There was… one little thing Allen had forgotten about.

See, everything had been accounted for, except one tiny issue. What if… for some bizarre reason, the identity of the Ogre would copy over into the suit and turn hostile?

Well… Lets just say that such a event would be fatal.

Thankfully, it didn’t happen! Flag successfully avoided.

Allen gave a amused chuckle, watching the glowing lights of the rusted suit flicker about, a steady thrum of mana and the creaking of rusted metal echoing throughout the near-featureless chamber.

As the Greenskins gave their life on the first floor, so was ‘life’ created on the second.

‘’If only my first visitors would have been dwarves…’’ The Dungeon core gave a mental sigh. Atleast the plan had worked, to a extend. Now he could safekeep the souls of the 3 Orc-leaders, should they fall in battle.

Onto the next phase, as Allen pasted several more cores into the other 2 large suits lined against the wall. Between the first, one major difference was found. Instead of 2 roundish-spheres as ‘hands’, the latter two had a massive shield, and club-like extension for hands, coming equipped with crude, rusted weaponry. Allen dubbed these two ‘Shield-Guardians’, the first receiving a mere ‘Prototype-1’ as its name.

And, with that moment, would all 3 of the automatons give a shudder, parts settling into place as they stepped out of their chambers In the wall onto the floor.

‘’I wonder if I can fill the smaller ones as well… by now they should have killed atleast 1 goblin, right?’’

The core’s statement was somewhat correct. One of the goblins lay bleeding infront of the big-lad himself, Turok. Though it seemed that the two had done equal damage to one another. Not wanting to lose either 3, would Allen reinforce the connection between himself and the Orc-warrior, finding it a lot easier and actually doable now that his body had reached such a state. His plan was well on track, less then a third of the original orc-group remaining. He did feel somewhat uncomfortable with the massive loss of life, but at the same time disappointed at the weakness of his supposed ‘guardians’. So much for their original agreement.

In any case, as a measure to make sure his prized possession managed to reach his core-room safely, would he dump a metaphorical-equivalent of a bathtub filled with mana over the orc, watching his body quiver and swell.

One note Allen had forgotten during their first meeting… Orcs grew in strength with mana.

So, instead of getting the energy to retreat… Turok swelled, the broken-half of his shield evaporating into a blue light, which would form a now-familiar set of tatoos across his body, wounds welding themselves together as rusted fragements of metal would bridge inbetween parted skin and muscle.

When the light of magic settled down, Turok stood between his earlier size of just shy from 2 meters and a Orge’s four meters, having grown with atleast a meter to settle at roughly 3 meters and atleast a whole meter wide. Now that, was one big Orc. A system would have given a newly-evolved creature like this some fancy or intimidating name like ‘Quarter-Cyborg Orc’. Instead, nothing happened. Neither powers involved with it, after all, had any form of connection to the cursed software.

The latter part, of course, held no interest for either Turok or Allen at his moment, the Dungeon core quickly creating a mental note, something which had begun being much easier the more time went one, that Evolution was only possible, or at least had a higher chance of occurring by overloading the body of a monster with a high-enough quantity of magic. A theoretical idea followed, to which the surroundings of said monster influenced whatever they would evolve into. Per example, a Lizard-like monster living near a volcano might develop into something that could spew burning acid. Or a fish in a swamp would become more akin to a amphibian.

That last part gave way to a lot of speculation to Allen. Would such a swamp-evolved fish try to fill the ecological niche of a frog, or would it go an entirely-separate route. Were monster evolutions a mirror to the evolutions on our own planet, merely taking generations-time because of a lack of mana, or was the opposite true, that mana caused sporadic evolutions whereas the normal-state of affairs before the system was similar to our own world? The only way to answer this question is to find our whether Mana was something already present on this planet, or created by the system.

Allen could feel his non-existing brain already frying at the long train of thoughts, almost forgetting to send up his three new soldiers, only being reminded by yet another Orc dying.

Right now, it was 3 Ogres and 2 Goblins. Considering there had been over 20 Orcs that had to lay down their lives to shave away a fourth of the hostiles, there was no way for our brave companions to win. Turok as he was now could maybe take on a single Ogre, which he was currently busy having a slug-match with, the two striking each other with a berserker-like glee. This still left 2 big and 2 small uglies.

Pure luck made it so that Ozram and Jigi were closer to the back of the group, little more than two steps separating them from the portcullis. This would allow Allen to finally start the last phase of his plan. Giving a mental-signal to his now-no-longer lone guardian, would a certain Mech-spider come bolting out of her own room, uncaring if she ran over any unfortunate greenskin still lingering near the crossroad, which she did, albeit only being two. Hydraulic-pumps tensed, would the spider lift itself off the stone floor, into the air, and straight against one of the large ogres, making it fall on yet another unfortunate orc, squashed beneath the combined weight of a large metal-construct and a 4 meter-tall ogre.

