The word 'dungeon' evoked a panoply of imagery. Moist, filthy floors and walls of mossy stone. Haunted tunnels. Undisturbed throughout the ages. Lots of dripping water and shadowy burrows throughout the structure that no light could pierce, holding all manner of nightmares. A hellish place where men went to find their riches, or died trying.

Tyr had read all those stories in his youth. After hearing of his mothers exploits as a guild adventurer, he'd always wanted to follow in her footsteps. Still did, some part of him hanging onto that.

The expectations he might have had regarding the grand adventure he was setting off on were naturally betrayed. The place was well lit and airy. Tidy, too, the work of whatever magic still remained of the tower. An age old testament to the life the unknown mage who'd built it. There were even utilities installed in the first few floors, still in use. Not matching the general aesthetics of the place, they were the only things standing – bolted to the floor as they were.

Anything not had been pilfered or torn apart long ago as the guilds and registered mages plumbed the depths to find objects of value. In some places, Tyr could see that men had attempted to pry loose even the bricks the place was built from, based on the chisel marks. None were missing though. Whoever built this place must've been a talented architect.

But this wasn't 'the dungeon'. Dungeons weren't inherently connected to the wide open world. Some were buried beneath the earth – and this had been at one time. Separated by a sheet of rock not connected to the surface. As a focal point of the mana that ran through the world, mages would build in such areas to take advantage of the ambient energy. It just so happened that the cavern below was full of mana crystals. A fortunate discovery. Monsters too, which might have been unfortunate in the past. Now the business conglomerates would routinely send teams here to take advantage of anything they could.

There were no official mines here in the surroundings of Amistad. No country could lay claim, and competing business ventures were chased off by the powerful guilds or orders that protected archaeological sites. 'Protected', as in ensured that they'd keep a financial monopoly over any profit they might produce.

In Haran, the military stationed forts or defensive positions over and around them – to stop the monsters from escaping. Here, it was a bit different. There was a thin opaque wall of energy that served to keep anything out that wasn't human. The words on the walls explained as such, a blunt and candid work of complex enchantment. Human. Come, and go. Pass. Barrier. The rune for fire which was likely what any beastkin would find if they tried to pass through. It was interesting to see one that didn't allow other races, that was uncommon. After all these years, it was powered by the strange tower – dilapidated above, relatively well preserved below.

Somewhere in the walls must've been a power source, but Tyr had neither the means or knowledge to access it. Nor would he want to. Dungeon breaks could result in mass casualties on the surface. This was a fairly low level dungeon but he wasn't about to implicate himself in that.

Once past the barrier, it was a bit more within expectations. Not dark, but lit from above by the odd crystals patterning the uneven ceiling. In some spot the crystals were missing, dug out recently perhaps, pooling dark shadows through the yawning caverns.

It was loud. Goblins ran to and fro playing with one another. A few threw stones at Tyr, laughing impishly before disappearing into the darkness. Otherwise, they remained peaceful. Some waved or offered him bits of mushroom or some of the fibrous mold that grew on the walls. He declined, waving their offers away and going deeper.

It was structured like some kind of hybrid maze or hive. Growing evermore wild and random in its proportions. The mana was thick here, thick enough to see in some places even without utilizing his senses, a mist that clung to the roof. A few of the goblin children followed him all the way to the third floor, until turning back with ferocious giggling and a friend wave. Chirping away in their own native tongue at him.

Chattering about this and that. He wondered why humans looked at them in such an ill way. Mischievous, yes, but they weren't as warlike as he'd heard. Including those that he'd drank with around their fire, goblins were more playful than anything. Quick to mirth and comedy. And they were smart, not stupid. Primitive, yes, but he'd seen their nail-less huts and noted the ingenuity. They adapted to their environment, had their own industry and trading system predicated around teeth. Whether their own, a beasts, or... Someone else's. Some of which were obviously human, but he didn't know how. They didn't seem to possess any weaponry that could bring down a grown and armed adventurer.

In any case... He wasn't exactly a goblin scientist...

The further he traveled downward, the wider and taller the caverns got. Until he reached the fourth floor and the dungeon became truly cavernous. Arched ceilings riddled with stalagmites and the pale blue light of mana crystals. Too high up to feasibly mine, and too low in their purity. Pools of murky water were everywhere, scaled humanoids with slimy flesh watching him with suspicion from the waters edge, half submerged.

