Part 3:Becoming a Champion

The Fairy

Cel

Cel awoke from his slumber as if he was just resting his eyes, opening them when he felt enough time had passed. He didn’t feel any form of hebetude, instead he was a little spacey, momentarily forgetting what happened to him. It was hardly his fault, though. His head was peacefully lying in someone’s lap as they stroked his hair and sang a lullaby. The words were in a language he had never heard, but the melody was still intoxicating.

When his eyes finally registered with his brain, he saw a woman with pale skin and long, straight, free flowing black hair. The irises of her eyes were a brilliant purple with a small curve of glimmering gold at the bottom, like they were purple containers a fourth of the way filled with liquid gold. Rearing above her shoulders were the tops of four thin wings, rimmed in pumpkin orange with a filling of carrot orange.

Pretty… was the only thought in Cel’s mind. Of course, he wasn’t attracted to her, Camie plundered all the love he could possibly generate in three life times, it was simply the only word he felt described her fantastical appearance.

The woman stopped singing when she noticed Cel’s eyes were open and said, “Oh, are you finally awake?”

Cel smiled as he said, “It’s your fault that I’m so comfortable.” The woman smiled back, continuing to play with his hair and making no moves. Cel didn’t make any moves either, he felt safe in her embrace, like everything was right in the world. At the same time he was graced with a fulfilling feeling, like he was always secretly longing for this to happen without knowing what ‘this’ even was.

His memories came rushing back to him as he fully awoke, filling him with a sense of urgency. But even with everything he needed to take care of, he stayed still for another minute before lifting his head and sitting up. He was still in the cave but for some reason he could see the cave in its entirety, and in a sort of dim light despite it being pitch black. The room he was in was a giant box made of stone that connected to a different room. That room was the same barren box of stone, only smaller, with nothing in it, connected to another room. That room was also the exact same thing, and it repeated like that five times, where the fifth room wasn’t connected to a sixth.

Cel stood up and turned toward the woman from before. Now that he had a better view, he could see that she actually had six small and thin organic orange colored wings jutting from her back, and that she was wearing a polychromatic gown. The skirt looked like it was made from hundreds of vibrant and different colored strips of cloth all joining harmoniously at the waist and continuing upward into a sleeveless bodice with a high neckline.

“Who are you?” Cel asked, void of the usual alien undertones.

“I am Feya, your dungeon fairy. And don't worry, Mebel is safe,” she introduced herself with a bow, somehow knowing what his first priority was. Cel raised his left arm, it was perfectly fine, not at all blown to bits like it was before his convalescence.

“Are you the one who saved me?” he asked.

“Technically you saved yourself,” she said.

“What does that mean?” he asked her, thoroughly confused, head cocked to the side.

“The only way to save you was to make you the creatrix of this dungeon. As a creatrix you’re basically all powerfully inside your dungeon,” she answered. Cel looked down in thought and tried the first thing that came to mind, two daggers appeared in his hands. They were his original daggers, a second ago they were forgotten on the ground after he was swallowed by the giant lizard. All powerful… he thought as he sheathed them. Then, he suddenly lost his shape and plopped onto the floor in a blob of skin before gathering together like a snake raising its head and twisting into a mass of feathers that collected together to form a bird. Even when changing shape, he was aware of literally everything happening in his dungeon, meaning he noticed how surprised Feya was.

He settled back into his human shape and asked, “What?”

“Usually a beginner creatrix needs to practice before they start using their power,” she explained as she broke out in a grin of amusement. Cel wasn’t finished, though. He looked down at his left arm, when he did the skin peeled off and revealed the superficial layer of muscles. He studied that for a few minutes, his eyes running from the anterior compartment down to and settling on the posterior compartment, before the intermediate and deep layers of muscle were peeled off at the same time. He looked at the nerves and veins tangled around his bones passively.

“Um, Cel?” Feya’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

“Sorry, it’s a lot to take in,” he apologized, his arm returning to normal.

Feya cleared her throat and continued explaining, “The Goddess made dungeons primarily to see what lesser beings would make if they had her power, leaving you with the sole responsibility to create. At least, that’s the original speech, but since then times have changed and now there are some restrictions.

“One: while you are all powerful in your dungeon’s influence, your creations are not. Your dungeon, along with everything you conceive, is given a grade. You can only make things that are equal to or lower than your dungeon’s grade.

“Two: you can only have one creation equal to your dungeon’s grade at a time.

“Three: you are not completely all powerful. You cannot use your power to kill foreign entities, that task must be left to your creations.

“Four: aside from alterations to yourself, everything you make will take mana from your dungeon’s mana pool.

“Five: your dungeon monsters cannot live outside of your dungeon. If they are ever outside of your dungeon’s influence, they will immediately turn into mana and cease to exist.

“Six: you can only take items or materials outside of your dungeon’s influence that are one grade less than your dungeon’s grade.

“Seven: you can only expand your dungeon’s influence in an area with borders.

“Aside from that, you should know that any foreign entity without an ego you can absorb and gain a type of outline, called a blueprint, that tells you how to create the entity and everything the entity is capable of.

