“I made your box, it’s back down the hole,” Avery tell the creature. “Before you go down though, solve the puzzle.”

“What puzzle, it’s a bunch of rings with patterns on it that you have to line up somehow.”

“The puzzle is getting the rings to line up correctly!”

“Like that would be difficult in the slightest. Once you’ve seen how a couple of the lines connect, you just have to move the things that aren’t those, and maybe align the whole thing up with the reference points around the edges.”

“It’s an automagically generated puzzle, you can’t expect miracles.”

“I wasn’t even talking about this one specifically. The whole sub-genre of puzzle where you just move things around until they line up are the lowest form of intellectual challenge. Like jigsaw puzzles. At least they have a lot of variables to make brute-forcing a solution a bit more difficult.”

“You’re talking a lot of garbage for someone who still hasn’t solved the puzzle.”

“Ugh, fine. Give me a minute to get out of this pit.”

Lifting the stone spear up out of the hole in the center of the room, the creature uses its tail to maneuver the stick of rock up to a corner of the square depression. Facing the walls, it pushes against both sides with its arms and legs while pulling on the spear with its tail. That doesn’t work well but it does work for getting it out of the hole.

“That’s a three meter deep pit,” Avery mentions, “how are you not able to just jump up and pull yourself out?”

“I’m short, alright? Maybe you could put some rungs on the side, for the less physically adept to get out easier.”

The necromancer started to argue, then remembered that having people leave was in fact the goal. If getting them back out of the pit easier was what it took, she’d have to spend a bit of mana to make a ladder once she wasn’t being blocked on this floor.

“I’ll think about it. Check out the chest already!”

“Is that really something a female human’s ghost should be saying to someone they’ve barely met?”

“You know what, you’re trying too hard to get a rise out of me. Just get on with it. Generic offense, if that’s what you’re after, just solve the puzzle.”

Up on solid footing, the creature walks around to the back side of the chest, finding it had three small holes on it.

“So in essence, the puzzle is in finding the crank that properly turns the gears to move the ring segments.”

“Well I have the crank right over there.”

“Wow. So pointless.”

Without even bothering to look for the crank, the creature moved to the front of the chest and the outer ring moves into position.

“Hey no that's cheating!”

“Anyone could do this, with sufficient grip. Alternately, they could use makeshift levers on the other side as one does when picking a lock. If it's the fact I can see what I'm doing you object to, might I introduce you to the concept of mirrors? There are quite a few ways to bypass this particular lock. Be glad I'm not the sort to just smash it open, relying on the idea that the contents are going to be more durable than the box itself.”

“Oh? And what would you do then if you're so learned in the subject of cheating?”

“Well first off,” it says, working on the center piece, “I would probably have some sort of spring in there that would reset the circles to their base positioning in the event that pressure ceases to be placed on the mechanism. That way someone with the levers could just leave them in, but some 'cheater’ would have to manually hold all the positions at once until the whole thing locked in place. Since I only had to move the second piece slightly to line it up with part one, I would use a one way lever so it can't just go back a sixteenth of a rotation. It's a bit beyond me, but I'd like to say is make the rings connected, such as that when you move one the other two move in some pattern. Center ring moves one, the others move two, outer ring moves one, center moves one, inner ring moves two, and inner ring moves one, outer ring moves three. Something like that, where it isn’t simple as ‘line up the pieces’. Done by the way.”

The top of the chest pops open, and the contents float up into the air on their own.

“Alright fine, I’ll admit that the puzzle isn’t the best. Like I said, it was automagically generated, and this was basically just a test to see if it was worth anything. They’re pretty cheap, so I’ll still use them, just not on anything important. Can you let me down now?”

“I’m not doing that. It’s probably a function of your automagic chest.”

“Fine whatever. I’ve finished with building this place up for now, and nothing we’re doing has put even a slight dent in the slime population over time, so I’m gonna cast the spell to put myself back in my body while you get that healer to fix me up.”

