Forgotten Dungeon

Non... or Tinna?

Did I want to turn back into a "real" girl?

Thoughts zipped through my mind like lightning bolts.

Did I want to return to being Tinna, Agnes' friend, and a spy planted by the Hawks?

Did I want to once again drown myself in the sludge that was politics? The dark sea of betrayals, greed, and lust for power?

Wasn't silence better? The monster I had become was anything but complicated. I only needed to kill.

Why return to the human world when I could just curl up and lull my grieving heart into sleep?

My family was dead.

My companions went away, each following their desires.

Agnes was always just a part of the job, not a real friend. After all, being a genius always came with a divide between her and the common folk.

Lone Mountain, steadfast and loyal, had succumbed to the attacks of Lady Green's followers.

Peter had betrayed their employer and ended up dead. Worse, really.

Boulder had been mauled and killed in the Dungeon.

And Eve… Eve had returned to her compatriots. After all her boasting, all her pride, after all that Agnes had done for her. Elves.

A revenant, a monster that I had become, thrived on hate. On jealousy. And yet, the Geinard's Kingdom, the source of my strength, of my hatred, was slowly disintegrating.

And with it, my purpose.

I was able to nearly convince myself of the futility of life before weight settled on the crown of my head. Uno's hands felt different this time, his touch waking up something that I had already forgotten, something that I thought lost.

Warmth.

I was sure that all my feelings had cooled down, drowned in death, blood, and sorrow. Transformed by this cursed, undead body. I felt that only hatred had remained inside my barren soul, and even that turned out to be a hollow thing.

And with it came the certainty of my demise.

Instinctively, I understood that it was how the other undead turned stark raving mad. They lost their purpose, the only thing that kept their minds together.

Suddenly, his hand lifted, the warmth leaving with it.

It took all my willpower to let it go, allowing the emotion to become memory. At least this time, my unmoving face was actually useful. I still noticed my kobold follower's sneaky glances and cheeky smile.

Rude.

I shook my head, refocusing. Leaving this shameful display behind, I motioned to Gruel.

It was time.

He opened the pouch on his hip, and the green, healthy glow of the orbs spilled out into his hand. The color was different and yet similar to the greedy flames that Charles wielded. The vitality, the brightness seemed clean, vibrant. Pure.

Each of them was stolen from a living, breathing being.

"Beautiful." Uno murmured, his avatar's deep voice echoing in the tunnel. "So that's how condensed life looks. Beautiful and terrifying." His gaze turned back to me, an alien, crushing darkness swirling inside his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do it? The procedure is very much experimental. It could scar you, kill you, leave you crippled. Or worse - empty." He shrugged. "And these are just outcomes I can actually imagine."

I struggled to respond. Words were always hard, but since my transformation, the thoughts and the throat actively resisted me. "Must." I forced out. "No. Ti. Me." Yes. This should be enough of an explanation.

The despair of the undeath was closing in, whispering in my ears. To transform, to shed the filthy vestiges of humanity behind.

All it would take was a moment of hesitation, of letting go, and the only thing that would remain would be the desperate need to feast on blood, to partake in bones and meat. To hear the agony of the living and bathe in it.

From the time of my rebirth, since the twin Goddess breathed false life into my corpse, I fought against my instincts. I used hatred as a weapon, and painfully distilled it into a blade. A focus. A tool to defend my humanity. A sword against the people who killed my family and worked me like a slave, dangling a false future before my eyes. Lying about duty, about sacrifice, about pride. About hope.

After I had awoken from that dream and understood that I had been betrayed, all I wanted was to see all they built burned and despoiled, to hear their fear and regret. To make them pay.

But it was not to be.

Shieldstar lies in ruins, a place of trial, where undeath battles against a northern tribes incursion. Monsters fighting against monsters. The seat of power of both Hawks and Geinard's Kingdom had been undone, and yet it was people, normal, filthy people, who were the victims of that clash. Not the nobles, not their hunting dogs. Not the royals who sold their souls to the darkness.

Once again, those like me paid the price.

So I raged.

I let the snarling darkness run wild, pointing my blade against any who dared to stand in the way.

I killed. I took their souls. The greenskins, the warriors, the mages, the undead, the vampires, the civilians, it mattered not. Women, men, and children. Anyone and everyone was a target of my ire. I had become a tide of blood, harvesting their lives, feeding on their defeats. Nearly losing myself.