He didn't bother them, and they gave him the same consideration. Kappa's, they were called, akin to frogs on two legs with ropes of seaweed colored hair and hard ridges on their back. Tyr had heard they were violent cradle robbing savages who would pull young women into the water and have their way with them. But all they did is watch. Even when he was forced to approach the waters they called home, some bearing crude shelters made of bone and skins, they did nothing but flee at his.

So perturbed was he by the bizarre reaction that he decided to ask. Goblins were universally weak, this was well known. But kappa's should be, by convention, perhaps... Steel rank monsters? That wasn't anything to snort at, and he'd seen at least a hundred of them. Feasibly, they should be able to overwhelm a man of his size without much difficult.

“Hello...?” The creature he addressed shrieked, immediately fleeing. He tried this several times, until he encountered a wrinkled one. It was hard to draw a comparison to humans, what with their amphibious appearance, but the creature definitely looked old.

“Hello, elder.” Tyr bowed low. The thing was slow, and it knew it couldn't escape. Long had Kikibon lived, and he felt the cycles on him. For members of his race, three decades was ancient. He was the keeper of wisdom for his tribe, and he had seen his death in the pools long ago. It would not be today.

“Hmm? You wish to speak with me?” Kikibon asked, letting his long tongue extend out of his mouth to lick at his eye. “More importantly, how do you speak our language?”

“Your language?” Tyr asked. “I'm speaking common... Is common your language?”

“Not so. I do not speak human words, nor do I wish to. It is such an ugly language, but you speak the deep tongue. Curious, but nevertheless what does the young spirit wish to know?”

Tyr didn't understand what the creature meant, he could hear his words bounce back at him from the walls of the cavern – and he was most certainly speaking the human tongue. Maybe the old frog lizard turtle was just crazy after all these years. “I was wondering why you, monsters, are not attacking me?”

The old thing laughed. A wet chortling that sounded like a foot being rapidly stomped into wet mud by the riverside. “Monsters, you say. What are we but things living? Monsters? No. It is you who are the monsters, you nim. All we have ever asked for is to be left alone. Your lesser kin will find death should they violate the sanctity of our pools, but you.... We understand the way. The law of the deep. Young nephilim can go, do what he pleases. No trouble here. You want? You take, but leave our young alone.”

“Why do you kill humans in the first place?” Tyr asked, genuinely curious.

“Humans come, violate old agreement. We stay here, our clan. No interest for the outer world like the other clans. Mind our business, we do. Good eating is the flesh of lesser man, but only those who walk where they should not.”

“Hmm...” Tyr cleared his throat. He was staring at a natural creature, or as close to it as one was likely to find in a dungeon. There was no crime in defending your home, and nothing here for him. The idea that they fed on human flesh was a bit revolting, but so would many other animals if given the opportunity. Tyr was no knight standing at the fore of all the 'injustices' done on mankind, most of which had probably come here looking for a fight. And they'd found it, their bones were stacked on the far corner of the cavern in a loose pile, cracked open to get at the marrow within. “Farewell then, elder.” He bowed again.

“Mmm...” Kikibon was pleased by the nephilim's tact and well mannered approach. That of the old ways, of respect and balance, something none of those deformed and lesser kin would understand. Always marching about angrily, shouting and burning everything strange and new to them. “Before you go, young spirit, with what purpose do you come?”

“Blue mana crystals.” Tyr replied, turning back at the frog man as his nictating membrane slid shut lazily. Laughing internally at the squelch it made and wondering what Iscari would think of such a disgusting noise. Puke his guts out, most likely. The reptilian kobold had similar eyes, but the sound wasn't nearly so unpleasant. And they certainly didn't lick them.

“Mana... Crystal...?” The words were unfamiliar on Kikibon's tongue, but he understood the intent behind them. “Ah. Deepglass.” He presented the young nephilim with a handful of crystals, used commonly in their rituals in reverence to the deep ones.

Tyr didn't need but a moment to eye it, to know it was not enough. “I'm looking for something a bit more powerful than that. I can pay. Or return with payment should you have it.”

Kikibon shook his head. “No trade amongst kappa. We share among the clan. Capitalism, you see, is the greatest sin of all. Industry should be for the collective good, not the personal gain. This is common sense.” He said. “Deep below. Brighter glass, more powerful but dangerous. A secret I'll give, for an offering in good faith. No cost, anything of personal significance would please us.”

