Water gushed from within the mountain.

I'd managed to twist out a second tunnel underneath the river, guiding the water down in great spiraling loops to avoid punching through the walls of the second floor. I wanted it to be wide enough that creatures could swim down and that enough water would be flowing through to create a current, but not so much that I would destabilize the river and stop my very necessary source of water.

It took more trial and error than I was really comfortable with admitting. My knowledge of water as a sea-drake apparently didn't extend to knowing the subtle nuances of trying to shape ocean currents in an enclosed space to maintain oxygen flow and limit sediment build up. Fantastic.

But now water thundered down into the massive room, sloshing about in the sand as it struggled to rise. Being three thousand feet long and one wide, I was well aware it would take a while before it was full, but I was patient.

I paused, then reached up—currently my main entrance from the second floor was just a random tunnel dug beneath the canal, one last defense for forcing adventurers to have to enter the canal to find their way deeper. Not necessarily useful now, given as I didn't want to empty out my canals full of creatures just to fill the third floor, but once it was full; I kept up the barrier between the floors for the moment but dug a few smaller tunnels in preparation. Multiple ways for smaller creatures to swim their way between floors.

As another idle thought, I strengthened the limestone with flecks of iron to ward it against erosion. Wouldn't be great if all the shifting water just merrily dug its own way through my floor.

But then I could relax, only a handful of points to my name, and listen as the water poured out of the tunnel overhead. Hours, if not days, until it was full; but I could wait.

Gods, for even a fraction of the ocean I had once called home, I could wait forever.

-

The largest of the armourback sturgeons poked curiously down the sprawling tunnel in the canal's bottom, his shovel-shaped head brushing against the smooth limestone. I perched over him with all the patience of a gnat.

Hurry up.

He took his bloody time before finally slipping down the tunnel.

A few dozen feet straight down, enough that I had felt comfortable my second floor wouldn't collapse into the third if an earthquake hit, and easily ten feet wide; as much as I would've appreciated squeezing the tunnel down to an inch to make adventurers have to burrow their way down, my creatures were just too big for that. I needed to focus on them first.

The sturgeon finally emerged onto my freshly-filled third floor.

Dark and cool, full of softly swirling eddies, bubbles wobbling up to the surface; thousands upon thousands of gallons of fresh water loomed before him like the most inviting floor I could have mustered. Rock outcroppings and tunnels and great expanses of sandy shallows, filled with the, ah, best I could for plants?

Of the five plants I had, only one could grow fully submerged in water; I'd strung great curtains of green algae over as much as it would survive on, its pale glow diffusing through the third floor like emerald dust, but it, well.

Listen. I was a vain creature, and seeing algae as the only interesting thing on my latest floor was less than pleasing.

I'd created a few shifting pockets of air, tucked away on the surface in little oases of room; in there, I poured dozens of whitecap mushrooms, leaning them so far off the edge that their mycelium dangled partially into the water. Hopefully they'd evolve into something useful for this floor.

It was quite irritating how slowly plants evolved. Those with some innate sense of self, like my vampiric mangroves, were actively hunting prey and collecting life mana; I knew they would take a while to evolve, given their already complex selves, but I knew they would eventually.

The green algae sitting patiently in my fungal gardens? Yeah. No clue. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't—either way, the further and further it got from my core as I dug deeper down, the less ambient mana it received.

Terrible. At least the massive shaggy carpet of pale, glowing green algae was nice to look at; it would tide me over until I could actually start collecting more plant schemas. Maybe the kobold could be nice and speed up on her little plot to kill the snapping turtle; surely it had water-capable species on its back.

But either way, the armourback sturgeon emerged into what I hoped would be his new home, peering around curiously. Like his brethren, he had started at only three feet long; but given as I had politely requested Seros not hunt him down until I had a few more and no other creatures could scratch his massive plated scales, he had blossomed into over double his original length and showed no indication of stopping. Eventually, the canals wouldn't be able to hold him.

At three thousand feet long, I was a bit more confident in this floor.

He swam out, a silver-grey stripe in the emerald light, and started exploring. Above him, I poured dozens of silverheads into a spiraling school, enough that those brave enough to come down from the second floor could join with a school instead of being on their own.

The electric silverheads worked better on the second floor, at least for now; the crowded corridors and hidden spots melded better with their style for the moment. Maybe when there were more creatures for them to hunt and use as distractions they would start to head down, but electric eels were far too much an ambush predator to fit into an empty, sprawling hall.