“I know almost everything there is to know about the world and how dungeons work. If you need to know something, you can ask me.”

“You never explained the grades,” said Cel after a few minutes of thinking.

“Grades are different based on the creatrix. In your case, the ratings shall be letters in the holy alphabet. From lowest to highest the grades are: F, E, D, C, B, A, S, and Z. Your dungeon is currently grade E. To raise your dungeon’s grade you must fill its mana pool.” Cel took in her words and peaked in his spiritual body, for the first time. His mana pool was relatively small even for someone without mana sensitivity, however, his soul shone extremely bright and with a mix of colors. Furthermore, there was a second mana pool under his original mana pool, much larger than most specialized Mages’ mana pools.

“How do I fill it?” Cel asked.

“There are two methods you can start with. Your dungeon passively absorbs ambient mana with its influence, giving your dungeon a mana rich atmosphere. And you gain mana from absorbing things. Everything, living, dead, sentient, inanimate, is made of mana. When you absorb things, you break it down to its mana and add that to your dungeon’s mana pool. Generally, most creatrix attract a lot of adventurers to brave their dungeon and have most of them die in its influence to level up their grade,” elucidated Feya.

Cel looked up from his musings and asked, “What about you? Are you one of my creatures?” Feya seemed to mull his question for a few seconds before answering.

“For most intents and purposes, I suppose you could say I am one of your creatures, however, I’m technically a separate being that is bound to you through the Dungeon Heart, it acts as a sort of key to tell the world you are a creatrix. You see, the entirety of most fairies’ physical body is their soul, they have nothing else. My actual body is inside your soul, right now you’re seeing an illusion. I can’t interact with anything outside of your dungeon’s influence and only you can see me. Otherwise, only people I want to see me can see me.” Cel sat down and leaned back on his palms, his head hung practically upside down while his shoulders were pushed to his ears. He was overwhelmed and he didn’t want anything to do with this dungeon business right now. After a few graceful moments, he heaved a sigh, straining his eyes closed before getting up with renewed vigor.

“Is there any way I can thank you for saving my life?” he asked her.

“Fairies were created with the sole purpose of being observers for the Goddess. It would make me the happiest fairy alive if you just lived your life,” she said. Cel studied her eyes for a few seconds before dropping it.

“Do you have idea how long I was asleep?”

Feya grinned as she said, “Only three seconds have passed since you fell asleep. I’m aware of everything resting on your shoulders, so as soon as you became the creatrix I slowed your perception of time to a stand still. I also took the liberty to absorb the leftover monsters.” Cel let out a breathy laugh.

“Thank you so much. Are you sure I can’t repay you with something more?”

“You’re too kind, Cel. Believe me, you are doing me a favor by saving me from that lizard. Do you know how boring that was?” Feya shook her head before she recalled the illusion and disappeared. Cel stood still smiling for a few moments, almost forgetting to recover his flintlock before bursting into a jog towards the door.

As he left the influence of his dungeon, he felt like everything around him took on an intense blur and numbness. Suddenly, he could only see things with his eyes, hear things with his ears, and was stuck in his human shape. Feya? Are you still there? Cel called out. For whenever you need me, she responded.

The second he finished adjusting to the marred world, something crashed into him, almost making careen over. He managed to keep his balance and noticed it was Mebel, hugging him. He smiled, a warm feeling in his chest as he hugged her back and tears threatened to spill from his eyes; She was ok.

“Master Cel, a runner is here for you!” Varckus called from behind his door, making him jump. He opened the door and led Mebel down the stairs by the hand. The other orphans were still asleep, causing each and every floorboard to creek under their weight as they made their way to the door. But when they made it, Mebel refused to let go of Cel’s hand.

“What is it, Mebel?”

“What’s her name?” she asked quietly.

“Whose name?” he asked in turn.

“The fairy,” she said. Her pale white eyes bore into Cel’s, as if she was saying ‘Don’t even try to lie.’ Cel looked back into her eyes, trying to match her intensity while searching for something to say. What should I do? he asked. What you think best, Feya answered.

Mebel finally let go when Cel said, “Her name is Feya.” He held his breath as he studied her face, hoping he played his cards right.

“OK,” she said, completely satisfied. Cel broke out into a smile as he leaned down and kissed her head before turning around and leaving the orphanage.

The runner led him to the same box of stone and wood in the middle of the town, towering over the other shabby looking wooden structures. He opened the door and entered the same room from before, with the table in the middle clear of anything. Standing near the door in the right wall, staring into empty space, was a short man in a grey servant uniform. The mayor had his back facing Cel, slightly hunched as he read a stack of parchment on the long table against the far wall. When he heard someone step in, he shifted his head just enough that his right eye could pick up Cel from rolling his pupil to the corner of his eyelid.

The mayor looked back down as he said, “Ah, you’ve arrived.” Cel waited silently as the mayor turned around and smoothed out the stack of parchments he was studying on the center table.

