Forgotten Dungeon

Uno

As Non safely teleported away the elven princess spat out something I could only call a Vaporising Ray. The black and white colors surrounding her were compressed, then twisted together in a straight beam. It was unleashed through the tunnel, burning all opposition to ashes and quite literally unmaking parts of my dungeon - turning rock, sand, and brick into gas. Only an empty space was left behind, the air still hot and sizzling. She aimed her attack slightly downwards, so the destruction reached my third floor, punching through the level divide with ease and creating some kind of a ramp. The rest of my minions quickly backed off to what they perceived was a safe distance, staring daggers at the elves, but not stupid enough to attack.

That was the Ratlings' self-preservation instinct in the works, I guess. Their commander squeaked a few times, ordering the retreat, but his minions were still stalking the supposed winners of this engagement - if I could even call it that. While the remaining elven warriors barely sported any wounds - not counting the enemies eliminated by the bloodthirsty revenant - the same couldn’t be said about their mental health. Gasps, whispers, and gazes full of fear focused on Minnalea - a clear indication of the unnaturalness of the power she unleashed. I noticed that a few of them were even erratically clutching their weapons.

The elven royal in question was currently lying on the floor, gasping for breath. Her pale face and trembling hands induced panic in the surrounding soldiers. They both feared her and were afraid she would die. How curious.

“J-jake!” She whispered, her pained voice barely audible over the noise. “H-how is he… t-that damnable undead…”

She clenched her jaw, swallowing loudly as her upper body was lifted and kept upright, by Agric Oakbound. He cradled Minnalea in his arms and, unlike his followers, his face was filled with concern, not primal fear.

“Your Highness… how many times have I asked you to control your temper? The magic you wield is mighty, but not omnipotent.” He sighed heavily after speaking.

“J-jake…” Minnalea whispered, clumsily trying to move while ignoring the man’s sermons.

“Take care of the knight.” He ordered softly, surrendering to her desire, but not even bothering to turn his head away. There was a certain doting quality in the way he touched the girl, not as a male, but rather as an older brother.

A pair of Agric’s subordinates instantly ran towards the human. His form was helplessly sprawled on the ground and a thick stream of blood was flowing from the wound made by Non’s dagger. His helmet had already fallen off and Jake was currently busy clenching his teeth, trying not to scream, while clouded blue eyes and short brown hair sweaty with exertion were a clear indication of the pain he felt.

“Are you alright, sir?” Stupidly asked one of the soldiers, while the second one quickly opened a satchel on his waist. He pulled out a piece of white cloth and a small, translucent bottle. A moment later he started to disinfect the wound before attempting to use his bandages.

Jake only grunted in response, his hands still clutching his trusty sword and a magical shield. To not let go even when facing death… This was some powerful conviction coming from a mere human.

“It seems like he is mostly unharmed. At least by the explosion.”

“The dagger wound left by the undead seems okay too. I mean…” One of the soldiers winced. “It splintered the bone, but there is no sign of infection.”

“What? Let me see.”

“Here.”

“You’re right. Strange. Even simple zombies or skeletons usually carry weapons covered in filth and rust. I was sure that powerful whatever-it-was would be even worse...”

“Yeah, but then again - the undead down here are just different. So in a way, this girl was not an exception.” He shook his head. “Whatever the cause - the Princess’s knight is clean.”

“That’s all that matters in the end. I shudder what would happen if he died...” His companion nodded. “Help me carry this chunk of metal. And don’t touch his weapons. You don’t want to know what happened to the last guy who did.”

Now that these guys had mentioned it, why wasn’t I producing some proper, tetanus-inducing weaponry? Why, indeed? I guess this all came down to the production method. Armaments were either born from my mana - which meant reproducing the human and elven swords, spears, axes, etc. And these were only rarely in a bad condition since in my dungeon - any dungeon to be precise - the state of one’s weapon directly influenced their chances of survival.

There were of course fools who charged with a club in hand while wearing pitiful rags, hoping that their luck would allow them to snatch something precious from my halls... but their armaments, like their lives, were simply of too low quality to be of any use.