So for now, all I had were silverheads, silvertooths, armourback sturgeons, and–

Hm.

You know, I'd gotten far too excited at the pretense of an ocean-esque floor to wonder what I'd actually fill it with.

Greater crabs, I guessed, and Seros too—hopefully some more evolutions would start popping up soon. I was quickly finding myself in need of them.

But for now, I let the siren call of my mana trickle up to the second floor, urging all creatures too big for their britches to start their pilgrimage down. Already the greater crab who had earned a human's mana was staring down the tunnel entrance. As it should.

Maybe three points of mana left to my name after the silverhead school I'd spawned, and the emptiness weighed on me as I finished poking around my other two floors. I took some scraps to layer the areas around the mangrove's roots with billowing moss, the sprawling, feathery fronds waving delicately in a breeze that didn't exist. Even just a small patch perfectly disguised the vampiric thorns, all the better to tug in more mana. It would take a day or two for me to gather enough, but already I could see the second floor, pale green algae above and waving fronds below, with the harsh white leaves and scarlet-red trunks between.

In comparison to the brilliant distinction between grey and green of my third floor. Hm.

Something to worry about for later; I reached out to Seros. He poked his head out of the canal he'd been meandering around, entertaining himself by pretending not to notice the kobold stalking him. Maybe she was looking to mark him as her next target after the turtle. I dipped into her thoughts.

It took me approximately half a second to realize that no, that wasn't a hunting instinct in her eyes; it was pure wonder. And no, she was certainly not interested in hurting Seros; she wanted to worship him.

And, absolutely worst of all, she thought he was the one commanding the dungeon.

Excuse me?

She hardly seemed to notice my attention, still clutching her vaguely-sharp limestone chunk and peering around a stone wall to watch as Seros pulled himself out of the water, shaking droplets off his seagreen frills. Her thoughts ran rampant with praise and admiration.

She thought he was a dragon.

I… I honestly didn't know how to react to this. She had to know she was wrong, right? There was only one bloody dragon in these halls and it certainly wasn't a lizard.

Even besides that, it was me who commanded the dungeon, who had created her; surely she could hear me? Could feel my mana when I reached out to my creatures and told them to attack?

A horrible little thought snuck out to me.

When the attack before last had come, with the Bronze and her lackey, I had told my creatures to prepare to attack; the other two kobolds had come together with their insane rat plan and successfully won. But I remembered being confused at why the third kobold, the first and the strongest, hadn't answered the call; she'd been too busy trying to hunt down the turtle, on the clear other side of the dungeon.

As if she had either ignored my call, or not heard it.

Good gods. Had she sworn herself to Seros?

What the fuck.

-

He huddled further against the wall, claws scrabbling at the stony floor; the two goblins moved closer. Their black eyes pinned him like darts.

"'e's a bit small, eh?" One croaked, adjusting the hand on its stone-tipped piece of wood. It looked painful, looked sharp; like the things that had stabbed him. He rumbled, his cuts aching; he just wanted to go home. Back to his mushrooms and water and freedom. "Some kind of runt, are ya?"

He shuffled further against the wall. Maybe if he pulled up on his shadow mana he could hide from them, could get them to leave him alone–

The other goblin marched closer, tapping its weapon against the ground. It peered at him, its teeth still exposed. "An akkyst, looks like. 'ittle baby who never learned to fight."

Akkyst? He didn't know that word. But he… he knew how to fight. His legs bunched, claws digging into the stone; he was bigger than these goblins. The two humans had been monsters with magic and metal; these were small. He could fight. And if he beat them, then he could leave, could try to go back to the dungeon where he would be safe–

The goblin saw him try to rise, chortled, and slammed the butt of its spear across his muzzle.

He fell to the ground, bawling; all of his cuts stung anew, muscles tired and shaking after days of running away; he didn't want to fight. He just wanted to sleep.

"Useless," one of them snorted. "Jus' kill it so we can finish scouting."

The closest goblin frowned, leaning in; it poked a finger about his face, pulling up a lip to stare at his ivory fangs. He whined and curled tighter around himself.

Its black eyes glinted. "Akkyst or not, still a bear. The horde will never turn down a war animal."

He didn't like any of those words. Those his cuts stung and cried out at the motion, he huddled against the wall, claws dug into the wall like that could protect him. Maybe they would just walk away. Run away.

"Come along, little Akkyst," a goblin crooned, jabbing him with its spear again. "Up you go. The horde'll find some use for 'ou."