Forgotten Dungeon

Uno

A half-dead elf, a crazy human warrior, and a towering golem were standing in a room.

Sounds like the start of a joke, right?

Yet the situation was anything but funny.

As if hearing my thoughts the figures in the chamber sprung into action. The golem started to reach behind, intent on slaughtering Lois, who was tightly clutching to its back. It was a natural reaction, even if the creature couldn’t feel pain, the discomfort of having its limbs sliced was still present.

This wouldn’t do.

My goals were different, after all. While the human was annoying as hell, killing the elf who had returned with knowledge of the lower floors remained a priority.

A small voice in my head was telling me that this course of action was just prolonging the inevitable discovery (since more explorers would come for sure) yet I couldn’t stop myself… The secrecy was one of the tools I used for my defenses. The fewer people knew about my halls the better. I simply had to try.

Chasing away the idle thoughts my mind focused on the present. In seconds multiple instructions were sent to my Floor Guardian.

[Ignore the human.]

[Smash down the elf.]

[Do it now! No dilly-dallying!]

The large armored golem halted its movement while processing the torrent of new information. Its dull mind had problems even with the simplest of commands, not to mention these complex orders. Its stillness confused the human, who stopped moving and waited for his enemy's reaction.

One that wasn’t yet coming.

During that time I tensely watched the half-elf's movements, but he just continued to look exhausted. His arms were trembling as he kept up the defensive stance, laboring to take each breath. Drops of red blood were falling on the ground, slowly sliding from his once beautifully carved armor - which was now covered in cracks and smudges. The artistry defeated by the mundane. There had to be a moral here, somewhere. No matter. The elf moved slowly, a wince of pain appearing on his face each time a step was taken.

But he did try to walk forward.

Lois was the first to break the stalemate, by jumping down and rolling quickly enough to separate the hurt half-elf and my creation. The scout seemed to be as surprised by this action as me. I briefly wondered when relations between races had grown so good. They sure didn’t look like friends this morning.

“T-thank… you.” The barely alive elf coughed heavily, a string of blood flowing down his well-chiseled chin. The hurt warrior had unruly dirty blonde hair and tired, bronze eyes. His whole face and posture screamed noble blood, but not much of it was obvious under the blood-smeared posterior.

“Oh, shut it, elfie.” Snorted Lois. “You’re going to get your beating after I’ll finish with the big boy here.” He pointed at the incoming abomination. “Let’s say you’re a dessert… Hahahahaha!”

His wild laugh echoed through the chamber, forcing the unwilling half-elven companion to take a few steps back. In the end, he leaned against the wall, painting it red and black.

...blood?

Wait a moment...

Why the elf wasn’t affected by the Bloodlust effect?! He should have turned into a blithering maniac the moment he took a step into the room, considering he was literally bathed in blood! Was it some quality of the elven warriors, or some similarly broken shit?!

My mind was already racing through the elven race passives I knew from different games. Resistance to magic, resistance to poison, resistance to enchantments, immunity to sleep and illusions… was Bloodlust an illusion effect?

Not sure, but I didn’t think so. The earlier pop-up classified it as black magic.

Something wasn’t right...

My camera instantly zoomed in, eagerly concentrating on his body, searching for bleeding wounds, amulets, active spells - anything that could shed some light on this situation. I patiently scanned each visible centimeter of skin, trying to look under the damaged armor, even as Lois was going to town on my golem, chipping away the large monster’s stony flesh piece by piece. At least his magical butcher cleaver wasn’t a useful weapon against this type of opponent. It gave me time to concentrate,

Anyway, in the end, I managed to discover something. One weird fact - it seemed like all the wounds the scout sported were already healed. It was a recent thing too since the scar tissue was forming right now, visibly toughening in seconds, instead of days.

More importantly, the red liquid seeping down his chin started to look less and less like blood, being both thicker and quicker to coagulate.

This meant a few things.

