Forgotten Dungeon

Uno

I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the adventurers left my domain. It was only a few hours later, but for a dungeon core any intruders, not to mention these monsters were a nerve-wracking experience. Especially since I could only wait and listen, absorbing random bobs and bits of knowledge from their conversations. After that ended, I was observing how the dying thief was doing.

Yup, Tinna was dying. I was no doctor, but her grisly cough, pale face and slowly changing skin were easy symptoms to analyze. The verdict was a slow and painful death. I guess the constant loss of blood and the two destroyed limbs contributed to her current state. It didn’t help that she was also mumbling constantly, begging some non-existent entity for mercy and recounting… her siblings? I think? Her speech was so chaotic and erratic that it was hard to fish out facts from behind all her delusions.

A shame too, since something has been done to her by Gangria. She even called her a present! I felt like an owner of a pet turtle who helplessly watched its demise… because the stupid thing bit an electrical cable and got fried.

Tinna’s breath was slowing down, heavy and laborious when the sentients left my halls. I instantly repopulated the whole place with Lebirs and Ratlings - and in return, I felt like my hidden urge was quenched.

It was satisfying, like taking a piss after keeping it in for too long.

The only problem was that while my weaker monsters appeared immediately the same couldn’t be said about Decapitator, Jailer Jonathan or Guardian. It was a logical thing according to many games I played - especially MMO’s, but why it was happening in the real-life?!

The only explanation I could find was that since they were boss-like characters then maybe their “schematic” was written somewhere in my core or the dungeon as a whole and because of that they “respawned” by using ambient mana?

This theory was as good as any other since I didn’t have any way to check it.

Well, any safe way to check it. Not with the sapients breathing down my neck.

It was a dangerous thing since the first floor without them was ripe for the taking. Of course, any invader stupid enough to step on the second level would get annihilated by the Lebir Exploders.

I also needed to have a serious talk with the Guardian. Both about his constant silence and how to use him as my living megaphone. He was after all pretty much the only being in my dungeon capable of directly talking with me and anyone present, be it sentient or rat. Guardian was currently my only connection to the outside world, at least until both I and the said world managed to learn the squeaky-tongue used by the Ratlings.

But that serious talk was a thing for later.

Right now I was waiting and observing Tinna’s slow demise. Almost three-fourths of her skin turned grey. I predicted that when the process finished she would simply… die. It was frustrating. There was a source of new knowledge, new power right beside me. And there was nothing I could do to devour it! Nothing, but wait.

But of course, I wouldn’t just sit down with my (non-existent) arms crossed!

There was always something to do!

My first order of business was strengthening the Guardian’s room, making it much sturdier. The last battle that happened inside changed my concept of “reinforced”. Those with high levels or powerful magic could very well literally break my walls and dig down, towards the dungeon core. I briefly wondered why nobody did so.

The next problem were the cables used by the Guardian to hook him up to my system. There should be an option to make them stronger. During the last battle, they were broken relatively easy, which in turn made him vulnerable and ultimately led to his demise. My first choice was to use metal or even rock, but it would end up in a straight pole, severely limiting Guardian’s mobility.

He would be like a circus pony - walking in circles, while kept on a tight leash.

This would undoubtedly cripple him in combat.

In the end, I decided on making a large amount of small, metal tubes containing the cables. They would clatter, ring and weren’t really that sturdy, but I simply didn’t have any better ideas.

So I left the problem alone and pretended it didn’t exist. A true and tested technique.

Afterward, I asked the rats to bring me some cloth, food, and water for the prisoner. She didn’t eat or drink that much, but a change of bandages should do her some good. I also didn’t just take from the Ratlings. Lately, we established a barter system between us - to try something more than a master-servant relationship. The currency we used was simply… Anima crystals.

Normally one would say that using my somewhat special power more and more was just tempting fate, but the cost of creating these crystals was surprisingly minuscule. I was sure, at first, that they would draw much more of my energy, but under the constant nagging of the Rattling Queen, I summoned one as an experiment.

And she promptly swallowed it whole.

I was both shocked by her behavior and by how cheap the thing was.

But the price was always relative to scarcity, so the green, sleek shards of crystal I produced were valued greatly by the ratkind.

So the trade continued.

Why I even bother with this?

Mostly because of my belief that hard work had to be valued in any society. And partially because the Ratlings were steadily moving towards the theocratic model and it was scaring me. If I had to contend with the rat crusades…

The addition of good, clean, free-market should do wonders for their rigid caste system creating a chance for the truly ingenious to rise to the top.