“I know I said it would be mostly paperwork, but I think your talent would be wasted on that,” started the mayor. “This is a schedule for what you need to handle this week, look it over and voice any objections.” Cel did as Mayor Caldwell instructed and his brows furrowed; It was more than a schedule, it also detailed pertinent information. First, he needed to decide how much of the Sacred Floral Fields would be used for mining, selective breeding, and how much should be left alone.

He was well aware of the fact that precious minerals near the surface that required minimal excavation to harvest overlapped with the Sacred Floral Field, but everything else was news to him. At first, he was surprised by the borderline flagrant mayor actually listening to the complaints of the people, but then he realized the genius behind the alteration in plans.

The mayor was never outright hated by the residents of the town of flora, however, messing with the Sacred Floral Fields was causing more and more people to speak out. If he dichotomizes it, not only are the people mostly placated, he can completely annihilate the plant life in the section chosen for mining, where if he tried to use it all for mining, he would have to regard the plants in order not to further irk the public. Furthermore, by harvesting the plants in one moiety, he could spin it to look like the majority is still sacred while profiting off of the rare plants.

After considering all of that, the only thing Cel was surprised by was the faith that Mayor Caldwell entrusted him. It wasn’t even an opinion thing, where he would report to the mayor and the mayor would take it under consideration, he was the overseer of the entire project. As soon as he made his decision he was supposed to notify the miners, along with a specific farmer, and they would get to work. Then, he would have to fix any problems that appeared further down the line.

But moving further down the list, he started to wonder if the mayor was trying to pawn all of his responsibilities on him. According to the schedule, tomorrow he was to meet with the elves and plan out the specifics of the long term trade. And, his final task, on the last day of the week, he needed to negotiate with the traveling caravan visavi the minerals.

He looked up at the mayor with a lifted brow. The mayor’s face was like a mask, revealing no clues. He stared the mayor down for some seconds before deciding he wanted an answer.

“I want a three gold raise,” he demanded as he slammed his schedule on the table. The mayor smirked, like he was expecting that to happen.

“I didn’t take you as someone who was motivated by money, Sir Verrus,” Mayor Caldwell lied.

“Don’t make the same mistake as Verline,” replied Cel. That made the Mayor’s face turn.

“Fifty silver,” he offered.

“Three gold,” insisted Cel.

“Two gold, final offer,” the mayor bargained. Cel pretended to mull it over before he accepted and walked out of the house.

Obviously, he wasn’t interested in a raise of any form. Ten gold per month was more than enough, any more is overkill in a town. However, that two gold raise told him everything he wanted to know.

In the Town of Flora, the economy was propped up by two pillars: the farmers and the carpenters. What differentiated those two professions from the rest was that the town could always use more. Withal, carpenters are more valued by the town hall because the soil in and around the Town of Flora is extremely rich, producing more than enough food to support the town as it expands. The point behind that information: the pay of those occupations don’t even compare to Cel’s current pay. You would have to pool the pay of every single farmer and carpenter in the town to rival the pay Cel was getting.

Mayor Caldwell wouldn’t be willing to fork over so much money if he didn’t think Cel was worth it. Not only that, but he probably could have kept bargaining for the original three gold. The mayor’s final offer was a farce to give him less money than he was forced to, making them both walk away satisfied and thinking they won the bargain. As it stands, he was probably officially being paid more than the mayor himself, but that’s a moot point since the mayor controls the Town of Flora’s coffers. And benounced to him, the town hall only brings in around an additional seventy gold per month through trade. Since he was given a position in the town hall, he would be paid from its coffers, meaning he would earn more than a tenth of its monthly garnerings.

With his suspicions confirmed, Cel put it out of his mind and focused on the task ahead. He was looking forward to it because he had never actually seen the sacred floral fields; Eliot never went near them, so neither did he.

The fields were located to the far south east, nearly five hundred meters away from the town because the founders didn’t want to bother the natural wonder. Despite the distance, as Cel reached the south east corner of the village, he could make out an endless field of plants, forming a sort of ground level canopy of vegetation. As he traveled the distance, each plant grew more distinct and incongruous from its neighbors. The field was a giant, cacophonic, and chaotic mismatch of greens, blues, yellows, reds, and a few rare colors like purple. Each plant was starkly different from the ones around it, which produced a surreal, something about this picture feels wrong, scene to Cel because literally every other large gathering of plants, even in the wild, grow in linear, homogenous groups or rows. As far as he could tell, each and everyone of the plants that made up the sacred floral fields was unique, not appearing twice in the radius of his eyesight.

Taking in the oddly upside down looking fields, he stood at its edge for a long time, gazing at its endless mass. That was when, in his mind’s eye, he saw what looked like a giant ball with teeth lunging at him. He jumped away just in time to dodge the vicious bite of a giant red plant with serrated teeth of similar proportions. If he hadn't dodged, his entire upper torso would have been subjected to the shredder that was the monster’s mouth. Thankfully, it was bound to its roots by a green vine around the thickness of a regular human’s arm and could only uselessly lap at the air with its tentacle like purple tongue to try and get to him. That was close, he thought in relief. Cel, I’m so sorry! I didn’t notice that plant, Feya apologized inordinately. It isn’t your fault, and I’m ok, right? he assured her. Feya let it go, but cantankerous so.

