Chapter 139

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The Creator, Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea

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The CHI raid group entered the Scorpan Village cautiously, accompanied by guards and a brown-scaled drake-kin who volunteered to act as a translation for the Scorpans. It didn’t take long for them to make their way through the broad avenues made to accommodate the large Scorpans in the village. Most of the slowdown came from the large crowd who looked at the guilders like they were loose animals at the zoo.

The Scorpan were, as a group, full of curiosity and caution of the humans in their midst. There was an undercurrent of fear that, at any moment, the humans might snap and kill them all. The Feline Beastborn were both less and more worried. I’d conveyed to them all that they were forbidden from revealing their status as former humans, that they should act as if they were born Children and not converted. Most chose to hide in alleys and their homes so that they didn’t have the opportunity to fuck it up.

It was only after they’d reached the market that the humans saw their first Beastborn. A lithe catwoman, modelled after an Abyssinian, her short orange-brown fur was sleek and shiny, with golden eyes. Her tail swayed languidly behind her as she quietly haggled with a young minotaur over a crate full of bottles of cream. No, I wasn’t making that up.

I could tell the guilders were curious from the first second they laid eyes on her. They’d never encountered this species of ‘Child’ before, though the uncanny valley might be pinging their subconscious about it. It was only after she’d finished bartering that the catwoman turned away from the stall, spotting the group of humans standing in the middle of the road, staring at her.

She eeped in surprise, clutching the crate of cream to her chest. “Uh. Hi. You can’t have any of this. It’s mine. I paid for it, fair and square!” Her tail was floofed and stuck straight out from her waist in an angry line. Her large ears were poking up through her burnished bronze hair, which curled around her head down to her shoulders.

“Okay?” said someone I wasn’t used to hearing anything from that wasn’t arguing with Harald. Duncan stepped forward, hands raised. “We’re not going to take it. May I ask what you are?”

“Oh!” The catwoman said, taken aback by the question. I had the urge to check what her name was myself but held back. That was an invasion of privacy, and I was trying to be better. “I, um, I’m a Feline Beastborn.”

“Is that like a Scaleborn?” Harald asked quietly to the group as a whole. The catwoman’s ears flicked towards him as he spoke.

“Kind of?” she answered. Harald started, his eyes jumping to her ears with a flash of understanding. I felt the woman reaching out to me, panic dominating her thoughts. I sent her Calm and fed her an explanation she could use. “The Creator made us the same way he made The Voice and other Scaleborn, but based on different animals.”

Perfect.

Having received an answer, Harald nodded, and Duncan stepped forward again. “Thank you for answering our questions…?” He trailed off, and after a second, the catwoman seemed to realise he was asking for her name.

“Ah! I, uh, I’m Melanae,” she answered. I felt a certain amount of schadenfreude as I saw some looks shared amongst the group, no doubt noting that she had a relatively normal Phenocian name. Perhaps wondering If I gave it to her in an attempt to humanise them? Gooood, Good. Your misunderstandings fuel me! “It, uh, was nice talking to you, but I gotta go… get these in the icebox. Bye!”

Melanae fast-walked away, her tail swaying wildly behind her as she maintained a perfectly straight back. The tension was broken a little after that, and the market began to move again. Harald elbowed Duncan, waggling his eyebrows. He got a dead arm for his trouble. So the hunter was a furry? Eh, It made about as much sense as anything else.

They mingled in the market, making a few purchases of goods made on the Eleventh and Tenth, mainly food and some luxuries, like the vial of glowing purple ink/dye harvested from giant clams farmed by the Oceanids. Another item was an obsidian statuette of Wave and Taura in flight, crafted by an inspired and rather artistic manabeing who had seen them flying overhead.

The implication that there was a second wyvern wasn’t lost on the guilders, who likely vividly remembered Wave fighting during the invasion.

The market started to close as the sun dipped past the edge of the canyon, casting the village into shade. Over the next hour or so, Scorpans made their way back to their homes, and the guilders were left mostly alone but for their guide and guards. There was a minute of silence as the guilders walked through the emptying streets, the sunlight crawling up the canyon wall.

“There is an Inn that is set aside for travellers between floors,” the brown-scale drake-kin offered, waving at one of the taller buildings in town. “It’s only a few talons a night for a room and food. You’re here to challenge the Scorpan King? You’ll probably need all your energy; why not rest for the night?”

“Why?” Isid asked, and I didn’t begrudge her the suspicion in her voice. “We’re guilders attempting to delve into the dungeon. Why would you house and feed us?”

“You’re people,” the drake-kin shrugged. “The Creator’s teachings never say anything about humans or Children being better or more righteous than the other. Besides, you’re not here to hurt The Creator; you just want to explore His creation and grow in strength, right? That’s what I thought guilders were all about, anyway.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“You’re not wrong…” Isid answered, glancing at the other guilders and gauging their opinions. Most simply nodded, though a few seemed uneasy. Isid nodded to herself and turned to their escort.

“Stick, we’d appreciate having a place to rest for the night. Thank you for your consideration,” Isid said, nodding her head at those last words.

The drake-kin, Stick, guided them to the Inn, and they settled in for the night.

As I refocused on the Twelfth for the evening, I felt an odd pulse of mana flash through the dungeon. It was over in an instant, and from a quick inspection of my dungeon, it hadn’t seemed to have done anything. I wrote it off and went back to my work.

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The High Temple of The Gods, The Holy City, Theona

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The High Priest of the God Of Light, Garyson, stumbled back from the table. His body shuddered and twitched, and it was only thanks to Halietthat he hadn’t fallen. The guard-captain guided him to a chair where he could sit and recover his strength. The table slowly deactivated, the glowing yellow lines of power that ran along its surface fading from view. Hovering above the yellow gemstone set in its centre was an image, the ultimate destination of their search.

Garyson slumped into the cushioned throne, accepting a vial of blue liquid flecked with gold from an acolyte. With shaking hands, he drank the high-grade mana potion in one swallow. He sighed in relief as mana once more rushed through his body, basking in its warmth and gentle light. I filled his manacircuits, warming his cold bones from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head.

