So, I was forced to bring a few more changes in order to make things a little fairer for these adventurers. I created a few simple puzzles in the long hallway leading to Level One. These puzzles would open up “secret” doors that would reveal chests full of marked gold coins. A vendor was conveniently placed to be near the fountain of Level One, where these adventurers would emerge from. The marked gold would be spent quickly to stock up on all the necessary gear to explore the rest of the dungeon. The vendor would then give the gold to a goblin assistant who would run back and restock the chests. And of course, the vendor would be compensated for his time spent maintaining the starter shop.
This adjustment quickly improved the morale and willingness for adventurers to engage in combat. Before, they were mostly trying to avoid any conflict whatsoever, looking for a way out without opening doors, entering halls or trying to bypass traps. Now, fully equipped, they were confident as ever in their abilities. And as a result, I was able to grow in power as they eventually made their way into the outside world. I would soon be able to return my efforts to rebuilding Level Two, and then I would be drawing in far more people than just prisoners. I felt rather excited at the prospect of the future.
Chapter 8
Regar returned home after two weeks of seeking out the right adventurers for our little expedition. He had secured three teams: one to search for the dungeon to the west, another for the east, and a team of dwarves to look below in the Hollowlands. They would find the Dungeon Below’s entrance, he assured me, or else they wouldn’t get paid the full amount.
I was thankful for Regar’s hard work. However, I told him that the three teams would not need to search for the entrance any longer. Why? Because as of yesterday morning, a new dungeon entrance had opened up forty feet away from my own. It was a large hill, suspiciously sticking out of a perfect clearing. At the base of that hill was a large cavernous opening, granting entrance to the Dungeon Below. While I had no evidence to prove that this would connect to my new rival, it was the only logical conclusion.
But why had it surfaced now? Perhaps it had been observing me in some way, watching my actions and then imitating them. It must have seen people entering my mouth and thought to create a mouth of its own. It was good that the goblins did not ever go outside, for if they saw this, another panic would start.
“This is not good,” Regar said, pacing back and forth as he examined the entrance. He was holding a lantern in his hand, raising it up so he could peer within. “That damned dungeon is going to confuse adventurers coming in.”
“It is of no threat,” I told him. “We can simply block it from the outside. I’ll send some of Gariatha’s orcs to wall it up.”
“No,” Regar said, shaking his head. “Not yet. We can use this. I have a few scrolls to contact those adventurers I hired. I can reroute them here and have them explore.”
“This dungeon is violent and cruel. It will kill any team that enters,” I warned.
“Hence why I’ll summon all three teams,” Regar said, snorting a little.
“Just warn them,” I replied, shifting my attention back to the dungeon entrance. Perhaps it was time to speak to the Dungeon Below again. Maybe I could scare it into backing off.
“Hello again,” I said, connecting to the being through telepathy. The emotions I could sense were less…frantic, less panicked. It was more in control than before.
“Yes, hello,” it replied. “You are the Tree.”
“Yes.”
“And you are like me,” it continued. “I did not think there were others who were like me.”
This was a curious development. The Dungeon Below had a better grasp on language this time around. Perhaps it wasn’t as stupid as I thought it was. I better walk cautiously in dealing with it.
“Neither did I. Why have you built this entrance near me?”
“Because I have seen food walk the surface and enter into your mouth,” it replied. “You eat them freely while I have no food. You would share them with me?”
“They are not food,” I explained. “They are sentient beings, like you and I are.”
“No. Not like us,” it grunted. “We are great and powerful, they are small and weak. Tiny little mortals. We crush them and eat their souls.”
Curious. I only consumed the raw essence left over from an adventurer dying; it was a natural byproduct of the spirit leaving the body. It did no harm to the adventurer themselves, because the essence would be lost otherwise. But was it possible to eat the soul of an adventurer? To consume the entire spirit itself?
“What do you mean, eat souls?”
“They try to leave me when their bodies die,” it said, chuckling a little. I could sense a despicable feeling of glee emanating throughout the being. “But mortals are not strong enough to escape me. I eat them all up. Grow much bigger because of it.”
I tried to explain the concept of raw essence, to see if that was what it meant, but it laughed at me once it understood what I was trying to say.
“Essences are small and weak, little morsels. We are big things that need big meals. Eat the soul, Tree. You get stronger that way.”
“But if you do that, you’re trapping them inside you forever,” I explained. “They cannot go to the afterlife.”
“Why should I care about them? They are not friends. They are weak.”
I could sense a disgust towards mortal beings in it, a total disregard and lack of empathy towards anything that was weaker than itself. This Dungeon Below was a monstrous entity. Yes, it could speak, but I knew at once that I could not reason with it.
“It is not right to deny a mortal their right to rest,” I replied, opting to try reasoning with it anyway.
“Right? You sound like my master. He spoke like you, so long ago. So long that I can barely remember his face. But I remember his voice. His lectures. Telling me to do good. He used words like you. But he was a mortal and I devoured him all the same. If you were weaker than me, I would eat you too.”
