Erin stood —

  No.

  Erin observed — his corporeal form, an abstract manipulation of mana, present in all places and yet paying attention to none of them — Erin watched.

  He watched the adventurers progress through his dungeon — through him — and during that time, some part of him found joy in it. He relished in the moment’s the adventurers triumphed, felt pity when they failed, and even remorse when the unique among them died before they could ever completely bloom.

  It’s been a while, needless to say.

  Two months? Three?

  Four?

  If he considered the fact that he no longer slept, Erin could even convince himself it’s been longer. He was reborn, yes — restructured, repurposed — into something grand and unknown.

  Repurposed. Erin felt himself stuck on the word.

  Did he have a purpose?

  He had read stories before, fantasies that plagued the internet of old. They talked of men and women summoned to other worlds — made into Heroes — but those stories had not resonated with Erin.

  He had lost his flesh. Lost his blood and face… perhaps even his own heart.

  What was heart? Erin asked himself as he mindlessly watched the adventurers roam within him.

  The heart is an organ… He began.

  But underneath his slippery high school education, Erin knew that there was more to it than that. A heart was more than four chambers and a mere tool that pumped blood.

  You have heart. People used to say, but what did it mean?

  All life had a heart, in one way or another, but the memories….

  The memories of growing up, of failed relationships and of trying times, of both the highest of successes and the lowest of despairs — throughout it all — Erin was alive.

  And yet, some memories felt more alive than others.

  Some burned so greatly, so vividly, that Erin could still remember them clearly.

  And yet, something was always missing within them. Some spark or light; it felt as though Erin was in the dark, like he was missing some thing that used to be there — should be there, but for the life of him, he couldn’t name it. Couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

  Things were progressing smoothly, among other things.

  Erin had solved his magic hiccup and could now bestow seen-before-spells unto the creatures of his own volition — a boon, really — and yet Erin was hesitant.

  Things were progressing, yes — but towards what?

  Purpose. Erin bounced the word around.

  A dungeon’s purpose was to protect its core…. Erin told himself.

  And then that word struck him again. Heart.

  He was alive before. He had lived another life. Was his life then — when it was so fragile, so fleshy, so weak — was his purpose then to merely survive?

  To protect his heart as he did now his core?

  Erin picked his memories apart. One by one.

  And yet, none of them staked such a claim.

  Erin could not remember any such time in which he put forth any effort to defend himself so vehemently… so why was he doing it now?

  Sure. Erin saw the discrepancies. His previous life was mundane. His very presence did not manipulate the laws of the world as it did here. His race was abundant. His people flourished. Safety was neither a concern of his nor of his friends and family — and yet the danger’s remained.

  Terrorism. War. Random acts of violence. Road rage. Drunken stupors. Missiles of mass destruction. In addition, the human body was susceptible to many such things — most unnoticeable to even the senses God had supposedly granted them; radiation, poison, curses, hell — even too much light bestowed them cancer.

  So fragile, and yet never concerned about said fragility.

  So why was I so concerned with it now? Erin asked himself.

  Naturally, he didn’t want to die again. How unfortunate that would be; to be reborn only to scuttle the opportunity, and yet Erin treated it like it was a sentencing.

  Become a dungeon, in both name and identity.

  Where had Erin come up with such nonsense?

  The feeling. He answered himself.

  That first feeling when an adventurer had entered his domain; it was dark, cold, scary.

  But why was it scary? Erin asked himself.

  Had the disheveled man done anything to Erin? No.

  Had he said something to convince Erin he was bad? Not really.

  It was just… a feeling. A not good feeling.

  And Erin trusted it. It was his feeling after all.

  Or was it? Erin recalled the day.

  Two white haired deviants approached him, the first gruffier than the last. They had just laid waste to a group of what Erin had assumed was thieves; at least their black sails and collection of miscellaneous wares beneath the deck convinced Erin of such.

  So presumably, the white haired men were the good guys, but the good guys still sent Erin’s senses haywire.

  Why? Erin couldn’t help but wonder.

  What was so distinct, so vile about human’s that Erin instinctually rejected them? The question was even more so concerning when considering the fact that Erin had once been human.