“Of course, they were connected. How could they not be?” Garyson wondered aloud, letting his eyes focus on the image, committing the being within it to memory. “We dismissed it as coincidence, but history often rhymes, if not repeats. That island dungeon, the one on Atlantis, hosts the necromancer. One of its monsters, a lizard, is the necromancer.”

The image began to fade, taking the stain-grey scales of the lizard monster with it. While the creature’s fel green eyes seemed to stare directly at him, there were three or four sets of eyes lit the darkness around it. Lesser necromancers, students to a teacher? Behind them was the outline of a figure in armour, a glowing point of green next to its head.

“You know what must be done, Guard-Captain Haliet,” Garyson said, turning to face the Templar. The man turned from where he’d also been scrutinising the image, his pupils blown wide and burning with zealous purpose. Haliet fell to one knee immediately, one fist across his chest and the other clutching his sword.

“I do, Your Holiness,” Haliet answered. Garyson gestured for his sword, and Haliet unsheathed it. The blade gleamed in the light of the sunset as it spilled in through the room’s westward window. They’d started the ritual with the sun’s first rising, and it was only fitting that it’d lasted the whole ten hours until it set. Haliet presented the sword, handle-first, to Garyson. The high Priest took it and, with an unusually smooth motion, held it unwaveringly above the knight’s right pauldron.

“Do you swear to hunt your target without deviation, misgivings, or mercy for those who block your righteous purpose?”

“I do swear, your Holiness.” At Haliet’s words, Garyson raised the sword and lowered it over the man’s left pauldron.

“Do you swear to destroy the fel taint of necromancy and remove it from our world, root and branch?”

“I do swear, your Holiness.” Finally, Garyson lifted the sword one final time and gently tapped it on the knight’s helmet.

“Then, by the power invested in me by the God of Light and Justice, I name you the First Crusader of the Seventeenth Crusade. Rise, Crusader Cylen Haliet, and know your purpose,” Garyson finished his bestowment with a cough and lowered the sword. As he did, Haliet stood taller. Around them, all the guards in the room stood to attention and saluted. Garyson turned to the wide-eyed acolytes that were still holding trays of mana potions, food and water. Right, he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day. No wonder he felt so weak. “Acolyte Vert, please call a meeting of the Priesthood. We must make war plans.” The chosen acolyte shook with zeal. He placed his burden on a nearby end table and fled the room with all haste.

“A crusade must be called to rain divine judgement upon the taint of necromancy,” Garyson declared as he stood, trembling again. He took up his staff and righted his elaborate hat, eyes scanning over the room, sharper than they’d been in years. “Haliet, organise the Holy Guard and contact the other Templar. Do not conceal your movements or purpose; let the knowledge of this crusade spread throughout the world. Let all know of the coming judgement of the gods upon the island of Atlantis. For the Gods!”

“For the gods!” everyone in the room echoed.

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????, ????, ????

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I told you! I knew from the start that something was going on there!

Yes, yes, you’ve maintained that it had something to do with that dungeon from the beginning. We know.

There’s only so many times you can say it, dear Fire, before we begin to get annoyed.

Alright, fine. Still, I call for the rest of the Three to be checked on. We know Death is stirring, but what of the others?

As much as it pains me to agree with Fire, I must concur.

Agreed, Water. We might begin even though Time, Space and Creation aren’t here. They won’t mind. Time and Space are preoccupied with managing their domains, and Creation is, well, Creation. All in favor? … Motion Passes. Wind, check on Void and Chaos.

Right Away, Order!

…

They’re… uh… gone.

What do you mean they’re gone?!

I mean, they’re gone. Their prisons are empty, and their Planes have gotten so impossibly larger over the aeons that it’ll be impossible to find them!

This isn’t good, this isn’t good at all. They were still there when we last checked…

They’re making a play. Death is acting through this necromancer in the dungeon, and Chaos must be championing the dungeon itself.

It’s caused so much of it that I don’t see any other possibility. What about Void?

Void is doing what they always do: hiding until the decisive moment. We need to act fast to silence the dungeon before Void feels like they can end it all, like last time.

My Priest has already begun to call a Crusade to destroy it. I encourage you to get your Priests to agree that it is the correct course.

If that is all? Then, this meeting is adjourned. I’ll bring Space and Time up to speed. The rest of you, see to your preparations. Beyond the mortal plane, a second Planar War is likely upon us.

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Chapter 140

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The Weary Child, The Ninth Floor, Scorpan Village

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“So there isn’t a name for this village?” Haythem asked the sandy-brown-scaled drake-kin waitress as she transferred plates of food to their table. “You just call it ‘Scorpan Village’? Isn’t that kind of… reductive?”

“Well, the capriccio on the Sixth have a series of villages, though they call them, like, a polis instead of a village or something,” the waitress explained, laying out eating utensils and some very pretty coloured glass mugs. “I’m not even sure if they call their individual towns anything unique, or just ‘the northern polis’, or ‘the southern polis’. The minotaur on the Tenth call their village ‘Minos Village,’ which I suppose is different enough to not just be ‘minotaur village’. The towns on the Eleventh all have names, though!”

She was quite chatty. Haythem nodded as he picked up the engraved and expensive-looking metal utensils and started cutting into the hearty-looking breakfast. “So, I recognise the eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, and I assume those triangles are some kind of sliced bread, but what kind of meat is this? Or these other crispy triangles?”

“Oh! So, what you have there is called a ‘Full English,‘ though I couldn’t tell you why it’s called that,” the waitress answered. “The strips are pork belly, sliced into an easily fryable form called bacon. The sausages are also pork.”

“That’s runic, right? The verbal form?” Harald asked, already pulling out his book. “I think I caught ‘full’, but what was the second word?”

“It’s the word runic uses to describe both itself and the ethnicity of the original people who used it,” the waitress said. Before she could continue, there was a ping as a bell by the counter rang sharply. “I am sorry, but I have to go serve. Let me know If I can get you anything else!” She wandered off, and Haythem turned to share some pointed looks with the rest of the party.