He was actually more put off by Feya’s concern for his well being than the monster attack. He was used to handling everything by himself, even hiding most dangerous things from his family.

He made sure to stay away from the plant and decided the first step was to visit the farmer mentioned in his information. On his way, he saw the orcs had sent another raid party. The guards were fending them off, but they looked hard pressed, so he decided to help. He’d dealt with many raiding parties since his first run in, but he would never let go of his rage for them, they threatened his town, afterall.

The party was no more than twelve orcs, two riding wargs. Wargs were basically just larger wolves, and they posed the most threat in a small gathering of regular orcs. The guards seemed to have the wargs under control, though.

He stealthed his way around and behind the orcs, his hands clenched his daggers in something similar to anticipation. The orcs were poorly equipped and not very perceptive, allowing him the freedom to break stealth stabbing one of his daggers through the throat of the orc most rear without being noticed. He was somewhat dissatisfied with the ease he could dispatch the orcs if he stayed stealthy, he wanted more of a challenge out of his hated foes.

In order to placate for the lack of intensity, he practically ambled over to an orc with good visibility and beheaded it from behind. The spurt of blood and the rolling head of a fellow orc demanded attention. When the remaining orcs finally noticed their fallen brethren, they let out indignant roars and the ones not riding wargs charged him in disarray. Cel laughed in the face of their offensive, thinking back to how useless he was the first time as he brandished his daggers and rushed forward, moving faster than the orcs could react.

A dagger found itself buried in the chest of the leading orc and another lost its arm before they realized he was attacking. The remaining six orcs lurched at him with their sharp, square bats and clubs, but he simply ducked under their arms and slammed his way through their wall of flesh. He threw his left dagger into the eye of the farthest one, before grabbing the orc nearest him and thrusting a dagger up into its brain from under its mouth. Then, he threw its body at the group of orcs left of him and he recalled his left dagger by activating its engravement, before cutting down the two orcs right of him with two well placed slashes.

In no time at all, he was done killing the rest of the orcs and threw one of the dead bodies. It hit the last living orc in the raid party, the guards managed to kill a warg and its rider while Cel was preoccupied, shoving it off the warg it was riding and onto the pikes of vigilant guards. The warg let out a blaring caterwaul at the death of its rider, but the guards wouldn’t have it. They surrounded and made the monster into a blood fountain before it could even finish its cry.

“We appreciate the help, Sir Verrus!” the guards saluted him.

“It’s no problem,” said Cel as he cleaned his daggers on the warg’s fur.

With that taken care of, he took a stroll through the town, intent on talking to the farmer on his list. He waved to old May as he passed the market, sharing a few words before forging on.

An hour later, he arrived at the northern fields. He could have made it in half that if he hadn't taken a winding path and dropped by the orphanage. They were located a few hundred meters outside of the town’s living area, flanking the one, long dirt road that led out of the town and into the forest. Whenever caravans or merchants bothered to travel this far, they would trek past the fields before making it to the actual town to sell wares.

Cel felt justified by the uniform lines the crops were planted in as he walked down the straight road. There were four expansive fields in total, two on either side of the rode, as well as sheds peppered here and there. The top field on the left side of the rode was verdant with half grown, still green barely. While the field under it was filled with pulses, the early stage of the plants’ growth made it impossible to differentiate the specific type of plant, though something made it obvious to him that there were two plants growing in the field. On the right side of the road, the top field was used to grow many different smaller crops, mostly oats but with a mix of fruits and vegetables. The one fallow field was the bottom right one, left alone to rejuvenate essential nutrients.

Further left than the fields, there were four wooden structures: A small red and white barn that wouldn’t be too out of place in a regular farm, a capacious cage made from outlandishly tall fences topped with a ceiling, and completely regular open air stables. From the barn’s window he could see large groups of raptors separated in pens, the only thing that hinted at anything being in the cage due to the closely spaced fences were large dark spots, and there was a team of twelve farmers unhooking a plow from an oviuus near the oviuus stables.

Oviuus were large beasts, slightly shorter than horses with especially long bodies, supported by three pairs of legs that ended in horse hooves. The horse and ram mix was completed with three heads, all sharing ample space at the front of its large mass and missing a neck of any kind. The side heads each had a singular ram shaped horn on the side of the head relative to the middle head, while the middle head had one spire like horn that narrowed into a spike, vaguely similar to a really fat unicorn horn. The most out of place feature was its giant fangs, easily visible jutting out of its three mouths. Its body, heads, and pig shaped tail were puffed with a jacket of wool, while their extremely muscular legs comparable in size to some thinner trees only had white fur.

There were tens of people, nearly a hundred, buzzing in or around the fields, doing things Cel had no concept of. Along with all the farmers, there were plenty of guards standing around the perimeters. He didn’t have trouble finding who to talk to, though. There was a woman amongst the crowd that was organizing the entire thing, shouting orders at far away farmers, gesturing with her arms, and talking to everyone around.

