The Dungeon Without a System - Chapter 65

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The Drake-Kin Village, The Seventh Floor, The Dungeon

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Kata was going about her day, as usual, when something peculiar happened.

Over a few seconds, every single monster in her sight… stopped. They slowed and paused what they were doing. They all stiffened, and she saw the sudden panic in their eyes. The next moment, they all turned and rushed toward the center of the village. None spoke a word, though they were sprinting in their growing mania.

Kata was left alone on the street within seconds, bewildered and confused. Had something happened? She had never seen any drake-kin act like this. She followed the growing crowd until they reached the arena, which was the largest open space in the village. Looking out over the crowd, she noticed it wasn’t just the drake-kin. Scorpan, Minotaur, Kobold, and Capriccio merchants were off to one side, obviously having come from the markets.

As the number of monsters trickling into the arena trailed off and stopped, Kata was suddenly struck with the thought that this must have been the entirety of the Drake-Kin population. Every one of them on the floor… was here.

She saw the young drake-kin she’d trained to fight among them, who she knew were currently assigned to patrol the rest of the floor. The eerie thing was that… none spoke a word, but all seemed to find comfort in the presence of their kin. The noise of this silent gathering was the sound of claws on stone and the rustle of fabric.

Kata blinked as a familiar grey-scaled claw was placed on her shoulder. She turned and gave Huea a curious look.

“Huea. What’s going on?” She asked quietly. Her friend looked between Kata and the gathering of monsters and nodded.

“Something unprecedented has happened. We… can no longer feel The Creator.” The admission looked like it disturbed her friend greatly.

“What does that mean?” Kata asked, just as confused. Huea looked frustrated for a second.

“Since The Creator made us, we have all had a mental connection to Him. We can feel Him at all times. We can feel His presence swell when He focuses on us or the surrounding area. When He changes focus, His presence fades but never disappears entirely. It’s like a comforting buzz in the back of our minds. Always there, reassuring us that if we need Him, we need only ask.

“Then that feeling disappeared. Something has happened to The Creator, and we’re not entirely sure what it could be.”

Even with it explained, Kata couldn’t quite understand the feeling. She supposed it was like a champion’s connection to their god. A permanent link was forged between them, through which the champion could call upon their god for aid in times of need. The god, in turn, used the link to guide their champion to better serve their will.

Except, this wasn’t a single champion. This was an entire race- No, it was at least five races! All were connected intimately to their Creator. Their god. A dungeon.

And something had happened to the Dungeon. Kata furrowed her brow and brought a thumb to her mouth. She chewed her nail as she went back over all her knowledge of dungeons.

The main problem with that knowledge was that it mainly described dungeon behavior in Conquered and Wild Dungeons. The little she remembered of Lost Dungeons focused on their overwhelming hostility to humanity. Few books on dungeons were ever published by the Dungeon Masters themselves. If there were any such books, they were sequestered away in family libraries, only read by the Masters and their heirs.

“I wish I could help,” Kata began. “But… I don’t know enough about how dungeons work. Your explanation of a dungeon’s mental connection to its monsters is the first time I’d ever heard of it.” The grey-scaled drake-kin sighed despondently.

“Thanks anyway,” Huea said, disappointed. “It was only a faint hope.” The following six hours of waiting were almost maddening to Kata. She wasn’t sure what they were even waiting for. And they had to be waiting for something. It turned out they were waiting for someone.

The din of shuffling and murmuring Drake-kin quieted as Mushu arrived. He stood upon a raised platform at one side of the packed arena.

“My fellow Drake-Kin!” Mushu began, speaking Phenocian rather than the Drake-kin’s hissing language. He spoke loud enough for all to hear, but it didn’t feel like he was shouting. “A time of crisis is upon us. I, and the other leaders of the Creator’s Children, have received word from the Creator’s Guardian.” He paused for a few seconds as the crowd absorbed the news.

“Paragon, he who was charged with protecting our Creator’s Core, has revealed the reason behind The Creator’s absence. The Creator is undergoing a transformation.” Mushu declared confidently. “He described The Creator’s presence retreating within His Core, where it began coiling and condensing around itself. He drew parallels to his own people’s life cycle and firmly believes The Creator is entering the next phase of his own.” The aura of tension that had been building for over an hour abruptly broke, replaced by general relief and mild celebration.

“Why did He not tell us?” A voice called out over the crowd, to some agreement.

“It seemed to happen suddenly,” Mushu replied without missing a beat. “He likely had little warning of the onset of this event. I believe that The Creator has faith that we, His Children, will continue to act as His valiant defenders while He is occupied. Rejoice, Brothers and Sisters. The Creator will emerge from this stronger than ever! He rewards our faith in him, with faith in all of us. We will not leave him disappointed!”

“PRAISE THE CREATOR!” The crowd roared in unison. “PRAISE! PRAISE!” The chant ripped from more than a thousand throats at once.

Kata felt off-balance. Confused and uncertain.