They didn’t discuss strategy, tactics, plans, or anything else. Not where all these Children could hear. Instead, they complimented the actually quite delicious and filling meal and discussed the odd dreams they’d had the night before. After they’d finished eating, they stood to leave. Isid paid the fee for the meal, and they were escorted through the village to the other gate. The village was still stirring into life, even as light crawled down the canyon wall.

They thanked their translator, Stick, and their guards, then passed through the gate without issue. The path they followed led further into the canyon, though there wasn’t much of it left to explore. The canyon walls slowly narrowed to a point, and the babbling river disappeared into a grate next to an imposing castle carved into the canyon wall.

There was a stone bridge, crafted from various-sized rocks, that crossed the widest, slowest part of the river. Three supports rose out of the river to support it, and it was wide enough for three scorpans to cross abreast. They crossed easily, and as they approached the castle’s main gate, Haythem spotted two scorpan standing guard, their spears crossed. Males, he quickly identified. There were subtle signs if you knew what to look for.

“May we be allowed to pass peacefully?” Isid asked politely. Both guards shook their heads and gestured threateningly with their massive, serrated claws.

Haythem had spent a long time now analysing the monsters of this dungeon for weaknesses. At that moment, he was viscerally reminded of the crabs from the First Floor. However, unlike their lesser cousins, or perhaps less evolved forms, the scorpans had covered the crabs’ most glaring weaknesses. Like the Crab Guardian, the joints of their legs were armoured in such a way as to make it almost impossible to cut them off easily. Their back and sides were defended by the large scorpion tail that hung like a hangman’s noose over the exchange.

Their claws were larger and far more individualised than the crabs. The left scorpan had brute-like claws covered in stiff, shallow spines and bumps. The left had two shield-like claws, though their tips tapered down to a sharp-looking triangular point. Their backs had lobster-like plates that provided perfect cover, though they could be weak to being wrenched out of place.

The scorpan’s humanoid upper half was less thickly armoured, though Haythem could only guess what was actually important. They’d never fought, killed, or examined the corpse of a Scorpan before, so they just didn’t know. He’d like to think they’d brains in their heads, but it’d be far smarter on the dungeon’s part to have all the critical organs in its most armoured part; its lower torso.

There was about a ten-second standoff as the sides sized each other up. The humans were very aware of the Creator’s rules and were reluctant to strike first. Then, the tension was broken when the Scorpan guards lunged, and the battle was joined.

The following melee was chaotic, and despite their larger size, the scorpans showed remarkable skill and dexterity. Their armoured legs shifted to block strikes just as well as their claws did. Their tails struck in the seconds following a successful block, aiming for the off-balance guilder. None of the humans had been pierced yet, but the gleaming liquid on their tips, which Haythem had seen as a tail lunged past his face, was undoubtedly some kind of poison.

Their spears were enchanted, perfectly able to contend with the guilder’s own weapons, and even Isids’ manablades barely chipped the wood of their shafts. It was a stalemate. Neither side was able to get a decisive advantage over the other, only influencing minor cuts. Lilliette’s strange lightning balls were even reflected, the Children casting short-lived shield spells that coated their pincers, which would then bat the balls of roiling lightning mana away, most of the time aimed at another guilder.

The tides turned when Duncan managed to get an arrow past their iron defences. It was one he’d made from the metallic feathers of those vultures, and it flew from his enchanted bow at speeds even Haythem had a hard time tracking. The bolt pierced an eye, and the second quickly followed as it balked at the pain. Despite the tip piercing right through the back of the Child’s head, the monster didn’t fall. Their brains weren’t in their skulls, after all.

But Duncan had identified their weakness; they only had the two eyes!

The uninjured Child attempted to aid his blinded fellow, but there were too many of them to defend against by himself. He was overwhelmed, and they both fell soon after. The party entered the castle, full of determination.

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The Creator, Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

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The CHI group, rested and resupplied from the scorpan market, absolutely demolished the Scorpan Citadel. They worked like a well-oiled machine, having been working together for… was it a year now? Still, they covered each other’s weaknesses perfectly. The guilders were quick to take advantage of the slightest mistake on my scorpan’s part. And despite their best efforts, they made plenty of mistakes.

It wasn’t their fault, really. They’d only ever practised against each other, with the odd drake-kin, minotaur or capriccio joining in. They just didn’t have the experience they needed to fend off a large group of guilders this good and this strong. I had higher hopes for them against a smaller group. Actually, how far had any other guilders managed to reach… Oh! There was a group navigating the tunnels on the Seventh! Good for them. I wish them luck against the ants.

Either way, the CHI group were too skilled for the Scorpan Royal Guard, and eventually, they managed to reach the throne room. At the end of the long room was the raised dias on which King Strikes-The-Air stood. Beneath him were ten of his most experienced, most powerful guards. Three had evolved into Obsidian Scorpans and stood before the king in a chevron formation.

Without hesitation, the guards rushed the guilders.

Unlike the rest of the citadel, where the guilders were forced to fight one-on-one. The battle lasted far longer than previous fights, but the result was inevitable and predictable.

Consistently, from their very first delves, these guilders had proven that they were skilled and capable of overcoming most monsters put in their path. The only things that forced them to turn back and use their teleport crystals were environmental hazards and low supplies. They’d overcome the environmental hazards with new equipment. The low supply problems were solved by taking fewer injuries and getting better at fighting my monsters, as well as getting stronger and fast enough to make previous struggles inconsequential.

The guilders stood at the base of the stairs; the four scorpan remaining stood above them at the top of the dais. There was silence, quickly broken by a single, robed drake-kin who’d emerged from a side door. He stopped at Stikes-The-Air’s side and raised a key.

“This is the key which unlocks the door to the Tenth,” Strikes-The-Air began, his robed drake-kin attendant dutifully translating. “You have two choices. On one claw, you may fight us for it. Know that you have proven your strength and skill, but my remaining guards are the strongest I have. They will not fall as easily. On the other claw, violence is not the only path forward here. I will not part with this key easily, as Tear did. What you trade must be of high value and not just sentimental, either.”

