Dungeon Heart: Recent Episodes
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Maxim Trevol rolled his shoulder slowly to relieve some of the stiffness he felt near his shoulder blade, and sighed in relief as some of the pressure was relieved. He had never expected the amount of work that he had to do so soon after arriving to the dungeon town. When Ikfes had said that he wanted Max to inspect and test the entire militia, he had not expected there to be so many people in the militia in a town so small. On top of that, it felt like every child in the village had also been brought for testing once it had been announced that the testing was free for non-adults. It was quite amazing really, though considering what he had heard about the town, he supposed it was logical.
Being overrun and chased by such unholy creatures must have been a nightmare for all the folks of the town. He wouldn’t be surprised at all if that trauma was the driving force inspiring the size of the militia and the eager parents that encouraged their children to be tested. He had tested hundreds of people since he got to the village, and thus his assignment had been far more tasking that he had expected.
On that note, the results were also better than he expected, even considering the surprising number of people to examine. It was well known that humans that had the ability to feel mana were about one in a hundred, and of those that could feel it, roughly one in ten could utilize it enough to become a mage or sorcerer proper. In this case, the village was abnormal, as he had found fifteen people capable of sensing mana, five of which showed the potential to become a mage. This was very unusual, to say the least.
To add to this mystery, the distribution of these fifteen who had tested positive was rather odd as well. Five were adults, of which three had lived in Nam their entire lives, the other two were immigrants from other places in the kingdom. The other ten were children, eight which were born and raised in Nam, and the other two were young (...)
Ziggurd had come to fully respect Smit and admired him more than he had truly admired anyone before. More than that, in the short time that he had known Smit, he had acted more like a father to him than his own had. His father had been common alchemist that had some minor ability with magic and had had a habit of immersing himself in his work so deeply that he often neglected his family. A man of few words and not very expressive of his emotions, Ziggurd could not call him a bad man, but he could not claim to have many memorable or joyful moments with him either. Perhaps the title of ‘mentor’ suited his biological father better than that of ‘parent’ considering the situation. The best thing that his father had done was instill a sense of wonder about magic within him, which led Ziggurd to be coming a proper sorcerer once it was discovered that he possessed the talent for it.
In contrast, while Smit was also passionate about his craft like Ziggurd’s original father, the level of consideration he had for Ziggurd was in a completely different level. Or perhaps Smit was simply more capable of expressing himself better. In the past few months, Smit had been more of a father to him than his own biological father had in years. He checked on Ziggurd regularly without being intrusive, he held deep conversations with him, he provided advice, he gave Ziggurd siblings that supported him, he even provided Ziggurd with a home despite not having any need to do so… And in a more literal sense, given that Smit had given him created him again, Smit was his father now.
When he thought about it, despite the fact that Smit had clearly not made any particular effort to indoctrinate him into subservience or even bring him into his fold, Ziggurd could not help but to view him as a paternal figure. Maybe it was because Smit simply treated him like the Pala and the rest, maybe it was because his new siblings never doubted him or treated him like he was any different (...)
With the arrival of spring, the entire landscape of Nam began to change. The snow that blanketed the area in its icy embrace began to melt away, and the greenery of the forest began to resurface with vigor. However, with the changing of the seasons, the landscape was not the only thing to have changed. Spring came and was greeted with the sight of an entirely different view of the village of Nam. No longer just a mere village full of untrained villagers and country bumpkins, the village had expanded such that the returning merchants from the capital doubted their eyes at first. Walls and watch towers greeted them instead of the modest houses they had seen last time, and there were even a couple of young men at the entrance keeping guard.
In all fairness, they did not look much like proper guards, the only thing distinguishing them from the rest of the villagers was an iron helmet that was standard for the army of the kingdom, and a pair of short swords at their hips. They were clearly new recruits that had probably only learned the basics of the sword, but that was already miles ahead of what any merchant would have expected for what half a year ago had been a remote village at the edge of the kingdom. The speed of the development could only be called explosive considering the circumstances and manpower available to such a village.