From the context, this Paragon was the Core Guardian. The Core’s strongest monster, its final defense against the invading guilders. The reference to a life cycle… implies Paragon is a Manabeing. Kata had heard of Igna, the Fire Elemental of the Sixth floor. She’d also heard of the Earth Elemental on the Seventh, who roamed the mines outside the village. If the Dungeon had Elementals guarding its higher floors… How strong would be the one trusted to defend the Core itself?

And Paragon believed the Dungeon to be undergoing a transformation similar to what Manabeings experienced? Kata had never heard of dungeons having such a life cycle. The idea, though… there was a possibility…

Dungeons gathered mana and used it to grow their cores. The larger a Core, the more mana it could hold, and the more finessed it grew in using the energy.

If a Dungeon’s Core grew sufficiently large and gathered enough mana… There was no reason they couldn’t undergo such a transformation.

But what would be the outcome? What did dungeon cores turn into?

Was it… becoming a god? Was this how gods were born? Were dungeon cores the seeds of Deities?!

As the gathered monsters dispersed, steely determination in the set of all their shoulders, Huea made sure the dazed and distracted Kata made it back to her home. She… She needed to think.

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The Meeting Hall, The Drake-Kin Village, The Seventh Floor

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Mushu sighed as he sat down at the table.

It had taken more than a day, but he managed to assuage the fear and panic of his people. It had only eased the burden he now felt. Around the table were the various leaders of the Creator’s Children.

Mushu represented the Third Floor Kobolds and the Seventh Floor Drake-kin. Though Tear had been assigned as the Seventh Floor’s Boss, he wasn’t leadership material. He would much rather be in his forge. The Kobolds look to him as their leader. They’d done so since he’d been raised to his current state. After this, he would insist they choose a high chief from amongst themselves.

The Ratten Clan currently in charge was the Lightning Clan. Their Boss, Ektrillit, had imposed a ceasefire amongst the clans while she was gone. It wouldn’t do for her place as Boss to be challenged when she wasn’t there to defend herself.

Chief Baalotette had been elected the leader of the Capriccio in the wake of recent events. The choice had been hasty, and she had seemed the calmest and most capable at the time. Mushu wasn’t sure if she would remain that way, but he’d give her the benefit of the doubt.

High Shaman Blizzard of the Snowbolds sat quietly. With his eyes closed and breathing even, you’d guess he was asleep. You’d be wrong. The Snowbold was a powerful shaman and had a mental bond to an Alpha Ice Fox. Said Ice Fox was back in his village, and he was likely using the connection to keep an eye on his people.

King Strikes-The-Air of the Scorpans settled into a chair freshly modified by an earth shaman. He seemed pleased and thanked the shaman. Though he relaxed into the evidently comfortable seat, Mushu still saw traces of tenseness in his frame. This was the King’s first time away from his people since his ascension, and he worried for them. Though all the Creator’s Children were devout, the Scorpans were undoubtedly the most vocally reverent. The Scorpan people were likely doing little else but praying for The Creator’s safety and that his attention would return.

First Bull Asterion of the Minotaurs was the largest of the gathered leaders, edging out Strikes-The-Air on height by a good foot, though their mass may be equal. The Bull was a reassuring presence in the hall. He sat calmly, stoic, and unconcerned. He had absolute confidence in The Creator and worried not for his people. They’d survive him being gone for a time.

At the other five chairs sat the most potent Spirits in the Dungeon. Paragon, the Metal Spirit and undisputed most powerful creature in the room. Igna, the Fire Spirit, was a close second in power and the closest to transforming into a Fairy. The Earth Spirit called itself Sonum when prompted but seemed to prefer silence. The Air Spirit eschewed a name entirely, claiming she had yet to decide. The Shadow Spirit was silent and still. It didn’t speak and had given no name.

Mushu decided it was time for the meeting to begin now that they were assembled.

“Welcome, to The Children and Courts both.” He began, “I believe this to be the first time all of us have been in a room at once.” He said, to many nods and murmured agreement. He turned to the five spirits sitting alongside each other. “I would first like to state that though The Courts were not born of The Creator as the rest of us were, you defend Him, which is enough to secure your place at this table.” He received a feeling of gratitude from the Spirits

“Now that the pleasantries are over, it’s time to get to business. The Creator is currently occupied, for an unknown amount of time, for an unknown reason. Until He is done with whatever is happening to Him, we will be without His guiding claws.” Many of the Children shifted uneasily at the thought. “Thanks to His foresight, much of the defenses in place are self-sustaining. Traps are enchanted to reset on their own, and the monster populations in combat most often breed quickly enough to replace their losses.”

“The most intelligent of us are an exception to that,” Strikes-The-Air interjected. “My people have yet to raise the first brood since our exodus to the Ninth to maturity.”

“The Minotaur are the same.” Asterion agreed. “Though my children are growing, they are not adults. I suspect ours grow faster than the Scorpans, though.” The Scorpan looked disgruntled, but nodded in agreement.