The guilders shared glances, and I could guess at the thoughts running through their heads. Is it a trap? It must be a test. What would be of value to a Scorpan?

After a pause, Lilliette stood forward. With a twist, the gem set into the top of her staff was released, and she held it out. “This manacore is of incredible value. Not only can it hold immense amounts of Lightning mana, but it is enchanted to absorb more easily and produce a shield. It is the most valuable piece of equipment I own, and I assume you realise how much I weaken myself by offering this.”

There was silence again, her party mates sharing incredulous glances, though none protested verbally. I could see in their gazes that they were asking, ‘Are you sure?‘ She remained resolved.

Strikes-The-Air sent forward his attendant, and the drake-kin’s clawed steps echoed throughout the room. He took the offered manacore and brought it to his face, squinting. After a short inspection, he pulled out a manasight monocle and held it between his eye and the core.

It was, indeed, valuable. A manacore so immersed and altered by the sheer amount of lightning mana that’d passed through it that it was close to a complete transformation into a Lightning Core. I hadn’t made one of those yet. Still, I assumed it would be able to generate a charge of its own over time, as Water Cores could produce water mana and Gravity Cores could produce gravity mana.

Valuable to me? No, I could make my own fairly easily if I was so inclined. The enchantment was interesting, but it was easily replicable. Was it valuable to the guilders? Definitely, this manacore was the core of their strategy against Pyry. It had been key in several of their fights on the Ninth Floor. I could only guess how often they’d used it on lower floors in the two full delves they’d done since revealing its capabilities.

The attendant nodded and held out the key in return. Lilliette took the key, though with a longing look at the buzzing manacore as it disappeared into the folds of the drake-kin’s robes.

At Strikes-The-Air’s wave, a large side door opened, and the guilders passed through it.

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The Crossroads, The Tenth Floor, The Dungeon

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Aston Astorionson stood alongside a Sheep Beastborn, both of them clad in the black and red robes of the Creator’s Priesthood. Aston had known this day would come eventually, but seeing the guilders walk down the path into the grassland, heads looking around at the floor in awe, really drove home that things were going to change around the lower floors.

“Welcome to the Tenth Floor,” Aston greeted as they approached cautiously. “You may recognise me as Aston, one of the Minotaurs who left to spread the Creator’s worship to the mainland, doomed though that expedition turned out to be.” A few nodded, and some eyes widened in realisation.

“This floor works a little differently than you’re used to,” Aston continued. “It might even remind you of the Third. The exit is hidden behind illusions, and to reveal it, you must find and kill three monsters. These monsters will not seek you out, nor will they remain in a single place. They roam the grasslands and the forests that encircle it. Each is the most powerful member of their species, and even finding them will be no mean feat.”

The guilders shifted uneasily, no doubt wondering just what the monsters were.

“Down this path,” Aston waved his right arm, “Lies Minos Village. You may stop and rest there overnight, but entry to our village has a cost. You must present a monster hide each every time you wish to enter. If you do not have enough, you can choose to brave the night, return to the Ninth, or return to the Surface. Be warned, you must once again fight through King Strikes-The-Air’s guards to regain entry to the Tenth, even if you possess the key. All that does is mean you don’t have to fight him and his Obsidian Guard.”

He leaned forward, leaning against the haft of his warhammer. “And yes, they are all immortal and will remember you. Each fight will only teach them how to fight you better. It’s in your best interest to fight them less, hmm?”

He picked up his hammer and rested it on his shoulder. “Hmph. Well, you’ve been warned. My job here is done. Kaley?”

The sheep Beastborn bleated, then blushed in embarrassment, clearing her throat to continue. Aston snorted in amusement. Some of the Beastborn were having a harder time adjusting to their new instincts than others.

“Baa- Ahem. The Church Of The Creator has a few requests- entirely voluntary! -that we’d like you to fulfil,” Kaley explained. “Easy things, really, that you were going to do anyway. The collection of specific monster parts, the culling of specific monsters, and the collection of valuable herbs and other plants that grow in the forest. You’d be paid in Talons to perform these tasks, and the more tasks you complete, the more willing we’ll be to give you larger, potentially more dangerous but well-rewarded ones.”

She took a slip of parchment from her pack and handed it over to Isid, who passed it to her husband without looking at it. Ah, right. That was the blind one, and the ink the Church uses isn’t high in mana. She couldn’t read it.

“Collect… Twenty Jackalope antlers. Alright, then. Where can we find these Jackalopes?”

“The forest,” Aston answered, imagining these humans running after those bounding hares. “Heh. Good luck. They’re slippery bastards. C’mon, Kaley, let’s head back.” Aston turned and walked down the path to the village, not waiting for the beastborn. She gave another startled bleat, and he heard her shout a goodbye as her hoofclops rushed to catch up.

“Do you think they saw through me?” Kaley asked nervously, pulling a thick dreadlock of woolly hair that ran down the side of her face. Aston glanced over his shoulder. The humans were already heading towards the forest through the long grass.

“Nah, I think you nailed it. C’mon, we need to get back to the village before they call the alarm. The last one back has to eat that Limburger Daphen made!” He picked up the pace, quickly matched by the frantic Beastborn. Aston smiled. This was the life.

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Chapter 141

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The Creator, Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea

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If my avatar could have physically broken a rib at that moment, I’m absolutely sure it would have. I couldn’t laugh, but my avatar sure as hell could. I was absolutely consumed with laughter. I was rolling on the floor laughing and getting confused side-eyes from Wave, Taura and Cadmus. The three were sprawled out on a recent experiment of mine: a semi-solid cloud. It was light, fluffy, and obscenely comfortable.

Unfortunately, they were also a bitch to make. I couldn’t just enchant a cloud to be a solid surface, and the whole process was far more involved than I had the time for. All in all, it was an interesting prototype I could hand off to Drake-kin researchers on the Seventh and leave them to it.