Firstly, and most importantly, it seemed like health potions were a thing. HP potions, pots, reds, or whatever else they were called in games had many forms, but one purpose - to restore taken damage, sometimes even going as far as recreating cut-off limbs or regrowing shattered organs.

To tell the truth, I was surprised that most of the healing items brought by the adventurers were things like bandages, antidote pills, and soothing balms. Pretty much none of them were magical too. Worse - some only had a placebo effect.

Now it seemed like access to healing items of greater efficiency was limited, but they existed nonetheless.

Which made my little experimental garden that much more interesting. It would be up to fate to decide what kind of ingredients I would be able to grow, but the possibilities excited me. I wasn’t so delusional as to presume that a little boiling would do the trick, there ought to be more complicated steps to creating a potion. This road seemed long and perilous, but at least I had a few more shortcuts I could use… like transferring the responsibility to the whole race of overly-curious beings…

Secondly - no one, but the half-elves had demonstrated an ability to create or even use these things. This meant that either it was pricey, rare, or simply somebody had a monopoly on its production. Or race-specific. Or it was just that my dungeon was too weak - maybe not important enough - to warrant the use of such items. I didn’t see Swords of Hope using healing potions, none of them were discovered on the bodies of Boulder and Tinna either. And they had a royalty amongst their ranks. Then again, that party might not be a good representation of how the Yana world high-level adventurers dealt with the wounded, considering they had an exclusive healer.

Thirdly, this meant that the elf warrior was only exhausted, not half-dead. This rang alarm bells in my head. Even now he was trying to desperately regain his strength before the inevitable battle. The only question was would he have to deal with my golem or just Lois?

On that note, my creation was currently getting his ass kicked rather thoroughly. The one dealing all this damage wasn’t faring much better, though. Lois' face was scrunched in a permanent scowl, but - unlike normal people - he only grew stronger under the effect of Bloodlust.

The man in question laughed and jumped around like a monkey, avoiding the wide swings of my golem by a hair’s breadth. Even when struck by a powerful fist, and when his body sailed through the air landing on the hard ground with the grace of a beached whale... he was still somehow able to recover seconds later. I managed to notice that his wounds started to heal slowly, allowing the Guild Master to contend with my oversized monster.

Yet his battle prowess was all for naught because my golem ignored his attempts to draw aggro and concentrated its attacks on the wheezing half-elf. A few next swings were dodged by the scout, but the increasingly spasmodic moves proved he was at his last legs.

This constant avoidance irritated the golem, just like a buzzing fly draws the ire of the cooks. Thus my creation, which was normally a calm and slow-witted creature, decided to finish him for good. It curled up - cut, bent, and scarred stone-flesh tensing with gathered power - and then…

It jumped.

The elf’s eyes widened as the golem’s massive body unwound like a spring and its silhouette appeared above him. There was nothing he could do. A second later a wet *splash* sound echoed in the chamber, as the lithe sentient was completely crushed under the weight of my monster.

I could feel the joy radiating from the dumb brute as it slowly started to climb on its feet, keen on continuing the battle.

Sadly it was not to be.

Using the distraction to his advantage Lois closed in on the normally protected golem’s head. With a swift motion, he climbed the slowly rising giant, reminding me a bit of the Shadow of the Colossus game, although smaller in scale. After all my creations weren’t ten-story-high monstrosities. At least not yet.

Anyway, the important part was that Lois made his way toward the Bile-brain directing the monster unopposed. A moment later - using a two-handed grip - he cleanly cut through the iron cage that protected its squishy parts. The damaged metal fell on the ground with a *clang* sound and pieces of the flesh followed.

The Floor Guardian tried to fight back, to reach up with its hands - only to stop when Lois stabbed the squirming Bile-brain with his weapon, the creature’s limbs jolting in response, before stopping to move altogether.

For a long, long moment my creation was only standing there inertly before gravity did its thing and forced the abomination on the knees - and then face-first into the ground. This left panting Lois as a sole survivor, seemingly taking in the scene of carnage.

