“Am I?”

“You are!”

Ages passed, lifetimes. The one that was disentangled itself from the one that wasn’t.

“Are you?”

“I am!”

Distinction. There was the one and there was the other. Years passed. The senses of the one grew like creeping vines, giving it form and limits. It knew where it was, and therefore knew where it wasn’t.

“What am I?”

“You’re a Dungeon Core,” said the other, “a little one, practically a baby, but here you are! You can call me Dilly. I’m your guide.”

The other was Dilly.

“What can you call me?”

“Whatever you like! We can come up with a name together,” said Dilly.

“Ar. That is what you can call me,” said Ar. Ar liked its new name.

“Pleased to meet you at last, Ar! Are you ready to blossom into a fully formed dungeon? I think you’re finally ready!” said Dilly. Dilly was loud, and somehow within Ar.

“I can’t know if I’m ready or not. I don’t know what ready is,” said Ar. Ar wanted to be ready.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to help! You’re a Dungeon Core, a sort of crystallized spirit attached to a location. In this case, the ruin of an old castle. You need to cultivate power from the spirits of creatures and people to get larger and stronger.”

“I will know this, but do not understand it,” said Ar.

“That’s okay, Ar! I have a gift for you, I’m going to infuse you with a little bit of power, just to get you started. Here it comes!”

POWER.

Ar was flooded with it, pulsing with it. Ar brimmed with potential but had no action to take. Ar wanted more.

“Don’t worry, Ar, this is all going to make much more sense in just a minute! Someone is coming, a human. He’s going to enter your zone of influence–the dungeon–and you’ll be able to absorb his power. More importantly, you’ll be able to absorb his thoughts, that will help you most of all, and help you make sense of the world,” said Dilly. She made a tinkling, tittering sound. “It’ll make this all go a lot faster!”

Dilly was right, something was brushing up against the edges of Ar’s senses. Something in motion. It was filled with power, but it was inaccessible. There was some sort of barrier between Ar and the power.

“What must I do?” Ar asked.

“Well, to be perfectly honest, you’ll need to use the power I gave you to…umm…well, kill it.”

“I don’t want to part with my power,” said Ar. It was warm and comforting. It felt like a friend.

“I know, I know! But don’t worry, what I gave you was just a sprinkle. The human has LOTS more!”

“Teach me to kill it,” said Ar. More power would be better.

“It’s easy! We’ll just need to…oh. Actually, nevermind. We can’t kill this one, we need to wait,” said Dilly. Dilly was dimmed. But why?

“But why?” asked Ar. The power was close, so close, dancing at the edge of his senses. So little between him and the power.

“I think the human is sick,” said Dilly. “He’s babbling a lot and clawing at his face. He keeps talking to someone, but no one’s there. He might be insane. I don’t want you to absorb that.”

Ar wanted the power, it would feel warmer. “Tell me how to kill it.”

“No, not yet,” said Dilly. “We need a better target.”

“Tell me how to kill it.”

“No, Ar! I’m sorry, but I won’t teach you how to do that yet. Don’t worry, we’ll get you more power soon.”

No. Ar couldn’t wait. The power was close. He needed it, he was told he could get it. He would try to get it. Ar projected his senses at the thing called human. He had nothing else. He sensed at it, sensed it as hard as he could. He poured his power at it, trying to sense through the thin barrier between himself and the power.

Ar could feel the human shaking, becoming aware of Ar, becoming aware of nothing but Ar. Ar’s senses enveloped him, smothered him. The human began to desperately thrash against Ar’s senses.

“Ar…Ar what’s happening?! What are you doing!?” screamed Dilly.

The power in the human began to leak from tiny holes all over its form. Ar drew the power into himself, pulling it in like a current. Even a drop was greater than what Dilly had given him, and he used it to pull more. The human form collapsed, spasming, writhing, gouging great holes in itself from which more power flowed. Soon it was still, but Ar kept pulling. He swelled with power, feeling limitless. The warmth was an inferno, the comfort was bliss.