This was encouraging for the merchants, as it was solid proof that there was a substantial amount of money flowing through the village for it to develop so quickly. More money meant more business, and that always meant that they would profit. That said, it was not only merchants who had began to roam the roads that led to Nam. Now that the rumors had spread to every corner of the kingdom and the village had expanded to what could be considered a small town, adventurers, bards, entrepreneurs, and even barbers began to trickle towards it.
It was a risky venture for most of these people to be sure. Many of (...)
Mei Blatt was the undisputed best sniper in the entire village. Her capabilities with her elven bow were at odds with her adorable looks. While elves were generally the same height as humans, she was on the short side of the spectrum, about a head shorter than the average man. This, coupled with her lovely grey-blue eyes, short silvery-gold hair, and inherent beauty from her elven heritage made her far more attractive than your average girl. It was also the type of beauty that was soothing to the eyes and calming for the mind, like a gorgeous pond that one could gaze at for hours on end. It would not be an exaggerating to say that even some courtesans and nobles were jealous of her appearance.
But that changed the instant that she was in a serious situation in the field. In an instant she was in her huntress mindset, her soothing aura would melt way and those large eyes would become cold and calculating. Her lips would press firmly and narrow into a stern expression, and her fine eyebrows would angle to give her a more hawk-like expression. While from a distance she would not seem much different, to anyone that was up-close the change was startling.
The change was so suden when Mei changed from a straightforward, warm lady to a cold and calculating sniper with pinpoint accuracy that the militia men under her command were startled. . Each of her arrows zipped through the air, before digging deep into whatever unfortunate target happened to be in her eyesight. More often than not however, her shots served to protect the militia group under her jurisdiction.
Now that winter was starting to release its hold on the village, Ikfes and the king had concocted a plan to strengthen the defences of the village a step further. Now that the watchtowers and town wall were completed and the main roads were in place, what they required was people that could utilize them to their advantage. That meant that the militia had to not only become accustomed to using (...)
Smit wasted no time at all in getting to work with the dungeon itself. He let his creations have their fight for survival while he focused on expanding his domain. Naturally, the four Kobolds quickly asserted themselves as the apex predators, hunting rats and eating them raw regularly. Smit wished that he had larger animals for them to hunt, and thus that way they could grow quicker, but that was not to be… not yet at least. When he grew enough, he would unlock even more creatures, so he was confident that it wouldn’t be long before he could do that.
Now that Smit had created a decent environment with “survival of the fittest” as the core value, set about to work on the dungeon itself. He quickly discovered a few things between experimenting and talking with Echo. First, there was a theoretical limit to how extensive he could make each floor of his dungeon, and it depended on how much mana he produced. The more mana he produced, the more mana could permeate the stone that surrounded him, and the further he could expand his territory. One fun fact that he discovered as he let mana permeate the stone around him was that, once he created a room and let his mana permeate the stone, the stone became much harder than usual.
Secondly, he became aware that by deconstructing rock to create a room, he could analyse anything he deconstructed to produce more of it. Oddly enough, when he deconstructed the rock he could either store the stone he had removed in a sort of pocket dimension inside of him, or break it down into smaller components, and even create mana out of it. This was a fantastic surprise for him since it allowed him to store matter that he could use for future use instead of crafting everything out of raw mana. Interestingly enough, Echo had never had the ability to convert stone into mana, or store stone. Instead, she had been able to store specific items such as swords, and she could not revert the process of creation to degrade stone into mana.
(...)
-Dungeon Heart’s POV-
The first thing I did was to expand my power through the walls of the place that once was my home. To be honest, my home was never that large to begin with. It consisted of simply three rooms: Kitchen, the forge room, and bedroom. I suppose it would have counted as four rooms if you included the small bathroom that was wedged between the bedroom and the forge room.