The other option I had for making weapons was the idiot-smith banging them out on his forge. Still, these items were coming out as good as new too, if of infuriatingly low quality. But, be it as they were, I did not have a lot of leeways to transport them into lower levels. The first floor was firmly under the grip of the sentients - it didn’t matter if these were half-elves or humans.

Anyway, the point was that these armaments were all new, and while turning them rusty was possible I felt it was also counterproductive. Especially since there was always an option of getting some manure and soaking them in.

Wait...

Did I really just plan on bringing a ton of shit into my dungeon?

*sigh*

Let’s just… delegate.

I forced a small slab of stone to materialize, then sharpened my copper appendages and used them to scratch out a few pictures on its smooth surface. Simple ones - a pile of manure with a straight sword stabbed into it. As the last touch, a rat skull with bones underneath was added to the picture.

The next step was to summon the Ratling Queen and try to convey my idea. She appeared instantly, flanked by her guard rats and listening intently to what I tried to tell her. Unlike the rest of her kin instead of fighting, she remained in the rear while providing moral support and a steady stream of new rats.

Within a few minutes, her beady eyes brightened as she moved her head between the tablet and my copper appendages. It was like I get it, leave it to me! Then she squeaked loudly - her scream echoed by the surrounding Ratlings - and moved to grab the tablet. A while later and she was already triumphally leaving the chamber...

I sure hoped that the rats would understand my message.

Still, it was but an additional idea to enhance their prowess. I had many more, but not enough time or Anima to implement them all. Some of them were already in progress. The magicked plants were growing, the first of evolved - Berserker was clumsily chasing the invaders around, while other minions were building mechanical contraptions and discovering magic, searching for other ways to prosper and conquer.

It was all going great.

Snickering I turned my focus back to the surface, only to notice that Charles’ men had already arrived. And they weren’t wasting any time. The outpost was abuzz with activity - screams and cries to be exact. The humans were hunting elves - a few bodies were already strung high on the remaining walls as a warning, the rest scattered on the ground with fatal wounds carved on their backs. They were probably caught while trying to run. Only two groups of survivors were still battling the Geinard Kingdom soldiers.

The bigger one was comprised of about thirty elves, desperately trying to defend the entrance into the dungeon. Against them a grim-faced phalanx marched, full of soldiers wearing blue-grey tabards, their spears poised to kill. They had archer support too and Charles Blueflame was leading the troops from the back, his eyes and hands soaked in reddish energy. The magic he emanated looked even wilder and sharper than before, Fireballs and Flamebolts taking out the defenders even before his soldiers came into the striking distance.

I was watching as one of the attacks exploded under the enemy commander’s feet - a tall, lanky elf with a permanent smile affixed to his face. Which quickly disappeared as he fell to the ground, confidence replaced with fear and suffering.

He screamed, the face scalded by flames, the rest of his body in even worse shape. The leather armor he wore was mostly consumed by the magical inferno, while flames licked his legs and arms, cooking the flesh. He was still somehow alive - probably because two of his guards used their bodies to stop the majority of the explosion.

Their fate was much worse - as they turned into scraps of meat.

The commander survived but was completely immobilized, to which his rotund adjutant reacted immediately, kneeling and starting to chant. A small wisp of bright magic escaped his clenched hands and entered the elf’s body. A healing power. What a waste.

I stared greedily at the first real priest class I saw in action.

“What are you doing, humans?!” The adjutant was also scorched by the flames, but still very much alive. He screamed his lungs out, voice hoarse from pain and desperation. “This is an act of war! The might of our country descend upon your heads! The Luna Kingdom will retaliate!”

The troops ignored his outburst and continued to advance without a word, their eyes full of hatred. Silence ruled until the noble leading them shouted back with anger and indignation.

“An act of war, you say?” Flames danced near Charles’ hand, like fickle fireflies. An interesting phenomenon I didn’t see before. “This works both ways, knave! How would you call an act of leaving a noble of Geinard Kingdom to certain death, then?” Charles’ expression soured, as he continued his speech. “An act of war, right?” He finished with a hiss.