Producing the boar carcass from his ring and seeing the greedy look in the frogs eye, Tyr assumed he'd done good. They were meat eaters, the creature had said, and he'd always heard that human tasted like pork. “Is this good enough.”

“Mmm... Generous. Too much, take half back and this is a bargain for both glass and path, young spirit. Dog capitalists will take you for all you're worth, but not kappa.”

“It's fine. I have more than enough for myself, keep it as a sign of friendship.” He produced two deer and a well proportioned bear as well. All things Okami had dragged back to him. Even after all this time, the wolf didn't seem to realize that Tyr didn't need to feed as much as he did. All of it had been sitting suspended in his ring, and it was growing dangerously close to becoming full of late. After pondering, he produced a decapitated horse and the remains of eight humans as well.

They were among those he'd killed on the border of Asmon. Their faces were too damaged for the bounties to identify, so he'd kept them. Now that he thought about it, it was rather strange for him to have done so. Carrying around cadavers like that was... Perhaps in poor taste. He just didn't know what to do with them, it wasn't like he could throw them in a field somewhere.

“These, also. I will not accept no for an answer.” He smiled. This creature possessed a bright soul, free of the burdens, hatred or grief. Something about it called to Tyr. He wanted to take what lay within this old frog and have it for himself. Just like Iscari, just far smaller in comparison. A bright, fluttering spark. It was odd, the realization that Tyr didn't seem to notice the pale green of its skin, layered in mucus. A disgusting, vile creature aesthetically, but Tyr found him very handsome in a platonic sort of way. For such a wizened old thing.

“You humble us, you of the old blood. We shall celebrate you for many cycles, and we thank you for your gift of friendship. You've a kind heart, and shall feed many clutches. Now then...”

He rose on shaky, spindly legs, standing only to Tyr's sternum. Scrawny and wrinkled, with the staff he raised in his hand shaking with the effort of lifting it. It would seem that the ridges on the backs of kappa became akin to shells in their old age, with this one looking half frog and half turtle.

Skilled in the use of mana, though. The water split to reveal its true depth. Not a word to the casting, and it was done, peeled apart and suspended to form a staircase that doubled back on itself.

“Beyond is traps. Ogres and father's twisted children, he who's name has been forgotten by my kind. Go below, the deep way – and you will be safer. Not safe, but safer. Enough for the young spirit to handle.”

“Thank you.” Tyr bowed yet again, earning a chuckle from the elder. Just now, he was surrounded by kappa. They had left their pools and stood in their hundreds, staring at him in wonder. Big and small, some not humanoid – but actual frogs perhaps the size of a dog. Tyr waved back at them nervously, wondering if he'd have a fight on his hands after all.

“Worry not, spirit. My kin and my children wish to offer you tribute. We've not anything material to offer you but our respect. For one who had seen our kind and not drawn the earth's blood on us, we thank you.”

All at once, every kappa in the place bowed. Their young who appeared more frog like than any other were prancing and drooling at the massive pile of meat he had offered. No more cave fish and lichen for a while, they would be feasting for weeks, living like the deep ones themselves!

Some looked emaciated, scrawny enough to make out their ribs through the skin. Tyr made a mental note to return with more food. Like the goblins, he didn't hate these creatures. To call them monsters felt wrong. He believed the elders every word, that travelers would go unmolested, but based on the tools buried in the stone – they'd tried to steal the mana crystals in the walls and ceilings. Or blatantly attempted to battle the kappa.

It was almost shocking that these creatures were allowed to live at all and hadn't been murdered by mages, but considering the great depth of their holes, it was possible that they'd simple swam deep to avoid it. Their cave was quite cavernous, with lots of room to hide.

I wonder...

Tyr strode toward the wall. There were hanging nets there, just above the waterline. Nets of some unknown fiber, perhaps the same seaweed that constituted their 'hair'. He extended his hand, bringing the sacred flame into being. The creatures shrieked in fear, diving into their pool and honking with the air bladders present on their necks.

There were two main rules in kappa society. Fire bad, water good. Beyond that, everything centered around the society itself. A pure, unitary state. Here, they found one of their rules violated. Tyr's fire didn't burn the greenweed, though, it nourished it. Kappa were akin to magical beasts, as most things termed 'monster' were. Here in the caverns, they understood mana better than near all of their kind. Mutated and changed by the otherworldly force until even their youngest breathed it like it was air.