Lady of Death.

I sneered, even if my face remained unmoved. How fitting a name for a fool like me.

As I stood there, seething, the warm touch returned.

I raised my head questioningly.

"What are you thinking so hard about? You made your decision, now we need to roll with it!" Uno smiled, his monstrous face parting in a sea of fangs. "It's your day. Be happy!"

I shook my head. How I wished to be able to say something more than grunts. To express my trepidation, my fear of the future. Instead, I just touched his hand and pressed it against my head.

"You know I adore you, but it seems like your followers are quite… flabbergasted." He chuffed a short laugh.

I turned, his hand still on my head, only to see Gruel standing there with a complicated expression and Maria looking… jealous?

That was new.

The little scamp was fascinated with death, so seeing her interested in something else was endearing. Maybe there was hope for her yet. Just like for me.

I dreaded to think otherwise.

We ascended through the Ratling tunnels, guided by Uno's servants. Charles and Agnes trailed behind, engrossed in their conversation. It took only minutes to emerge in the Silver Oasis proper.

It was a refreshing sight - the hill it was built on had been turned into a plateau, transformed by war and Dungeon's creatures. The ground we walked on was the dungeon's bark. Their homes were built on its back, like on a great tree out of legends. And yet there was normalcy. Hope. Determination and will to live. A constant hum of explosions and a din of battle only added to the ambiance.

They looked like fruits ready for harvest, with overwhelming vitality.

I caressed my weapons. The familiar pain of life magic started to burn my skin, slightly charring it.

For a moment, all I wanted was to kill.

Then Uno grabbed my hands, tsking under his nose. "Don't do that, please." He growled without much heat, words without much meaning flowing out of his mouth. "Healing you every time is a pain. Did you grow callous or maybe just masochistic? Should I take the daggers away?" He hummed, lost in thought.

That was unacceptable. "Mi. Ne." I spat back defensively, as the weapons trembled, understanding my apprehension.

"Yeah, sure, sure." He backed off surprisingly easily. His calm facade crumbled for a moment. "Are you sure you want to start the procedure right now? I know that time waits for no man, but you're a woman, and an immortal one at that."

I nodded seriously, looking up at the worried face full of fangs.

"Can you wait a moment, though?" Charles interrupted. "Master Vincent would be very unhappy if I didn't inform him about what you're trying to achieve."

"Actually, it will be Mechanicus doing the procedure, but sure, we can wait. Not here, though. Let's go down to the Conversion Chamber. Master Vincent can catch up."

"That's a new one." He squinted inquisitively. "Fourth floor?"

"Fourth floor." Uno nodded before leading us underground, once again. I barely had the presence of mind to notice a runner sprinting away to Master Vincent's compound.

Quietly, butler Adam joined the proceedings, with a few pale-faced servants following behind. He muttered something about Charles needing to put up a front.

I didn't see the point. Everyone here was either from Uno's Dungeon or allied with it, pretty much joined at the hip. All the rats had already fled this sinking boat. No pun intended.

We walked unhurriedly, the underground corridors hiding their teeth in the presence of the Creator. The traps stopped working, and the creatures either shied away or bowed. Soon, a procession of monsters followed our small group, with Charles' guardians looking more and more ill at ease.

Still, the warriors held their tongues, as those following us ignored the temptation of tender human flesh. Instead, they gazed at the Maker with wonder and devotion. It was the avatar of the ground they walked on. The being who held their lives and futures in his hands. Their god.

Somewhere along the way, Master Vincent and a few of his violet-robed acolytes joined our group, but he had the presence of mind to keep quiet, despite the bouncing energy visible in his every step.

The old mage followed quietly, whispering orders to the notepad-wielding students documenting the descent. I couldn't tell if it took minutes or hours to arrive at our destination.

But all journeys have to end.

The target chamber sprawling before our eyes was strange.

In its center, a cross-shaped bed was prominently displayed, with a few restraints located near the neck, hands, and legs. The structure was made from mesh-like metal, with a large number of tubes, needles, and clamps hanging from the ceiling.

It looked like a torture device.

I turned to look at Uno's avatar, as he in turn lifted his brow in a questioning manner. Mechanicus was already there, his armored spider-form somehow curling up under the scrutiny.

"I don't remember the place looking… quite like this."

