Chapter Three

I want You

Dev took Tutor’s enthusiasm as a good sign. He’d skated right past the whole thing about having a name with more than a handful of letters; which was exactly what he wanted to do. It wasn’t exactly subtle, but it was far simpler than arguing with the disembodied voice for half a billion years over what he was allowed to call himself. Time might not be passing outside, wherever that was; he’d never heard of Leips-Muartpla and had no idea of what awaited him outside of the pocket dimension he currently resided in. The fact that time stood still while he was planning his new life told the core volumes about the overseers.

For one thing, it was obvious they had a scheduled time and place that he was supposed to enter the world at. He didn’t, for example, have a say in where he was going to be located. Every crystal in his matrix told him that they knew exactly where they wanted him to go. Secondly, they had also decided on when he would appear, right down to the second if he had to guess. Sure, the overseers clearly weren’t stupid and didn’t want him dragging his feet in choosing from his options. If they didn’t have this particular contingency planned, he could hold out for hundreds or even thousands of years before entering the world. In that time frame, ten other DV8’s could have come and gone before he even saw the mysterious outside world. No, they wanted him to enter the realm at a time and place of their choosing.

He had no say in the matter; deviation or not. Dev wondered if he might be able to interfere with their plans in some way. Were there such things as temporal dungeons? Would he be able to traverse back and forth in time? He doubted it, but he liked the idea. Portals also came to mind. Was it possible for him to pop in and out of existence? He could be the blink and you’ll miss it dungeon; the idea of only appearing once a year or once every ten years appealed to him. He could just sit back and gather mana or whatever ambient energy he chose and grow stronger with minimal visitation from invaders, raiders, and delvers.

The idea of no visitors really appealed to Dev. He didn’t know why but he knew he hated being disturbed. That information must have come from his emotional memory, and the fact that the thought of it churned his non-existent stomach. Maybe he’d been an entity that yelled at people to get off of his lawn or had been so xenophobic that he hid himself away from the world but he was certain that he didn’t like people knocking on his door and now he was expected to have strangers coming and going from his domicile like he was an innkeeper.

It bothered him that he knew so much of what being a dungeon entailed. It meant that the overseers had implanted that knowledge within him. Was it as simple as dying a cloth? Did they take his soul and then dip it into some dungeon color so that it was ingrained in the very fiber of his spirit? Or, more likely, they had stripped away his memories piece by piece and replaced his self-knowledge with information on how to be a dungeon. Devin was no longer what he was meant to be. All that he was and all that he would ever be had been stolen from him and replaced with their dungeon data.

Dev didn’t have a great grasp on his current situation as of yet, but he was certain of one thing. He hated the overseers. As far as he was concerned, they were kidnappers and brainwashers of the highest caliber. For all he knew they had slain him and walked off with his soul in hand. Even if they hadn’t killed him then they had diverted his soul from its proper destination. It didn’t matter if he’d been headed towards a plane of virtuousness, one of utter neutrality, or an abyssal evil; he’d earned his place on one of those planes and now that was forever denied him. Did dungeon cores even move on after they died? His curiosity made him speak before he even realized he was talking.

“Tutor?”

“Made your decision? Where do you want to start? You seem a bit cheeky, I’m betting that you want to,” but Dev cut him off before the voice could start rambling.

“Just a quick question for you before we begin. Nothing that will drag out his process,” he quickly added, “Just something I need to know.”

“Ask,” the tutor prodded.

“You said that I could be destroyed in any number of ways, an errant mace strike was one way you mentioned.” Dev kept his voice neutral so as not to convey the smoldering rage he was feeling.

“I’m afraid so. Dungeon cores are quite a delicate lot. Practically immortal in so many ways, and yet most are as fragile as an eggshell.” Tutored hummed a happy little tune and continued, “Those kinds of questions are perfectly fine. You are just getting adjusted to being a core and you need to know your limits. Your companion will help you prepare a safe chamber after you incarnate on Leips-Muartpla.”

“Yes, erm, I was aware of my mortality. My actual question goes a little deeper.” Dev tread as carefully as possible as he spoke. “What happens to me if I get destroyed?”

“What happens to you? To be blunt you’ll crumble into a pile of dust and your dungeon, no matter how large or small, simple or grand, will collapse and the world will rush in to fill the void you leave. In mere hours there won’t be a trace of you left. It’ll be as if you were never there at all.” Tutor explained it like he was talking to a child, but he got his point across. Dev’s life would have no meaning or impact beyond the present time, but that wasn’t what he’d been asking.

“No, I was asking about what happens to me. The overseers took my soul from somewhere. Will they put it where it was meant to be if I am destroyed?” No point in trying to sound unconcerned, the whole point to his questioning was his concern about his afterlife.

“I thought I just explained everything to you. Your core is your soul. Did you think the overseers just went around picking up random stones and cramming spiritual essence inside them?”