“The Drake-kin and Kobolds have been blessed with Respawn Crystals, bound to our warriors.” Mushu continued when it seemed none had more to contribute. “Their ceaseless vigils greatly lowered the casualties on the Third. In addition, we have noticed a slowing in our maturation rates since they were gifted to us. The Creator must wish for us to have more time to grow and mature before joining in defense of the Dungeon.”

“The Creator cares greatly for His Children.” Blizzard stated, “We have many examples of His mercy, benevolence, and consideration for our needs. Does He not ask permission before enacting any changes to us? Surely he must know the answer before He asks, yet ask He does.” The group murmured in agreement.

“The Scorpan were once mere Crabs,” Strikes-the-Air added. “When we rose above our base nature, He took notice and removed us from the First. In the aftermath, many wondered what we had done, that The Creator would set us aside. Had we done something wrong? Had He found us wanting?

“The answer came in time; we were bound for a higher purpose. He could have left us to fight and die, as hundreds of our former brethren still do, but in us, He saw potential. The lesser Children, those without a comparable will and intelligence to us, die in droves. They breed, fight, and die. It is an endless loop that will repeat itself until the end of time.” While Strikes-The-Air looked ready to continue his impromptu sermon, Baalotette spoke first.

“Your words ring true, Scorpan King. The Creator has bid us trade with the Invaders, and our questions of why were answered freely. He wishes to instill a sense of empathy in the Guilders that they would, in time, see us as they do each other. He believes they would stay their hand at slaughtering a village of peaceful Children if they thought us the same as a village of peaceful humans.”

“The Creator’s will and hand guide us, even in his unresponsive state,” Mushu said in response, nodding respectfully at the Capriccio. He turned his gaze to the others at the table. “Before we begin planning our strategy, do any here have problems that need addressing?”

“We do,” Igna spoke, rising from her sconce-like chair. “The Dungeon, before entering its current state, shared that it was creating a series of Islands on the Eleventh for The Courts.” Her arms spread to indicate her fellow mana-beings. “It approached me first, as Isla Fuego was the island created first. It claimed it would provide a path for my people to our new home in a few days, but obviously, it cannot fulfill that obligation now.” She looked at each of the monsters around the table.

“I would ask The Children to take responsibility for The Dungeon’s side of the contract and lead a contingent of my people to the Eleventh.”

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The Eighth Floor, The Dungeon, Medea Island

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Wave had been in a daze since his return to the Eighth. Working for The Creator Himself was… incredibly intimidating. He was overwhelmingly powerful. Wave had watched the coastline reshape itself. He’d seen two islands rise from the waves, shaped to His whim.

He’d been a conduit for His power, as Wave had summoned group after group of sprites. He barely remembered it. The experience was almost overwhelming.

Wave looked down at his blue-scaled claws and marveled at the changes he saw. What the Drake-Kin were to the Kobolds, Wave was to the rest of the Snowbolds. He was taller. Stockier. His now-larger frame was filled out with clearly defined muscle. His claws were larger and more flexible. Overall easier to manipulate. His mane of white hair rose from his collarbone, up his scaled head, and reached the top of his forehead.

On either side of the strip of hair was a multitude of horns, all pointing directly upward. The smallest sat at the back of his head, growing larger as they emerged closer to his face. His most prominent horn grew from the middle of his forehead and was at least six inches long.

His snout and teeth were smaller, but he was sure his bite was stronger.

Despite all the changes… He could still recognize himself in his reflection.

Another thing was the change in his magic. He’d been a middling shaman before, but now… the difference was noticeable.

He wasn’t sure how much of his transformation had been intentional on The Creator’s part. Still, he was sure it had started entirely by accident. Those moments when he noticed the changes were the clearest in his mind.

The raging river of unfocused mana had begun to warp him. His limbs had grown to ridiculous proportions for his small frame in minutes. As deeply connected as he’d been to The Creator, he felt the unspoken apology when He’d moved to fix His mistake.

After Wave was altered, the mana flowing into him was far more tolerable and easier to handle. His Core was more significant, his body capable of forming spells and channeling mana far more efficiently. When all was said and done, The Creator verbally apologized. He had not intended to change Wave so.

When he’d returned to his tribe, they’d been in awe of him. He was the next stage of their species. Why wouldn’t they be? It… Made it hard to connect to the rest of the tribe.

He was so different from them, for all the similarities. And right now, the only one of his kind.

Was this what Mushu felt when he’d been raised from the Kobolds?

At a soft yip, he reached down to continue petting the Ice Fox on his lap. The High Shaman had left his bonded companion behind to watch over Wave while he left for the Seventh. Idly patting the fox almost half his size, Wave wondered what was going on in the meeting.

He shook his head. There was no point in thinking of it.

“Hey, Yomel, could you help me practice my magic?” He asked the Ice Fox. In return, he got a happy yip, and the fox bounded out of his hut. Wave followed more sedately, bending over to get through the door.

He’d need to make a hut more suitable for his proportions. Constantly ducking like this would be terrible for his back.

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