"We made improvements, oh Creator." Mechanicus rumbled, the Butchers behind him looking bashful like young girls, despite their hideous forms. "For the great work you have ordained, we have toiled relentlessly. We are ready to show you the extent of our sacrifice!"

"That… I hope that won't be necessary." Uno answered while massaging the bridge of his nose. "I would prefer a fast and quick upgrade, from undead to living, preferably in thirty or so minutes." He added flippantly.

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"It may not be possible, Maker." Mechanicus bowed deeply. "We are ashamed of our incompetence! Please, punish us!"

"Punish us!"

"There is no mercy for foolishness!"

"Let our blood bathe your holy halls!"

The voices of his kin were gaining a hysterical note. Yet, with Uno's raised hand, the shouts cut off instantly. Surrounding monsters were listening intently.

"With your improvements, how had the chances of successful operation risen?"

"From 40 to 60 percent, Master."

"That is enough." The black-eyed monstrosity glanced in my direction, still hesitant, still worried. "Non, do you wish to continue?" He asked solemnly, searching for a trace of unease on my face.

I smiled, feeling my lips cracking.

It drew gasps from the crowd, especially from humans.

"Rea. Dy." I stuttered, and the atmosphere changed.

"So be it." Uno sighed before turning toward Charles and his company. "I won't ask you to leave, but whatever happens, you are not to intervene."

His gaze sharpened. "Or there will be consequences, our pact be damned."

"Who are you to order me…" The red-haired mage stuttered before gazing at the irate Dungeon Core.

"Tread carefully. I'm not playing games right now."

"Do as you wish." Charles relented, his face scrunching in hesitation. For a moment, the gaze of my former employer's fiancée lingered before he visibly deflated. "So you have those you care about, after all." He added softly.

"The same goes for your people, Master Vincent." This time, Uno's warning was met only with nodding heads.

"I wouldn't dare!" The helmeted mage was trembling with emotion. "New spells, new designs are being made before my very eyes! I wouldn't want to breathe loudly, if that was required!" His glee was infectious, as those following him grinned with anticipation.

"We are to witness a miracle!"

"A new era of magic!"

They sputtered, their joy giving way to an obsession, and the more they talked, the weirder the gazes of their fellow humans grew. Inversely, the surrounding rats and other Uno creatures grew warmer and happier with the praise piled on their Creator.

Our Creator, I suppose.

As I pondered, my weapons were taken, and Mechanicus' brethren led me to the bed. Operating table, as Uno would say. The constraints had been activated, snugly clamping on my arms, legs, and neck. I could feel the mesh straining against my skin.

There was a commotion as Ratlings had rushed in with various pillows and pieces of fabric, cautiously fitting them under my flesh. A cute attempt to make me feel better. As they bickered and shoved, the one standing closest noticed my attention and smiled with its uncanny face.

"The cotton will stop the blood splashing on the floor!"

"It soaks best-well!" Another added.

"Good-nice! A Chosen's blood-ichor is valuable!"

"Not wasting! Never wasting!"

Oh.

Well, that explained the degree of their enthusiasm.

These rats were working under Crafter, Scientist, or Mage of the Ratling Council. Crafter was the best bet, according to the number of burn scars they sported. His apprentices were well known for their disregard for personal safety.

Or just being the most insane.

As I entertained myself, Mechanicus and three of his largest kin were finishing their ritual.

There was a lot of chanting, waving the incense (where did they even get it?!), and bowing. Boring stuff, really.

Still, it was time to start the procedure. I gritted my teeth. What would follow wouldn't be pleasant. I was sure of it.

The largest Butcher theatrically raised his armored arms, and the room trembled. A moment later, four spaces opened in the walls, filled with wires and buzzing machines. Mechanicus climbed into the largest one, his form perfectly fitting into the alcove.

With an audible *click*, the largest cable slotted into his back, the other, smaller ones soon following.

"Communing with the holy machine." He intoned. "Connecting to the main chirurgeon hive."

"Connected. Performing attachment rites." His voice changed, multiplied into a chorus echoing through the chamber.

First of the three smaller Butchers stepped into his alcove. The same clicking sounds repeated.

"Attaching to the holy circuit. Releasing control." He growled. "Glory to the Creator."

"Assuming control." Responded Mechanicus, his voice growing colder, yet more harmonic at the same time.

The second Butcher trotted forward. "Attaching to the holy circuit. May His name be eternal!"

"Assuming control."