“What’s so funny, Creator?” Taura asked, respectfully lowering her head.

“Yeah, Mom, what’s funny?” Cadmus chimed in, changing into their dragon-kin form and kneeling down near my avatar.

“Haaa…” I took a moment to catch my breath. “The guilders have reached the Tenth floor, and I’m observing their progress,” I answered, only half paying attention. “I’m watching them struggle to catch even a single jackalope. The rabbits are just too nimble and quick in the forest, and their use of life mana to manipulate the forest is also flinging branches and pulling roots up to trip the guilders.” It was then that I saw something that once again had my avatar burst out laughing. “Isid just tripped and faceplanted into a mud puddle! She’s absolutely furious! HAHAHA!”

I knew they’d have trouble locking the rabbits down, especially the jackalopes, but this was just too funny. They were making so much noise that the winged rabbits were warned of their approach well in advance, while the three jackrabbits who’d caught the guilder’s attention ran them on a merry chase. The rabbits were cautious, knowing the guilders had bows and other ranged abilities. They didn’t need to fight them, only distract and run, just far enough ahead to leave a flash of their white tails or brown antlers.

Cadmus giggled and flopped down on the cloud next to me. They snuggled in, and I unconsciously wrapped an arm around them. “That does sound funny, Mom. Can we see, too?” As I got my laughter under control, I turned my avatar’s head to look down at the grinning young dragon-kin.

“I’d rather not risk revealing your existence if it’s not necessary,” I answered, to Cadmus’s disappointment. I raised their chin to look up at me again. “Hey now, don’t give me that look. I’m sure there’s a way to preserve memories and project them so I can show you without putting you in danger. I’ll get some Children on it. Who knows, they might even manage to make a camera!”

Reassured, Cadmus yawned, snuggled in with a “Okay, Mom,” and promptly fell asleep. Glancing over at Wave and Taura, I saw them both looking at us with longing in their gazes. I focused, taking a closer look at Taura, aaand… Huh. Well, that answers that question.

Congratulations, I projected into their minds, my avatar giving them a kind smile. You have five eggs developing at the moment. I have no idea how long their development will take, but I could expedite the process if you’d like?

Their initial confusion burst into a chaotic mix of love, excitement, nervousness and worry.

‘We’re willing to wait, Creator.’ Wave answered after sharing a few meaningful glances and gestures. ‘It should help give you a baseline, right?’

It will, I answered. If you change your mind, please let me know.

I left my avatar there, cuddling Cadmus, and cast my focus back to the Tenth.

Through the eyes of a Winged Rabbit high in the trees, I spied on the guilders as they regrouped. Three of them were covered in mud, using water from their canteens to wash their faces and bare skin to prevent chafing, and I finally saw what Isid looked like without the blindfold.

She was gorgeous, her porcelain-white skin unmarred by a single scar or flaw. Her perfectly manicured eyebrows framed the most dazzling eyes I’d ever seen. Her eyes lacked any distinct white, iris, or pupil; those familiar features were replaced by a black void interspersed with a dash of star-like spots to illuminate the darkness.

Of course, I knew overuse of manasight would eventually render the user blind to normal vision, but how in the holy hell could it do that to someone’s eyes? I had no clue and hadn’t bothered to investigate the ability further than replication and pressing upon my Children the consequences of overuse. I hadn’t needed to reverse any symptoms, mainly since one of the drake-kin had managed to turn manasight into an enchantment placed on eyewear.

But… now I was tempted to ask for some testing on the matter. Would it even be possible to reverse something that could do this?! It would be a potent bargaining chip…

For the time being, I just watched them wearily trudge their way out of the forest and back down the path to the Ninth, their hunt fruitless and hands empty. Given they wouldn’t be able to access Minos Village without a hide each, they’d be fighting the Scorpan Royal Guard a lot, giving the Scorpans a lot of much-needed experience fighting humans.

Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.

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The Third Floor, The Dungeon, Atlantis

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“Alright, I know we’ve done this before,” Tamesou Akio said to his friends. Bruce, Sophie and Elize as they crowded around a large, carved double door. One of the doors was already open, and a light flickered from within. Gobble was investigating the mushrooms growing near the cave. “But, since this is Elize’s first time, is everyone ready?”

“Yup,” Bruce answered. The boy rolled his neck and shoulders, and Akio rolled his eyes. The Australian boy had recently put on a decent amount of muscle and loved to show it off at every opportunity. Given he never seemed to work out outside of delves, Akio was sure it was due to his ‘cultivation.’ He’d been tempted to give it a try himself, but decided against it in the end. He was happy with his development so far.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Of course,” Sophie agreed, the shadows around her feet roiling in the midday sun. Akio had found that as she grew stronger, watching how her shadows acted was a better way of telling her mood than trying to decipher her expression. The way her shadow rippled indicated that she was tense and determined. Akio agreed. This particular miniboss was skilled and had already bested them twice. Akio wouldn’t let it become three losses in a row.

“I’m as ready as I can be. It’s just the one, Kobold, right?” Elize asked, eyes locked on the shadow moving in the flicker of orange that lit the tunnel beyond the door from around a distant corner. Elize clenched her wand tightly, betraying her own nervousness.

“It is,” Akio answered, reassuring. “Don’t worry, this miniboss works like a duel. We fight him one-on-one until one of us bests him, or he bests all of us.”

“Why don’t we all attack it at once?” Elize asked, “Then we’d definitely beat it, right?”

“That’d be breaking the rules of the fight,” Sophie reminded the healer princess. “If we break the rules first, then they can break them right back. At the moment, it’s only a duel to the first blood, and they leave it at that. If we all attack, then the next time we fight, it’ll be four of them against four of us. If we make it a duel to the death, then they’ll fight to the death, too.

“They come back after death,” Bruce added, “but we don’t. They learn from every fight, and it’s in our interest to stay in their good graces.”