As to what they were using my Anima for?

I didn’t want to know.

Not after the said Ratling Queen spewed green bubbling fluid from her mouth, while the surrounding rats worked themselves into a frenzy in order to drink that vile thing…

Yeah.

While my appetite for normal food as a dungeon core was non-existent, such sights still grated on my nerves, so I chose to avoid them.

Back to more pleasant topics. I knew that the Underground Lake on the second floor had an outflow, which ended up somewhere in the wastes. Probably.

What surprised me however was that a small troop of Ratlings managed to leave and return through the underground river. Sure, some perished in the process, but the prolific little buggers already organized another expedition in the unknown, preparing canoes made from ax conifers and oars carved from ironbark.

There was a party at the shore, just beyond the reach of the Glass Progenitor and they even took a few of the Ironflame Rats with them. And a… canoe aircraft carrier? A large (by rat standards), flatboat with two of their tamed Dragonflies wobbling precariously on the deck.

It was interesting. At that moment I really regretted not knowing their language. Well, one more thing to consider in the future.

Sadly, while I was admiring their spirit another wave of sentients barged into the dungeon.

They were different than the earlier team though.

For one they moved in groups of ten or twelve people, with measured, soldiery steps. Pretty much every single invader was armed with a spear and a shield while wearing leather armor laced with few pieces of metal. And a leather helmet. Their leader wore a similar outfit, but with much more metal added, a fancier helmet and a sword on his waist. He rarely drew it though, content to shouting out the commands. Unlike unruly adventurers, they instead walked in a formation - both as a team and as a whole group, with one of the dozens leading the way and the others guarding the retreat path.

Their coordination was so good, that they simply mowed down my Lebirs. They weren’t much help when deprived of the boss’ help, but a few managed to get a hit or two in. It was then when I noticed a tired-faced healer that I understood that these were the professional soldiers. As if to show me their true worth despite a great beginning humans marched forward with cautious enthusiasm.

Still, they didn’t overextend. They rotated, diligently making sure that each of their little teams changed the vanguard just after one battle. Their pace relaxed for a moment when most of my minions on the first floor were slaughtered and a laugh or even a small whistle randomly escaped from their otherwise tense faces.

They blitzed forward, but not before losing two of their number to my hallway traps. A great difference between automatic ones and those operated by the Ratlings. Experienced Ratlings may I add. The invaders' energy was added to my reserves - tasty, but nothing special. Half-orc Boulder was like well-smoked pork.

These people were just potatoes.

Filling, but still potatoes.

Without salt.

It was when they arrived near the Forge and the now-empty Guardian’s room that I really tensed up. On the first floor, I didn’t have any real chance to retaliate, due to my mind’ crystallization, but once they stepped down…

I would remind them what hell was.

Too bad they steered clear from the stairs. I guess that meant that my Guardian revival would finish unimpeded?

The three groups left scouts every ten or so meters, which in turn lowered their numbers to only a group of seven. These people unhesitatingly entered the Smith Golem lair. It was rather bad on my nerves - that surety with which they moved. At least each step they took was full of wariness, even though the room was mostly empty. There was only one thing moving - an untiring if crude smith dancing between four points - the barrel of ores, electric forge, anvil, and finished goods pile.

Their fascination at the bizarre sight lasted for a moment. Then one of them broke the silence.

“Whew… I didn’t believe them at first, you know?” He spoke to nobody in particular, absorbing the red-hot sight before his eyes.

“It’s a golem righty-o.” Spoke another.

“And it’s… smithing.”

“Rare.”

“Don’t stare, people! We have a job to do!” A team leader spoke loudly, clapping his hands to get everybody’s attention. This worked, but he didn’t bet on the golem also closing by.

It stopped its endless cycle and turned the armored head towards the source of the noise. New visitors. Usually, the golem would ignore all that wasn’t new kind of metal or some unusual material, so I too didn’t know what happened.

But it moved.

The bile-golem strode towards the now speechless humans, its sturdy knight frame peering over their figures. They just waited, looking at the metal man's reaction. Not all of them though, as one of the humans was currently hyperventilating. The rest had their hands on the handles of their weapons, slowly drawing the blades and pommels from their sheaths. Ready to pounce.

The tense moment lasted only a few seconds before golem returned to its routine. The humans exhaled collectively as their bodies relaxed.

