reach. Then it vanished. As quickly as it appeared, the light vanished to proclaim the arrival of the new contender.

That was when she saw him, that echo of who he was. The form he was now, and that which he would become. Love, horror, awe, and terror were what she felt upon looking upon him now.

His form was that of a four-armed skeleton with the full muscular system of a man with a powerful build. Wings of great size that were that of a skeletal bat of black bones and the iridescent white feathers of a great eagle, all burned with that beautiful and haunting white flame covering them both. He stood now at a greater stature of over eight feet in height, all four of his fists clenched tight as the glowing blue spheres that were now his eyes burned with a terrible wroth that threatened to make the world burst aflame. Yet despite his skinless form, a ghostly shell covered him, an outline that took shape, refining itself to show what her lord once was.

An ethereal bronze skin molded itself around him, revealing that he was once a handsome young man. A refined sharp nose, a cut jawline that led to high cheekbones. A tuft of short, neat ghostly hair atop his head. And his voice, warped and distorted, sounded smoother and more refined than what she had always thought was his voice.

And his words to the blasphemer chilled her.

"I'm going to kill you now."

000

The One Who Watches felt unmitigated joy as he saw Jack's ascension was nearly complete, already taking the first step to solidify his place in this world without realizing what he had done. Now an immutable part of this world, and one that would not be so easily removed.

With a contented sigh, he retook his seat, leaning his head on his hand while he continued to watch, ignoring his friend, They Who Build, who watched him like he had gone mad.

Perhaps he had, but it didn't matter. Such things rarely ever mattered in the grander scheme of things.

"Welcome to the Great Game, Elohis Machina Requiem," The One Who Watches said with contentment. "Play it well and take them for all they have."

000

Igmond watched as the lich mulled over the form of the rat he nearly cut in half. Perhaps he should have swung harder. Then again, what fun was it if they died too quickly?

He amused himself by watching the skeleton learn their place beneath him, that it was better to obey than to resist his will. A method that had served him well. One that let him climb to his current state of power and earned the favor of his dark god.

"Yes, skeleton. She was weak. Too weak to be among us. Too weak to even stand among us, never mind fight me. Then again, you were too weak to keep her alive," Igmond said, wanting to make sure the message sunk in with his new subordinate. "Yes, you were too weak, and it is your fault for being weak. Had you wanted her to live, you should have been stronger."

After a moment of him saying that, Igmond wasn't sure if the skeleton had heard him or not. It wasn't saying or reacting to him anymore. Perhaps he should kick it to wake it from its whimpering.

Then the world erupted in power, one so bright and powerful that he needed to step back to regain his balance from the surprise, covering his eyes until the light died down. When he lowered his arm to see what happened, he saw the skeleton had changed dramatically. So much so that it was mildly unsettling to see. The defiance in the skeleton's eyes was irritating to see but couldn't be dealt with. He just needed to beat the new subordinate into submission again.

"I'm going to kill you now," the skeleton said, their voice warped and with finality.

Igmond chuckled as he shouldered his axe once more, already getting ready to savor the soon-to-be beaten-down form of this wretch.

"Is that so?" Igmond chuckled with mild amusement. "How do you plan to do that? You have seen how quickly I can heal, the power I wield. How would you—"

His words were cut short as he felt a sharp and horrible pain pierce his side, finding that the skeleton had moved so quickly that he didn't have time to react. Catching Igmond with his guard down, one of the skeleton's hands pierced his side under the ribs as if it were a spear. The skin around the lich's hand started to wither and burn from the horrid power they wielded. The pain was so horrid that it actually took his breath away, then grew so much worse when the lich pulled their hand out of his wound, ripping out a rib, causing Igmond to scream in agony as he jumped back while clutching the wound.

Once at a distance, he saw the lich still standing there, clutching his stolen rib in their hand as it looked at him with that hate-filled gaze.

Igmond was about to taunt the lich again about how he'd just heal, when he came to an awful realization. When he felt the wound at his side, he found that he was still bleeding, far longer than he should have been. When he looked down, he saw that the surrounding skin looked partly rotted, and while it was healing, it was healing much, much slower than it normally would.

"Torment," Igmond heard while still staring at the wound at his side, making him look to the lich once more.

Igmond watched as the rib the lich held started to char, blacken, then rot until it fell apart as dust that was scattered by the wind.

"I will kill you with torment," the lich said, their words cold and focused on him and him alone. "Prepare yourself, monster. Even if I have to take you apart piece by piece. I will take your life today, and it will be slow."

Igmond, for the first time in a long time, found himself afraid.

A feeling that made him angrier than anything else.

He braced himself, planting his feet to let out a mighty warcry and give himself a physical buff. That was until a metal fist struck him in the stomach with such force it knocked all the wind from his lungs. The impact reverberated through him as if he had been struck with a massive boulder that came rolling down from the top of a mountain, turning the warcry into a wheeze and whimper.

Without another word, a second fist struck Igmond in the jaw so hard it felt like a tooth loosened as he spun through the air. A horrid realization dawning on him as he crashed to the ground in a heap.

This might actually be a real fight.

A fight with a real chance he could lose.