  How had he changed so readily? So drastically?

  The mana? He pondered.

  And his would-be eyes widened.

  Erin’s dungeon didn’t just absorb the world’s ambient mana; it also produced it, albeit unintentionally, like the carbon dioxide a person exhaled, but even that — carbon dioxide — was the fuel plants needed to thrive.

  Was that Erin’s purpose, then? A planet-wide recycler?

  Certainly not the worst. He thought.

  Better than mere survival.

  This revelation, whether accurate or not, prompted another volley of questions.

  What would happen once all the world’s mana was purified? Or at the very least, was reformed into whichever manner Erin’s core envisioned?

  The question was surprisingly exciting. Something about the thought… tickled Erin’s senses — the same senses that had ‘warned’ him of the human’s presence prior.

  For whatever reason, it seemed his core resonated with the idea.

  Should I trust the instincts of a core? Erin asked himself.

  But before he could argue against himself yet again, he paused, and reflected.

  Whether he liked it or not, Erin had become a dungeon’s core; so it was within reason to believe that the core’s instinctual warnings were sound, or at the very least, were not construed with ill intent.

  Erin was the core, and the core was Erin.

  The two had become inseparable.

  The instincts of one clashed with the other; the emotions of one clashed with the lack of emotions of the other.

  Instincts versus heart.

  Programming versus ethics.

  Erin did not know what to do moving forward. He needed to protect himself, that much was a given, but surely he should also be doing more.

  For now, though, his reflective attention waned as a party of five had just made it across the second floor’s bridge. They would soon stumble upon the third floor, a rare feat and the first since Hyzen and Martha.

  Due to the special occasion, Erin put his existential thoughts on hold. For just one more moment, he’d reserve himself to merely watch.

  Perhaps through them he’d find something to strive towards — maybe they could be his goal for the day, much like how he was so often theirs.

  ***

  Mani’s party quickly discovered the stairs that led further down into the canyon. Afterwards, they discovered the Vesperclaw’s nest; they gasped at the drawings depicted across the walls, stood in awe of the gradual transition of sand to stairs, and thus plunged into the third floor.

  Before they could even catch sight of it, however, they heard the clap of the water underneath. The waves among the not-so-lazy river were wildly turbulent.

  White foam and familiar algae marred the stone and all around the waves crashed over the edge and spilled onto their walkway.

  Their first step into the third floor was wet. D’s boots sank an inch below the waterline, and as the rest of the party emerged from behind him, they too noticed the mist in the air and the dampness that clung to the walls like sap.

  Unlike the second floor which presented various paths and options, the third floor began immediately.

  About ten yards ahead — all wet, all sticky — the river flowed. There were no walls, no obstructions, no paths — just a five foot drop off and then —

  *splash*

  Axel kicked a rock over the edge.

  “How deep ya’ gander?” He asked Mateo.

  Mateo, meanwhile, crouched beside the edge and gazed into the river. The water was moving too fast to see into, of course, but Mateo always had a thing for theatrics.

  “I reckon no more than twenty feet.” He wholeheartedly guessed.

  Axel looked at him funny.

  “You can tell?”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “What?” Mateo caught his eye. “No. Not at all.”

  “Then why — you know what? Never mind.”

  Ten feet away, the brains of the operation conducted a real conversation.

  “You think we can swim it?” Mani asked.

  D gave him a side-eye.

  “Are you serious?”

  “No. But I had to ask.” Mani scratched his head.

  “So I guess this is what the kayak quest was for.” Mani added after a moment.

  Becca snorted. “What’s the kayak made of? Mithril?!”

  She pointed towards the water.

  “A kayak is not surviving that.”

  “Then what do you suggest we do? Oh mighty Becca?” Axel jumped in.

  She cut him a glare.

  “If you get on your knees and beg, maybe I’ll tell you.”

  “Excuse —”

  “Wait. You have an idea?” Mani readily interrupted Axel.

  “Well of course I have an idea!”

  The party looked at her.

  Nobody spoke.

  “Are you gonna tell —”

  “Ah. Ah. Ah. No interruptions!” Becca cut off Axel.

