Below the waves and the seafoam exist things beyond the reckoning of men. Do you imagine that those threats with which humanity is intimately familiar are the greatest that exist? Far from what you see are the untamed dungeons of the depths, the ageless leviathan, and, should one sink deep enough, primordial things that defy description.

Seldom do the powers of the ocean make themselves known to the dwellers of the dry places. Ever do they sink lower in pursuit of prey worthy of their appetites, just as the creatures of the dungeon lower themselves in pursuit of evolution. This natural instinct may be all that protects humanity from some unknown horror surfacing to lay waste to all we've built.

If one were to explore the depths of the seas, should one be mad enough, they will find a place of absolute darkness, crushing pressure, and free mana so thick you can taste it. Should you survive this descent, there are some who claim an entrance to the abyss can be found in the deepest places. If I ever found myself on the cusp of such a precipice, I would throw myself in without a second thought. For although the abyss is a fine place to die a fools death, if I compare it to the darkest depths of the ocean, I'd rather take my chances with the demons.

-Excerpt from Travelers Journal of Torress

Mud sauntered into Earth Dragon Lutumocus's lair. Behind him trailed ten Kobold, a carved statue carried between each pair of Kobold. After weaving through the artwork to stand before Lutumocus, the Kobolds gently set down the five works of art that Mud had produced, arranged in a neat line under the Earth Dragon's gaze.

"What is this?" The rumbling, landslide voice of Lutumocus queried.

"I have created art." Mud gestured towards the arrayed sculptures with its stubby arm.

"Art you say?" Lutumocus scanned the objects with her golden eyes. "Perhaps we should go over these one at a time. First," the dragon pointed a flint claw to the statue nearest Mud, "what is that? Just a... distorted sphere?" The carving the dragon indicated was made of wood, and resembled a sphered stretched upward to roughly the height of a man and squeezed in the center.

"This is a statue of a human being engulfed by a slime."

"Engulfed?" The dragon's eye flashed with golden light as she looked again at the statue. "Hoh, you even carved a little person inside there! Very interesting. Most viewers wouldn't even realize what's hidden within. You really captured the look of that girl having slime shoved into her mouth."

"I have been informed."

"Alright, I'll trade you one of the books for this statue. Um, Return to the Astral. What's this next one?" Lutumocus pointed to the second sculpture. "It looks like a normal log. Did you forget to carve it?"

"That is a statue of a log," replied Mud.

"You carved a statue of a log out of a log?"

"Yes."

"...I don't think I want this one. Next." Lutumocus pointed to a finely carved stone statue of a muscular male human throwing a disc. "That one looks familiar."

"This is an exact replica of one of the statues that is already in your collection. Since you have already accepted that statue into your collection, logically it must fit your requirements. I have also made it out of the same kind of stone."

The dragon swung down her thick tail, shattering the reproduction. "Do not. Plagiarize. My. Horde." Lutumocus bared her teeth and glowered over the tiny figure of Mud. A momentary spike of malice radiated from the dragon, but quickly faded as she returned to her haunches.

"The next art," Mud continued unfazed, "is a unique design suggested by my male human." Mud indicated the wooden carving depicting Cob, surrounded by a multitude of female demi-humans, and standing atop a pile of defeated enemies.

"I'm familiar with your humans. I don't believe the male was this muscular. It's kind of in bad taste. Hmm..." The dragon reached down and broke off a part of the statue. "I'll keep this carving of Div, though. With this, I'll forgive you for the plagiarism."

"This is my last artwork." Mud indicated a complex fractal shape that bent in on itself.

"That one is rather peculiar. It almost hurts to look at." The statue seemed to bend and twist at impossible angles. At times a single section would become two sections without ever splitting. There were sections that appeared to be nearer to the viewer than other sections that were themselves nearer than sections that were nearer than the first section, in complete defiance of the normally linear nature of depth. By all rights, such a sculpture should be impossible to exist in three-dimensional space. "How did you even carve that?"

"I reproduced the shape of a spell which I once witnessed from memory." Mud paused for a moment. "I do not understand how it is possible either."

"First that abyssal artifact you tried to trade with me, and now this fourth-dimensional carving... have you been consorting with demons, mud pie?" Lutumocus's golden eye pierced Mud.

Mud looked down momentarily to make sure it wasn't standing on a stone platform. "No."

"Eh, I don't really care anyway. I'll keep this one, but don't make any more like this. Mucking about in the higher dimension is dangerous. You can have the other book-"

"Stop." Mud interrupted the dragon. "I would like to request a different form of compensation."

"Really? I thought retrieving your things was important to you?"

"That is accurate. However, the amount of time it takes to retrieve them is irrelevant so long as they can be eventually retrieved. Now that I have confirmed that my self-made art can regain The Master's possessions, there is no need to expend all of my current resources to expedite the process."