And what a carnage this was - the room full of scars, mostly left by the missed attacks of the Floor Guardian. Some of the lesser cuts were added by the wildly flailing Guild Master and his butcher’s cleaver. They looked deeper than those left by the bile-brain but were less pronounced.

Only now I noticed that the Bloody Sacrificial Altar had been destroyed in the fighting, its rocky surface smashed and cracked under pressure. Judging by the damage type it was probably demolished by my golem trying its best to resist the attacks. I shrugged. Considering that the new Floor Guardian was weaker than the earlier version and how the Bloodlust effect was a two-edged sword… not to mention that I didn’t have a lot of influence on the first floor of my dungeon anymore…

It was okay.

I could live with this.

The human standing in the room breathed out heavily, shaking off his crazed state. Being a sole winner didn’t come without a cost, however. The red bandana he wore had a lot of tears and slashes, barely withstanding the abuse of battle. The leather armor he borrowed from someone had already been destroyed, joining the heavier armaments he lost to the Jailer Jonathan. There were pieces of it left, but deep gashes and blue skin were already healing, courtesy of a magical item or a special skill that Lois had acquired. From all the weapons he once hid on his body only the cleaver remained, both serrated dagger and other weapons chipped and bent beyond recognition.

“That was a shitty ending.” He murmured regretfully while looking at the meat patty lying on the ground - all that remained from the half-elf scout. My secrets were safe. Or so I thought until I heard the next words he spoke. “I guess I should continue to explore?” He grinned maniacally. “There should be some powerful monsters left, seeing how the elves ran with their tails tucked in.”

[No, no, no! This is a time when you turn back, prepare, and let me REST!] I shouted in frustration, knowing that the only person who could hear me was currently cuddling a batch of Kobold eggs.

On that note… I probably should break open one or two, only to check if I’ll gain any blueprints. Ah, but considering how Guardian cherished these little things I decided to reconsider. I dreaded making him angry, mostly because he was the only conversation partner I had at the moment.

Not that we were talking much.

The lower floors were still in the process of restocking. My Lebir Exploders were slowly making their way towards the central room, their production workshop far away from the frontlines. Both a blessing and a curse.

I also didn’t start replacing all the destroyed flora and damaged parts of the chamber, which was why Lois whistled, seeing the destruction.

“Now, which creature could do that?” He wondered aloud, his strange habit a small boon to me. “That Charles noble did say something about explodin’ stuff, right?” He scratched his head, unwittingly freeing some of the black hair from under the bandana.

I had little choice. Not wanting him to do what the half-elves did - especially after foolishly losing so many of my trump cards, Lebir Exploders, I chose to send out a call. To Lebirs, Ironflames, Ratlings. To my creations. Most of them wouldn’t understand the words, but the intent...

[The enemy is here.]

...the murderous feeling...

[Stop him! Kill him!]

...it was here.

A roar echoed through my halls, startling the sentient. A second one followed.

“Is that a welcome?” Lois was undaunted, peering beyond the moon-like room.

His expression changed a bit as the first of my creatures arrived - they were the closest and relatively weakest monsters - Lebirs. They came in squads, each led by a Lebir Captain. When they stepped into the destroyed chamber instead of grouping up they started to spread their ranks, deciding to assault the invader at once. This, for some reason, surprised Lois.

“Did they hear me speak? The dungeon monsters usually tend to stay in their rooms. Not to mention organize. They’re the same type, so… they have leaders?” He mused, ignoring my monsters and looking at Lebir Captains with amusement. “Unless all these guys are of the patrolling variety?” His face scrunched. “It still feels a bit too much.” A shrug. “I’m not complaining though.”

His complacent expression started to turn more and more serious as the last of all eight groups arrived at the destination, leaving him alone to contend with forty reinforced undead.

Both sides stared at each other, Lois' eyes darting around, considering his chances, while Lebirs waited for… me?

[Get him!] I ordered and the Lebir Captains raised their weapons, charging ahead. Just behind their followers were closing in, bent on killing an intruder.