He walked up and got her attention, “Excuse me, are you Madam Faber?”

“Call me Janis.” She had a bright smile on her face that accentuated the crow’s feet at the edges of her eyes as she stuck out her hand. She had wispy dark hair with streaks of grey done up in a circled braid, bright blue eyes, and dressed in light grey overalls.

Cel returned her smile and shook her abnormally sturdy hand while introducing himself, “I’m Cel, the Mayor’s new assistant.”

“You look a little young, you his son or something?” she asked.

“No, we aren’t related. I actually own the orphanage, y’know the one on the hill.”

“No kidding, you’re Sir Verrus?” she asked, delightedly surprised.

“You know of me?” he laughed, suddenly a little embarrassed. He didn’t realize that some of his actions would cause chatter.

“How can I not? You’re a legend amongst the guard and everyone in town talks about you kicking out that snake! The guards say all you did was talk to ‘im- that true?”

“I’m good at negotiating, that’s why the mayor hired me,” Cel told her the truth.

“Alright then, what brings you?” she changed the subject.

“I’m here about the Sacred Floral Fields, have you seen them?”

“Why, I’m over there everyday,” she answered.

“That’s perfect, what do you think about the mining Mayor Caldwell wants to do?” he started.

“It’s a damn shame, but it’s about time someone did something withem,” she said.

“Just how well do you know the Sacred Floral Fields?”

“I’m the chief farmer, aren't I?”

“Could you go down there right now and show me around?”

“Course I can, but I got to milk the locrusnae first.”

She led him to the giant fence cage that he assumed must be filled with locrusnae. He had no idea what they were, but he did know that they were responsible for producing milk.

Along with Janis, there were nearly twenty farmers all gathered at the gates, shoving along two wheelbarrows with buckets and feed. Janis opened the doors and walked in, Cel trailed close behind her. The ground quickly turned to mush and mud as the water level in the cage climbed to his shins. Clinging high on the fence directly in front of them, opposite the entrance, was a locrusnae.

Locrusnae were massive creatures with squid like skin and tentacles, specifically four on each side, oriented like spider legs. In fact, its body was shaped like a spider, eight legs connected one ballish mass. As it noticed their presence and turned toward them, he could see eight beady red eyes, four eyes close together on the bottom and another four spread apart and slightly curved on the top. Under those were small mandibles that covered its mouth.

Seeing the horrifying best, Cel was understandably freaked out and planted his feet at the entrance, the farmers grinned at him as they passed by nonchalantly. In the top of his peripherals, he saw a large black mass fall from the roof. A locrusnae shook the ground as it slammed down directly next to Janis and started rubbing itself against her. Janis laughed as she returned the favor, speaking baby talk.

When he saw that, Cel inched forward hesitantly, looking around and counting seven locrusnae in the cage. Suddenly, a slimy, tongue like thing scraped against his back and lifted him a few centimeters off the ground. He jumped away from it and spun around in the same movement. Behind him was an eighth locrusnae with an outstretched tentacle, looking at him curiously and issuing gooey clicks.

Cel stopped gripping his daggers as he studied it and realized it was kind of cute, in a way. The locrusnae crawled to the ground and Cel stepped forward to pet it. It’s skin, even the main body and mandibles, was a malleable, waterproof squid hide and it was remarkably squishy.

“Most folks run out a here screaming the first time,” laughed Janis from behind him.

“Yeah, I was about to,” said Cel.

“You wanna help milk them,” asked Janis with a grin that made Cel accept right away.

As it turns out, locrusnae are herbivores and the farmers fed them oats before milking. The actual milking process wasn’t all that dissimilar to a cow. Eight farmers each took one tentacle and a bucket before squeezing. Cel was surprised at the amount of force it took to make milk come out, but he was still more than capable of filling up his bucket, earlier than the other farmers, too.

When they were all done, Janis and Cel walked to the Sacred Floral Fields. On the way, Cel asked her a question he was too embarrassed to ask in the cage.

“Do you ever ride them?” That thought was the first one that popped into his head as he felt its skin for the first time. If Eliot was there, he probably would have done it without asking, he thought.

“You’re not the first one to ask that,” said Janis. “I would ride one too if they didn’t think it was a game.”

“A game?”

Janis laughed a particularly hardy laugh before explaining, “They’ll think it’s a game to get on top, and believe me they’re fast and slippery.” It was Cel’s turn to laugh, the image of Eliot being crushed by a locrusnae was hilarious.

At the end of the day, he sat at his desk, before a map of the Sacred Floral Fields and a chunk of the mineral. The mineral took many shapes and forms, but stayed consistent in a few key features. The one in front of him was a loose seashell shape with bulbous crystal shapes in the shell. I was a mix of light and dark grey with a waxy luster.

Feya told him that it was called chalcedony, mostly known as a semi-precious gemstone and used for decorative purposes. Though, what really interested him was its classification as a type of quartz, which Feya told him could be used to make glass. He knew from Eliot that glass was extremely expensive.