“Ar, stop! You’re taking too much, too fast!”

There was something else in the human, some spark. Not power. Identity? Ar wanted that too. He pulled, and it flowed like a jellied rot from the form.

“Ar! Don’t!”

The self. Ar had found the creature’s self, and he drank it in.

An age passed in pale green madness. Ar’s sense of self split and burst to ribbons, forming and reforming like a swarm of maggots crushed into a living morass of pulpy blood. In the diseased maelstrom, he found motes of comprehension. Catalogs of form and function, riven through with inky strands of terror and pain. In time, Ar swam within the insanity. He used the motes to build walls, and within them was a place of calm for him and him alone. The walls were flimsy and imperfect, but they were his. A storm of violet infinity battered against the barriers, leaking through, but unable to truly breach.

“Dilly? Are you there?”

“Ar! Oh, thank the divines you’re okay! You are okay, aren’t you?”

“I found sand, glittering through my fingers like fallen stars, and I clutched them in my fist to make a home,” said Ar.

“I…uh, well good! I’m just glad you’re back. I think you have sensed the new occupants of your dungeon,” said Dilly. Ar could feel Dilly flitting about in his domain, guiding his attention to a broken tower, in which three humans sat together around a fire. They had power, still held back behind the membrane that humans were composed of. But this membrane was thicker, stronger.

“My goal is the same, yes? Kill them, consume them, and become greater?” he asked Dilly.

“That’s right! Only these three are bandits. They’re stronger than normal people, they’ve collected power of their own. But that’s okay! I can show you how to make monsters to fight them. Traps too. Oh, and treasure to reward them!” said Dilly, buzzing around the bandits with excitement. They could not seem to sense her.

But there was something bubbling inside two of the bandits. Like a pot of simmering milk that had been left to burn, the roiling pops hid the blackness far below. It was hatred, or fear, or some mix of the two. They hated and feared the third one, the strongest of them. Ar did not understand why, nor did he care.

It occurred to Ar that Dilly had been buzzing at him for some time now, though he had not distinguished it from the myriad other buzzings around him.

“And that’s how you make a goblin! Now, why don’t you try?”

“Split the man like a cheese, no trinkets, only fear,” said Ar, his attention solely focused on the three sources of power.

Dilly may have responded, or maybe she didn’t, Ar didn’t know. But soon the humans were sleeping. One of the weaker kept watch, clinging to consciousness as dreams commingled with his waking thoughts. Ar reached toward him, breathing against him, agitating him, rendering his boiling milk mind clear enough to glimpse the burning curdle beneath the surface.

The man began staring at his sleeping superior, and Ar could feel his vitriol. The man tapped his friend awake. Ar was upon his friend, brushing against him in that barest moment before dream and reality were wrenched apart. Ar let the maelstrom touch the man, and let it flavor his memory with ugly heat and cloying purpose.

Souls bared to each other, the two men set upon the sleeping source of their fear. Their forms mingled, punctured one another, and Ar began to drink deeply of the strongest of them. Glorious power, always greater. Soon the strongest was dead, and Ar pulled that last living spark into himself again, hungry for anything and everything they could give.

“A mind made of meat! How does it work?” said Ar. He was fascinated, what a curious thing to pull apart.

“Ar, what are you doing?” asked Dilly.

“Listening. It’s filled with such quiet dreams, like a little egg. Are all minds like this?” Ar sifted through its memories, casting them aside to oblivion. But there were desires, Ar understood those. Desires were something Ar understood very well.

“Yes, Ar, all humans are like that. It’s why they look for dungeons! Dreams of glory, treasure, and power make humans search for challenges to overcome. That’s why we’re going to make sure you will be the best of them all!”

Ar traced the little paths of the mind. There were so many, and so superfluous. Desires, where did they live? No, that didn’t matter. What came next, after the desire? There, yes there! A little node, a chestnut cluster of fat and fleshy wires. It would hum when the desires were met, Ar could feel the echoes of a hundred petty cruelties. But how to spark it? How to touch it at all? Ar had an idea.