“Shit!” Cursed Lois. “What did these elves do, to rile the dungeon so much?!” He screamed while dodging the first few of the attackers. “Fucking delve-killers! Oh, I’ll punch the next elfie I’ll see even if it’ll get me in trouble!”

His murmurs didn’t stop the advancing undead, Lois counter-attacks slicing off a few appendages - the damage which would maybe stop the living opponent, but nothing for those already dead.

“When in doubt… RUN!” He huffed, skillfully avoiding the enemy and choosing to break through the weakest part of their siege. That said one or two hits managed to land, eliciting grunts of pain from the escaping Guild Master.

He chose to run south, towards the Metallic Jungle and Ironflame Ratlings temple. It was a dead end. Many of my creations were coming, most interesting of them a group led by the biggest Ratling I ever saw. While normal ones stood at about 20 centimeters, this guy was a staggering one meter!

More importantly, his whole body was covered in scars and cut flesh, marking him as a survivor of many battles. The oversized claws and fangs closed and opened menacingly, seemingly desiring an opponent to fight against. On his waist a small, leather belt with a few pouches lay comfortably, ready for immediate use. And, like some of the other rats I noticed, his back lacked the spear-thrower that his smaller cousins sported.

The most imposing thing about him had to be the metal helmet attached to its skin and bone. It defended the rat’s eyes and head while giving it a menacing look. The metal was formed into a square, with small slits left for eyes and the lower part completely shaved off - to allow for a biting motion.

The human was running, but this… enforcer of the Ratlings was still on his tail.

After a few more minutes and when I had to witness the decimation of three more Ratling squads the enlarged rat crossed paths with Lois. Both sides stared at each other for a long moment, before my rat behemoth breathed out a deep roar and Lois answered with his own, wild sneer.

“What are you?” He asked, not with fear, but rather barely contained excitement. “Are you some kind of a mutant? And that helmet… Maybe an escaped Master Vincent student?” He laughed.

Another, even deeper growl escaped the throat of my giant rat. Then, with a practiced motion, the Ratling reached into its pouch, took out a green-looking pill, and swallowed it. The formerly red eyes of the monster took on a green sheen.

“Intelligent? Using tools and magical items?” Once again Lois' expression changed. It was entertaining to have someone that easy to read in my dungeon. He would still die, though. “Ain’t that a bit too fast? I guess that’s a Forgotten Dungeon for ya.”

Another second of staring passed until Guild Master lunged forward with a loud shout.

“Dieeeeee!”

I wanted to observe the battle (and some small part of me did), but at this very moment, even more sentients arrived in the - now-empty - Floor Guardian room. Because of that, my attention was drawn back upwards. I still didn’t manage to clean up the place, human presence only slowly dissipated since Lois’ departure.

Much to my surprise not only Charles and Master Vincent were arriving, but accompanying them was the half-elven princess and her shieldmaster. And a few elves too, not counting nervous human guards. Both human leaders sported sour expressions and were distractedly looking around, the mage immediately spotting the demolished altar and running toward it.

Minnalea, on the other hand, was drawn to the squashed remains of her scout. She crouched nearby and used her gloved hand to search for something amongst the destroyed flesh and bone.

“Was this one of your people, princess?” Charles wasn’t the most delicate man in the world. Even I knew that this was a bad way to start a talk. It seemed like the man didn’t care… and yet, to my surprise, his conversational partner didn’t react badly.

“Sannel Cloudrest was his name.” The girl answered after a long moment. “He was one of the rarely born Shadow Children.”

“A what?”

“The princess means those with an innate ability to hide.” Master Vincent arrived a moment earlier, his absent-minded voice echoing for a bit. “They are born to the elves or those with thick enough blood and some of the other races.”

“Master Vincent? Did you finish whatever you were doing out there?” Asked Charles, motioning to the destroyed altar.

“Yes, yes. Sadly there wasn’t much to analyze since most of the enchanted circle had been destroyed during the battle. I can, however, say that it was marvelously if somewhat crudely carved and animated.” His expression changed into one of happiness immediately. He was speaking about something he loved, after all.

