Uno

I was observing slowly growing plants. It filled me with a strange sense of satisfaction. Was that the feeling exclusive to creation? Who knew. It was hard to tell at first, but the mana soaking treatment was working. While the changes were minuscule and random it reminded me how people in my earlier world described radiation exposure in older movies and books. The workings of the chance were exciting. After all, I couldn’t call myself a gamer if I wasn’t a devout believer of RNG-sus.

Like I said before, most of the changes were small. A weirdly shaped leaf here, a metallic looking stem there. They were adding up though. Slowly, but surely. Even so, there were some speedy exceptions too. They didn’t fare well, but I had some fun observing their antics. One of them was a carrot that grew legs - yes, actual root-like legs! - and uprooted itself from the soil, while starting to walk away from the gardens. I was curious about its destination, so I let it be, but only after a few meters of brisk jog it slowed down, visibly shrunk, then in three more minutes wilted and died, turning into dust.

Too bad.

Another experiment - a piece of common wheat - changed color to red, grew a sunflower-like flower cup and… started burning. For a moment I was excited about a new defensive ability - while I wasn’t sure how the plant was doing what it was doing, I speculated that it could be discovered after some dissecting… Then I remembered that it was a plant that was on fire. As if to answer my expectations the “fire sunflower” produced some popping sounds from its stem and started to smoke. A few minutes later all that remained was a pile of ash… I sent some Ratlings over in order to make sure that the fire didn’t spread.

No sense to endanger other specimens. After all, I doubted that it was some kind of phoenix flower that would rise from the ashes.

Some of the other failures simply wilted or turned into dust, like vampires exposed to the sun. I accepted that outcome as a reasonable price to pay. It was easy to understand that while the mana had an ability to mutate the plants, there were some unavoidable dead ends on the road of the random evolution.

Still, I was happy. There was this fuzzy feeling in my (non-existent) stomach. In my earlier life, I wasn’t what you would call a green thumb. Quite the opposite, in fact. The only greenery that managed to survive in my home were either cacti or similarly stubborn plants. It didn’t help that I was frequently forgetting to water them, use fertilizer or change their soil...

Observing the evolving plants was relaxing. A great change from the constant fear and anger that I felt when sentients invaded.

Speaking of the sentients… my bliss didn’t last long, as the humans started to pour down the stairs, fulfilling the orders of their leader. A team after team fought against my defenders, gathered meager experience, loot and then retreated. A constant stream of attackers returned with meat, fur, and bone harvested from my Ratlings or with parts of armor and weapons stripped from the defeated undead Lebirs.

It was rather jarring, only being able to watch and not intervene, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. After all, my control over this level was non-existent, courtesy of the Anima use side-effects. Slaughtering Lebirs was one thing - they were mass-produced undead automatons, after all. What hurt more was each Ratling lost to violence. What a waste of potential… I had plans for them and the more there were available, the better. At least the stronger specimens were already staying on my lower levels. My other gripe was the fact that their deaths literally fed my enemy - filling both their experience levels and stomachs. I felt that with their rise in power chances of pulling some stunts would rise too.

Each battle won raised their confidence. Drunk on success many of the delvers glanced greedily at my substitute boss - an Enhanced Bile-brain Golem, as the system called it. While a great deal weaker than Guardian it compensated with a lack of the glaring weakness in the form of wires stretching to the ceiling. Not to mention that the first-floor stairway still had Bloody Sacrificial Altar lying inside - and this new defender was immune to its effects which gave it a distinct advantage over its predecessor.

Nothing much happened though and it ended with the glances only. The orders given to the sentients explicitly stated that no one was to challenge the Floor Guardian. A healthy dose of fear after one of the squads wandered near the room’s entrance and was nearly dragged inside helped too.

The Decapitator was also out of job, his former kingdom cut in half by the dungeon collapse. No challengers arrived anymore, the place changing from a chokepoint into a dead end. The metallic monster was also not really profitable - the only worthwhile part of it being a veritable mass of metal it was composed of. The bile-brain, being only organic component it sported, was inedible too.

Not worth the effort seemed to be the humans take on the creature.

Jailer Jonathan fared not much better. While both he and his Lebir minions were harassed more frequently by the adventurers not once they did so without magical support. These assaults turned more sporadic with time - the only draw of my undead being their armor, weapons (which rarely included a Crackling Mace) and combat experience against humanoid opponents.