“Erm, yes,” Dev replied. “That would be how it appeared.”

“Pish, the overseers have bigger concerns than picking up random rocks. The process of becoming a core converts your spiritual essence into mineral form. No one knows why, it just does. There might be other ways of doing it, but that’s what the overseers choose to do. It works for them and no dungeon ever complained about being a stone of some sort. The only thing they ever seem to gripe about is what kind of stone they are.” His voice became whiny and he said, “Why do I have to be talc. I’d rather be igneous than sedimentary. Those sorts of moaning.”

“Just so I have this straight. If I am destroyed then I face oblivion. I will vanish from existence and be no more.” Dev wanted to growl in frustration at what had been done to him but he knew that Tutor was just as much a victim as he was. He was reborn with each new core and then erased as they entered the real world. He was trapped in a limbo of repetition; eternal serving and guiding and never having time just to be . . . well, just to be. The overseers had robbed Tutor as much as they had Dev himself. Now he was certain that he hated the overseers. He swore to make them pay in any way that he could.

“Quite so, I’m afraid,” Tutor responded. “Becoming a dungeon core is the end of the line for a soul. There are no more evolutions, reincarnations, or places of refuge and punishment for you. In fact, you won’t be reabsorbed by the universe as energy. You are just gone. So, it behooves you to do everything you can to survive.”

“I’ll remember that, and thank you for answering me truthfully.” Dev wasn’t happy with the answer, but it was one he’d been expecting.

“Shall we get on with it?” Tutor asked.

“Yes. I want to choose my energy first, then the type of dungeon I will be, and then my companion.”

“Most excellent, do you need another rundown of the various types of energies that will feed you?” Dev swore he could envision Tutor licking the tip of a quill and preparing to write on some parchment.

“No, I still recall the list you provided. That is,” the core amended, “Unless there are more that you didn’t mention.”

“Just those I listed previously,” Tutor said with a smile in his voice. He began softly humming again as he waited for Dev to tell him what he wanted to use.

“In that case,” Dev said devilishly, “I intend to use more than one to support myself with. Mark this off as my first deviation.”

“Go on,” Tutor said cautiously.

“A greedy person would take them all, and while I’m certain the overseers would permit it; they wouldn’t be happy with it. Additionally, I think that some of the energies might clash. For example, combining the power of prayers with soul energy would, in my eyes, be a conflict of interests. I can’t imagine gods being happy that I would periodically take one of their worshipper’s souls to energize and feed myself. Blood energy is a lesser form of soul energy and I don’t think the overlap would add any power. Additionally, I don’t like having to kowtow to a supposed higher power, and after what the overseers did to me, I am loathe to damage a soul in any way.”

Dev stopped, certain that he was correct. Some things just did not mix well. And those were the most obvious. Magic just did not seem viable. Oh, he was certain that there were plenty of mages and wizards out there that would be happy to cast their spells within his walls, but he wanted something steady and certain. Something that wouldn’t rely on random actions to feed him. A verdant dungeon sounded nice in theory, but the truth was the power the plants provided was not great. It was enough to sustain him, but not let him grow quickly. That was a long-term strategy of growing enough green to be able to build a dungeon that wouldn’t be taken out by a hungry goat. Not only that, but Dev was certain that he hated vegetables and had subsisted on a mostly meat diet. Just the thought of eating energy from leafy greens churned his nonexistent stomach.

“I want to go with three energy options,” the core stated. “Three is a magic number, and if I am right this is the perfect combination or powers to use in conjunction with one another.” His reasoning, he was certain, was sound. He would use mana, blood, and fear to fuel his dungeon needs. Blood and fear would go hand in hand with what happened in dungeons. Invaders came and fought monsters and traps, and even the toughest of them would face death. Fear, whether it was controlled or not, was inevitable. Nothing said that his delvers had to be in a constant state of fear; they just had to be afraid. If he designed the dungeon properly then he might even be able to get tension to mount the further a party progressed. Blood, similarly, was spilled often and in copious amounts within the walls of a dungeon. And while it was a lesser form of soul energy all he was technically doing was feeding off the life that remained in the blood itself. He wasn’t ripping a soul apart.

That left mana, and he would have been a fool to bypass it for anything else. It was abundant and would sustain him during times when he had no visitors. It would not clash with blood or fear, and as ominous as the pairing of those sounded together; they were little more than a natural byproduct of a dungeon doing its job. Blood would be spilt and hearts would race. It was just the way it was.

“I would like to have fifty percent of my energy come from mana, with the other fifty percent being equally split between blood and fear.” His voice let Tutor know that he would brook no argument on the subject.

“Interesting. That will be a fifty percent fueling by mana, twenty-five percent from fear, and twenty-five percent from blood. Correct?” Tutor didn’t seem resistant to the idea at all. It seemed so long as he was checking off boxes that he was satisfied.

“That is my wish,” Dev said.