The lack of disregard and the lack of filter on the creature was shocking. It would not do well to tell a potential enemy of your willingness to kill them the moment they are weak. Yet, here this dungeon was, doing just that. Was it stupid or overconfident? Or perhaps it had never considered the idea that I was unlike it. That I was smart enough to recognize a threat and to do something about it.
“Very well. I shall leave you to your devices,” I said.
“No! Friend!” it said, its voice growing louder in my mind. “You share food with me, yes? In return, I give you spells. You want spells, yes? Spells to grow as I do, to trap as I do. Send half to me, and I give you half my spells.”
I decided to reply in a language that it would understand. “If I am stronger than you, why should I help you?”
“Friends help, yes?” it said. “Or else enemies.” I felt a murderous rage welling up within the monster. “And you would not want to be enemies.”
“I will help,” I lied. I did not wish to spend the magic to fight it off if it suddenly decided to attack me. Besides, I would have a better plan to get rid of this nuisance once and for all. “But now I must go back to work. Farewell, for now.”
“Goodbye,” it said. I could sense a deep satisfaction from the creature, as if it had somehow managed to pull one over on me. Brash and overconfident, a cruel seed of a dungeon, it would be a problem for me in the long term if I did not destroy it. But the problem was, to reveal how to kill such a dungeon would also reveal how to end my own life. Quite the conundrum.
Chapter 9
A self-aware dungeon was known as a dungeon core and they were rather rare in the world of Yehan. I myself was a core, powered by a beating core mass I often thought of as a heart. Truthfully it was the embodiment of my own sentience, containing all of my magical abilities. If the core was destroyed, I would be killed—regardless of my magical reserves and my powers. Ehdrid was the only one who knew of such a core within me, and
he was sworn to silence.
If the Dungeon Below was indeed a core, like myself, then it would also present such a vulnerability. And it would be hidden from the rest of the world, probably sealed off, just as my own core was sealed off. The fastest way to deal with this dungeon, this threat to both mortals and myself, would be to send a team in with instructions on how to kill it. But in betraying the secret of this dungeon, I would be revealing my own weaknesses to others who may seek to do the same to me.
I cautiously asked Regar if he knew of any vulnerabilities to a dungeon, to which he laughed. In his mind, even if dungeons were self-aware, they were natural parts of the world, like mountains or hills. They could not be destroyed. If a seasoned adventurer such as he did not know about cores, then perhaps it was a well-kept secret. Or maybe most adventurers did not realize cores were intelligent, that the dungeons they were traversing had sapience as they did.
This would make sense. There would be no reason for a dungeon to reveal itself to its prey. I thought back to my first encounter with the Dungeon Below. It had been surprised that I could speak to it, that I knew it was an intelligent being. Perhaps all dungeons were solitary creatures by nature, with no need to speak. Or perhaps they were like myself when I first landed in this realm, unable to speak without the aid of a single spell.
Whatever the reason for the secret of the core was, I had to make a decision. Should I give up this secret so that I may kill a despicable enemy who viewed everything in terms of food, or should I find some other way to destroy the dungeon? The only creatures that I could truly trust with my secret were the goblins, and they would have no chance of survival within such a place. Death for them in the dungeon would cause their spirits to become trapped forever, something that I could not bear. Then again, any mortal who went down there and died would most likely end up trapped too. Would the souls be released with the death of the core? Or were they consumed for good?
As I deliberated, silently working to expand Level Two, I began to sense an unfamiliar voice within me. It was none other than Izguril, the liar god who was imprisoned within me. He was speaking, calling out to me, as if he wished to say something of importance. This was a curiosity, for in all the time I had held him prisoner, he had not spoken a single time. He had nothing to say to me and I nothing to him.
I shifted my attention, down to the Vault of the False, where he resided. He was hovering in the center of the room, sealed in by the magics granted to me by the gods. His own divinity, now waning greatly from the loss of his followers, powered the rest of the prison, ensuring he could not escape for as long as he was divine. And even then, if he lost his status as a god, he would still be trapped.
“Are you with me yet?” Izguril asked, smiling a little.
“You call for me? Do you wish to complain about something?” I asked, eliciting a snicker from him.
“Oh no, I’m quite satisfied with my room, thank you,” he said. “I actually wish to share some insight with you on this dungeon you are so worried about.”
“How do you know of this?”
“We are connected, are we not?” Izguril said. His arms were suspended in place as well, preventing him from moving his hands, but I could see him budge his fingers a little. “You have sealed me in here, but I am still a god. I can hear your thoughts from time to time. And when you become singularly worried about something, those thoughts ring out quite clear.”
“I see. Very well, speak what you have to say,” I replied. As a divine being who was once hell-bent on destroying me, he no doubt knew of my core. He probably even knew its location.
“This Dungeon Below, as you call it, is not divine like you. He is stupid, incapable of planning like you. To betray your biggest secret to a bunch of drunken idiots who call themselves adventurers would be foolish. There are better ways to deal with it.”