The half-elves' demeanor changed, and both the leader and his aide suddenly grew solemn. It seemed like, for the first time, they understood that their lives were in jeopardy too.

“T-this has to be some sort of a mistake!” The tall elf yelled desperately, his barely-holding body cracking under pressure. “We don’t know anything about it! Let’s stop and talk!” He pleaded.

“Your whole race is a mistake!” Jeered Blueflame. “There will be no holding back! My flames will burn your very soul! Prepare for oblivion, cur!”

“At least spare the nobles! Let’s be civilized! Don’t burn all your bridges!”

His cries fell on deaf ears. A few more magical projectiles escaped Charles’s hands and decimated the defending elves. The time for talking had long passed.

Following that, both sides of the conflict clashed, metal meeting metal while the flesh was gouged and cut. Even more screams filled the air, as the last elven band rushed to the rescue, adding to the already chaotic battlefield.

It was a defensive battle, one for which the Luna Kingdom forces were completely unprepared, their short weapons no match for the spears, shields, and swords used by the humans. There was no lofty warcry being called out, no beautiful speeches - only an abattoir full of humans and elves desperately trying to kill each other, covered in sweat and blood. The solid formations broke and fighting devolved into a series of duels.

I saw one of the grey-wearing soldiers using his tower shield to bash an advancing opponent, cold metal crushing the elf’s nose, and red blood raining on the ground. The smaller enemy was sent flying, tumbling to the ground. As he lay there, stunned, the human lifted his armored foot to crush his head… only to get interrupted by a charging elf whose weapon sunk between his shoulder plates, forcing the man to the knees.

Before the elven attacker could capitalize on the damage a different Geinard Kingdom's soldier bashed his brains in, only to get jumped by another crazed Lunar.

They fought for a moment, the dodge-based movements against sturdy shield and spear defense. In only a few seconds long elven dagger left cuts on the human’s exposed flesh. The grey soldier's movements grew slower and slower until the enemy blade managed to bleed him dry.

In turn, the killer was surrounded by two fresh combatants and instantly pierced by their hungry spears without a chance to recover.

And so on.

Chaos continued.

No one begged for mercy and no quarter was given.

Only a few gory minutes later I could easily tell the winners from the losers. Or rather living from the dead.

Despite the ferociousness of their attack, human fatalities were minimal. They still paid the price of victory in blood, though. Smaller and larger cuts, sheared flesh, poisoned stabs, and more were present in most of the Geinard Kingdom forces. Being saddled with wounded who needed caring for was nearly as bad as losing the entire force, because of this the human forces were crippled. At least for the moment.

Yet Charles Blueflame stood proudly amongst the corpses, staring at the battlefield.

The red wisps were still present, but their ferociousness had already faded. Soon they would disappear completely. For now, the noble was giving out orders, commanding his forces to throw the dead into the dungeon and scavenge weapons, armor, and anything else soldiers deemed usable.

It would take time before they finished, so I decided to check on my revenant.

She was sitting on a bed, being all quiet and creepy, staring at the nearby wall.

[How are you feeling, Non?]

[Weapon. Lost.] She answered sadly.

[That is not a problem.] I conjured another dagger. It was identical to the one that she used earlier. Non picked it up with pure joy, touching the sharp blade for a long while, before securing it on her waist. [I want you to attack the half-elves on the second floor at least a few more times.]

[No.]

[What?] I answered, not used to opposition.

[Not. Geinard.]

[Huh?]

[Against. Oath.]

[You mean the revenge thing that brought you to life?] She nodded seriously. [Does that mean that attacking those being the target has some consequences?]

[Feels. Wrong.]

[Could you describe it in more than two words?] I asked incredulously only to get a glance full of anger in return.

[No.]

[Oh, come on!] For the first time in a while, I felt this frustrated. Feeling her rejection I weighed my options. Lying would get me somewhere - after all, insisting that the elves were connected to the Geinard Kingdom should force her to move. But as the old adage says - cheaters never prosper.

What was left - carrot and the stick I guess? The problem was I didn’t know what would work on Non. She was here because of her revenge, but telling her about humans on the surface would only divert my forces.

