Disposing of dead bodies was an unsavory task. I was annoyed I had to do it again. The adventures had several items on them: potions, foods, various supplies, a map. I took what was useful and debated what to do with the rest.

While the dungeon could always just eat the bodies, it was unclear if that was the best solution or use of resources. There were four bodies in total. One of them without a head, two of them broken and mangled, and the last one skewered in several places.

I consulted my notebook. There were no immediate goals for me to tackle. After I made that bedroom and ran my tests, I wasn’t sure what to do now. Frankly, I didn’t know what could I do. I didn’t have enough information.

Picking up the map, I looked over the adventure’s task. It was still incomplete, little over a half filled. It noted where the river flowed, various caves, and identified geographical features. If only the map was finished, maybe it would yield some valuable information.

Filling out the map, what if that could be my next goal? The reaches of the map would exceed my max range, noting the scale they had created at the bottom. I could expand the dungeon and increase my range, but I wanted to avoid that for now. Carelessly increasing its size could create problems. With no other purpose than to just go farther, it seemed like a waste. A larger dungeon would, theoretically, increase its mana intake, but that could have consequences to the area. I wasn’t exactly hurting for mana anyways.

A proxy, I decided, would be the best solution. My options, however, were slim to none. I looked over at the slime that lazily lounged about. It had shrunk to a more normal size since the fight and was resting – I think it was resting at least. In any case, I couldn’t send this slime out to finish the map; there was no confidence in me that it would make ten steps without trying to kill something. That was if it could write and fill out a map anyways

There were, however, four dead bodies. Normally, a powerful mage or some sort of necromancer could resurrect or manipulate the dead to perform tasks for them. Dungeons have also been riddled with monsters such as skeletons and zombies. What was stopping me from zombifying these guys and just having them finish the map for me?

Ethics. Desecrating bodies didn’t appeal to me, but I was going to have the dungeon (or slime) dissolve them anyways. However, turning them into zombies could be fuel for a fire against me if worst came to worst.

I opened up my dungeon sense. It’s a risk I am willing to take and an area of ethics I didn’t really care about. Of the four bodies, only one of them was in any proper condition; the knight who was only stabbed would be my goal to turn into undead, the other three’s bodies were far too broken.

Hey, listen. The slime interrupted me.

“What is it?” I turned around, asking the slime that jiggled and bounced back to life.

It hopped over to the dead knight, creeping over his body. Can I eat?

The armor. It wanted to eat the armor. “No,” I gently replied after considering the request. I wanted the zombie to keep the armor just so people don’t immediately see a dead body walking around. It would help the reanimated knight not draw any attention.

The slime, however, deflated like a balloon into a puddle. Okay. Even though it spoke through my mind, the slime sounded awfully depressed.

“I promise, I’ll make it up to you!” I said to the slime. Seeing the cute guy just fall apart like that made me feel like a real villain. “I’ll try getting some metal for you, even make it with mana if I have to. Is that alright?”

Really?

“Yes, really.”

All right. The slime sounded chipper, but was still flattened and broken.

Trying to keep my mind off of the depressed slime, I reopened my dungeon senses and focused on the work at hand. I cleaned up the useless bodies first. The smushed archer at the bottom of the pit, the headless mage, and the rouge stuck in the wall, I had the dungeon dissolve them, making sure to leave behind their valuables. I took in their mana and nutrients and turned my attention to the knight

Raising the dead, or creating undead, was no easy feat. It was considered a specialized field. Not many did it considering all the stigmas attached to it. Not many liked necromancers and even less were willing to put in the effort to become something everyone hated. Though I had the dungeon core, I was no mage; I expected a challenging process.

Before I attempted turning him undead, I used my mana to fix up the armor. A slight touch just to patch up the holes. Then, I funneled mana into the body, my mind focused on a zombie. Creating monsters was an indescribable process. Like with the slimes, I could feel my mana leaving, see it being altered, and watch it give shape to something new. There was no word other than ‘natural’ that I could use to describe the process; it just came to me as if it was obvious.

Turning the knight to an undead took up more mana than I anticipated. Much more mana than the dozen slimes. Catching my breath, I patiently watched the corpse. It twitched. And spasmed. And groaned. The body moved, clamoring to its feet. I could see a dull, empty expression on its face through the helmet. I wondered, how much does the zombie know or remember? Its droning groan gave no such sign of intelligence.