“Gobble thinks the Hunters are cool!” Gobble added, arms full of brownish mushrooms. She threw one in her mouth and only chewed twice before swallowing with a satisfied hum. “Gobble heard the last ones went to the Eleventh! Current ones aren’t as good, still training. Gobble wanted to be a Shaman, but the shaman said she didn’t have an aff-in-i-ty.” Gobble slumped at that, a few mushrooms tumbling off the stack in her arms.

“Everyone has an affinity,” Sophie reassured, kneeling down next to the sad Kobold. “It just means she didn’t know what affinity you have. We can try and figure it out if you like. The guildmistress and her aunt have manavision. If we ask one of them, I’m sure they’d be able to tell what you have!”

Reassured, Gobble smiled brightly and nodded, then started chewing on another mushroom.

“Okay, Gobble, remember you aren’t doing any fighting,” Akio established firmly. “Elize, if the three of us fail, then it’ll be up to you, but don’t sweat it if you can’t beat him. I think it was… Bruce’s turn to go first?” Akio asked, to a confident smirk and nod from the Aussie boy.

“He won’t know what hit him!” he exclaimed, throwing out a thumbs-up.

Sufficiently hyped up, the group passed through the doors and into the tunnel beyond. It was a short walk to reach the corner, and Akio once again locked eyes with the armoured Kobold. It was very unlike the other Kobolds he’d seen on Atlantis, standing at four foot nine, compared to the regular Kobold’s roughly three feet in height. This Kobold stood alone, his shadow cast by three orange fires that burned within hand-shaped sconces on the walls.

The Kobold was armoured in a combination of leather and metal plates and wielded a longsword. Akio thought about what Gobble had said; this was a Kobold Hunter, one who’d been trained and whose master had descended, leaving him in their place. He was judged fit to stand over this trial, but wasn’t at the peak of his own skill.

The group of guilders and a Kobold stopped at the edge of a large circle drawn in the thin layer of sand that covered the arena floor. No words were exchanged, only nods.

Bruce’s fight was swift, though he lasted longer than he had last time. While he’d gotten stronger recently, thanks to that cultivation of his, he was still far weaker. The Kobold Hunter was skilled and very experienced in one-on-one combat with guilders, melee fighters and mages alike.

Bruce’s magic was potent, but he just wasn’t quick or fast enough yet to keep up with the Kobold, who could read him like a book. Akio wondered how many water mages he’d fought before. He knew there were at least two or three on the island at the moment and wondered how many had died before they got here.

The fight stopped, the Kobold’s blade resting on Bruce’s neck, a thin line of blood trickling down towards the collar of his robes. The Kobold stepped back, returning to his starting position. As Bruce stepped back, his cut healed by Elize without a second thought, Akio stood forward to enter the circle. The Kobold Hunter did the same and raised his sword. Akio did likewise, and for a moment, all was still as the two of them waited for the other to make a move.

Akio stepped sideways, and the Kobold moved in the opposite direction, and after a quarter-rotation, Akio struck out. The Hunter blocked, deflecting the strike with his longsword, then countered. Akio deflected and countered. It became like a dance, one that Akio was beginning to become quite familiar with. Twice, he’d fought this specific Kobold. Twice this, Kobold had fought him. They’d tested, probed and gauged each other’s strength and skill.

While the Kobold was more skilled, Akio had the advantage in sheer strength. His sword rang in the air, and the Kobold could do little but avoid his downward slashes rather than block them. The Kobold had tried that before, in previous fights, but found his own strength… insufficient. Instead, he used his speed, which just edged out Akio’s own, to dodge that which he could not block.

Akio used this, and as the Kobold dodged one last time, Akio stood back with a smirk. The Kobold looked confused, but his eyes soon widened, and he looked down at the circle drawn in the sand. One of his clawed feet has crossed it. A ring-out.

The Hunter sighed and, for the first time, spoke.

“Well done, guilder, you win. Next time, it won’t be so easy,” the Kobold said, and Akio noted that he did indeed sound relatively young. The Hunter’s eyes flicked to Gobble, who stood with Bruce, Elize and Sophie. “I’d heard a kobold was delving with a group of humans, but I hadn’t believed it. Why have you turned away from The Creator and joined the humans, Gobble?”

Gobble’s eyes widened, no doubt at this random Kobold knowing her name. She shifted nervously. “Gobble… is always hungry. Shaman said she eats too much. ‘You don’t need food, Gobble,’ she said. ‘Control yourself,’ she said. The others bullied Gobble and took the food she caught for herself. The humans are nice. Gobble doesn’t fight, though! Gobble hasn’t left The Creator.” There was a moment of silence as the Hunter examined the smaller Kobold, his reptilian eyes narrowed. Or was that Draconic?

“One day, you’ll have a choice to make, Gobble,” the Kobold warned. “The Dungeon defends The Creator, and it is not a merciful place. If you continue to delve with these humans, eventually, one of them will be at a Child or Monster’s mercy, and you’ll have to choose. Save the humans and kill a fellow child of The Creator, or let your new human friends die.”

Without waiting for a reply, the Kobold turned and walked right through an illusionary wall. Akio followed him and touched the wall after he disappeared. It felt like solid rock. It looked like solid rock. As far as he could tell, it was solid rock. Awesome! he turned around to see Sophie and Elize comforting Gobble while Bruce examined the wall near them. Finally having the time to do so, Akio looked up and joined his friend in looking at the runic carvings and images on the dome-roofed cavern.

“Is that fucking loss?” Bruce pointed out. Akio squinted, and his own eyes widened.

“That’s not just loss,” Akio answered, hands reaching up to trace the carvings. “This is the Peter Griffin version, carved over the original loss character in a straitjacket.” Akio’s eyes were drawn to the writing under the ancient-looking carving. “You just lost the Gam- DAMN IT!” Akio fell to his knees and slammed his fist against the sand. “NOT AGAIN!”

Bruce let out a choking noise, and Akio looked up. His friend was tracing a series of paragraphs. “What is it?” Akio asked.