Mud's interpretation of The Master's orders, to protect his possessions, included preventing them from being damaged as well as maintain ownership. If The Master's possessions are damaged, they should be repaired, and if they are stolen, they should be regained. There was a key difference between prevention and restoration, however; prevention had a specific point in time after which it became impossible. Mud couldn't prevent something that already happened; this was a clear fail state which must be avoided. Restoration, by contrast, could be delayed indefinitely as long as it was still possible. The only fail state to restoration, as far as Mud was concerned, was if restoration became impossible.

To Mud, completing a goal at the last possible second was just as good as completing it immediately. Under normal circumstances, Mud might have been much more eager to regain The Master's possessions, but in this case, the items were actually more safe and secure if they remained in the dragon horde. As such, it was optimal to delay retrieval as long as possible. Mud would certainly need to retrieve them eventually in order to follow The Master's orders, though. As such, it would be vital in the future to maintain friendly relations with Lutumocus.

"So," asked the Earth Dragon, "what form of compensation did you have in mind?"

"I wish to increase in level. I wish to receive aid in this task from your minions."

"You're actually requesting level training from a dragon?" Lutumocus grinned wickedly. "That's fine. I'll send Utillignum, since you already know him. He likes to help."

Mud looked towards where Ego was held down by chains. Over their soul bond, Mud could feel her overwhelming distress and pain. She believed she was failing as a weapon, being separated from her wielder, and unable to assist. "Additionally, I wish to bring the ego sword from your horde with me while we hunt."

"Impossible." Lutumocus snorted. "I told you, nothing leaves my horde."

"Ego Golem is not art. She is a living creature." The dragon seemed unconvinced, so Mud changed tactics. "Her artistic value will increase if she gains levels." That caught the dragon's attention.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with something from a dragon's horde being temporarily sent to be repaired or improved, so if I think of it like that... Alright, but I'll expect you to return her when you're done hunting. I'm only doing this because I like you, so show some appreciation."

Deep in the woods, three Sapients in rainbow robes sit around a bonfire. The youngest pokes at the fire with a stick, chin in her hand. Curly pink hair pokes out from below her hood, contrasting with her dark skin. The girl lets out a sigh. "I hate missions that send us out in the middle of nowhere."

On the opposite side of the fire, a tall and thin man with pale skin sucked in a shaky, hissing breath. "We're, tsssss, almost there." An entire human skeleton was attached to the boy's robes, each sewn to the fabric near the corresponding part in his own body. The skull appeared to have been crushed into smaller pieces before being stitched to the hood, allowing the skull to be worn over the boys own head despite the skull not being particularly large.

"Right, we've made impressive time considering." The third, an older, clean-shaven man rolled up the map he was looking at and returned it to his pack. "The church was only informed of the construct less than a week ago, and we should be to Geltheas by tomorrow."

"Isn't it kind of excessive to send all three of us?" The girl knocked a part of the fire over with her stick. "Constructs do what people tell them to right? Can't we just tell it to die?"

"It won't, tssss, want to die," the ghoulish young man replied. "Constructs do anything to, tsssss, complete their task. That's what makes them, tssssss, so dangerous." The young man took a few moments to wheeze and catch his breath, the others waiting patiently for him to continue. "Sorry. We should expect, tssssss, a fight. Tsssss, to the death."

"And this is an enemy with absolutely no morals. It's not like some bandit who thinks he's twisted because he'll use a hostage. This is the kind of creature that would wipe out all life on the planet just because it might get in its way eventually. A desperate enemy is scary because they'll do anything to win, right?" The pink-haired girl looked bored towards the lecturing older man. "Well, constructs will always do anything to win!"

The three settled into silent contemplation, broken only the crackling of fire and the tweeting of forest birds.

The girl spoke again. "Why don't we just cut off the power source? Just disenchant the construct."

"We already told you it doesn't want to, tsssss, die! It will try to stop us." Some color returned to the face of the clearly annoyed young man. "And besides, tsssss, the power source is its soul. Not enchantment."

"But normally constructs are ordered not to kill Sapients, right? So that means it's not going to be dangerous anyway. They could have just sent one of us." At the girls latest comment, the thin youth rested his face in his hands, and the older man groaned.

The older man rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Did you even read that book about constructs I gave you? None of those laws that scholars devised for constructs actually work. They just weasel around them in their mad, single-minded pursuits. Even if it can't kill you, what's to stop it from capturing you and holding you in an inescapable prison for the rest of your natural life? Or knocking you unconscious, putting you in front of a goblin den, and leaving?"

"That's cheating!" The girl sat up with and clutched her fists. "Anyway, I read most of the book. That's why I know the rules the construct has to follow." She leaned forward and continued poking at the fire. After a few seconds, she sat back up and pointed a finger towards the sky. "I have a new idea! If constructs are so strong, why doesn't the church just make a really strong construct and order it to kill all other constructs?" The cry of her allies mental anguish echoed through the woods.