Allowing her fangs to sink into the neck of the monster, would the acid begin eating away at its skin. Compared to the last time she faced one of these beings had there been one crucial advantage compared to the previous. Stealth. This Ogre only realized what had- and was about to- happen when the corrosive acid had melted away half of its neck. With a dying splutter, would it use the last of his strength to fling the construct into the wall.

Turok continued to battle with one of two Ogres, though it seemed that with every moment passed, the balance of power continued to creep in his direction. His attacks were getting faster, stronger and more accurate, his mind adapting to its new body. This was not without sacrifice, as the Orcs body was covered in more wounds, the mana of the dungeon filling it to create more small patches of rusted metal. At one point the Ogre had managed to critically strike his left eyesocket, the eye of the Orc-warrior for now being put in a state of disrepair. While still working, it was at best a slight blur, at worst, whenever he tried focusing on something else, colors and blurs would begin to overlap. Turok quickly learned to not do that.

‘’Master Allen, what took you so long?’’ Jigi turned to glance over his shoulder, through the portcullis and into the core room, where the crystal floated in silence for a brief moment. Berating himself for having to reveal his knowledge, would the smartest orc of the three try to bargain. It was all they had left. Only they remained, the three brothers that had been chosen as a leader of their people. Bah, leaders they were anything but. Their people lay dead or dying because of the small group of invaders. Jigi had allowed their survival once by striking a deal with the mysterious entity that controlled the core. Now, he’d have to do it again, this time offering more then anyone would like to give. Whether the core knew or not at the moment of their deal was of little use. It probably knew now, considering its guardian had no remorse in using the last handful of his people to distract its prey. However, even it was in a tough spot. There was still one Ogre left, and those two goblins were eyeing both himself, Ozram and its core that layed beyond. ‘’I know you can hear me, Core, We both know that I know of what you can really do. And we offer the last remains of our freedom if it means we can live!’’.

Ozram glanced at the wiser orc, quickly nodding. Unlike the shaman-student, would he have little idea of what was going on. Master Allen wouldn’t have willingly sacrificed his people, right? The friendly voice still echoed through his head like the last time they had spoken. The core seemed so… innocent and naive, just like him.

‘’The thing is, Jigi, what you know is… well, lets just say ‘outdated’ would be the best.

A set of Golems would appear from behind the pedestal, both Orcs remaining silent as the Portcullis raised itself. How had they missed these two massive statues when they were in the room earlier? And who had pulled up the gates?

‘’Guardians, clear up the rest.’’ The Dungeon core’s voice sounded less then pleasant like earlier, now it was annoyed.

The goblins attention would quickly be distracted from the two weaklings, making a rush for the big shiney that layed beyond. Allen almost chuckled as they ignored the two Golems, too distracted with potential wealth to see the incoming clubs.

Two ripe watermelons exploded in sync.

The golems were uncaring, unmoving, as one stepped onto a goblin body and squashed it into paste. Standing bigger then a Ogre at 4,5 meters in height, would the moving wall send echos throughout the near-silent dungeon. The last ogre would take a hesitant step back, having passed the two orcs shivering against the wall. As they tried to turn around and leave, would they find another golem blocking its path. This one without shield or club, instead having crude spheres as hands. One could argue that these spheres were more like flat morning-stars then hands however.

Allen briefly mused over the current situation, sending a mental command towards the two Guardians to pass the Ogre and go help out the Orc-warrior.

Within its limited intelligence, would the Ogre receive plenty of warning signals. It knew that as the two armed ‘things’ would pass it, that either they believed the last member could defeat him without issue, or this was some form of crude ‘adulthood-ritual’, much like what they practiced.

He roared in rage, charging the strange thing with fist and arm held back to prepare a mighty swing.

The golem would mirror his movements, albeit merely standing there, its arm creaking and humming.

The two met eachother with a mighty blow, the Ogre screaming in pain as its fist would give way to the metal, breaking bones even in its arm. However, the same was true for the ‘thing’, as the Ogre could clearly see cracks in the rusted plating, hissing with blue-tinged air.

There was one issue, however. As the Ogre clutched its broken arm, would the construct stand there, unfeeling, uncaring, the cracks across its arm being patched over as the mana would ‘weld’ the metal shut, leaving a dis-colored line almost reminiscent of a scar.

The last the ogre saw was its spherical fist, approaching its face with the same speed of their earlier clash…

Two Orcs, one Half-Orcborg (He would probably have to change the name later, Allen noted) two Guardians, one Prototype and a Giant mech-spider sat in formation, the first three surrounded by the latter, in front of a Giant Crystal…