The pseudo-magical weapon I produced should be normally treated as quite a treasure - if the circumstances were a bit different. Right now, however, the local market was completely saturated. Pretty much any warrior who wanted to test the Crackling Mace already managed to acquire it. Normally the surplus would be sold to the visiting caravan and sent into the Geinard Kingdom. Yet in the current situation, it was clearly impossible.

Not to mention the wandering Fallen Tribes, even selling to the elves… (well, half-elves) was out of the question, considering their quite hostile relationship. I noted that both short- and longears frequently used racial slurs and derisive language, not to mention their overall attitude. The tensions were high, yet somehow they managed to avoid an all-out brawl. While I couldn’t exactly understand what the half-elves were speaking when pointing at humans walking around it was clear from their expressions that it wasn’t anything flattering.

Anyway, back to the topic - I could understand a lessened appeal of my weapons, but it seemed like I was lacking a piece of a puzzle.

It took me a few hours, but my ignorance was dispelled when I overheard a pair of humans talking about it.

“No, no, you see - this is a real weapon!” The first man grabbed a large, spiked mace and shook it agitatedly.

“It’s just a lump of iron.” His companion snorted in derision. “Real weapons have some kind of an enchanted effect or a special ability. Like this baby here.” He smiled, while carefully retrieving a Crackling Mace from a leather loop at his waist. Every move he took was slow and deliberate like he was afraid to damage it.

“Bah, toys!” Snorted the bigger and more muscular man. “You need weight to fight. Power. Simple strength!” His weapon hit the ground leaving a small indentation and lifting it up stirred a small cloud of dust. “Like this!”

“No.” With a simple negation, the slimmer and smaller man activated his own weapon. Streaks of blue electricity danced on the mace’s pommel, lighting up the surroundings. “One hit with this monster and you’ll be out for a whole day. Armor or no armor.” A small smile appeared on his face. “And I can choose when to activate and deactivate it!”

“Yeah, yeah, stow it. Wait until it runs out of charges in the middle of a battle. At least normal enchantments work as long as you pour mana into them!”

“If that happens I’ll just get another one from the dungeon.” This time it was the smaller man turn to grow irritated.

“Don’t lie to me!” Snarled his friend. “I bet you already have a replacement. I saw you sneaking in with the Gunnard’s team!”

“Hahaha!” The smaller person laughed happily. “I managed to snatch three of them!” He sobered a bit. “Nobody else was interested.”

“At least the experience is pretty good down there, huh?”

“Yup. That’s true.”

The two warriors spoke for a moment about random things while I was digesting new information.

Now I understood why my creations weren’t that popular. Two conflicting emotions mixed in my chest - a hurt pride of the creator and insidious laughter at the sentients’ stupidity. They never discovered that while my Crackling Maces indeed had a limited supply of energy there was also one, very important aspect to them.

Their energy cell, or what I liked to call it - battery - was interchangeable.

It was a pretty unassuming name for a long, sleek crystal ending with an iron cone on both ends. Each of them was small, maybe ten or twelve centimeters long with two centimeters in diameter, but looked decidedly otherworldly, glittering with lines of violent energy contained between two metal tops.

An irreplaceable thing.

And yet the main obstacle I was facing when making new things was a simple fact that I lacked both the knowledge and Anima to create something truly interesting. Or should I say truly powerful? I was an average guy who had access to batteries, iron, wires, and cameras.

But I aimed much higher.

With a huff, most of my attention turned back to leading the Stone Drones and digging. This time I decided to go with a bit different floor plan than the earlier levels. Unlike sprawling labyrinth on the second floor with dead ends and countless rooms, I started to dig an endless tunnel interrupted with a chamber every five or six meters. Looking at the map and seeing my progress reminded me of an old mobile game called “Snake”.

More rooms were added and an overall length of the tunnel extended even more. An obstacle course for adventurers I thought with a grin. And in the end, there will be a boss fight. Too bad I can’t force the creatures to respawn behind their backs while they deal with my boss… I mused.

Hmmm…

Who said I couldn’t?

With a laugh, I decided to add a hidden room at the end of the tunnel, just before the boss chamber. Three entrances were carved into the rock and filled with moveable stone - leaving just enough free space behind them to fit some of my monsters. Maybe I’ll go with Exploding Lebirs from earlier? Or should I wait for the Kobolds to hatch?

We’ll see.

Anyway, my work continued. Room after room refitted, lengthened, sometimes a ditch added in the middle just to mess with any advancing sentient. That’s why I was shocked stiff seeing the sudden floating notification.