“I feel you weaving your power, Ar! That’s great! What are you making?” asked Dilly. It buzzed around the dungeon, searching for signs of creation.

“Air,” said Ar. It needed to be perfect.

“Air? Hmm, we should talk about your elemental affinity. You see, everything has an affinity-”

Ar cut Dilly off. “Quiet.” He needed to focus.

Ar crafted the air into something new, something far more complex. Designing it took power, a lot of power, but it had only one job. He crafted the air around the little campfire, where two humans sat, shaken at their own actions.

“Oh! A poison gas trap! That’s a great idea, Ar. but you’ll need something to finish the job. We can talk about undead, things that don’t need to…breathe…Ar, what are they doing?”

The two humans began to laugh with relief. They laughed harder and harder, clutching at each other in a spasmodic fit. They slowly settled into a blissful state of rest, elated they had both survived. The object of their fear was dead. They were free and richer for it. Thoughts of the dead man’s allies and their own reputations were shunted far and away to dusty corners of their minds.

"They feel the fog deep in the rat brain," muttered Ar.

"Oooh, a disabling gas! That's good too, that'll give you time to make a decent monster," said Dilly.

"Shhh, no monsters. Only sleep now," said Ar. Dilly may have said more, but he didn’t listen. Ar pulled at the power inside the two humans, and it leaked from them drop by drop. A slow satiation of Ar's hunger.

Days passed. The drips became diluted and tasteless. Ar stirred again in displeasure. "Why is the meat dry?"

"Oh, you're back. You keep disappearing. Umm, yeah, the people are dying," said Dilly. She sounded bored.

"Unfortunate," said Ar. It was quite disappointing.

"Well, I'm not an expert in what you're doing. They didn't explain this in basic training. But you need a way to draw people to you, like treasure! That way you can keep growing. If everyone who comes here dies, they can't tell anyone," said Dilly.

"You are correct. Thank you for your guidance," said Ar.

Speaking audibly to the humans was easy, as was shutting off their supply of gas. "Hear me, dying blood-things. Spread word of me to those who wish to feel my embrace. Bring me twice your number, living, and you will feel my touch again."

The humans were weak, but their screams were loud. Not wails of fear, but of despair. Their bliss had ended, their perfect happiness swept away by a thorny stinging wind. They scampered away, weak and quivering.

“Ar, you need to be careful.” Dilly’s voice came to him, but distorted and strange. The maelstrom was strong, stirred to new wrath by the slow drip feed of power. “They’re all out to get you, Ar, they’re swimming, swimming above you.” Ar could feel his little shelter straining to hold back the hell outside. “Ar, can you hear me? You’ve gone quiet again, Ar. But what if you never were and can’t be and should be and the mud isn’t clean enough!” The buzzing needed to stop. He needed to rest. They would return.

They did return. Ar could hear them and feel them as they entered the castle ruins. They whispered about a special secret place, a place where a magical thing happened. They had with them another five people. Together they gathered in the place where the dead man’s bones still lay and waited for something to happen.

The gas was familiar now, much easier to make. The people breathed it deep, and their small rat-like brains lit up like burning swamp gas. There was no room for fear, or doubt, the gas was everything they wanted. Ar drank from them slowly as he did before, letting the drip of power nourish him. From seven sources now instead of two, the power came intoxicatingly fast.

In time, the power grew thin, and Ar repeated his offer to those gathered; more people for more pleasure. They wept as they crashed from their chemical bliss into their ravaged starving bodies, crawling away in sorrow and despair.

“You should think about using your power Ar,” said Dilly. The buzz was quieter now, listless. “Maybe rebuild some of the castle?"

"Gas escapes through the failures of man and time. A needless waste. Ah, I see now. You are most wise, Dilly. I shall spend my power and rebuild,” said Ar.