“I think I’ve just been rickrolled,” Bruce answered, sounding dead inside. “The dungeon doesn’t just know about Earth. It knows about memes from the earliest years of YouTube and the modern internet. And it’s a massive troll.”

“Yeah, we’re doomed.” Akio nodded, suddenly calm. There was no avoiding it. They were doomed.

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The Creator, Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea

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As much fun as watching the CHI guilders is, it was absolutely hilarious to watch the Isekai’d heroes discover my memes. I had no idea which generation they belonged to. Still, at least Akio and Bruce were familiar enough with internet culture to identify Loss and references to The Game. It would be interesting to see if they recognised the older stuff I remembered, as well as the memes from just before I’d reincarnated as a Dungeon Core.

Gobble the Kobold was an interesting case. A quick investigation later, and I discovered she did indeed have an insatiable appetite, though I was unsure why. As one of my Children and a monster besides, she was perfectly capable of living off mana alone. Given that she’d seemingly been adopted by the party of displaced teens, I decided to let that whole situation play out. At least they were a proper party, now. They had a Healer, a Mage, a Paladin, a Rogue, and an added mascot.

After having beaten that one Kobold Warrior, they navigated the thick jungle of the Third to reach the next miniboss. Thanks to that map of theirs, one that I knew was handed out to every party, they were able to identify and avoid the most hazardous spots. They did lose that next miniboss fight, though, and returned to the surface shortly afterwards. Their plan was to beat each trial individually, then, when they felt ready to progress, beat them all after they were confident.

After they left, I once again turned my attention to the Twelfth. I stared at the desert, then at the cavernous space the thirteenth had become. Yeah, my method wasn’t working. I needed way more rock and stone than what I’d already used, and carving it out of the Thirteenth would produce a space far, far, far larger than I needed.

I needed to get the rock from somewhere, though, and I had the beginnings of a plan.

First, I contacted the Earth Faerie, Sonum, on the Eleventh. If Water spirits had access to an infinite plane of water, and air spirits had access to an endless plane of air, then it was possible the Earth Spirits had access to an endless plane of Earth. I briefly wondered what an infinite plane of Gravity would look like. Probably one enormous black hole, or a realm of constantly shifting gravity wells.

Sonum was settled in the middle of the enormous hole in the middle of Terra Isla. Like Sidhe and Igna, Sonum’s potentium golem body represented Earth, showing both his power and control. He had skin of soft Earth, showing through the armoured plates of stone arranged like muscles across his body. His eyes were black like obsidian, as were his nails. Around him, dozens of statue-like golems rested, immobile.

‘We can make portals to the Earth Plane,’ he almost immediately answered. ‘But it would be no use to you. The Earth Plane is not under pressure, as the Water Plane and Air Planes are. It just is. Solid and stable.’ Drat.

Could you make a pair of portals between the magma chamber of the Atlantis Volcano and a point on the Twelfth? I asked instead, and there was a moment of pause as the fairie answered.

‘We could,’ he replied, thoughtfully, ponderously rubbing his cleft chin. ‘It is merely Earth at high temperature and pressure. Why do you need this magma? Are you making a volcano of some sort?’

I might as well, but that’s not the end goal. I have enchanted stones that teleport matter from one to the other when they touch. I just need to get it into the magma chamber, and it will take care of the rest. Your sprites are only required to open the initial portal, so I can get the input stone in there.

The first few sets I’d used on the Sixth were still working to this day, though I’d grown far more capable since then and was sure my newest set would outperform them handily.

As for the why, I need stone to grind into sand, to create a great desert. My current method is labourious and my current source of stone is limited. The magma will act as a near-infinite source of rock. I plan to employ twister golems, and perhaps some of your own subordinates, to grind that rock into sand and distribute it. Both you and the subordinates you provide will be given an increased allowance of mana as payment.

There was a minute of silence from the manabeing as he pondered.

He accepted with a nod and, with a wave of his hand, ten of the statues in the statuary garden moved and began to trudge up to the edge of the hole. These ten will make their way to the Twelfth on their own, to help grind the stone into sand, later. Do not worry about transport, they can walk the ocean floor with no issues.

With another wave, about twenty sprites emerged from the caves lining the edge of the hole and quickly left the island. These will open the portal.

With that, his obsidian eyes closed, and once again, he appeared as nothing more than a statue, resting upon a plinth at the centre of intricately carved statues in a great variety of poses. I let him be, moved on, and found that Sidhe was more than happy to help again. She provided me with two dozen Sprites who wanted to become golems, and they zoomed on their way to the Twelfth.

Within a day, all three groups were on the Twelfth, though it would take another month at least for the Earth Golems to march across the continent-sized floor. They weren’t exactly fast, but the lack of need for sleep, food, or rest certainly sped their journey. The Wind and Earth Sprites moved much faster, reaching the edge of the desert within a few days. The Wind Sprites were provided with the same enchanted manacores that I’d used for the Twister Golems on the Ninth, hereafter referred to as Twister Cores.

The Earth Sprites, however, I ordered them to the southern corner of the floor. I needed a mountain there, and I decided I might as well make it a volcano instead. It made more sense for a singular mountain, anyway. It would take another day for the sprites to cross the ocean, and I was spoilt for choice on what I could do.

Before I could decide, however, that choice was taken from me. My connection to Kata flared with desperate panic and need.

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The Voice’s Manse, Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea

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Kata was panicking, frozen, as she stared at the missive in her clawed, trembling hands. She felt The Creator’s attention grow, but while she felt his panic rise with hers, He remained calm and gently reminded her that they’d planned for this. It helped, but now confronted with the very concept… she couldn’t stop her panic.

“As you can see, the high priests and priestesses of The Holy City are… unhappy about the Children worshipping your creator as a god,” Guildmistress Losat commented, and Kata could feel the intensity of her gaze behind that black silk blindfold. Kata had long ago learned that Layla had a talent for understatement, and she certainly lived up to it. Her assistant/lover/partner Felin snorted softly, barely perceptible to even her enhanced senses.

The letter read like a proclamation of her doom. Much of it was presented in religious terms, but it was still easily understandable nonetheless.

