Chapter 6

It took Pan three days to pay off the mana debt he owed on the assassin spider. When it was finished, he was proud of his ingenuity. The spider took to the cave like a fish to water, and was a very successful ambush predator. Its venom easily subdued anything it came across, although it did not attempt to hunt any of the dungeon ant warriors, or the stone centipede, it was able to kill the dungeon ant workers easily, and they seemed to be its favorite food source.

Pan was waiting for the return of his master with trepidation. He was confident in his plan, and his minions, but he couldn’t help but fear a high-level necromancer. He had no idea what the man was doing while he was gone, but since his army left with him, Pan suspected it meant death for a large number of people. The thought concerned him, although not as much as it would have were he still human.

But he didn’t know how to feel about what the necromancer was doing. Part of it was the wanton killing of people who had not asked for it. If someone were to die in his dungeon, they would deserve it. It was a dungeon after all, and people are informed about the danger they contain. But the man was taking his minions and having them kill people in a way that served no purpose. The deaths were wasted. He felt wholly indifferent to the deaths of humans, but he had no desire to cause any outside of his dungeon.

Pan just added it to the list of sins the man would die for. He hated the man. He hated necromancers. And he especially hated the undead. He knew he would never summon another undead once he dealt with the mage. Pan swore to himself that he would kill any necromancer who entered his lair, as well as any undead. They were parasites, and he hated them for the waste they represented.

The thought of parasites gave Pan some good ideas to think about, but he had no desire to act on any of them yet. He still had to focus on killing a necromancer. He could plan for the future after that.

A week after the man’s departure, Pan knew he would return soon. To prepare he used almost all of his mana to create another spider, and widen the path leading to his heart room. He made it wide enough to fit a stone centipede. One more had evolved during the week, and Pan only regretted not having more. The hole into the room was still only big enough to fit the flies, but it would be a simple matter to open the floodgates and let his minions swarm out.

He sent a few scout flies into the mage’s rooms to observe, and had his two spiders hide in the man’s bedroom. They were undetectable, and were hidden above his wardrobe, completely out of sight. He had a fly in every room providing constant updates, and he would be ready to strike at the most opportune time.

When the necromancer returned, Pan was surprised to see a string of prisoners being led by the skeletons. There were seventeen of them, although Pan suspected they were only a fraction of what the army had encountered. The skeletons numbered almost one hundred less than the man had left with. He had no idea what the man planned to do with the survivors, but he feared it wouldn’t be good. He was certain a necromancer had no wholesome uses for living prisoners. He was once a living prisoner for example, and look at what happened to him.

Pan found some humor in the fact that he, a dungeon, found something evil. Dungeons weren’t considered evil per se, but people still were wary of them. They could be a great boon for a region's economy due to all the rare materials they could produce, and people were all too happy to harvest them, despite the risks. However, some dungeons were considered evil, usually when their creatures harassed people outside the dungeon. Those marauding dungeons were often exterminated by order of a local king or noble.

Pan had no desire to even be noticed by people, much less raid their villages. He enjoyed tending to his “garden,” and found peace in his task. He refused to die again, however, and would be perfectly willing fight and kill to defend himself.

When the necromancer’s entourage finally reached the temple and entered the catacombs beneath, Pan was surprised by the prisoners. Most of them were nothing special, just level three to seven on average, most likely farm hands or labors, but there were two more impressive captives. One was a level fourteen boy who looked to be about eighteen. He looked to have had some combat training, but Pan had a feeling that fighting was not his primary focus.

The other was truly impressive. The man was old, but his scouts showed Pan that the man had once been a level forty-two. Age had stripped him of most of his strength, and he would probably be unable to kill even a level twenty, but nevertheless it was still impressive to have taken him captive. Pan was sure the man had been a legend when he was still young, but he couldn’t recognize him.

The necromancer locked the prisoners in one of the chambers off the main hall. Enough skeletons had died to make enough room for them. With the captives taken care of, he strode over to Pan’s room. He confidently walked right up to the pedestal with a self-satisfied smirk, and placed a new mana stone right next to the old one. When Pan focused on it he was shocked to see it contained around one thousand mana.

“Three more skeletons,” the man demanded with a grin, before turning and leaving.

Pan couldn’t stop the mental chuckle. This idiot mage actually thought each skeleton cost three hundred mana. He was giving Pan almost five hundred mana for each refill now. This arrogant bastard was just asking to be the instrument of his own demise. However, with this new development, Pan decided to put off his plans for revenge for a few days. With the extra mana, he could greatly increase his odds of success. And if he could manage to, Pan wanted to save the prisoners from suffering a similar fate. When a man died his soul should move on. Necromancers bound a soul to its body, keeping it between death and life, and destroying the mind in the process, leaving nothing but an obedient shell. It was easily one of the worst things Pan could imagine to do to a man.