Moving her to the lower level and on the path of the invasion should put them in conflict too. And yet it would be counterintuitive to alienate a potential ally over something so trivial.

Yes - trivial.

The elven expedition was going deeper and deeper and their aim seemed to be the destruction of my core… which was hidden on the first floor. The fake core was already readied, the chamber prepared, only the boss - Berserker - was still absent, slowly making his way down. It was unlikely that he managed to catch up with the invaders.

Which meant I needed a substitute boss. Something strong enough to give the attackers trouble. Possibly even kill them. That would be good too. But I needed a monster powerful enough for them to believe that it was my last line of defense.

My options were mostly rats, Bile-brain golems, Lebirs, and various smaller animal creations. Not much to choose from. After a moment I decided on an enhanced Rat Beast. These guys were a bit similar to Berserker - the real boss of the floor - with their burly physiques and aggressive behavior. The descriptor said something about mental regression, but I didn’t need a genius planner - a muscle head would do just fine.

With this idea in mind, I turned my attention to the third-floor boss room… only to get interrupted.

[Where?] Non asked, somehow feeling that I left her alone. There might’ve been a small drop of remorse in that word too.

[Umm… I’m currently summoning a substitute boss.]

[Watch?]

[Eh? You want to watch?] I stopped to think. [Why not? Teleport here.]

With a nod, the revenant blinked away from the isolated room and reappeared in the shadows nearby. She looked around, noticing my Fake Core already safely nestled into the wall and busy converting most of it into copper. With the room's high humidity, some of it was already turning green.

She came closer, extending her hand and tracing the crystal’s surfaces with blackened fingers.

[You?]

[In a sense.] I answered warily. Giving out information was always dangerous. To allies, to friends, to family. They could always turn on you, betray you - even in good faith. They were mostly a liability. And yet… it was the first time in this world that I had someone to talk with.

Non nodded sharply and stared at the substitute for a few more moments. Seemingly satisfied she lifted her head.

[Make?]

[Yes, yes don’t hurry me.] I grumbled instantly. The revenant ignored my words and instead started staring around with an expectant expression. Or as much expectant expression as she could show on her cold face.

I sighed and focused my mind.

The magic churned and a Rat Beast appeared before us, its form still unstable. Drawing from Anima I started adding mass to the minion, the monster becoming burlier, its bones turning sturdy, and its face - even more animalistic. I didn’t though it was possible. A bear-like rat was taking shape, with a comically small head on wide, strong shoulders. The green magic was making sure that the nerves, tendons, and brain matter were growing correctly.

And then Non interrupted me.

[Strong.] She commented. [Stupid.] I sent her a sour mental feeling. It was all that I could currently manage. [Weak.] She finished.

An annoyance welled up in me.

A feeling of if you can do better then don’t just stand there! was transmitted before I could stop it, some of it spilling through our link. The small revenant tilted her head in surprise.

[Help?] Non asked, and not waiting for my response - started to meddle.

She lifted both of her hands, fingers slowly entering the half-shaped mass of flesh and bone. Some of my work was instantly undone, leaving muscle, but turning it lean and more focused on endurance than explosive strength.

She started to weave, reminding me of how an orchestra conductor was shaking his baton during the concert. Each stroke added and took something from the beast. Its face turned more intelligent, with wild cunning hidden behind an expression of animal rage. The fur first turned black, then fell off completely leaving something similar to the naked mole-rat - similar to the ones I saw in Fallout games. Only a few sizes larger.

The revenant took a few steps back. She critically looked at the effect of her meddling before taking a pondering posture.

[What now?] I barely managed to speak, still focused on keeping the shape coherent. It was not yet finished. Not yet alive. Not complete.

[Not. Enough.] She muttered, seemingly agreeing with my assessment. With a strange hesitation, she lifted the cursed butcher’s cleaver from a sheath on her waist. Non observed it for the moment, before returning to her earlier position, fingers deeply embedded in the new creature’s body.

“One. Need.” She muttered - more to herself than to me.

The weapon started to vibrate, like a wild beast that couldn’t wait to get free of its bonds. Non was not having any of that, however. She clenched her teeth, using both of her hands to cajole and threaten the cleaver.