The decision wasn’t difficult: they would mine the entire vein. Yes, the amount of the fields they would have to raze is large, however that was using a normal metric. The utterly massive fields wouldn't suffer in the least from it. Furthermore, the vein of minerals is located in the southern region, townspeople would have to purposely go out of their way to find the mining site. The decision of how much to farm was definitely more complicated, though.

It was hard to gauge exactly how much they could profit from farming the arcane vegetation, and how. Turns out that trading for a small town on the edge of an empire with no public transport portal was limited, to say the least. Be that as it may, they had a wonderful neighbor who could possibly solve their problems; the elves have wanted the town’s rare flora for ages, and their bustling hidden city may just gobble their supply, becoming the town’s sole buyer. All of that would be taken care of tomorrow, whereas he had larger concerns.

“Did he talk?” Cel suddenly spoke.

“Yes, and he was very helpful,” answered the shadows, slowly bubbling into a human figure. Cel chuckled, remembering his choice of interrogation tactic.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to cover for him. I don’t plan on doing that to anyone ever again,” he assured him.

“Very well.” Varkus fell to one knee as he fully formed. “He was difficult, but we managed to get the information.”

“Well?”

“Rex Mortem usually only has recruitment tests once a year, but since they’ve recently expanded to this continent they’ve been having one every month. The next recruitment is in three days,” Varkus filled him in on most of the details.

“And where is their base of operations?”

“South-east, in Frost Born City, week and a half on foot.” That far away, he would miss it for sure, unless he had some means of traveling faster. He knew Eliot was out, he was in the middle of his test where he couldn’t use magic. But, that didn’t mean he was out of options.

“Good job, keep me aware of any updates,” Cel praised his servant as he got up and went to the roof. The door was engraved, it would only take him to the dungeon if he wanted to go there. Otherwise, it would take him to the roof like normal.

He jumped off the roof and ran full tilt in the dying twilight. In no time at all, he made it to the Northern Fields. He let out a relieved sigh, Janis was still there. She was closing up shop for the day, organizing the clean up of materials, double checking the animals, among other things.

“Janis,” Cel got her attention. She turned with a quizzical hmm.

“Cel? What brings you round here at this time of night?” she asked, a weary smile on her face.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, but I was hoping I could ask a favor. This doesn’t have anything to do with the town.”

“Out with it, then,” she said, hands on her hips and suddenly towering over the shorter Cel.

“I need to take an urgent trip, no more than four days. I was wondering if you could spare a mount of some sort, preferably one that can maneuver in the forest,” he explained.

She stroked her chin before shrugging and saying, “I don’t see why not.” Cel broke out into a smile.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he thanked her. Janis grabbed a saddle and feed from a shed, then led him to the barn. She took a sweeping glance at all the different pens, filled to the brim with yipping raptors. Cel saw the raptor she was after the same time she did. It was an entire half a meter taller than the other raptors. She walked to the edge of the pen and led the raptor out before teaching him how to put on and take off the saddle.

“Take off the saddle and tie it to something during the night. Raptors are enduring little fellas, so they can run almost the entire day, but make sure to mash its food before feeding it. If you have some time before your journey, you should practice riding it, let it get used to you,” she told him before handing over the lead.

Cel took the lead, feed, and tucked the saddle under his arm before saying his goodnights and leaving. A tamed raptor was a surreal sight to him, who had only seen them wild and ravenous. In comparison, the peaceful raptor, not struggling against the headpiece or his direction in any way, gave him the weird urge to pet it. Not only was it docile, but its beak was devoid of teeth and its talons were trimmed.

It was about a half hour trip back to the orphanage, so, once he entered town proper, he decided to try riding it. It can’t be too difficult, he thought while putting the saddle on. He hooked his foot on the stirrup and climbed aboard, the wind resistance shoving his hair. Actually riding the raptor, he felt elated. His viewpoint was so much taller than usual, and he could even feel the slightest breeze. The raptor was fairly skinny, but he felt planted, like building on a foundation, and his exposed ankle brushed against the raptor’s soft feathers.

After a few excited breaths, he gripped the reins and gave them a gentle whip. In no time at all, he was grinning from ear to ear as he rode a sprinting raptor. He picked up on the control and balanced instantly, though there was nothing he could do about the soreness.

The next day, he rose at the usual time, dawn, and prepared for his negotiation with the elves. First he went through his morning routine, a few hours of exercise, study, and planning. He would usually use the planning phase to plan out his day, or simply an important event, but the flood of responsibilities and the subsequent handling of those responsibilities left him without anything to plan. At least, until Feya mentioned that he now had a dungeon under his control and that it was his responsibility as a creatrix as well as his debt to the goddess to develop the dungeon.

“How does this work exactly?” Cel asked, standing in the middle of his desolate dungeon.

“For regular modifications and aberrations, you simply have to have a clear image in the mind and will it exist. To increase your dungeon influence you need to connect with your dungeon, and it takes time,” explained Feya. Cel nodded and closed his eyes. He focused on assimilating himself with his dungeon. Soon enough, he could feel an additional beating in his chest. It was stronger than his own heart and oddly painful, but at the same time he felt his connection with his dungeon. It was like veins connected to the Dungeon Heart and running through his spiritual body, filling him with godly power. And all of that limitless power was his to wield.