To all pious and moral lords of Theona, hear this proclamation from the High Council of The Holy City.

Upon an isle cast off the coast of our blessed continent, a blasphemous cult festers and spreads—its poison seeping into our soil, its heresies taking root in the hearts of our people. This False God, called The Creator by its monstrous cult, spreads its cursed influence to our eastern coast, inciting rebellion in loyal cities and counties. This False God is a dungeon, and its cultists are monsters granted cunning beyond reason. By the will of The Gods, it must be destroyed.

All faithful and pious lords are called to take up arms in the Seventeenth Holy Crusade, to cleanse the Island of ‘Atlantis’ of the dungeon’s unholy presence and restore sacred order to the realm. This Crusade will be led by the Templar Order and Heroes, newly summoned to fulfil this most holy of duties.

All lords who answer this call will be granted a proportional gelt from the treasure and resources pillaged, and they may rest assured that the gods look kindly upon them. All who wish to participate must gather at key ports on the Eastern Coast, and the Crusade will commence from the First Bloom of Spring.

The High Priests and Priestesses of the Gods,

The High Temple,

The Holy City

“It’s looking bleak, to be sure,” Layla continued as Kata scanned the page. “They probably summoned the heroes months ago and have been training them for this exact purpose. The Templar exemplify the pinnacle of what ordinary humans can reach through training and mana, and Heroes are a cut even above them. Increased growth speed, learning speed, and intuition for combat that so far outstrips everyone else, it’s not funny.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Layla asked. There was silence as Kata sat, stock-still. The Creator asked, and Kata allowed Him to speak through her.

“This was inevitable,” He answered the guildmistress with her lips. The guildmistress noticed the change immediately. He had such a different tone and speaking rhythm, more masculine and harsh. “I became aware of the existence of the Templars and the Heroes mentioned some time ago, and have made preparations of my own. Look here, they mention inciting rebellion. The teachings my Children spread at Blackwater Bay were peaceful, expounding on the virtues of charity, curiosity, community and reciprocation. That a few extremists, already unsatisfied with the nobles of the city, took them as an excuse and a scapegoat to get their own revenge is no fault of my Children. This is merely a convenient excuse, not the true reason for this Crusade.”

Kata couldn’t help but agree with His explanation. Something stunk in that proclamation.

“What’s your theory, then?” Guildmistress Losat asked, crossing her arms and shifting her weight.

“I believe it’s because of my Children,” The Creator answered, simply. “From what I’ve been able to discover, humans dominate this world. Why do you think that is? Your creation myth mentions that the Life Goddess discovered and favoured you, but, notably, not that she created you. I have created new

species. Peoples just as intelligent and just as capable as humans. They are a threat, and your Gods wish to strike them down, to preserve this stagnant civilisation that worships them without reservation. They’re not even real gods! They’re the pinnacle of what a Manabeing can become, likely the first manabeings, having existed since the dawn of the universe.”

“What are they then, if not gods?” Layla challenged, “They are higher beings who once freely meddled and interfered with our lives. After that chaotic era, they swore to only act through champions and priests, to guide our world with a lighter touch.”

“And where has that gotten you?” He responded. “Thousands of years of nothing. You are stagnant. How long ago was this Chaotic Era, exactly?”

“Thirty-three thousand, three hundred, and thirty-three years ago,” Losat answered simply. “Your point?”

“That’s.. an oddly specific number, but doesn’t that seem weird to you?” The Creator asked, pushing His point. “That your civilisation has endured for more than thirty thousand years without significant change? Your gods limit you. They prevent your advancement because if you were to grow beyond this constant struggle, you would no longer need them. They would no longer receive your worship. They need you, not the other way around.”

“The gods do not demand our worship,” Layla Losat answered, though Kata had never heard her sound so… unsure.

“Then why are they calling this crusade?” He rebutted, “They are scared. They call me a False God, but you know I’ve never called myself a god. I know what I am.”

He huffed through Kata’s nose, uncrossing her arms and legs. Under His influence, she stood from her chair, turned, and looked out the window. In the fading light, Kata saw the town and port winding down for the evening, and the Lighthouse burst into light as the dark of night crept ever closer.

“We have until Spring,” The Creator stated as Layla circled the table to join Kata at the window. “This isn’t something we can suppress, nor would I ever do so. The people of Atlantis have a right to know.”

“They will panic,” Losat replied. “The faithful will flee in droves.”

“And I will let them go.” He answered, to the surprise of the guildmistress. “Why are you surprised? I’m perhaps the greatest proponent of free will and of the right of all sentient beings to make their own decisions in all the world. If they leave, they leave. Any who remain will be offered shelter in The Dungeon. I have ample space on the Eleventh and Twelfth floors.”

“I thought you only had eleven floors?” Layla asked, confused. He chuckled, and Kata felt His amusement mingle with her own as he turned her to face the human woman.

“I did, once. And now I have Thirteen,” He stated. “I am not stagnant. I am not satisfied with what I have created. With the dungeon as my canvas, I craft wonders. Landscapes that awe and inspire.” He paused, staring right into Losat’s blindfold. “You have a choice, one far more damning than the last. Who are you more Loyal to, Layla Losat? Your religion, who demands my destruction? The Guilders under your aegis, who have their own choices to make? Your family? Your lover?” Kata’s eyes flicked to the man standing back by the desk. The man scowled in her direction, and The Creator held his gaze for a moment before turning back to the guildmistress.

“Leave Us,” He said. “Your answer can wait a week. Ensure you do not regret your decision, whatever you choose. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

Layla and Felin left without another word, and Kata regained control over her body. However, she didn’t move from her position by the window. In the town below, lanterns were lit, and the town’s bustling nightlife took over as its nocturnal residents took to the streets.

“You’re offering to take them to the Twelfth? Isn’t it unfinished?” Kata eventually asked. He hummed.

For now, he answered her. We have almost three months until they launch their Crusade against me.

Time enough to finish the Twelfth.

Time enough to prepare some truly devious defences

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