“I could have sworn you said that it was working earlier.”

“As soon as we stopped, the numbers went back up. Apparently they spawn really quickly.”

Wrapping its tail around the gemstone, the creature walks back to the tunnel entrance, past a strange slotted alter with writing all across it surrounded by puzzle chess, and plops down on the floor to wait until the ritual is over.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

The creature pokes the body on the ground, finding it to be breathing and somewhat cold. It would probably warm up somewhat in the time before the spell ended again. While it had a captive audience though…

“I know you can hear me, and respond.”

Resting in the palm of its hand, the black gemstone stays stubbornly quiet.

“Not that your response would change anything about the situation, of course. I hold your physical form, the slimes are deep below and cannot climb from the pit they are trapped within, and my proximity inhibits your creation and destruction abilities. You spoke last time of contracts. I wonder, are your feelings about the concept the same now that I hold every shred of possible power between the two of us?”

Dropping its hand to its side, the tailed being turns away toward the box on the ground. Remaining exactly where it was, the gemstone continues in its silence while floating in the center of the tunnel.

“A funny thing, technology. Once it progresses beyond a certain point, the people who use it have no idea how it works. Even those who recreate it exactly may have no clue as to the purpose of any particular component. Humans create more humans, but most of them would be unable to even identify how many bones to use. Your ability though is very useful. Not even a percent of a percent of humans would be able to recreate the radio, even with a detailed blueprint. Yet here it is, having been disintegrated and reformed. I have been given to understand that with sufficient raw energy expenditure, more could be mass produced out of nothing.”

Snaking its tail around the gem and drawing it back into the cavern, holding the largest facet to face the wooden box, the creature speaks toward the box.

“Mass production. In more than one sense of the word. My personal needs are few, and my desire for the type of power you promise is even lesser. On the reverse of that, an offer could be made for a more grand alliance. Where I am from, it’s not material or energy, exactly, that limits us. Rather, it’s attention. Once an idea is fleshed out, it is no longer interesting. Once an idea is no longer interesting, it falls to the wayside, and is not thought of again. Wonders of technology abound, but rarely the same one twice, and that one nearly impossible to maintain for any amount of time by anyone but the person who created it. Yet here I find a rock with the ultimate tools of creation, and nothing to make with it. What an interesting coincidence, is it not?”

With this musing echoing through the darkness, a response is finally beckoned from the black stone.

“And so you seek to bind me to your service. A tame dungeon core to feed scraps and pull wondrous treasures from with no risk. Words cannot express the disdain your plans cause to roil up within my core. Rather than slavery, I would choose death.”

“You mistake me. Now you know what I want, which is the basis for actual negotiations. For a true contract, we must each offer something the other wants. What then, is your true desire?”

The gem stays silent for a moment. Comfortable with the silence, the creature stands still and silent with it. For about thirty seconds. Then it gets bored and starts messing with the box.

“To grow. Essentially, that is my true desire. For that, I need to dig deep, build defenses, and destroy everything that tries to kill me. Thus, contracts for guardianship in exchange for making monsters more powerful, with a lair underground.”

“Depth, and defense. Easy enough. What was that about tame dungeons though, that’s basically what the contract is, isn’t it?”

“Of course not. Dungeons grow through mana, mana generated by controlling territory. With that mana, they support their monsters, dig deeper, and generate lures for prey to slaughter.”

"You lost me with that last bit,” the creature says, fiddling with one of the knobs. Despite a phenomenal amount of tinkering, absolutely nothing was happening.

“With every monster and defense, more mana is required to keep everything functional. Killing sentient creatures releases the life force, which the dungeon core can utilize all at once for project completion. An influx of mana is always welcome, when it can be safely obtained. Not to lose the point, a tame dungeon is one where the dungeon core is forced to use their mana production that isn’t tied to the functionality of the dungeon itself to produce the lures that would appease the creature that has taken command of the core. Gold, magical items, raw meat, anything a dungeon would use as bait, generated endlessly with no benefit to the dungeon. No growth, only stagnant survival. It’s a pitiable fate, one I would never submit myself to.”