The trial of Single Combat has been created!

Your dungeon has become a host to a second trial.

The trial encompasses the Sparring Room.

The rules of the trial are as follows:

the challenger is allowed to fight in weapon combat against one or two Lebir Spar-masters available the challenger is not allowed to use anything but his body and his weapons, any magic is forbidden, including magic items if the challenger forfeits during the spar it's not possible to repeat the trial ever again the trial is fought to the death or when the challenger forfeits after successfully defeating a Spar-master a large amount of experience will be awarded to the victor after successfully defeating both Spar-masters during single combat a skill Shield Mastery (60%), Club Mastery (30%) or Battlefield Survival (10%) will be awarded to the victor according to the performance after the challenger attempts the trial no further attempts can be made for 3 days (72h)

What the hell?!

I quickly dismissed the notification and turned my attention towards the first floor. The sparring room that the blue box mentioned to be exact.

What greeted me was pretty weird sight - a spooked soldier and two of my Lebirs, standing ramrod straight, with their weapons at the ready. They weren’t attacking the human though, which was heavily against my conditioning. The human was breathing heavily while staring at something I couldn’t see.

He was wearing the colors I associated with the Geinard Kingdom army uniform - dark blue background with a grey shield sewn in the middle. The rest of his equipment was comprised of an iron breastplate, leather pants, boots, and helmet. He used a round, wooden shield, a bit similar to my undead, but instead of clubs, a sword was sheathed on his waist.

With an average face, average height and weight he was an epitome of a common soldier in the Geinard Kingdom army.

Seeing him hesitate I turned my attention to the two Lebirs standing still in the middle of the room, despite a potential victim fidgeting just a few meters away.

At first glance, they looked ordinary. Just two undead clad in the black armor with a square shield attached to one of their arms and a mace clutched in the second. It took me a while to understand the difference. The way they carried themselves differed from my common troops. There was a feeling of confidence in them, a sense of power. And most importantly - a glint of intelligence absent from the other undead.

Their armor and weapons are also of the better make. Iron armor and helmets completely covering their flesh, while the shields they used looked thicker and maces were more dangerous than those which the other Lebirs used.

I took a deep, completely unnecessary breath and whispered.

[Analyze.]

Lebir Spar-master

An abomination made from metal and flesh joined together in a mechanical union. This being is covered in metal and some of it was even used to reinforce its bones and muscles. It uses a square shield to defend itself and a mace to attack.

Unlike most of its brethren, this specimen is intelligent and has knowledge of both weapon use and tactics polished over long bouts with its mirror twin.

The Spar-master relishes the feeling of battle under the compulsion of the trial it’s assigned to. Under normal circumstances, it would train its lesser brethren into the art of warfare.

An undead trainer! That what it was!

With anticipation, I searched my mind hoping against hope to find the blueprint for them in some nook or cranny… and found nothing.

Of course, it had to be that way!

Stealing my abominations… remaking them...

I wanted to scream at the injustice but only sighed in the end.

The only human present started to mumble something under his nose. It took me a while to understand that he was… reading.

“Trial… defeat one, or two. Then… what’s that word?” He scratched his neck, longish and unruly black hair escaping from under the helmet. “Gain experience… or a skill?!” His eyes widened with shock for a moment only to get replaced with greed. “Just weapons…” He glanced at his sword. “No magic.” A small chuckle escaped his mouth. “Yeah, magic… right.”

As he stopped reading I understood a few things.

First - the man was a commoner. Which meant a type of a person despised by the noble Charles and most of the outpost’ hierarchy.

Second - either he couldn’t read all of it or some, but not all conditions remained a secret to the challenger?

Third - he was an idiot.

I concluded the third fact as he unsheathed his weapon, stepped forward and exclaimed loudly:

“Fight me, you monsters! For the glory of Gei-ubhpffffffffffffffffff---!” His glorious rant was cut short as both Lebirs interpreted his words as a dual challenge and attacked with their heavy iron maces.

The human sailed in a beautiful arch only to land a few meters in the back, somehow dropping both his weapon and the shield. With a scream he huddled on the ground, crying out in pain. What happened later was quick - the human soldier opened his eyes for long enough to notice the advancing undead and held up his arm in mute protest. This, however, didn’t stop the Lebirs from literally beating him into the ground.