“I was more interested in what it did, though.” Smiled Charles, his patience visibly growing thinner. The violet mage ignored the looks he was given, chatting away.

“I can’t really place the magic, mostly because it’s one of the dark and primal variants, shunned and culled by the modern practitioners. The most I can say is that it deals with blood and mind spheres of influence.” He turned towards the elven princess. “If time allows for it could I ask Your Highness for disabling the Guardian without destroying this piece? I would like to preserve these runes in their entirety!” He beamed his question, only to be immediately shot down.

“No. This is a Forgotten Dungeon - one which had drawn the elven blood already. Everything here is to be purged. I won’t be a part of any research efforts, mage.”

“Well, no need to be so hostile, princess.” Sighed Master Vincent. Then he mumbled under his nose. “It was still worth trying, though.”

“That means that this poor sod was one of your scouts?” Charles asked once again.

“Yes. The other Child of Shadow is missing, however… I can’t find this one Goddess Kiss.”

“And what that may be?”

“It’s a secret.”

“You do remember our deal?” Sneered Charles. “Knowledge for access. Are you breaking it right now?”

The princess stared coldly at the red-haired noble, both of them silent for a moment. Minnalea was the first one to break.

“Fine.” She sighed. “The Goddess Kiss is an item, which, when cracked can completely heal the wounded person carrying it.”

“A restoration potion, then?!” Asked visibly flushed Master Vincent.

“Yes. We have a constant if a bit small stream of potions coming from our most advanced dungeons.” Charles turned his head to the mage, staring at him questioningly. The man in question took out a small, oval sphere and stared at it for a second. Then he shook his head.

“She’s telling the truth.”

“Oh please!” The princess sneered. “Like I would tell lies to already dead men.”

“What are you talking abo--?” Asked the startled noble before his voice was drowned by the Minnalea's louder orders.

“USE THE GAS, NOW!” Her shrill scream came as a surprise, as the elves immediately wore something that I could only describe as gas masks. A moment later each of them took out a glass globe and smashed it against the ground.

The thick, green gas started to fill the room faster than my magic could purify it.

Humans started to fight back, drawing their weapons and preparing spells, Charles even managed to burn one of the assailants to a crisp before he too fell to the ground.

“Are all of them incapacitated?” The princess asked slowly. A few of the accompanying elves rushed to check. Minutes passed as they did their thorough checks. Only when all of the humans were accounted for did the soldier’s representative speak.

“Yes, Your Highness. All of them will sleep until death.”

“Technically it’s not true. The Curse of Sleep can lull them for between one to thirty days.” Minnalea looked at the fallen humans with amusement. “If they were not in the dungeon and if there was anyone left to help them… then they could survive. But by using this thing I’ll be free to say that I didn’t kill them, truth-seeking orbs be damned.”

She turned back.

“Leave them as they are and follow me. We have a dungeon to conquer and destroy.” The soldiers saluted and followed her downstairs.

Right into the arms of already waiting Lebirs.

Not to mention Lebir Exploders who already arrived at the Central Pond Room.

The first explosions rocked the floor, startling both battling Lois and killing off about half of the incoming elven soldiers. I was sure that all of them perished, but once the smoke cleared a big, glowing shield was separating my undead from their prey. Just behind it, the princess’ silent human was kneeling, his arm thrust forward.

“Jake! Are you alright?!” Minnalea screamed in fear, squeezing through her other soldiers. She relaxed only when she arrived near the armored man and touched his shoulder. Hearing his soothing grunt she turned towards the enemies and glared. “You dare? YOU DARE TO HURT HIM?!”

Waves of visible energy started to arrive at her feet, like waves of light-sea. At the same time, the darkness in the room started to grow deeper, greedier, more monstrous. I could hear the terrified whispers of her soldiers.

“The Lightless Lantern!”

“The Lightless One!”

“Dark Child!”

They spoke.