He had noticed that his undead were not animated by a bound soul, but by his dungeons will, and the necromancer was usurping the chain of command, essentially bypassing the need for a soul. They were almost like a golem, but had more personality. A dungeon undead was more of an individual than a golem, and could make some decisions on its own. It was almost identical to a necromancer’s, except it’s limited “free will” did not come from a mutilated soul.

Pan gladly summoned the skeletons, and then summoned another stone centipede. One of his was easily worth more than three skeletons in combat, so he had no compunctions about delaying his plan for a time to improve his chances for success. The risk to himself was minimal, and that wouldn’t change unless the necromancer started summoning more powerful undead.

He also made a trap door for the hole into his cave. It was something he should have done much sooner, since the hole in the floor would be quite obvious if the necromancer ever came further than the pedestal.

He was glad he did, because when the man returned his skeletons were dragging a bound prisoner behind them. It was the old man, and judging by the gleeful look on the necromancers face, the two had history. The necromancer pulled the man to the center of the room, stopping just in front of Pan’s heart.

Pan was furious. This man had never come this close to him. He could not suppress his roiling emotions. He was directly threatening Pan by coming this close to his heart, and he knew no other way to respond than with righteous fury. Pan was usually able to deal with his presence in the room, as he never walked more than a few steps past the entrance. But now he was close to the only thing keeping his soul in the land of the living. If Pan had been able too, he would have opened the hole in the floor and attacked right then, screw the plan, this man was too close, and he was really regretting not having made the hidden door bigger.

When he finally managed to focus on the mage he could see the necromancer was monologuing, as villains seemed to be required to do. The man seemed downright joyous to explain to the old man exactly why and how much he hated him. Something about how much he despised the way he had treated him as a boy. For looking down on him. For trying to make him into something he wasn’t. Or at least something like along those lines. Pan could barely pay any attention to the man’s words, he did not care what the man was doing, as long as he was that close to his gem.

He caught Pan’s attention when the man started describing how he created his very own pet dungeon. It rankled Pan to be described as a pet, and the insult was surprisingly the thing that drew him out of his rage clouded stupor. The old man’s face paled, and turned ashen when he heard how his old apprentice had gathered such a large army.

“You can’t control a dungeon,” the man whispered, more to himself than to his captor.

“HA! You old fool. I can, I will, and I do control a dungeon. You’re just angry. Angry because I will become more powerful and infamous than you ever were. My name will echo through history, and I will insure yours will be forgotten.”

The old man just laughed in the necromancers face. The mage scowled at the man and then told him, in a very even, no-nonsense tone, “I’m going to sacrifice you to this dungeon, old man. You will die an undignified death in some old cave, forgotten. I am going to use the mana from your death to summon something special. Something I will use to kill your grandson. In essence, you will kill your kin.”

The old man blanched even further, and drew in a furious breath to shout at the necromancer, but before he could, a blade tore across his throat, and he couldn’t manage any sound other than the pitiful gurgling of his final breaths. When he expired Pan received a series of alerts, but he didn’t check them. The death had cast Pan into a melancholic mood. It was unfair, an old adventurer should never die in a dungeon without even a chance to fight. Even if in his old age he would most likely die anyway, it still went against Pan’s sense of justice. The man deserved a warrior's death, with honor. He shouldn't have been slaughtered like a pig before a feast.

The necromancer turned and left, but not before refilling the stones and commanding Pan to summon more skeletons. Pan mentally paid his respects to the man, and then checked the alerts.

New Achievement: Legend Slayer

The legendary class A adventurer, Gerald of Mala, has died in your dungeon.

+10% monster damage to invaders stronger than them

Imbuement: Berserker

Can give a monster the ability to go into a battle rage, increasing its strength, speed, and attack power, and decreasing its intelligence and defense.

Pan was pleased with his rewards, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be happy with how he obtained them. Gerald of Mala was a legend. Decades ago he had been one of the strongest adventurers in the kingdom. He was a berserker who had gained a special skill. Whenever he went into his rage, any potion effects he was currently under would not expire until he was broken from his rage, and he could become nearly unstoppable. To fuel his skill he had also become a master alchemist, and was the region's foremost expert on healing potions, especially of the rapid regeneration variety.