Suddenly, he was laughing, it was loud, slightly maniacal, and filled with mirth. But how could he possibly hold back, the utter limitless potential and possibilities flitting through his mind made him feel like he was going insane.

“Cel!” Feya’s voice called out to him, reaching him as a faint echo traveling across his waves of power. It brought him back to earth, though. His breath came in pants and sweat rolled down his temple.

“Sorry about that,” he managed.

Feya laughed, “Don’t worry, everyone goes a little megalomaniac the first time they connect with their dungeon.” Cel hesitantly re-established his connection. The power greeted him with a grin, whispering promises of endless bliss. He embraced the power same as before, but remained in control. He didn’t employ any fancy tricks, he simply reminded himself that he was in control, he had unlimited power at his fingertips, not the other way around.

With that over with and still feeling elated, he got in touch with the dungeon’s influence and ordered it to expand. Then, he moved on with his plan. He hadn’t communicated with Feya about it, his machination still a brain baby, and she could feel herself lean forward in her fictional seat as she watched him work.

He created a completely isolated room only accessible through teleportation. It was small, about the size of his room in the orphanage, and made of the same wood. Against the wall he labeled as the front wall he created a replica of his desk and chair. Next, he made floating wooden easels with large pieces of parchment and bright, but not in any way irritating, light sources of similar gravity flaunting nature.

He took a moment to take in his progress so far, it looked a little plain, but he figured he could add more if he needed in the future and moved on to the finishing touch. Directly in the center, he created an obelisk, but it remained in a flux, similar to Schrodinger's cat, of existence and non-existence as Cel glared at it. His brows were creased in thought, one question on his mind: what to make it out of.

It didn’t feel right to make it from wood like everything else, but he didn’t know what material would suit it. His first thought was stone, as they were usually made in the outside world, but it didn’t fit the wooden ascetic. For the same reason, he ruled out any cave esque materials, and he considered leaves or vines. Then, he decided against it because it gave the space too much of a forest vibe.

The obelisk flickered in and out of reality, each time rebirthed from a new material in line with Cel’s thought pattern. For the life of him, he couldn’t settle on a look and considered scrapping the entire room’s design in favor of something better when Feya offered a suggestion.

“Make it out of red sand,” she said.

“Red sand?” questioned Cel.

“The goddess keeps all of her ideas in her brain and they only ever touch reality at the moment she decides to make them. The one thing she has around her when creating is endless dunes of red sand,”-a small quantity of martian sand appeared in front of Cel’s eyes-“it looks like this,” she shared. He studied the sand for a few seconds before lighting up in a smile.

“This is perfect!” he exclaimed. Immediately the obelisk formed from martian sand. Although he knew what sand looked like and how it was supposed to move, he’d never actually seen or interacted with it. Because of his inexperience, the sand didn’t look odd in the shape of an obelisk, though it would be extremely disorienting to anyone more experienced.

He took a step back and took in the room in all its glory. It was absolutely perfect. The obelisk still stood out from the rest of the room, but in an eye catching and creative rousing way instead of the clashing way he thought everything else glared with.

When finished, he checked the time. He frowned slightly, disappointed that he didn’t have time to brainstorm monsters because his meeting with the elves was growing near. Luckily, they were meeting at the foot of his hill, meaning he didn’t have to go far. He teleported to the door and exited his dungeon. Again, he was hit with waves of disorientation and a numb feeling in his senses. He grew used it from last time and recovered faster than before, though.

He chose his preferred method of leaving the orphanage, jumping off the roof, and made his way towards the forest. Even from his roof, he could see the large gathering of elves stowing a few things, Cassie at the front.

As he made his way down the hill, he felt a little lackluster as a single human in comparison to the crowd of elves. Negotiations were a sort of struggle or mental battle, and being by himself felt like he started with a disadvantage. That was when six different elements abruptly coagulated into people around him. He flashed his servants a smile of gratitude. Recently their soul bond has progressed enough that they could feel his emotions and they’ve been responding in accordance.

He strolled down with renewed confidence and shook Cassie’s hand diplomatically.

“I’m happy to see you again, but don’t you have some negotiators for occasions like this?” Cel broke the ice.

Cassie showed a knowing smile as she said, “Elves are a removed race, we are separate from everyone else. Diplomats are not needed and those who can speak other languages are scarce.” Cel was tempted to ask why she was an exception, but remembered this wasn’t a social meeting.

“What’s with that?” He gestured to the giant cauldron a group of three elves lugged to a spot just eight meters away.

“Well, I wanted to make sure you understand exactly what elven witchcraft is capable of. Most assume it is the same as human apothecary, but that is wrong. So, I thought the best way to make you understand is a demonstration,” she answered. On cue, three elves dressed in weird, traditional robes with many loose lengths of some unknown green material hanging from the robes’ arms like the wings of a bird surrounded the cauldron, and runes of slightly different shades of green formed in front of each of them. From the first elf, a small fire bloomed under the cauldron, flickering consistently. The second elf had water flowing from their runes and quickly filling the cauldron, but only to half way. The last elf was manipulating the cauldron itself, it started mildly vibrating along with a low buzz.