"Attaching to the holy circuit. Joining the chirurgeon hive." The last one gazed at the room fervently, before stilling in his cradle. "For the Maker!"

"Assuming control."

The buzzing took a more urgent tone. "Control assumed. Heightened usage started. Predicted operational time: 3 hours, 28 minutes, 13 seconds. 12 seconds. 11 seconds."

"Starting the rite."

The ceiling came to life. What once looked like ten or twenty cables and appendages unfurled into motion, becoming hundreds of various implements, each trembling for a second, before coming to a standstill. The largest of them all were five finger-thick needles, each buzzing with familiar green energy.

"By the Gods!" Agnes was the first to react, her body tensing in fright. "I-It's alive!"

Charles, on the other hand, just glared at the sudden appearance of the metal jungle with a somber, thoughtful expression on his face.

Master Vincent simply took it all in, his face contorted in a rictus grin, eyes darting from one piece of the equipment to another. He murmured under his nose, completely absorbed in the experience. His apprentices were the same, either making cooing sounds or desperately scribbling in their notepads.

And I stared at the now hissing and huffing ceiling, strapped and defenceless, I felt like a sacrifice prepared to be devoured. A fitting end for a monster. Accepting that, I relaxed, and instead of worrying, I closed my eyes and let Mechanicus do his job.

There was a noise, as cables slithered through the ceiling and touched my flesh.

What followed was agony.

The five points of impact, located on my neck, my shoulders, and near my thighs, were in constant pain, as the vital energy was pumped relentlessly into my flesh. The life and undeath clashed against each other, destroying my muscles and bones, shearing my skin. I struggled with each infusion taken, happy for the restraints and at the same time hating them with passion.

I was screaming.

I think.

At some point, I could hear a commotion and Mechanicus' cold words.

"Take her away. She's interrupting the procedure."

"What procedure!" Came heated words. I knew that tone. Agnes. "She's dying! I can see her pain! I won't let you kill her again!"

"If we stop, she will die."

"You monster!"

"That I am. That she is. That we are. Children of the Creator."

"Now. Begone."

The screams faded away, like a nice, fleeting summer dream. Only pain remained. The rest was a symphony of numbness and searing convulsions.

"We are losing her."

A haze descended, slowly replacing the pain.

"Stabilize! Stabilize!"

"Counter-essence is needed. Saturation doesn't work."

"The stores had already been used up. Continue. We can't relent now."

"What needs to be done?" A frantic voice countered the cold machines.

"Death essence. We were wrong, Creator. Just reinforcement and replacement are not enough. We need fuel for her transformation. A way to regenerate damage."

"Souls, you mean." There was silence. Then a laugh. A howling, terrifying laugh that stopped as quickly as it started. "So that's how it's going to be." Uno sighed, his tone changing into cold, gleaming metal. "Get me Guardian! I'll make him a sword to reap his foes with!"

"You will not die, Non. Not when I will be next."

The agony continued, as darkness nearly consumed me… until more words punched through the curtain. I almost wish they wouldn't.

"She's not going to last at this rate."

"We are doing our best, Creator."

"Well, your best is not enough."

"We'll atone with our blood, then."

"Stop!" There was another heavy sigh. "Call the carver rats."

"Master?"

"They had learned the stabilizing runes, right?"

"If barely. Flesh is beneath the surety of metal, after all."

"And yet they will be the ones to save the day." A small, insane laugh escaped from Uno's lips. "Will I be tortured the same way when the time comes?" He muttered. Seconds later, the sound of a hundred small feet echoed through the chamber, and the smell of wet fur and tainted fire turned overwhelming. "Carve her up." Uno ordered callously.

"Maker? She will be in pain-agony." A shy voice questioned.

"Better hurting than dead."

Hundreds of pinpricks bloomed on my skin. Hundred points of pain woke me up, and hundred more claws started to dig into every visible piece of my undead flesh.

I howled.

I cursed them and their ancestors.

I strained against the restraints, screaming my lungs out.

Then I just begged for mercy, for release, with a voice so hoarse that it gurgled with blood. But no quarter was given. The flesh all healed… and my skin was carved away again. And again.

The agony turned minutes into millennia, the dutiful rats fulfilling the demented demands of my contractor. At that moment, no pain was worth it. Live again? For what?

To be betrayed, like so?

My eyes opened, focusing on his straight and alien form. Uno. My master, my enemy. And a man so obsessed, a man who couldn't let me go, even more than the princess I served for years.