“One!” She screamed.

With a *weng* sound the cursed blade surrendered, slowly disappearing into the newly made boss creature.

And it changed in response.

The black skin became more pronounced and small plates of armor began growing on every free surface. A few moments later my former Rat Beast now resembled an armadillo covered in black, oily scales.

I breathed with relief, but it seemed like the transformation wasn’t over yet.

Metal continued to grow, covering the front and rear legs with something similar to plate armor - only littered with small blades. Four grooves appeared on its stomach and were instantly covered in iron too, reminding me a bit of how the plane landing gear folded in movies.

Much to my surprise the work of the blade still didn’t end.

Another groan of abused metal came from my creation and with a last, grand push a cleaver-like horn appeared on its head. I let it go, cutting the umbilical cord between us as the exhaustion left me feeling weak and tired. Reeling from exhaustion.

Non had collapsed too, her body twitching on the floor, clearly out of control. Her pale face was however completely calm, black eyes wide open to observe the first moments of my new monster.

[W-what was that, girl?] I gasped, my first real experience in creating life a shocking ordeal. It felt strange. Weird. Personal.

Completely different from what I was doing before.

And dangerously addicting.

[New.]

[I know it was new! I mean how the hell do you know so much about creating dungeon monsters?!] I screamed.

[Don’t. Know.] She answered calmly.

[What do you mean don’t know?! Then what was that?!] If I had fingers I would’ve pointed at the new sub-boss slowly coming to life on the dungeon cold floor. It roared lazily, feeling the attention.

[Weapon.] She said, but sensing my discontent continued her explanation. Slowly. [Desire. Live. Life. Power.] She stopped for a moment. [Freedom. Kill.] Seemingly satisfied she nodded to herself. [Answered.]

[You know that I don’t really understand what you just said…] I lamented. A moment later I stopped, a sudden bad premonition changing my words. [That was quite a lot of exertion. I hope it didn’t drain my power too much.] With a heavy heart, I focused on my second floor…

And there it was.

There it FUCKING was.

My control over the floor was slowly slipping once again!

It was an ethereal, weak feeling. For now at least. But it was clearly there!

Fuck!

It was time to dig deeper.

Kill more creatures!

And to rush my experiments!

I grumbled once again before leaving but still didn’t forget to use Analyze on my newest creation. Its description turned out… interesting.

Armored Rat Beast of Thirst

A mutated variant of a common Rat Beast - a powerful melee combatant in its own right. Standing at more than two meters in height and weighing a few hundred kilograms of pure aggression this armored creature is nothing more than a brutal animal. However, under the wild exterior hides cunning and intelligence focused on one purpose - killing its enemies.

Unlike most of its cousins, the Armored Rat Beast rarely bites or scratches its victims. Instead, it focuses on stabbing with its blade-like horn and when possible turning into an armored ball of misery and death. It also often ends up trampling or even squashing smaller opponents, using every centimeter of its body to fight.

One of the rare traits of this monster is its obsession with blood. It loves drinking it, spraying it around, bathing in it. This vital liquid has a rejuvenating effect but also enrages the Rat Beast, making it reckless and because of that - easier to kill.

Threat level: C-

While not a boss-class monster it seemed rather powerful. Certainly enough for a third-floor Guardian… if Berserker didn’t exist.

I didn’t have any more time to admire the beast though since the elves started to move. My consciousness teleported back to the second floor while making sure that Non returned to her room.

The silent knight was moving around while carrying Millanea, his wounds already healed, while two leaders - Agric and Ian were talking.

“Do we retreat or continue our delve?” Asked Ian seriously.

“Delve?”

“Please, don’t argue semantics.” The mage waved his hand dismissively. “I still don’t understand why the elders appointed me on this mission. I’m more of a bookworm. Certainly not one keen on such uncouth… adventures.”

“Are you sure?” Agric’s gaze suggestively wandered to the princess' silhouette.

“Damn politics!” Ian cursed helplessly. “Anyone with eyes can see that she has already chosen a partner!”

“The blood must be kept clean.”