“Then so it shall be,” Tutor replied. “That means the next thing is to decide on what kind of dungeon you will be. I have an extensive list that details exactly what your options are that I will be happy to read to you, or I can highlight the most popular choices most dungeons pick. For example, verdant energy dungeons often become nature-based, whereas fear fed dungeons opt for undead and spiders. Mana dungeons can go a variety of ways including various types of elements such as fire or water, or you can decide to focus on one type of creature, such as slimes. I believe slimes are quite popular nowadays. The first dungeon type is,” but Dev cut him off before he could get started.

“Tutor, I don’t want any restrictions. I want the opportunity to make traps have a flooded basement level and a volcanic heart, with floors that are littered with everything from rabbits to wyverns. I want humanoids and animals; I want golems and mimics. In short, I want it all. I don’t know why I should have to specialize and focus on one type of thing. Aren’t there Spellswords? Mages who are equally adept at casting spells as well as swinging a blade? If the invaders can multi-class why shouldn’t dungeons?” Dev’s voice was impassioned, but not demanding. He was stating a case with the certainty that his request was not outlandish.

“Gek,” Tutored choked, “I don’t think you realize what I meant when I said I had an extensive list. Dungeons specialize for a reason, and their specializations grow along with them. A canine focused dungeon might develop lycanthropic warg riders, or a fire-based dungeon develops a race of magma men. There are reasons that dungeons do this. I could see blending one or two, maybe even three types of dungeons, but this list contains hundreds of possible dungeon types. I simply do not have room in my ledger to list them all. The rules for you are very specific; you can pick anything you want so long as it fits on the page.”

“Really?” Devinadinthrayvicrialborreir felt a rush of excitement upon hearing that. It has to fit on your page? That’s my restriction?”

“Yes, it is, and I cannot circumvent the rules even if you are a deviant dungeon. There are boundaries for even one such as yourself. Now,” he humphed, “If you will let me, I shall list out your options and if you are wise you might even get up to four dungeon types.”

“No need for going through the whole list,” Dev replied.

“No? You know what kind of dungeon you want to be?”

“Yes,” Dev stated, “Just write down what I tell you and we’ll be fine.”

“Very well, my troublesome core,” Tutor admonished, “You tell me what to write in my teeny tiny space.”

“Just write the word ALL.”

“What? You can’t, I mean it’s not, um, well maybe, oh dear gods, it fits.” Tutor rambled and then froze up on his last words; realizing what it meant. “It does fit quite nicely.”

“Neatly, too, I’d imagine,” Dev snickered.

“Have you ever had to deal with a genie or a monkey’s paw in a previous life?” Tutor asked sternly.

“I wouldn’t know,” Dev replied truthfully. He just happened to see a loophole and took advantage of it. Wording was important, and it seemed like it was knowledge so deeply ingrained in him that they hadn’t been able to scrub it from his eternal essence.

“Quite so. You certainly don’t act like a newborn core. Most of them panic for a few hundred years, and then they just do what is suggested.” Tutor was clearly flustered.

"How do you know that if you have no memory of the other cores?" Dev was suspicious that he'd been deliberately misled.

"Statistics. I can tell you exactly how many cores broke down upon awakening, how many went along easily, how many's first words were, "What?", and so on. I know I interacted with them, but I have no clue of what I said or did. There is no reason for me to know those things, and so I keep my storage space decluttered by inconsequential details. That," he said firmly, "Is how I know you aren't anything like the preceding cores."

“I guess that’s why I was chosen as the first DV8,” Dev suggested.

“Yes, that just leaves us with your choice of companions. Again, I have an extensive list, but I have to warn you. In this particular case, you cannot have more than one companion.” Dev swore that he could envision Tutor holding up a hand in abeyance as he spoke so as not to be interrupted, “No matter what you say I cannot simply write ALL in the companion slot. You would not want me to do so anyway. You and your companion become bonded to one another; it is a bond that can only be severed by death. If you die your companion dies. If your companion dies then you will be severely weakened until you can form a new companion to bond with. This bond does not allow for multiple partners. It is a one at a time operation.”

Dev caught himself bobbing a non-existent head in understanding. He wasn’t worried about the restriction. He never wanted more than one companion in the first place. Up until a short time ago, he hadn’t even known what kind of companion he wanted. But after considering his own particular plight in regards to his soul and then hearing about Tutor’s fate he’d come to a decision.

“Tutor, there is no need for you to read off of your list. I know what kind of companion I want. I did not come to this conclusion lightly, and I will not be denied.” Devinadinthrayvicrialborreir’s voice was stern and commanding and in spite of their positions he was certain that it scared Tutor a little. His words carried a bite that they had once known long ago. They cut deeply and dug into the voice’s heart. Of that, Devinadinthrayvicrialborreir had no doubt.

“Understood. What will it be then? A wisp? A fairy? A badger perhaps?”

“No,” Dev said firmly, “I want you.”