“Walk forward three steps for me, zombie.” I commanded it, testing it. The zombie walked forward three steps. It walked normally – walked like someone alive would. I looked it over. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Besides the strange groan it sometimes gave out and the spooky pale skin, no one would think it out of the ordinary. I attributed it to the freshness of the body and jotted a note about it in my journal.

Still, I had to be sure it was functional. “Now, raise your right hand.” It raised it as if it were about to pledge to me. “Wave.” It waved. “Stop.” It stopped. I scratched my chin, thinking of what else I could make it do. I snapped my fingers, “That’s right! Now, put one hand on your head and one on your stomach. Like that! Now, pat your head and rub your stomach.” The classic, age old test.

The zombie attempted the feat. It patted its head and its stomach. Then, it adjusted, patting its head and then patting its stomach in a circular motion. Slowly, the zombie got into the rhythm and the stomach-circle-pat became a normal rub. It got it! While its intelligence could be questioned, it was dexterous enough to do basic things – or, at least, more dexterous than some five-year-olds I knew.

I handed it the map and some writing utensils. “Go forth, knight zombie! Can you, uh, finish this map? Thanks. And be discrete! Work at night if you have to – can’t let anyone see you. And if there is big trouble, let me know before doing anything rash. If not sure, just come back here if it’s safe to do so.” I kept giving it instructions and ideas and rules. I was worried, like a parent sending out their child to school alone for the first time. Don’t talk to strangers, don’t take candy from weird people, don’t get into any wagons. That sort of thing.

With a groan, it walked off with map and pen. As a quick test, I opened my dungeon sense and focused on the zombie. As I got used to them, I found I could do much more. For starters, I could tap into the zombie’s senses. See what it sees. Hear what it sees. It was a strange perspective; the world was a little gray and dull. I could hear its thoughts, but the zombie really wasn’t thinking anything. It was just repeating ‘map’ to itself over and over. Unfortunately, it used to be an intelligent being and wasn’t as cute as the slime so it didn’t get a pass from me. I’d have to see about reeducating the zombie later.

The metal slime put itself back together and hopped back over to me. Making more monsters? It asked.

Strange, I thought. That sounded like a complete sentence. A murderous slime was one thing, but a smart murderous slime was another. My worries doubled. “No,” I answered it, “I’m not making any more monsters right now. I don’t think I will for a little bit either.”

Why?

“Why, huh?” I sat on a rock and gathered my thoughts. So much was happening and so fast, it was too easy to lose track of everything, to lose myself. I said, “Well, I don’t need anymore. I fused with this dungeon, became the dungeon. I guess, normally, dungeons would make monsters so it can grow, get larger, protect itself. All of that towards… forever.” I sighed, “I… I don’t really want to do that, growing larger, I guess. Before I was this human-dungeon hybrid, I was just a normal guy. Wanted to live out my life quietly, keep my head down. My circumstances have changed, but I don’t think what I want has. Making monsters just doesn’t help. Like with those slimes. I made them and where did it get them? It got them dead. I’m not going to make monsters just so they could die, you know? It’s cruel.”

I laughed at myself, being all high and mighty when I just made a zombie. It was hypocritical, but it was also okay; not everyone can be perfect all the time – besides, sometimes exceptions had to be made. I kept talking to the metal slime who quietly listened, “That’s just how it is. I don’t want to cause trouble, don’t want to do anything crazy. I tried, once upon a time, don’t get me wrong. But I was always put down by everyone around me. My parents were supportive, when they were there. It was tough. I grew up being one of those people that was important enough were people had to remember me, not want to, if that makes sense. I didn’t have peers or a lot of friends because of that. Those below me would avoid me. Some afraid, some thinking I wasn’t worth it, some of it maybe my fault for being closed off. Those above me, well, they would just look down at me. So, I tried once. I had aspirations, dreams.” I reclined on the rock and gazed into the empty dungeon ceiling. “Sometimes, dreams are supposed to be just that, a dream.”

Again, I laughed to myself. If even a month ago I told myself I would be sitting in the bottom of a dungeon venting about my life to a metal slime, I would fancy myself insane. But, here I was. This was my reality. I relaxed, glancing at the world through the zombie.

It was a cloudless night. The stars twinkled and the moon gleamed. Quiet and serene, a moment of calm. It eased away my frustrations. I feel asleep on the rock.