FINAL CORE - Chapter 16

I do wonder at times, who was the first man to ever enter a dungeon?

What would possess such a wild entity to delve into a place that is so dark and separate from the world?

Pursuit of food?

Perhaps. But what food could the dungeon offer that can not be found on the hunt?

Pursuit of wealth then?

Unlikely. It seems reasonable to assume that, barring some primitive bartering, the first man would have little use of such a novel a thing as ‘wealth’ in the environment the gods had placed him into.

This leaves just one explanation in my eyes, the innate human desire to explore, to search, to expand, to discover.

Surely this is why the first man to enter a dungeon must have been a human.

Not an elf, whose kind in the past preferred to live in quiet seclusion, or an orc, whose ancestors spent their years wandering over the world as nomads, or a dwarf, whose ilk had sunken so deeply into the world, that they were thought to be lost a species.

No. Only the human animal possesses the drive and curiosity to enter such a place for seemingly no tangible reward.

The scholars of the other races might dispute this, as would the ‘polite’ company of proper society. But I hold it to be an inalienable fact.

There is a reason that the only cities of note in the world are of human origin.

We are the favored.

~ Excerpt from Wicker Marvin’s banned book on the topic of human superiority

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[Sanctuary] : As a place of healing and protection, all should feel safe and whole here. 

Allows the establishing of a safe room before every boss-floor of the dungeon. Safe-rooms allow any intruders to heal and rest inside of them without worry of attack for as long as they wish. In return, the tower will gain 25% of their MAX-SOUL for the full duration of their stay.

Isaiah nods, satisfied with the new ability. A safe-room, offering intruders shelter and security might seem like a counterproductive idea. However, the sole goal that they have is to build higher, faster. If harboring a few intruders allows them to achieve this goal, then it is worth the extra trouble it will cause.

Besides, there’s not really anything stopping anyone from stopping and just healing in any old room, after it’s been cleared. Isaiah rubs its chin in an old mannerism, its hand stroking its face and expecting to feel a beard there.

But there is nothing but smooth, too soft skin.

“It’s because there’s healing items and stuff,” says a familiar voice. Crystal.

Isaiah turns towards it, assuming it is lifting an eyebrow. Despite the fact that it does not have eyebrows. “How do you know?” it asks. “What I always think.”

Crystal shrugs. “I’ve been around the bend a few times, I know what you dungeon-cores think,” it explains. “You’re not my first.”

Isaiah tilts its head. “There are others?”

“Oh sure, there are a few. Every year we get one or two new ones and every year one or two old ones kick it,” explains the uthra. “There’s always forty-nine dungeons.”

“How specific,” notes Isaiah.

“Don’t ask me,” replies Crystal. “The gods just kind of make stuff up sometimes. I think so at least.”

Isaiah looks at the uthra, a holy creature. “If I am the first holy dungeon-core, then how are you experienced in these matters?”

“Huh? Oh.” Crystal points at itself. “We’re made out of dungeon-magic. We just take on the shape of whatever flavor of dungeon we’re a part of,” she explains. “Last time I was a gnome!”

“Last time you were annoying as shit,” says a snarky voice. Red flies by, carrying a basket full of food from the forest. It seems like quite the detour, flying over the tower to go downstairs. Isaiah assumes that Red just wanted to be a part of the conversation.

Crystal leans in. “Don’t mind her, she’s just a grump.”

She?

Isaiah thinks for a moment, trying to connect this new information to past memories. The other uthra, the first ones summoned in, they died forever, didn’t they?

“Oh, yeah, they’re super dead,” says Crystal, doing the thing again. The uthra makes a squishing noise with its mouth. “It’s different. If we die, we die. But if a dungeon-core gets destroyed first, we just get sent back to the spirit world,” explains the uthra. “That’s why Red’s a grump. All of her friends got squished.”

Isaiah nods, understanding.

“Anyway,” says Crystal. “We’re going to have to design the safe-room to have some places to heal for free and maybe a bed or something,” explains the uthra. “There are rules, after all.”

“I understand,” says Isaiah. “Make it good, as always.”

“You got it,” says Crystal, flying off.

Isaiah thinks for a moment. It understands Red’s feelings, in a sense. But perhaps not. After all, its family is still alive.

Isaiah closes its eyes, looking through the eyes of a small statue, placed in a tree in the forest.

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A lone blackbird sits in a nest. Several berries surround it and it sits hunkered down on a clutch of eggs, staring around the forest with wary, unrested eyes.

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Isaiah opens its eyes again.

There isn’t much time left.