“Bah. Primitive superstitions.”

Agric only shrugged his arms in response.

“So? We go back or we go down?” Ian repeated his question.

Instead of answering Agric started to kneel.

“What are you doing, by the Goddess?” The mage hissed.

“Quiet please.” The muscular elf put his ear to the ground. A few long moments later he started standing up. “We go down.”

“Why? What did you hear?”

“Something is stalking us. Large, heavy. Probably powerful. A dungeon sweeper?”

“What?! B-but this place is young. Too young to build something like that from the ground up!”

“Forgotten Dungeon.”

“That can’t be an answer to every question!”

“We already broke the rules.” Agric answered while staring at the destroyed floor.

“Haaaaah. I guess you’re right. Going back won’t work anyway since humans would grow suspicious of their leaders’ disappearance.” Ian’s back straightened. “Then it's a race - between us and the sweeper. We’ll see if our little war party will manage to kill whatever boss is waiting for us on the third floor before it catches up.” He swallowed heavily. “This place has only three floors, right?”

“Three, four or five.”

“What are our chances then?”

“The deeper we go the smaller they are.” Answered Agric, before jumping down to the third level.

“Hey! I KNOW THAT!” Ian did the same as his friend while complaining. The rest of the elves - about one hundred people - followed in their footsteps. Soon the sounds of the battle echoed on the lower level, as cunning Ratlings, large Bile-brain Golems, and loyal Lebirs clashed with their advance.

Unlike before Minnalea was kept in the middle, safely carried in Jake’s arms. The burden of battle had fallen on the shoulders of the common soldiers, their ranks thinned with each step.

My halls were too narrow for the invaders to use their numerical advantage. Instead, my creatures made roadblock after roadblock, peppering them with spears and charging into melee, when they came closer.

From the small tunnels, more and more Ratlings emerged, nipping at their heels or cutting through the armor they wore. A harassment tactic was being used by the rat commander - Ratling and half-elven blood spilling on the ground with every second.

Not even half an hour had passed since the Luna Kingdom forces descended and the morale was already at an all-time low. The men chanted religious songs and freely used magic and weapons at their disposal. My minions were getting killed too, the enemy growing used to how they fought, but the zeal of the rats never waned.

Another interruption came, though.

[My lord! They’re being born!] Guardian screamed through our link.

[Who.] Asked Non with a bored tone.

[The kobolds, girl! The kobolds! My care had borne fruit!] The schizophrenic vampire was ecstatic. It was easy to understand what his next words would be. [My liege, can you please get here? I want them to bask in your presence from the moment of their birth!]

I sighed deeply.

[Yes, yes. After all, there is nothing important going on, right?]

[I-I am sorry…] He sniffed. [I-I just thought…]

Damnation! He can’t even shed tears! And yet I could feel his beaten puppy feeling seeping through the link.

Worse - I knew that his lamenting wouldn’t stop until I relented. The sentients were still battling through my halls not making a lot of progress so...

[I’m coming.]

[Too.] Non mumbled, already recovered from her earlier meddling.

[I sure hope you’re not going to create any more freaky shit, Non.] I teased, but she remained silent and I could soon feel her growing confusion. It was sometimes hard to tell what level of her intelligence was. A human? Child? Small dog? Or worse? There was just so much missing inside that brain of hers.

[Doesn’t matter.] I shrugged. [Just remember to either ask me before you do anything or do it in a place where I can’t see you, alright?]

[Yes?]

She teleported, escaping any longer discussion and my mind followed suit.

In a cold, dark room a bunch of large eggs was slowly vibrating, preparing to hatch. Nearby an armored giant was fussing, walking from one place to another in hysteria. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, a bunch of wires being the only thing keeping him in place.

[Soon, soon!] He sang, lowering his frame over the little things. From the corner of the room, I could sense a few Ratlings waiting and observing in mute wonder.

Then, like they were listening to the silent command the egg’s surface broke and the first of the kobolds emerged with a wild scream, its pale white flesh greeting the gloomy world. A few words popped into my mouth, seeing the newest dungeon’s denizen.

[What an ugly little thing…]