“Why tell me such a thing? Why offer me aid when my death would set you free?”
“Would it?” Izguril asked. “Then I suppose you should disregard my advice then.”
“You want something from me, speak it,” I told him. I was on my guard for he was, above all else, still a god of deception. While he only held the domain of cruelty and had lost the power of supernatural lies, he was still clever as a fox. Perhaps this was all some method of manipulating me. I did not know.
“Well, now that you mention it, there is something I could benefit greatly from,” Izguril said. “You see, while I may be a disgraced and defeated god, I am still responsible for the domain of cruelty. And people still worship me. Now, since I have been imprisoned here, I am unable to speak to my followers, to give my priests and clerics instructions on what is to become of them. If you would be so kind as to allow a single follower of mine in here, just for a few hours, so that I may give them all the instructions they need to carry out my new rules, I would be willing to give you the aid you need with this Dungeon Below.”
“You wish to have a visitor? So, you may speak in codes and riddles, no doubt, prompting them to learn methods of breaking you free?” I replied. “I am not a fool.”
“Please, what could any mortal possibly do to stand against you?” Izguril asked. “I merely wish to provide instruction to the few followers that I have left.”
“I was not born yesterday,” I told him. “I will not provide you any means of communication with the outside world.”
“Then I suppose you will have to roll the dice on who you can trust with your secrets,” Izguril replied, laughing a little. “And once that secret gets out, no doubt some well-meaning crusader will arrive, shouting about how you are accursed and a blight upon the land. He’ll probably gather a few hundred followers too, all resolved on destroying the devil tree that kills adventurers and peasants alike. Would you be able to repel them? And for how long?”
I ignored the words of the liar god. He was just trying to control me, to put me in a state of fear. I could not trust that he had anything close to good intentions when it came to dealing with me. He was a prisoner who wanted freedom, that much I knew.
“Do not bother me with such requests again, Izguril,” I said. “I will not grant you anything for as long as I live.”
“Very well. But my offer still stands, should you change your mind,” he said, grinning widely. “Or at least, should you come to your senses.”
Chapter 10
I am not proud to admit that I was unsettled by Izguril’s words. I knew he was a liar and a fiend, whose only goal was to manipulate me, to make me feel afraid so that I would give in to his request. But he had been right about the danger of just entrusting my secret to some random band of adventurers. Or really, anyone. The only person who knew about this was Ehdrid, and his people’s very survival was tied to this secret, which gave him the ultimate reason to stay quiet. But gold or threats would not represent a sufficient incentive to anyone else.
So, I decided to hold off on making any kind of decision just yet. I would rather see what the team of adventurers that were currently preparing to head into the Dungeon Below would find within it. These adventurers were the first to arrive, thanks to a spell of contact from Regar. They were elven rogues, hearty dungeoneers who knew how to walk lightly and avoid traps. Five in total, they wore special cloaks that allowed them to blend in with the walls and bows that would find the hearts of their enemies when fired.
They were part of an adventurers’ guild known as the Yehan Dungeoneering Company. For over three hundred years, YDC had been on the forefront of all dungeon exploration, providing adventurers with all the necessary training and equipment. According to Regar, of all the adventuring guilds out there, the Yehan Dungeoneering Company was considered to be the most reputable. They had official licenses provided to them by just about every major city and kingdom in Yehan. When a king had a problem with a dungeon, he would send out a missive to YDC and they would respond by posting a job on their board.
Apparently, adventurers who were part of guilds often loo
ked for jobs on a large wooden board in their many guildhalls. Whenever a new mission would come in, a request for exploration or perhaps an urgent need for aid in a specific dungeon, a Questmaster would write out the details, the location and the reward, then place it upon this board. These jobs were often referred to as quests.
It was so curious to learn these details about adventuring. From my years of observation, watching the many warriors enter my dungeon, I would have assumed there was no organization whatsoever. That to be an adventurer meant wandering about until one found something interesting. And while Regar explained that there were some adventurers who wanted to wander the world without a care about things like quests or parties, most adventurers were organized on some level.
As I watched this team of clearly seasoned adventurers begin to enter the Dungeon Below, I wondered if it would be possible to make use of the jobs board to draw more quality adventurers to me. All that was necessary would be to send an anonymous messenger to the Yehan Dungeoneering Company headquarters, provide them with a substantial payment and a message requesting exploration of my dungeon, or something to that effect. That might bring in a few teams similar to the five elves, who no doubt were powerful in their own way.
I brought up the suggestion to Regar, but he wasn’t as excited about the prospect. To him, it seemed rather dirty to lure adventurers here with fake jobs. They weren’t fake, I tried to explain, as the reward would be real, but his counter was that nothing would be accomplished when they finished the job. It would be dishonorable, he believed, to die in the pursuit of a meaningless quest. And once he brought up the idea of honor, I began to reflect upon his thoughts. In the end, I was forced to agree with him. The adventurers who entered needed to have a real purpose in coming here.
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