Surprisingly it took me an entire day to expand my territory over this place. Even though the entirety of my home couldn’t have been more than 30m x 30m (98.5 feet x 98.5 feet), it still it still required me quite some time to “claim” the area by infusing my mana into the walls, and hence transforming it into a part of me. I suppose you could say that the entirety of the dungeon was a living being. If I had to simplify it, then it you could think of the dungeon core as the brain and soul of the dungeon, while the dungeon itself the body. I suppose that the monsters and traps would be kind of like… an immune system of some sort? I am not sure how I feel about that thought, so I will just put it aside for now.
Rather, I have a lot to do right now. Even though I reclaimed what had been once my room in one day, it still took me another three days to reclaim the one kilometer hallway that led from the forge room all the way to the outside of the mountain. Even though the hallway was narrow, I had to wait for my mana to permeate the walls and turn the area into a part of what is considered my dungeon, and the further away the area is from me, the dungeon heart, the longer it takes to do that. I asked Echo about it and Echo simply said that it was due to mana density.
Apparently, dungeons are like gateways for mana for the world. The dungeon core takes in ether from the earth, and then channels and refine this ether into mana in large quantities. Naturally, this meant that the area with the highest concentration in of mana could (...)
After creating Echo, Mak’rit had been drained of power and entered a comatose-like state of sleep. For an untold number of days he slumbered while his soul melded with his new body, completing his transformation unperturbed. Slowly his core continued to draw mana into itself, absorbing it steadily from its surroundings.
The days slipped by and created weeks, but soon he awoke, knowing that he had changed. He knew his change was not as basic as just the having a different body, but he instinctually knew that his very essence had changed. He felt it in his soul the moment he woke up. He understood he wasn’t Mak’rit anymore. He was a new being, a being who was based on Mak’rit, retaining a large part of the knowledge of his previous life, but still different at a fundamental level. Even the name Mak’rit didn’t feel like it was a part of him anymore.
In fact, he felt like… an infant, for lack of a better word. He felt young, curious, playful even. And yet, he had knowledge that the old Mak’rit had accumulated from his centuries of life. Curiously, he expanded his senses. He couldn’t really see anything, at least not in the normal sense of the word. But he could perceive everything around him. If he had to describe it, it was more than just normal sight. He could understand the location, the features, the presence, and even the relative energy of everything around him within a ten-meter radius of himself.
The sheer amount of information he was receiving was outstanding, and yet he wasn’t overwhelmed by it at all. Turning his attention towards himself, he found that his new body was rather… small, yet different than what he had expected. Unlike the small and round green stone he had carried around his neck before, his body resembled a beautiful deep green emerald that had been cut into a dodecahedron. Furthermore, his body was bigger than he recalled it being before, since he estimated it to be the size of man’s fist.
(...)
Chapter 1
There he lay, the fabled ‘Emperor of the Forge,’ waiting for death to finally take him. He snorted at the thought. To think that he used to take pride in such outlandish names before. The emperor of the forge, the sage of stone, the craftsman king, the lord of ores. How childish did that all seem now. For all the renown he had gathered from across the world, for all the fortune and fame he had obtained, death could not be avoided. Soon people would mourn, and then his name would become a memory, perhaps a legend, and then remain in the world as a myth.
Mak’rit sighed to himself as he stroked his long, braided white beard with his thick hands. He had regrets. One of them isolating himself from the rest of the world for the last seventy years. Now, at the ripe age of seven hundred and thirty-one years of age, there was no one left to see him off into the next world. He cursed himself for his arrogant desire to be left alone now. The old dwarf had no one at this point, and he knew he would die in his own lonely workshop, deep in the heart of the mountains where no one would find him.
He had managed to double the age of the average dwarf with the aid of magic and his own cultivation techniques, but now he felt death approach and not even the strongest magic could stop it now. His body, now thin compared to his powerful body he had in his prime, still retained enough strength to grip tightly his last regret. On a simple silver chain around his neck, a slightly fractured stone with a dull grin shine hanged. As always, it fit perfectly in the grip of his large fist, its smooth surface soothing him slightly.
It was the heart of an ancient dungeon. Unlike all other dungeon cores, this one he had been unable to work in his forge. It would not bend to the will of his hammer, nor assimilate even with the finest metals. It was the one thing beyond (...)