RISE OF THE SWARM

The silence of the dungeon was broken by the faint, rhythmic pulsing of its core. The blue light shone through the cave, illuminating the surroundings. The incubators on the wall pulsed as they basked in this light, seeming to breathe. Horizon stood motionless, his tendrils lying on the ground before him, inert. But he was not idle.

The data mined from the dungeon core had been akin to a tsunami of information, one that could have shattered a lesser consciousness. But for Horizon, it was nothing but another set of variables to analyze. The most critical variable was the planet itself being a sentient life form—one he had termed the geomind.

His internal diagnostics scrolled with updates as information about the geomind was processed and arranged accordingly.

<Primary analysis complete.>

<Entity Designation: Planetary Consciousness. (Local Designation: geomind.)>

<Nature: Psionic/mana-based neural network integrated with planet.>

<Awareness level: Theoretical omniscience within atmospheric and telluric boundaries.>

<Conclusion: Hostile action against the planetary entity is currently infeasible. Strategic reassessment required.>

Omniscient. The word hung in his mind. It meant the world had observed his arrival on this planet. It had observed his butchering of the orcs; it had been observing his progress. It had watched, and it had done nothing. Why?

Horizon's sensory arrays fired once again, now operating at their highest sensitivity, sweeping the entire dungeon. He was no longer scanning for new mana signatures or physical threats. He was searching for any anomalies, any signs of him being observed. But he found no anomaly of that kind here.

This could mean only one of two things: his sensors were too weak to identify any anomalous presences in the atmosphere surrounding him, or there were no such presences in the dungeon. More precisely, the world soul could not observe him in the dungeon.

He was more inclined to believe the latter. According to the information mined from the core, the space he was in right now was a space cut off from the world. So the geomind had no way of tracking him here; as long as he stayed in the dungeon, he was effectively invisible to its eyes.

An incubator across from him shuddered. The membrane bulged as a deformed goblin, hatched prematurely, emerged. It remained stationary briefly before rushing to attack Horizon.

One of the tendrils behind Horizon quickly lashed out, cleanly severing the creature's head. Its body turned back into grey goo that was absorbed into the ground. A green core was left behind. The tendril picked it up, bringing it in front of Horizon.

The instructions inside were clear, identical to the previous ones: PROTECT. But it had something more: varied attack patterns, slightly more sophisticated, aimed at countering Horizon. An adaptive algorithm. The dungeon was learning from his combat style, modifying and refining its constructs to better counter him. He turned to the core, mildly impressed by the dungeon's operational capabilities.

His tendrils rose and began lashing out at the surroundings, stabbing and ripping apart every incubator. Shrieks and shrills came from the incubators, but it didn't faze him. He was occupied with something, and he could not afford distractions.

The geomind's inaction was his primary concern currently. It was a paradox. A living world aware of a parasitic infection should logically utilize any and all available tools to excise it.

Unless…

Hypotheses began rapidly forming in his neural matrix, built upon knowledge mined from the core and his own experiences.

But as time went on, the hypotheses began fading, some melding into each other and some getting erased due to their sheer impossibility. In the end, he was once again left with two hypotheses.

The first was that the geomind couldn't attack him because it was unable to. How was an entire planet meant to target such a small object on its surface? Sure, it could try to shift mountains and continents or use tsunamis to end him, but they all came at the risk of damaging itself or its native inhabitants. He removed the possibility of it using trees or any such vegetation as a means of attack because of the sheer precision that would be needed. It would be the equivalent of a human being able to control every hair follicle on their head.

The second hypothesis stated that the geomind had ways to attack him but couldn't because it judged him as not a threat. Since he had arrived on the world, he had only killed an orc village and slain a couple of humans. He was sure such occurrences happened every day on this world due to its scale. The only thing worth mentioning about him was his foreign nature and his rapid progress. Otherwise, he was just like any other organism on this planet. The planet would probably only intervene if he did anything that would upset the natural balance of the world.

Or, more ominously, he had been categorized and was being observed.

He didn't know which hypothesis was true, but he would begin countermeasures for each until he had more information. One thing he knew was that he and this geomind would eventually end up as enemies, and it already had a massive upper hand considering its omnipresent status.

This encounter had changed everything. Secrecy in the traditional sense was now impossible. His strategy of silently developing and taking over the world in one clean sweep was now null, for the enemy knew where he was and what he was doing at all times.

His tendrils retracted back into his body. Even though the geomind could observe him at all times, it didn't mean it knew his plans, for it couldn't read his mind. He would overlay his plans, making sure the geomind couldn't discern them, and when or if it did, it would be too late.

He turned to the dungeon core. If he was only invisible when inside a dungeon, he would need to find a way to either project the dungeon's invisibility to the outside or move operations into the dungeon. But for that, he would need a much higher-grade dungeon.

His arms shifted to tendrils as he grabbed onto the core, yanking it from its position. The dungeon immediately began to crumble. Horizon could feel it: a foreign energy was crushing the dungeon from the outside. His eyes glowed red as he began making his way out, dungeon core in hand.