“T-that was scary!” Whispered one of them, still clutching his weapon. Light gleamed off the sword’s blade.

“It’s because our boss decided to scream so loudly!” Another added, sending an angry glance towards the apologetic leader.

“My bad.” The person in question answered wryly while combing his hair. “There was nothing in the report about its sensitivity to noise. Anyway… let’s continue! Remember your training!” He shouted the last words while still whispering, eliciting a choir of angry responses.

“””Shut up!”””

“Sorry…” The leader’s voice trailed off as the golem started to hit the pieces of metal with his hammer. The loud noises instantly making communication harder. “Remember why we are here.” He continued with a calm expression. “Ade, Jin take the already made items and haul them back to the surface. The militia will have a need for them. Norn and Edward are to wait until the golem processes more ores. Gather them and send a runner back. The next shift will be ready in six hours, so try to keep alert until then.”

The men nodded and spread out according to the orders given.

Very professional… except for one word of his little speech that caught my attention. Militia. What do they need the militia for?

I had a bad feeling about this… wasn’t I the only target around here?!

The team leader continued, ignoring my mute confusion.

“The rest with me. We’re returning to the surface.”

“Do we need to remind our living lamps to not move during their shift?”

“There is no need. They’re professionals. And they know what is at stake.”

“I see. Then how about a little incursion?” A large, muscular man hauling a great shield smiled wildly. “I’ve heard that there is a fork in the road that still wasn’t explored.”

“No.” The answer was short and concise. “We’re part of the Royal Army. This is no time for leisure. And what you’re proposing is even worse. Insubordination!”

“B-but… the money! And nobody will know.” The giant pleaded.

“No means no, Saiki. Do you want to get replaced, by some Adventurer’s Guild crony?”

“Never!” The soldier straightened his back.

“Then shut up and let’s hurry. The miners should be on the way.”

I still watched as the group quickly returned back to the first-floor entrance, expertly avoiding the traps and making sure any of the dark corridors didn’t hide an ambush. It was then when I noticed what the words meant. Miners would be coming.

I had the option of creating various metal ores on my dungeon walls, but it treated it as a waste of space. After all, it would’ve made me a real asset to exploit, while helping the sentients to produce weapons and armor locally. I much preferred that each gram of iron to be painfully transported from somewhere else. That’s why my walls were either made of rock or bricks. And covered in the dungeon flora. Useless for the miners.

I started to wonder if the people mining walls of my dungeon would be dangerous? Painful? Now that I thought about it my real dungeon core was still on the first floor… what if they accidentally found it?!

Shit!

Emergency!

Should I move my core? Assault the invaders, or simply wait for my monsters to respawn? And only then stomp on them?!

While I panicked the decision was made for me. A large group of muscular, but dirty men descended from the stairs while being led by an even larger, more muscular and bald man. They all carried pickaxes with them, slowly stomping down the already well-trodden road. Wearing only boots, pants and long shirts with sturdy leather gloves made them easy to recognize, considering that everyone else was both armed and armored.

Unhesitatingly they turned left, faced the wall and immediately started to take measurements. They chatted during work and I listened.

“Mister Tom, yer sure we should be doing dis?” Asked one of them, larger and dirtier than the rest.

“There’s not much choice, my friend. We either do this or we go back to the Kingdom. On foot.” A tense expression appeared on his face, while drops of sweat curled on his brow.

“T’ats a suicide if yer asks me!” The miner answered, spitting on the ground.

“I agree. So between certain death and some unpaid labor and a possibility of survival…”

“I und’stand boss!” The man nodded as the rest of his subordinates finished their work, standing at the ready.

“Listen up, people!” Bald Tom shouted while unfurling something that looked like a map of my dungeon. With a few red lines showing future expansions. “We have a job to do! A very important job! Our little outpost needs a fallback position and we’re going to provide one!” He smiled. “So work hard, follow the rules and we’re going to be fine.”

“Sure, boss!”

“Diggin’, diggin’.”

“Let’s get to it!”

Hearing his words of encouragement the miners rushed forward, quickly destroying the dungeon wall and creating new, open space in shape of the funnel - wider in the beginning and smaller in the end.

“Is this wise, boss? Won’t t’dungeon get angry at’s?” Mumbled the sub-leader.

“According to Master Charles, it’s the other way around. As soon as we finish these new rooms the mana contained on this floor will rush to claim them.” He pointed towards the niche they were working on - which was already two meters deep. They sure were fast, these humans. “In the long run, this will make the dungeon stronger.”