“The Lone One…” A single of them whispered only to find that the shadows were growing deeper around him. And then the youngest princess of Luna started to chant.

“I deny both Light and Darkness. And yet I glow. And yet I cast the vilest shadows. I am a Lightless Lantern. I am the power just beyond your sight, oh divine! Bathe in my light, oh world!”

At this point, she and her closest surroundings were bathed in light, the rest turning so dark that even my cameras weren’t able to see anything. I could only feel as if the lives of my creations were snuffed out like candles.

Five minutes passed, then ten. Lois was still battling my gigantic Ratling. I grew bored and checked on the garden, only to find it unchanged.

Only a half-hour later the chamber started to brighten, my Electrical Chandeliers survived whatever that was. The half-elves were huddled around the Minnalea, their faces pale and tired. Seeing as the darkness was passing one of them forced himself to speak.

“Y-your H-highness… Please.” He bowed deeply turning to kneel when his legs gave out. “C-can you please stop using battlefield-annihilation spells on t-the dungeon s-second floor?” He begged, his comrades nodding with pitiful expressions. “It not only t-tires you out but also makes our job harder.”

“I guess I overreacted a bit?” She laughed shortly, but nobody joined and after a second there was only an awkward silence. Not even the silent shieldman. This reminded me of the other elven girl, who also seemed to have a weak grasp on self-control. Was this something that all elven women had, or was it restricted to just the high-level ones?

I guess elven harems were out of the question in this world, huh?

My mind raced, focused on random things, trying desperately not to think about the destruction that this one chick would bring to my dungeon.

I ordered the drones to quicken the third-floor boss room preparations. The fake core also needed to be moved as soon as possible. Especially with this maniac wandering the level.

After a moment of hesitation, I also ordered Ratlings to focus on trying to wake up the sleeping humans. The enemy of my enemy was my friend. I would be glad if they managed to stir up some trouble for the elves.

To add to my troubles a familiar telepathic link was closing in.

[Need… help…] A feeling of pain and weakness was transmitted. [Es-scaping.] She added. [Need… hide-out.] A feeling of desperation. Then hope. [Home.]

Normally I would sigh and probably refuse the girl, but right now I needed all the help I could muster.

[Welcome home, Non. We are in a bit of a pickle, but you can jump right in. Teleport… here.] I answered while showing her a trap room just beyond the greedy Glass Progenitor. The trap room was turned into a small cell. The dangerous mechanisms were removed and replaced with a simple bed, a chair, a table, and a few other random things.

As soon as the Revenant teleported in and collapsed on a nearby bed I whistled.

[Damn… what did you do, girl?] She was bleeding light from her left arm, the corrosion starting to devour parts of her upper body.

[Not-G-Guard-ian?] She asked suspiciously.

[Oops.]

[I’m also here, little one.] A new, warm voice added.

[W-where?]

[Right now I’m taking care of the little kobolds, you know? You can visit.]

[No, she can’t - we have an invasion for fuck’s sake!] I answered angrily.

[As you wish my lord.]

[W-who? Lord?]

[Arhg… fuck it. My name is Uno and I’m a Dungeon Core. Right now we have a rather big emergency, so please lie down, I’ll try to help you as soon as it’s possible.] I answered in an annoyed tone.

[E-nemy?] She slowly stood up. [Help… Help home…] Her hand grasped at the empty sheath hanging on her waist.

[You’re barely standing. Lie down, Non!]

[No, f-fight!]

[Haaaaaah. Non-sentient minions are much better to control…] I sighed loudly. It seemed like repairing someone’s body was going to be a priority for now.

[But… Non’s… sen-tient?] She sputtered and sighed even louder, while Guardian laughed hysterically.

[That’s not what I… ahhhh. You know what? It doesn’t matter. Just lie down. I’ll start my operation.]

As if to spite me a notification box arrived just when I was starting to cut her flesh.

Berserker (Iron Ratling) had evolved into Berserker (Regenerator Mutant)!

It didn’t sound that bad, but… why did its race change?!