The achievement gave him a nice bonus, and he made a promise to Gerald that he would avenge his death with it’s help. He still couldn’t shake the somber mood. His old morals were conflicting with his new instincts as a dungeon, and he was still sorting through his new priorities. He had always been a pragmatic person, and he was now a pragmatic dungeon, but he had been a human, and the butchering of a reportedly good man railed against his sensibilities.

He had no compunctions with killing, he had even killed a bandit once when he was still a human, but this death was different, and he was disturbed by how much it affected him. He had come to a sort of internal agreement on a set of moral principles he would adhere to as a dungeon, as a way of avoiding delving too deep into his new existence. He did want to retain his humanity after all.

He feared he would lose his sense of self and individuality if he didn’t hold himself to some standards. He could even feel it happening whenever his instincts overpowered his mind, like when the necromancer had come within feet of his body. He did not want to fall into depravity, and he felt the best way to do that was to resist the dungeons natural instincts. Some were helpful, but most just wanted him to become a mindless conductor of death.

Anyone who challenged his dungeon was fair game, they knew the risks. He still felt like he was existing in a moral gray area, but at least he had made it less ambiguous, and he could live with that.

But Gerald hadn’t challenged his dungeon, he had been sacrificed to it, and this action became number two on the list of reasons to kill the necromancer. Right after killing Pan of course.

Pan was waiting for the man to go to sleep, but he was very excited about something. He was brewing countless potions, and consulting many of his manuscripts. He was preparing for something big, and Pan hoped he would sleep before putting his plans into action, but he was not optimistic about the chances of that occurring. He had seen the look in the man’s eyes before, hell he had had the same look at times, often right before attempting a new spell, or when he made a breakthrough in the arts of magery. Pan was certain the man would work through the night on whatever project he had started on, and he would not have the chance to poison him.

He was correct, and the necromancer seemed close to finishing his research. During the night he filled the mana stones a few more times, and collected the skeletons. As soon s the sun came up, the man called a few of his stronger minions to him and left the temple.

Meric was in an excited euphoria as he left his lair. He was so close. All he needed was a few rare ingredients and spell components, and he could summon it. His ultimate goal. The culmination of decades of work and research was only days away. He was salivating at the thought of it all.

He reached a sunny glade where he knew a few of the necessary components were located. He gathered them up and handed them off to a skeleton he had brought to carry his things. It was wonderful to have tireless minions to do all the hard work of adventuring. He was considering getting a litter so he wouldn’t have even to do the hardest part, all the walking.

He sat under a tree while daydreaming of conquest and the life of luxury he would live after it all. Once he carved out a nice kingdom for himself, or maybe even an empire, he would begin stage two of his plan. He had done considerable research into bringing that plan to fruition as well.

What was the point of conquest if he just died of old age within a few decades. However he did not want to become a lich, no he had much grander aspirations than that. A lich lost all of its corporal functions after all, and he did enjoy a life of hedonism. He had put off his debaucherous ways during the past few months to ensure the completion of his plans. He couldn't wait to have a few women and more than a few drinks again. And when he was the king he would have much more than a few women.

No, he could not give up his flesh and become a lich. But he thought he was close to discovering a way to retain his body, and gain immortality. It would be expensive, and exhausting, but that's why he intended to claim a kingdom. He would use the resources to gain immortality, and maybe play king for a few dozen years. He had no desire to rule forever, though, and would probably stage his own defeat and death later on so he could move on. He didn’t care about much other than living forever and pursuing his pleasure. Being a king of an undead empire would put a massive target on his back, and his immortality would be cut short by some enterprising kingdom rallying their people to fight the evil necromancer, and conquer a few duchies in the process.

He fell asleep to dreams of grandeur and conquest. Secure in his inevitable victory he felt invincible. That dungeon would bring forth an army, and he couldn’t wait.

Pan was growing restless, the mage had been gone almost all day, and the sun was setting. He just wanted to get the battle over with. All the waiting was taxing on his nerves, and he was feeling anxious.

The man finally returned just as the sun was setting. One of his skeletons had a large satchel full of different plants and fungi. He was sure the man was going to perform another ritual, and he hoped whatever he summoned would not be a threat to his minions, but he was sure it would be.

Dungeon Menu

Level: 7

Type: Sentient Dungeon (Bound)

Name: N/A

Titles: N/A

Mana: 62/2500 (+1386)

Rooms: 2

Levels: 1

Animals: 54552

Plants: 15812

Monsters: 25

Skills: [Dungeon Menu], [Dungeon Manipulation], [Dungeon Absorption], [Dungeon Creation: Level 8], [Dungeon Expansion], [Dungeon Summon], [Targeted Evolution], [Monster Imbuement]

Dungeon Points: 325

Achievements: Evolver, Legend Slayer