“And that’s a good ting?”

“Stronger dungeon means better loot. And more materials.” He sighed. “Maybe even this smith golem that the Swords of Hope had found would experience an evolution. And produce more than this garbage.” He lifted up a metal… rod? No. It was a dagger, I think. Probably made by the bile-golem working the forge. Only it would make a blunt dagger. It didn’t even have a stabby point!

“Why, boss?”

“Because the larger floor means more mana. And more mana means more energy to use - for casting spells when it comes to humans or for evolving regarding monsters.” He stopped. “That’s why it's normally forbidden to expand the levels. Dungeon cores learn to gain more power that way and once they try it again and again…” Tom shook his head. “They often self-destruct.”

Oh. So they did know about the space limitations imposed on each floor.

Wait.

Wasn’t that bad? They’re forcefully making me exceed the said limit.

But what can I do?

The entire floor had crystalized, not really reacting to my orders.

Haaaah… let’s just wait and see. Preferably no self-destruction will happen. I hope.

During my internal monologue, the miners already managed to create a few meters long corridor, slowly digging deeper and deeper into the rock. Their movements were looking pretty chaotic from the outside, all the laughing, screaming and huffing at each other’s, but there was no denying their skills.

As soon as the first group of workers started to get tired another thirty people descended and seamlessly replaced them. Their work continued uninterrupted and more tunnels and small rooms were being added - some clearly ambush spots for their soldiers.

Adding all this room gave me a strange feeling. Like my body was being stretched - a rubber band. Not so much as to break, but I was getting there. The worst part, however, was that there weren’t any active cameras in this new expansion! The deeper they went the less I could see!

Inexcusable! This was my dungeon!

I immediately roused the surrounding Bone Lichen to claim the new territory.

“Uwaaaah!” One of the miners shouted seeing a greedy plant growing quickly in plain sight. He raised his pickaxe and prepared to strike.

“STOP!” A loud scream held him in his tracks. “Don’t touch it!”

“B-but it’s movin’! Like a livin’ ting!” The man shouted back, still eyeing my creation.

“It’s a normal, living being. Born in the dungeon though.” It was the bald Tom who screamed the earlier order to cease the attack. “The dungeon is claiming any free space. Leave it be. It’s not even dangerous.”

“Is not?”

“Yup. These little guys gather water and can be used to slake your thirst.” He petted the plant, a large, bone-looking tube already grown on its side and full of water. With a slight exertion, he broke it off, twisting the “cap” on its upper part and swallowed down the liquid inside. “Aaaah. Nice and cold. Remember it. Your life may depend on the little suckers.”

““Yes, sir!””

The people around him nodded and returned to work.

I too decided that observing was not enough. Right now the new tunnels were being made by both the Ratlings and my mana. I was preparing a space to install my new cameras. While I couldn’t directly interfere with the sapients peeping on them was always an option.

Even while doing all this one of my artificial eyes was always focused on the Guardian’s room - the one that humans curiously avoided. I didn’t know why until a few snippets of their conversations informed me of the deep fear they carried. Fear spread wide by the adventurers who came before.

It was logical, after all, that the average adventurers and soldiers would avoid the place where their champions nearly lost their lives.

Regrettable though. The potatoes weren’t that bad when you were starving. Even without salt.

My second project was a bit bolder. I started to dig a tunnel starting at the second floor Lebir barracks, aiming to breach the surface in the shortest way possible. While my first floor was out of the question I didn’t feel any compulsion to stop, so… it was allowed? For a core to have an escape route?

The tunnel twisted and twirled, connecting with a various rat made under-roads and climbing higher and higher. I cautiously avoided already existing rooms and branched a single tendril in the direction of the surface.

There was a strange sound when I breached the soil, like air escaping a balloon, but it stopped as soon as the entrance had been covered with a rock, courtesy of the surface Ratlings.

And then a smallish, but nimble copper wire started to extend from my network, a shy Ratling dragging an artificial eyeball staggering just behind it. It was high time to see what the sentients were up to at the surface.

Earlier my minions tried to describe what was happening there, but being restricted to a sign language and without using any abstract terms it wasn’t going so great. Not to mention that often the Ratlings weren’t able to understand what they were seeing.

Something was going on and I was very interested in joining in the fun.

Not to mention I would go for some pork right about now.