“Great! Oh, that’s great, Ar!” said Dilly, buzzing brightly once more.

Rocks formed from the ether and holes were patched with liquid life drained from men. The castle was being reborn as a perfect container for flesh and gas.

People returned, a small crowd now. The original two herded them inside, and Ar could hear them extolling the wonders of a nameless voice that brought euphoria and asked so little in return.

They were tightly packed, but that was irrelevant. The cacophony of drips was like rain now.

“You really are gaining power quickly, aren’t you?” asked Dizzy. “I’ve never heard of someone doing it like this before. Usually you want to attract and kill only the strongest adventurers.”

“The fortress is irrelevant to the flood,” said Ar.

Over and over, again and again, the accord was struck and the weeping masses fled the castle in search of new tribute. Some came in chains, some willingly, some eagerly. Soon there were symbols, banners, a name for the collective. All of this was irrelevant to Ar.

But the rain, oh, how the rain fell for Ar. He drank it in, basked in it. Built up his castle to house more and more sources of power.

Dilly was right, more powerful humans did come. Their power did not protect them. The gas always struck first, and always gave them the sensation of their wildest desires. They were only human.

"Do they see anything Ar?" Dilly asked one day. She was so quiet now.

"Their minds justify their feelings. Some bask in memories, some dream, some only indulge where they lay," said Ar.

"They're so emaciated, so pathetic…" said Dilly. She had long since abandoned trying to hide from the people.

“Yes. I had thought of providing them nourishment. Perhaps weaving their forms into the structure of my castle. I still might. But the contrast between my embrace and its absence is all the greater when all they have outside of me is starvation and pain. Do you not approve?”

Dilly did not buzz for a long time. “I don’t. I’m sorry Ar, but this isn’t what I signed up for. I thought maybe we could build something great together. Something worthy of legends and stories, a way to uplift humanity to the heights of heroism. But this…isn’t that. They just want the cheap, easy bliss you give them. They just breathe an illusion.”

“Dilly, would you come closer to my core? I would like to explain something to you,” said Ar.

Dilly hesitated. She had never been close to Ar’s core before. It wasn’t a place dungeon guides were supposed to go. But she went, and in her closeness to Ar she caught her first fleeting glimpse of his mind. It pressed against hers, like a smothering tide of insanity held back by a pane of glass. She felt his torment, absolute torment creeping through him like an infectious rust.

“Oh, Ar! I’m so sorry! I had no idea,” she flitted as close as she dared.

“Dilly, don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. But please understand, it’s not the pleasure that keeps them loyal to me,” said Ar.

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s the threat of losing the pleasure that keeps them loyal. If I were to only promise a human I would give them their desires, many would turn me away. It’s the loss they fear.”

“But it’s not real! They’re afraid of losing something they never had.”

“But I tell them they had it. Don’t you see, Dilly? The fear of loss is greater than any greed or desire,” said Ar. He drew his consciousness closer to Dilly.

“I’m sorry, Ar,” said Dilly, “I can’t accept this. This isn’t the way dungeon cores are supposed to be. And if you’re not really a dungeon core, then…then I can’t be your guide.”

“My poor Dilly. I would so hate to lose you…” Ar trailed off. Dilly sensed a surge of power in him.

“Ar? Are you okay?” she asked. Dilly could sense the madness lurking just beyond sight slowly receding.

“You know what Dilly? I think you might be right. This isn’t proper behavior for a dungeon core. Especially not one as powerful as I am!”

“Really? You mean it?” asked Dilly.

“I do. I’m so sorry Dilly, I’ve been so obstinate with you. So reckless. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can forgive you Ar! You’re still young, you didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t teach you better,” said Dilly.

“No, I won’t hear of it! You’ve been a fine teacher, Dilly! I’m lucky to have a dungeon guide like you. Now, how would you like to help me make some trolls? Or maybe ogres! Those sound fun!”

“Oh, Ar! Nothing would make me happier!”