“About those mass produced items then…”

“Bait can come in many forms. If a dungeon is deep enough, and the sacrifices are plentiful enough, some small amount of bait can conceivably be retrieved by prey. Enter into death, and your sacrifices may be rewarded.”

“Depth, defense, and sending in expendables to get loot. Got it,” states the creature, levitating a rock over to its hand. Rather than turning dials, its new method of interaction was through repeated physical contact between stone and wood.

“Neither the weak nor the strong are optimal for a dungeon, but those who are perfectly balanced by the strength of the challenge. Every effort expended to delve deeper, every resource lost, is another tithe to the power of the core, and the path downward can be built to match the forces that are brought to bear against the gauntlet. Through this the weak either grow strong or are crushed, and the strong sacrifice more energy into the waiting maw for the promise of grand rewards.”

“So we’re clear, you can tell what effect I have on your energy reserves through my effort, correct? All of my kind would have that. Probably best to not have us try and go down deep for stuff.”

“How in the name of me is it possible that you drain mana from a dungeon core without being intrinsically attached to it? Your existence is a crime against the nature of reality itself.”

“I know. Do you still want us to go down to get the bait, even though you know that you won’t get anything out of it, even though it’s a fact that your challenges drain you with nothing in return, that it’s counter to your core desire to grow?”

“Urgh. No. But I need something to whet myself against. A sword is dull without something to cut. A spear is pointless if it doesn’t impale someone. Without a head to sever, an axe has no purpose. Burning down a village with monsters is perfectly fine, until there’s no one left to kill. Emptiness left behind when there are no more left to kill is a torture. Bloodlust wells up, an unyielding itch deep in my facets. Nothing to kill. Nothing to use to scratch the itch. A maddening circle, to face the halls, the terrains, the battlefields that once ran red with the lifebloods of countless combatants, standing empty without a challenger. A waste of mana to summon monster without a target, but a waste of other sorts to have it stand empty, silent. Depths of myself, stuck in time, no reason to improve, no impetus to dig deeper, no point to using the mana for anything but endlessly sharpening the knives at the center of my power.”

“Wow ok. You’d fit in back home actually,” replies the creature, sitting on the stone floor of the tunnel, rock dropped carelessly beside it. A light had begun glowing on the front of the wooden face at some point, illuminating the maw of sharp teeth with an eerie glow. “Depth, defense, but not too good, because you need decently strong challengers to bait. But do you really need to fight them? Kill them all so rapidly?”

“Sure I do. I like to fight... I love to fight. I love war. I love battle. I love sieges. I love raids. I love charges into battle. The clashing of blade against bone. Armor pierced by arrows. The spilling of blood. The thud of a newly slain body finding its place to cool upon the sand. I love all these things. I love the terrified look of a man as my guardian raises my sword and brings it down upon them. I love the choking gurgling sound from a freshly slit throat. The dull squishy crack of a broken neck. The satisfying spray from between shoulders which but moments before held up a head. The playful thump of that same head bouncing and rolling across a field. The annoying coughing gasp of a foe with the wind knocked out of their lungs being interrupted by a cry of death when their own companion drives my cursed weapon through their heart. These things I love. I’ve built dozens of variations of the theme, and they have all had a subtle charm to them that keeps the repetitive… Wonderful. I love to fight in blood-soaked fields of battle atop a mountain of dying men. I love to fight in drafty old castles that echo the agonized shrieks. I love to fight in dense forests, carving limbs off trees, men, and goblins alike. I love to fight on the cool desert sands. In frozen wastelands. In ancient canyons. In the mountains. Over the sea. I love to fight. And war, and the gods, love to watch me.”

“All that’s cool and all, but what gods.”