I smiled, blood pooling in my teeth.

Maybe I was going mad, but it was not that bad of a feeling.

The little carvers trembled under my gaze, yet their claws never once stopped their work. As soon as my flesh healed, they cut their symbols and repeated them ad nauseam.

And yet, even those in service of greater power were but flesh. And, like Mechanicus said, flesh was fallible. Their bloodshot eyes and trembling hands were betraying them.

More stepped forward to continue their work.

Rune carving was a new discipline, however, and with limited time to learn, those skilled seemed to be of a finite amount. I wondered if I'll get my peace.

Alas, Uno's servants were not easily deterred.

"First team-section! Activate-start warp enhancers!" A wizened voice ordered - a rat far older and more scarred than others. Crafter, my memory whispered.

The younger carvers clenched their teeth before turning a valve on their chest. There was a finality to their actions, but also a feeling of satisfaction. Of a job well done. It was only now that I had noticed that two thick tubes crawled from their backpacks and ended on the top of each rat's head, drilling directly into their brains.

In my defense, the pain still forced me to black out now and then.

After their action, a bright green, goopy liquid started to travel from the devices into the Ratlings' bodies, forcing them to briefly howl in pain. I laughed. But the screams quietened as soon as the tube was fully connected, while the rats transformed - their eyes sharpening and muscles growing both leaner and stronger.

Their demeanor changed, too, the crazed focus overtaking their entire being.

Like fanatics on a religious rally.

The pain started to double with their vigor restored, and I caught Uno having a weird fit.

"Fucking Bane? Here? The strangest shit they do…" He giggled uncomprehensibly. I should be upset, worried about being a butt of a joke…

But it stopped mattering.

Slowly, the time I spent awake grew shorter, even my undead body buckling under the pressure of the green death. Green life, I guess. The stabilization provided by the Ratlings was only temporary.

It was funny that I was so calm and collected while dying.

And, while delirious, I understood one thing.

I really don't want to die.

I want to live.

Grovelling, scraping by, starving, in pain. Didn't matter.

To have a future, a choice. Just one more minute, one more hour. One more infinity.

So I hoped. I prayed.

Not to gods. Not to fate. Not even to the two-headed monster of a divine who resurrected me.

"Help me, Uno." I muttered, not sure if sound ever left my lips.

And a miracle happened. The walls shook as something large trampled through the doors. It was Guardian - his once shining plate was now tarnished, slashed, and burned. One of his arms hung helplessly, but the other clutched a small velvet sack full of black gems.

"I had fulfilled your order, my Lord. Here are the stones." He bowed, frantic energy coursing through his form. A sing-song voice replaced the deep baritone he usually used. "But… my knights require help. I need to go." He rambled. "I… need to kill. And I need to protect." He added with a sudden clarity.

I could see a vicious grin forming on Uno's face. "Go. You have my blessing. Show them how a real Knight Commander behaves."

"My Lord!"

And then he was gone, already brandishing a black and red sword from his back. The weapon felt familiar, and so did the hunger it emanated. My ruminations were cut short, however.

"Continue the procedure!" Mechanicus announced, before adding with a chorus-like tone. "Remaining operational time: 57 minutes, 45 seconds."

The needles were lowered once again, this time glistening with both livid green and depthless dark. And once again, all I felt was agony.

Yet the prayer behind my transformation was different.

I didn't brood about the future.

About the past.

I… just wanted to live.

As my wish held true, the black and green intertwined, becoming something else, something more. The reality cracked and heaved as my form reasserted, the restraints falling away from my limbs. Surrounding Ratlings turned into ash. Some with a whimper, others with a sigh of contentment.

I glanced at their crumbled flesh and waved my hand, restoring them to health. To life. It was natural, easy.

Then my mind focused on a System's window.

Ah.

Truly, I was alive.

I glanced at the spilled blood pooling around me, the foreign face peering back from the red. A short-haired beauty with an aloof face and a perky nose greeted me back, clad in a close-fitting armor of a type I had never seen before. Gone was the metal weighing my arm and leg; instead, small greenish scales covered every part of my body, just up to the neck.

And in the middle of my brow, a small, vibrant green and black symbol swirled with anticipation.

With a perfect bow, I smiled at the one who made it all possible.

"I had turned into a real girl, Master."

His booming, hysterical laughter was the only answer.