When they were finished only a hard to recognize paste remained on a nearby floor. Since there was no sentient nearby I quickly absorbed what was left from him and the weapons he dropped. Not much, but I wasn’t letting anything go to waste.

About an hour later another soldier arrived and noticed the weird behavior of the undead. They stood still and observed him instead of charging with wild abandon.

Curious he came closer, only to be presented - I assumed - with the same message as his predecessor.

“Trial… skills… three days.” He mouthed with difficulty. I waited and, just like before, a twinkle of greed appeared in the soldier’s eye. He quickly searched his surroundings and retreated, while muttering.

“Wait for me, my little skill. I’ll be baack~~!”

Yep. Sentients were idiots.

Non, Iron-melded Revenant

Geinard Kingdom Capital - Shieldstar

Non was sneaking through the palace. In her earlier life, she never managed to get close to the old, stone monstrosity. Some people whispered that it’s oldest rooms were made in the last days of the Magi-tech Empire and carried unspeakable secrets. And horrors. Or both.

It didn’t matter to the Revenant.

After all tonight she was one of these unseen, stalking horrors.

Non blinked through the night, her daggers at the ready. From one shadow to another she teleported with the grace of a predator, slinking silently and confidently.

The sheer size of the place was both a deterrent and a blessing. It would be hard to find the men and women she was hunting here, but then again… she had her daggers. And knowledge from another life.

Her form coalesced in one of the dusty interiors, just behind a ginger maid slowly dusting off the nearby chairs. The girl was cute - there were no ugly servants in the palace - and looked very inexperienced, but she somehow managed to notice Non’s arrival.

Her eyes widened in horror and mouth opened to produce a scream.

The Revenant acted quickly, a sharp chop to the larynx robbing her opponent of voice. The maid collapsed immediately, coughing heavily, tears flowing from her all-too-big eyes. She lifted her head only to met a cold gaze of the abomination.

“P-please…” She whispered.

Non only shook her head.

A few minutes later she was already teleporting in a different direction than before, sure of her destination. The maid’s bloodied body was hidden in a long-forgotten compartment, left far behind. It would take some time before her absence would get noticed - she should be either finished with her mission or dead. Not that she cared either way.

It took her about thirty minutes to arrive in the throne room, most of the time spent hiding from the guards. She could slaughter them with ease, but their absence, unlike the maid’s, would be immediately noticed.

So she squeezed, trying to put her ability to the best use, jumping from one frail shadow to another, sometimes even stalking the patrolling warriors in order to find another spot to advance a moment sooner.

In the end, she managed to finish her journey under the impossibly high ceiling of the king’s audience room. Then she simply waited. Her main target still hadn’t arrived - currently, only the king, Eric Geinard, his daughter Agnes and a few guards mixed with country leaders were present.

Normally hearing what they spoke about would fill the listener’s heart with dread.

Non didn’t care.

“...So are you saying that the newest dungeon outpost somehow defeated the horde advancing on it?” Asked the king, scratching his grey beard. He was a tall and strong man once. Now, the burden of the duties dulled his eyes and bent his back.

“These are news from the runner, your majesty.” Answered one of the ministers.

“I told you that he would prevail, father.” Agnes laughed loudly from the side, full of pride.

“Yes, yes, the young Blueflame is really something else.”

“He has a name, father.” The girl’s tone turned instantly colder. The king only sighed in annoyance.

“I know, Charles, right?” Agnes instantly smiled and nodded.

“Your majesty?” One of the surrounding bureaucrats dared to interrupt the father and daughter exchange.

“Yes? Speak, and out with it!” Eric answered with a dignified tone.

“Could you please notify us which leaders and armies were dispatched?”

“It’s a state secret. Why do you need to know?”

“To prepare for consequences.” The people in the surroundings gulped heavily. “Sending high-level generals to battle always has… consequences.” The minister was pale and sweaty but still stood straight, staring at his king and awaiting answers.

“Haaaah… Yes. I guess there is no way around it, eh?” Eric turned his eyes toward the ceiling and Non instinctually hid, not knowing what level was the ruler and what skills did he have in his possession.

“The western fortress of Kojin will be liberated by the Hekkan of Ash.” He spoke and even more, people turned pale.

“Your majesty… there will be no fortress to be liberated after Lord Hekkan finishes his duty…” Muttered the minister, who asked earlier. With a knowing nod, the king continued.

“I decided to send Iron Hand to Grode, to rebuild the middle fortress.” This time reaction was much better, some of the people even whispering with relief.