  “Well then say —”

  “I will once you shut up!” Becca snapped.

  “Hey! You interrupted me!” Axel held up his fingers. “Twice!”

  “I don’t recall.” Becca looked around aimlessly.

  “You uptight, no good, little, piece of —”

  “Axel! Enough! You too, Becca! Spit it out!” Mani ordered.

  At that, Becca smirked.

  “Watch and learn, boys!”

  She approached the edge and closed her eyes. With her staff in hand, she muttered an incantation.

  “Sturdy Rock: Earthen Foundation!”

  Her staff ignited as mana coursed through it. From her staff to the ground and underneath her feet, the stone rattled and the earth gave way.

  From directly underneath her, a large chunk of rock surged forward and slammed into the wall on the other side. The ceiling shook and dust frayed, but within only a moment — Becca had covered about a meter’s length of the not-so-lazy river.

  As the light from her staff subsided, Becca leaned forward and tapped the stone.

  Slowly, she applied more pressure; then tried her foot, then one leg, then two.

  Becca stood above the water on a stone slab of her own making.

  “Ha!” Becca yelped. “See! I told you I had a solution!”

  Simultaneously, her party watched her. They glanced at one another, each with a facial expression that conveyed more than mere triumph.

  “It can’t be that easy, right?” Axel spoke first.

  “What was that!!?” Becca snapped. “Because it sure didn’t sound like ‘oh my gods! Becca you’re so amazing! You’re so cool and pretty and we’d be helpless without you!’”

  “I do not sound like that.”

  “Are you sure?” Becca asked.

  “Alright! Enough!” Mani pinched his brow.

  “As impressive as this is, Becca, are you sure it can hold the weight of all of us combined? D’s armor and shield alone weigh an additional one-seventy. You have to take into account that you’re the lightest and smallest one here.” Mani said.

  In response, Becca slammed her boot against the stone slab.

  “Seems pretty stable to me-eeeEE!!!!!”

  From the roaring rapids, a Sea Tank exploded out of the water and slammed into the underside of the stone. The dark brown behemoth beast shattered the slab like glass and erupted through the other side.

  The once-turtle-now-beast soared through the air and then, just as quickly as it had appeared — plunged back into the water and disappeared within its depths.

  “BECCA!!” Multiple voices cried out.

  Mateo lunged forward without a second thought. His body leapt over the edge with his arm stretched forward. His fingers brushed against hers, but by then it was too late.

  He couldn’t reach her.

  Behind him, D dropped to the ground and reached over the edge. He caught Mateo by the back of his shirt and ripped him back — just as Mateo’s fingers brushed against Becca’s.

  “NOOOO!!!!” Mateo screamed.

  “LET ME GO GODS DAMN IT!!”

  He flailed recklessly.

  “Hold still!!” D groaned. His forearm burned. His shoulder ached.

  “Mateo! Get it together!” Mani screamed as he grabbed the back of D to try and offset the load. He leaned back and fought against the pull Mateo’s flailing was creating.

  Becca, meanwhile, was seconds away from hitting the water.

  *Woosh!*

  Something cut through the air.

  It was pointed and metallic. It crossed the distance between Axel and Becca in an instant, and before she could react, it penetrated deep into Becca’s abdomen and hooked around her flesh.

  It was a grappling hook, and on the other end of the grappling hook, Axel wrapped the rope around his forearm and gripped it between his hands.

  *SPLASH*

  Becca hit the water.

  Her body disappeared beneath the foamy waves and red blood pooled around her impact point.

  Suddenly, the rope snapped taut and Axel lifted off of the ground.

  “Uuugh — Ahhhhh!!!!” Axel screamed.

  “Help me you mother fuckers!” He begged.

  Before he vanished over the edge, D’s iron grip caught his ankle. His fingers dug into Axel’s flesh and pressed against his solid bones.

  It was, without a doubt, the most excruciating pain Axel had ever experienced; and that was saying a lot considering the fact that his forearm was already halfway to purple and his shoulder was freshly dislocated.

  “PULL ME BACK UP! PULL ME BACK UP!”