Nourished, growing wildly, two days of greenweed became several months of perfect harvest. Green for the chlorophyll, but when fully grown it was as red as blood. Tyr walked between all of the hanging nets, followed by gazes of froggy rapture. Every net and ever hanging pile of weeds was expanded until the nets could hold no more. Sacred flame wasn't hot, it didn't burn living things, it nourished with the power of light. It's unique property was growth and an injection of vitality, not necessarily healing, life by another word which would make sense given the infusion of light. Tyr hadn't realized that until now, seeing it for what it was.

Upon 'igniting' the plant matter – the world energy began to run wild in its attempt to balance the influx of mana infusing the things. It was drawn in like a magnet until it was all trapped in bubbles that grew denser than what was natural and pushed themselves into the fibrous mass of the plant. He was sure there was a scientific explanation for all of this, but it worked – and he didn't care beyond anything else. Essentially sending the growth cycle of the plant into overdrive until it began to glow with bio-luminescence, unable to take any more energy. To him, it almost felt like... A plant equivalent to mana crystals, bizarrely.

“This...” Kikibon was shocked beyond belief. After the latest attack by a large group of humans, they were wondering how their clan could survive in its current state. Their nets burned, they'd been forced to weave them anew and hope to harvest enough greenweed to survive the colder season. Otherwise, they'd have to trade with the anarcho-capitalist goblin scum on the upper levels.

“It's already done, no point in claiming that it's too much.” Tyr smiled. There was satisfaction in helping. In growing. He felt good, good enough to forget his anxieties and indecision regarding what he'd done. “Promise me that you won't invade the surface world in a mighty host until I need you to. Does that sound fair?” He joked.

Kikibon chortled again. “This is a bargain. A well struck exchange.”

“Thank you elder. I am called Tyr. You?”

“Kikibon. And may we meet again, Tyr.” If a frog could smile...

–

“Fire!!!”

Everywhere was chaos. War had erupted in the great dark. With the enemy tribe of tusk things gone, and their magics fading, the caverns had widened until all sorts of other clans had been introduced to the previously isolated environment. Trolls, tusk things more warped than the others, and fleshless skeletons walking of their own accord. All perished before the legendary might of the kobold.

No Kobo! The great one said, and they spoke his word! All were kobold!

Luk, the right hand of the fire god, was radiant. Implacable, determined, there was no purpose besides that which would please their lord! Luk, the peerless general that had not known defeat since the day he'd been given those undeserved gifts. The gifts of strategy, foresight, and ambition. He wanted it all, and he'd see it done well before His return. “Praise the sun! His faith shall be returned seven fold!”

“CLEANSE THE UNCLEAN!”

“BURN THE HERETIC!”

“SLAY THE MUTANT!”

His warriors formed crisp lines, not an ounce of hesitation, ever move well drilled and practiced, the battle for the under-dark never ceasing. Hundreds now, to conquer new territories for feeding and breeding. An army of kobolds the likes of which world had never seen. But they would! They would see! Fanatics that leveled their boomsticks at the enemy and let loose in a rolling cloud of acrid smoke and storm. Gone was their cowardice, a void filled with love and devotion. To prepare a kingdom for the return of their god, He who had descended beneath earth and rock to lead them to glory. Climbing through the muck and debris to lift them up and forge them into who they were meant to be.

“For the great one! For the sun! For the fire that lights our way!” They cried in unison, slaughtering the boney things with vicious precision. Only their chests would be harmed, that was the way. For the skulls of the enemy would decorate a peerless throne for which their god would seat himself one day to lead them to new heights. He of the fire and ash. He of the victory and meat. He, the beater of foes!

“Burn and dance for me, bone thing!”

“REEEEEE!!!”

“Skulls for the throne! Yes! Yes! Burn, infidel! REEEEEE!”

“REEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

This was the way. To burn all those who would not obey the will of their kind. All would perish or all would see, there was no third option offered.

Bone and ash and steel and fire. This was the way. This was the way!

“Kill!” Luk shouted. His lieutenants, Yuk and Guk howled alongside him, chomping at the bits and reveling in the glory of their great lord. He who had descended, he who had left, he who would return again! The chains of fate would turn and he would arrive, born anew, to the greatest kingdom the world had ever seen! “REEEEEEEE! Kill for the lightbringer!”

“Kill! Kill! Kill!!!” They chanted, marching evermore unto the breach. All the under-dark are belong to Him!