When everything was ready, a fourth elf occupied the last cardinal side of the cauldron and began an elven chant. It was soothing to the ears and put the mind at ease, similar to the lullaby Feya was singing, but much weaker. An extra two pairs of hands started throwing in ingredients. The three elves that casted magic still had the illusory runes before them, and as ingredients were added they began to stir. At key moments the water would vortex or shift and bubble. The fire would suddenly spout to large proportions but die down just as quickly, always remaining absolutely consistent in its form, completely unlike wild and fickle fires of the norm. And the cauldron would twist, turn, vibrate, bounce, and spin whenever needed.

The ingredients were random to Cel, he wasn't able to make any connections with his limited knowledge. The best guess he could make was that it had an earthy taste because they mostly added bright green and colorful looking herbs. The exceptions to the trend just made him more confused; they added the guts of some animal, a collection of nails and talons from different species, and a singular blue feather.

When they finished, the chanting elf struck the cauldron with something mettle, and everything dropped along with the resounding ding. They all stepped away and revealed a completely still cauldron filled to the brim with extremely pale yellow liquid, not even ash to suggest that a fire ever existed.

A different elf rummaged through a large hide bag they carried the ingredients in before producing a small, classic potion bottle and filling said bottle with the liquid in the cauldron. The elf presented it to Cassie with a boasting dignity that suggested they were very proud of their work.

“Are you injured, Cel?” Cassie suddenly asked.

He answered with an unsure, “No…” He reset his body when he was in his dungeon and his servants were half spiritual beings, none of them were injured at all.

“Ok.” She nodded her head, unsheathed her large bone knife, and slit herself from wrist to elbow. Cassie’s face distorted in pain and the gasps she let out made everyone who heard them cringe. Cel jumped in concern, but she warded him away. She paid no mind to the large quantities of blood or the lingering pain, instead she took the bottle and downed it in one large gulp. Instantly, extremely similar to when he saw his own arm’s layers of skin, muscle, and blood peeled away, only in reverse, Cassie’s wound healed in a matter of seconds. She moved it around and flipped her knife with her fingers to show it was completely healed.

“Wow…” Cel couldn’t help but exclaim his surprise.

“It’s called a healing potion. We use it on most wounded,” she said. In the background, everyone was pitching in to empty the cauldron through the filling of bottles. “This is the first shipment, free to prove that we can deliver.”

“I thought you and the mayor worked out a longer term trade agreement,” said Cel.

Cassie’s face morphed into one of contempt as she said, “We failed to agree on anything. He was too insufferable to negotiate with, the only thing we marked is this first batch of healing potions.” Cel let out an exasperated sigh. He hated it when people were too irrational to just talk. It was one of the things he adored about Eliot, he was never irrational, except his distaste for nature.

“Alright, we don’t know anything about arcane vegetation, the Sacred Floral Fields have been left untouched for generations. So, how about you tell which plants you want and I’ll see what I can do,” he proposed. Cassie nodded before turning around and conversing with her entourage of witchers, what elves that practice witchcraft are called. She didn’t take long to come up with a short list of seven plants they needed.

“Witchcraft doesn’t take much time, but it takes a lot of resources. We can give you two batches of thirty bottles each month as long as you give us three bunches of each plant and a handful of watcher seeds. We both can change the next order whenever we make the trades, sound good?” she offered.

“Sounds good,” agreed Cel. “What kind of potions are on the table?” Cassie looked around with a confused face. “What potions are available, which ones can you make,” he clarified. Her english was so good that he forgot she still had some problems with commonly used expressions. After she understood what he was asking, she turned around to speak with the witchers once more.

“We can give you greater healing, lesser strength, lesser speed, lesser clarity, and leaf falling potions,” she listed. Those all sounded amazing in the right situation, however, lesser strength and greater healing were obviously much more applicable than the others.

“For now, we will take one batch of healing and strength,” decided Cel.

She smiled and stuck out her hand, when he took it she said, “I’m happy we could agree. The first batch will come on the first day of the new month and the second batch will come on the last day.”

With that, the elves packed up and left, leaving Cel scribbling the list of plants on a parchment one his servants handed him before he forgot them.

“Make sure Janis gets this,” he ordered while handed the list to Varkus.

“As you wish,” he said before disappearing, the rest of the servants along with him.

With no time to waste, he ran back up his hill and packed for his journey. He took some food, water, clothing, ammo, some parchment, a quill, and ink. He planned on working on monster designs during the trip, he hoped the surrounding monsters would inspire him. After he double checked he had everything, he threw on a cloak, said goodbye to his family, and mounted his raptor. He had it trot to the eastern edge of town.

As he reached the forest entrance, he faltered. Atop his raptor, the town looked absolutely beautiful, random flora, well kept streets, and the occasional smile. He loved his town and he never wanted to leave it.

“I’ll be back,” he promised. He turned his raptor and, with a whip of the reins, he shot into the forest.