  D held onto Axel. Mani held onto D. Mateo, after he was pulled back to his feet, held onto Mani; and Axel held onto Becca.

  “On my count!” Mani erupted.

  “One! Two! HUUGH!!”

  “Again! One! Two! HNGGHH!!”

  Axel was pulled over the edge, but his arm was still mangled.

  D grabbed the rope and pulled. With all his might, he worked the rope back onto the surface.

  Eventually, Becca resurfaced.

  She was unconscious and bleeding. The grappling hook had tore into her lower abdomen and razed through her flesh and muscle.

  In addition, cuts and chunks of flesh were missing from her body. There was a gash in the center of her nose, her lips had been bisected, and her left leg — in particular — was more empty than it was whole.

  D dragged her onto the stone. He slid his fingers underneath her vest and tore the buttons apart. Then, he did the same to her blouse.

  Becca laid bare chested; her left nipple was missing and a solid chunk of meat had vanished from her bosom.

  D pressed his ear against her chest. It was bloody and goopy — the fat within her breast’s was actively seeping out onto her.

  *ba-dump* *ba-dump*

  “She’s alive!” D stepped back.

  Mani should have readied a spell by now.

  “Enchanted Night: Full Moon’s Embrace!” Mani spread his palms and placed them onto Becca’s body; one overtop her heart and the other against her forehead.

  Silver light immediately burst forth. It cascaded from above and coated both Becca and Mani’s figures. It swirled around them like a winter’s breeze — snowflakes amongst the night — the silver particles danced and fluttered about them.

  Underneath the rays of silver, Becca’s olive skin glowed strong. Her hairs stood on ends and endorphins rushed her blood stream.

  Her skin stretched. It thinned and spanned across the destroyed pieces of her. Her flesh, meanwhile, scabbed and matured.

  After a couple of minutes, the scabs flaked and disintegrated; they returned to silver light and flourished around her once again.

  When it was over, and the light dimmed, Becca had become paler. Her tanned skin had become supple and soft.

  Her left nipple was still gone, and in its place, white skin covered her breast whole. Mani’s spell could not re-grow what was lost; it merely made the body whole again — from crescent to full.

  Her damage was still there: missing chunks of flesh, liters lost in blood, and half of her breast was lost to the waves, but she was whole again — and was no longer actively bleeding.

  That was the real important part.

  She had been stabilized. At least for now.

  “D. Carry Becca. We’re getting out of here.” Mani said.

  “You got it, Boss.”

  ***

  In the outskirts of town, where the roses bloomed, Cassian and his assistant, Amanda, continued to study throughout the night.

  Cassian sat on a stool in his lab. His back was leaned forward, one eye closed — he kept remarkably still and gazed into a mystical contraption that amplified and reflected light in such a way that he could see things a million times smaller.

  In other words, Cassian bore into his microscope; his magical-looking — made of some sort of white marble with pink swirls, had an array of gemstones around its base alongside an intricate layering of glass disks within its center — microscope.

  At the other end of the lab, Amanda sat on another stool behind a different steel table. She had a massive book laid out in front of her. Every few minutes or so, she’d flip a page.

  *flip*

  Cassian removed his eye from his microscope and scribbled some notes down into his notebook. Then, very carefully, he reached over the table towards a neatly organized line of test tubes; the test tubes were small, they could hold no more than a hundred milliliters of liquid, and within each of them, a different colored liquid sat.

  Cassian grabbed the fourth test tube. It held a clear liquid.

  He uncorked it.

  *pop*

  Then, he opened a drawer to his left. He retrieved a syringe and dipped it into the uncorked test tube.

  He drew just a drop then re-corked the test tube and returned it to its place.

  He brought the syringe above the finely crafted glass plate that rested beneath his microscope.

  He released the clear liquid and immediately closed his other eye. He held his breath and leaned into the device.

  The molecules from the clear liquid crashed over top of the gently glowing rays of the algae and, with the devastation of a tsunami, the abnormally aggressive molecules from the liquid set a warpath towards the still molecules found within the algae.