“And the eastern city-fortress of Frist, your majesty?”

“Ah, yes. I didn’t send an army there.” Eric smiled deeply. “After all she is enough to clear out the trash.”

“Y-your… your majesty!”

“I sent Green Succubus to take control over Frist.” He noticed the breathless crowd. “Oh come on! She hasn’t done anything horrid for years now!”

“Your majesty… we all know the stories.” Whispered the minister. “And what’s worse we know that the stories don’t even tell the whole truth.”

“I agree, your majesty.” A new voice joined the fray. A large, muscular man wearing a hawk helmet and clad in dark leather armor arrived in the room. Non’s eyes brightened with desire, her small mouth twisting in a horrid expression of joy.

“Lord Hawk!” Smiled the king, even standing up from his throne.

“My king!” The man exclaimed and bowed deeply, then turned his face towards the princess. “Hello, Agnes!”

“Hey, master spy!” The girl twisted her pretty face as emotions of anger and simple joy mixed together.

“Are you still mad that I forced you to get back here from the outpost?” He asked while tilting his head. A wry smile appeared on his face noticing her unwilling nod. “Also, are these your special days in the month?” He said loudly while staring at her eyes. These were only a few words, yet they stirred a hornet’s nest.

“How dare you!”

“Guards, guards!”

“What do you think you are doing?!”

“No, they aren’t,” Agnes answered calmly squinting her eyes questioningly.

“I see.” He nodded, his smile turning rigid. “ASSASSINS! PREPARE YOURSELVES!” He screamed into the air, blade masters around him unsheathing their weapons and running toward the king and his daughter. Lord Hawk unsheathed his own daggers and took a battle posture.

Non knew that her cover was blown. It didn’t matter how, but there was still a chance to attack.

Her body blinked and appeared behind one of the nobles, pushing him forward. The blade master defending the king reacted immediately, decapitating the advancing minister. Blood sprayed from the wound, momentarily blinding him and allowing Non to cut his arm. The skin sizzled as the warrior grunted in pain.

The man was well trained though. He retreated behind his companions as soon as he felt he was at a disadvantage. Growling, Non teleported again, “accidentally” making sure that Lord Hawk could see her.

A dagger was thrown and people shouted in fear as it closed on the king only to breathe out as it was intercepted by an outstretched hand. With a dull sound, it pierced skin, flesh and even bone before stopping. Then it immediately started to corrode the flesh it touched.

Lord Hawk shouted in pain and immediately dislodged the weapon, but the damage was already done. Still, he laughed fearlessly and exclaimed.

“Your assassination attempt ended in failure, little one. Surrender and your death will be quick and painless.” He lied without hesitation. “There is no escape from this place. You’re tra--” His words were interrupted by the scream from behind.

“Tinna?!” Agnes shouted, covering her mouth in shock. “You are alive?! HOW?!”

These words distracted Lord Hawk for a moment, a light of recognition appearing in his gaze. After all, he was the singular person who taught every single one of the Hawks. It was just enough for the Revenant to slip into his shadow and try to sink the second dagger in the human's flesh.

Yet Lord Hawk was too fast - quickly using his already hurt hand to protect the vitals.

“Kill…” Non hissed, seeing her target still alive.

“You little!?--” Gasped Lord Hawk, while concentrating. His body glowed and corrosion of the daggers stopped. “Deadly Light!” He screamed, retaliating. For a moment everybody in the room was blinded. When they opened their eyes Non was kneeling on the floor, clutching her now destroyed arm.

Being an undead her sense of pain was dulled, so she only glared at her attacker, while whispering.

“Revenge… will… later.” Lord Hawk's eyes widened as her frame twisted, turned into a shadow and then disappeared.

“Find her!” He ordered, two wounds on his body slowly healing. “Somebody get a sealing cloth and isolate these daggers!” He added after a moment, pointing at the two weapons left behind by Non. “Revenants are connected to their murder tools, so we should be able to find her with this.” He mumbled.

In the back Agnes was kneeling, her eyes full of tears.

“If Tinna walks the world as a Revenant, then… what about Boulder?” She whispered to herself.

Outside Non was running away, a stump of her arm burning with pain as the light energy battled her metal and darkness. With a grunt she escaped the palace, her eyes naturally turning towards the north.

“Ho-me.” She grunted and shook her head.

The smile that appeared on her face didn’t look vicious at all this time.