A clutch of eggs will take two weeks to hatch at the latest and half of that is already over. They need to go faster, higher. This isn’t working out at all. The tower is still so small.

It lifts a taloned hand, reaching up for the sky, stretching out its long fingers in a vain attempt to clutch hold of it.

The uthra are working hard. But it isn’t enough.

Rorate’s prayers are helping sustain another uthra. But it isn’t enough.

The multiple incursions by various troops of goblins, while having been fruitful, simply aren’t enough.

The last hope is the humans. They’re the last thing that Isaiah can count on. It needs them to come here. It needs them to worship, ideally. In the best case, none of them will attack the tower and all of them will come to pray.

But realistically, it knows that this won’t work out. There will be a divide amongst them.

It remembers humans.

It had been killed by another human and it had killed that human.

The same thing will happen here between them.

Isaiah stares up towards the sun, through its taloned fingers.

It all just isn’t enough.

[New Area Added]

Floor {8}

The eight floor of the tower dungeon. It is currently empty.

Capacity: {16} Monster-Points

1 TRAP

 (The next sub-boss/challenge room will be available in {8} floors!)

(The next boss arena will be available in {2} floors.)

The floor of the highest platform on the tower rises up another level.

— The sky feels no closer than it was a moment ago.

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[Territory Breached!]

Intruders: 5

Average Level: 47

Difficulty: DEADLY

Isaiah jumps down from its roost, scrambling to the edge of the tower and looks over the edge.

“RED!”

“Yeah, we’re fucked,” says Red, appearing next to Isaiah. The two of them watch as a small troop of people rush down the road to the tower, riding in on some very large, bipedal birds with ornate plumage and long, stiff feathery tails that sweep behind them. “It was fun while it lasted. Never built a tower before. But I guess it’s time to call it a day,” says Red, flying up into the air. “I’ll go hide in the forest until you die, okay?”

“Red,” warns Isaiah.

Red sighs. “Fine, sheesh. I’ll go… I don’t know. I’ll go get the dark-elf or something?” she suggests and then flies off.

Isaiah looks back at the intruders. Two humans, an orc, an elf and a dwarf. That’s not counting the five birds, who Isaiah decides to overlook.

It narrows its eyes, staring at the birds for a moment, as it begins to remember them from its own human life. ‘Anqas’.

Isaiah closes its eyes, peering out through a statue on the grounds.

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“Status?” asks a human, a man. He is furiously scribbling into a ledger in his hands.

The dwarf, having jumped off of her bird, taps the shrine with a stick. “Active.”

The male elf next to him grabs it, yanking it away. “Have some respect!”

“Age?” asks the human male, walking on and continuing to write.

“Recent. About a week,” replies the dwarf, leaning down to look at the ground. She picks up a pinch of dirt, handing it to the elf, who sets down the stick and takes it, crumbling it between his fingers.

“Element?” asks the human.

The elf lifts her fingers to his nose. His ears twitch. “…Holy,” he says quietly, surprised.

The scribbling stops as the man with the ledger looks her way, he nods to him to confirm it. “Really.”

[Prayers]

A prayer has been said at the shrine.

+1 EXP

The other human, a woman, walks out of the shrine. “There’s a leyline here. It’s running beneath the tower,” she explains.

“A leyline? Beneath a holy dungeon?” asks the man with the ledger, looking back towards the tower.

“Hardly a ‘dungeon’, is it?” asks the dwarf. “It looks kind of nice, honestly,” he says. “Reminds me of the grand cathedral. Isn’t that whatsherface?” he asks, pointing at a statue of some goddess off to the side.

The four of them stand there in silence for a moment.

Off to the side of the forest, a wisp approaches from the woodland, having sensed the intruders.

Isaiah watches in horrified fascination as the orc, who has so far been missing from the conversation, simply walks up to the wisp, taking its spell straight to her chest without flinching.

She lifts a hand and grabs it, simply crushing it into nothing.

“Rank?” asks the man with the ledger, almost bored.

“F,” replies the orc, looking back his way. “D minus at best.”

The man scribbles into his book. “Initial thoughts?”

“Check,” says the elf, a priest.

“Check,” replies the human female, some kind of caster.

The orc, clearly a physical combatant, shakes her head. “Pass.”

The man with the ledger also shakes his head. “Pass.”

The four of them look at the dwarf. “Check,” she says, causing the man with the book to roll his eyes and the orc to groan.

“Checks win,” says the man, noting something in his ledger. He slaps it shut. “Let’s take a look then,” he says and the four of them walk towards the dungeon-gate.