  Like a rampant disease, the aggressive molecules devoured. They tore through the algae and proliferated, but then, something miraculous happened.

  The wild and unruly molecules died off shortly after. The moment they had consumed the still pieces of the algae, the warmongers slowed to a halt; then their cell wall collapsed and their innards opened up like that of a flower.

  The inner parts of these molecules then merged with what remained of the algae. The process felt long in the world of cells, but in reality — only a second had lapsed.

  In that second, the algae bloomed from teal to mandarin and orange light erupted throughout Cassian’s lab.

  “Woah!” Amanda commented. “Did you do that, Lord Cassian?!”

  “No.” Cassian leaned back from the microscope. “The dungeon itself is responsible for that.”

  “The dungeon?” Amanda asked.

  “Yes.” He said. “For some strange reason, the dungeon made it so.”

  “Why is it strange?”

  Cassian looked between the water within the test tube and the orange algae underneath his microscope.

  “Because the water comes from the first floor, but the algae comes from the second…. In order for the two to even interact, one would have to intentionally carry one to the other; either from top to bottom or bottom to top, but….” Cassian paused. His eyes looked around.

  “But… what?”

  “It — it would mean the floors were interconnected.” Cassian’s gaze grew determined.

  “Is that… not normal?” Amanda hesitated. She didn’t know. She had read a book or two by now about the study of dungeon’s, but to her understanding, unique dungeon’s could break any rule they wanted. It was difficult for her to understand the nuance between pattern and repetition from design choices with intention backing them.

  “Well…” Cassian thought. “I suppose a dungeon’s theme could be an example of one element that transcends multiple floor’s, but this — this is different.” He picked up the fourth test tube alongside the jar that held the rest of his teal-colored algae.

  “When a dungeon first creates a floor, it does so through a very specific and complex process. We believe that, throughout this process, dungeon’s likely follow some sort of underlying pattern. The issue is that this pattern is jumbled so thoroughly that it is difficult to even recognize it, but after hundreds of years of studying dungeons — we can confidently say that from start to finish, there is a pattern. That being said —”

  *pop*

  Cassian popped the test tube.

  He tipped it over and poured its contents into the jar.

  In the next moment, an egregious amount of orange light burst out of the jar and coated the lab in its hue.

  Amanda’s face flushed in pure wonder. Opposite her, however, Cassian’s expression turned grimmer by the moment.

  “If the dungeon wants adventurers to bring the water from the first floor to the second….” Cassian’s eyes wandered across the various beakers and test tubes that littered his lab.

  His eyes stopped on a particularly dark liquid.

  With a confident stride, he made his way across the lab and pulled the dark liquid from off of its shelf.

  “What if…?” Cassian looked back at the vibrant mandarin-colored algae.

  His gut was trying to tell him something. Cassian knew it. He just didn’t know what it was trying to tell him.

  He poured the Batarang’s venom into the jar of orange algae.

  The glow dimmed. The venom was thick and decayed and had a sharp acidic bite that aggressively stung the nose.

  Amanda’s eyes even started to tear.

  After two minutes, nothing happened.

  Sure; the glow dimmed, but that was only due to the thickness of the venom. It merely blotched out the light.

  Wielding a short knife, Cassian cut off a thin slice of the orange algae coated in venom and gently laid it atop another glass disk.

  He cleaned his workbench and tossed the previous glass disk to the side. Then, he slid the new one into place.

  He held his breath and closed one eye.

  *flip*

  He smirked. It seemed little Amanda returned to work before even he. Not to be outdone, Cassian prepared himself for another all-nighter.

  Then, he smirked again.

  The boys would be back soon. Should he just work until they return? It was rare, after all, to have the compound so quiet.

  *flip*

  There it was again. Cassian’s reminder that he had been lost in thought for too long. He shook it off.

  He’d work until he was tired. The same as always. What was so difficult about that?

  Not everything needed such profound insight. Not everything was something to be scrutinized.

  Cassian felt his nose tickle.

  The venom was truly pungent. Rancid, even.

  *flip*

  There it was again; and with that, Cassian leaned into his microscope. He was so close. He could practically taste it.