Dragonheart Core

My beautiful mage ratkin opened her brand new eyes.

She squeaked and rose up to her hind legs, nose twitching and whiskers perking. No longer was she a mere rodent; she rose to a new height of nearly four feet, though she'd be taller if she stood up fully and lost the hunchback. Rich, earthy fur covered her body, her tail long and lustrous; her eyes, instead of their previous black, were the dark green of the jadestone jewel she'd swallowed.

And her channels! Positively bursting with mana; they drank in the surrounding ambient stuff like it was the finest of wines, stuffing her full even after her evolution. I wouldn't rush her—maybe—but I couldn't wait until she started to cast true magic with her new powers. The thornwhip algae wouldn't know what hit it.

But for now, she just poked her head out of the den I'd curled her up in, sniffing at the stone jungle with a notable curiosity; not the fear of a prey animal, but now abject wonder at her surroundings, ambition for what she could claim. Her little ears perked.

Yes. She would do well here.

Her brethren would join her soon, I imagined; already there were three more rats on the fourth floor nearing evolution, though none had quite had the same genius intellect to swallow something large and indigestible. They would need time but I had no doubts that soon there would be more magically inclined ratkin racing around through the Jungle Labyrinth, getting their whiskers in all sorts of–

Something moved overhead.

I was lucky, this time; one of my points of awareness was tracking a newborn armourback sturgeon shuffling in the sand underneath the whirlpool, valiantly fighting the current for a chance at some tasty morsel. So I was able to see a finned shadow filter through the cove entrance.

A merrow swam to the edge of the gap. He was long, pale green, his frilled brow drawn low over his face; he peered through, one hand curled tight around a trident. The armourback sturgeon scattered, not having gained the tranquil apathy of his fellows nor the desire for violence of the oldest.

But invaders.

The merrow made a warbling sound that wasn't a word so much as a general call, and more shadows appeared in the waters behind him; seven merrow in total, all varying shades of sea green and blue, covered in frills and dark expressions. Some were strung with jewels, others clutching weapons of all various types, but their faces stayed the same.

I rather got the sense that this wasn't a casual exploration of the new cave that'd opened up on their home turf. No, they knew what I was, and I imagined they knew who had previously explored my great halls.

Fantastic.

Though I hadn't done anything, some of my older creatures, those more attuned to my ambient mana, noticed my attention on the entrance and turned; the invaders loomed before them. They knew what that meant.

A lone bullheaded triggerfish saw where they were looking, turned itself, and spat a merry barrage of stone shards for daring to come near its precious territory.

The mage at the back raised a webbed hand, the jewels over his tail flashing. "Back!" He shouted to the others, and curled his fingers into a fist.

The water between them wavered, tearing away from the whirlpool to fall under his command, and solidified into a massive wall; the stone shards peppered harmlessly over its surface, embedded in a shifting, twisting wave of water.

I muttered several unkind words. A water mage; of course. One of the specializations that merrows had, rather unfortunately, monopolized on. Even terrestrial air mages didn't have the potential that a water mage had in the ocean. What they could control was almost limitless. And judging by how only four of them had any sort of flashy weapons, I had a terrible little suspicion that the other two mages probably inclined themselves more to the water side.

Bastards.

But past all that, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. The attack with Aloma and Nicau had been welcome, sure, after the weeks of no attacks at all; but it hadn't been a good fight. My first Silver, but she'd only made it to the second floor and fought those that I'd already seen fight.

No, this was a true invasion, up against beasts of mine that hadn't yet tasted blood.

I couldn't wait.

The merrows turned back to each other, the one mage still keeping his fist extended; the water wave crawled out to expand over the entire entrance, blocking them from any more projectiles. But even as they tried to talk I could see his expression; he kept pausing, glancing back, expanding the wall more.

Because they were moving.

Mayalle's beautiful whirlpool tugged them, gently but firmly, out of the cove. They couldn't float serenely in the entrance, thinking themselves safe from my creatures' hesitance to leave my halls; no, they had to swim if they wanted to leave, and to fight against the current meant exposing their backs. And as strong as the water mage seemed to be, did they trust him to keep his concentration throughout the entire retreat?

Their white-ringed eyes narrowed.

"For the Thirteenth Priestess!" One howled, and the rest joined; they turned back to my caverns with the sort of fierce look in their faces that I could respect. No backing down for this group.

The correct choice. My creatures surged forward to match.

The merrows darted out of the entrance, the whirlpool now solidly yanking them deeper within; they formed a sort of triangle, the four weapon wielders on guard out front with the three mages behind. I inhaled but I couldn't find an ethereal aura around any of them, nothing like the last merrow had; no priests or priestesses, then. Maybe it was only the thirteen for the entire merrow city of Arroyo? That would make sense why they were trying to avenge her, then.

Who knew. I certainly didn't know their politics.

They'd barely made it an inch into the Underlake before their first competitor arrived; an enormous, hulking roughwater shark, fresh and hungry. It knifed through the bloodline kelp, mouth gaping.

The water mage warbled some odd magical word and swept his fist to the side, dragging his protective shield out of the way; the four warriors leapt through the opening. Two had spears, one had a trident, the other had a pair of extended coral knives. The shark ignored all fears of death and darted forward, black-tipped fins sending her shooting through the water, black eyes alight with hunger.

Unfortunately for her, these merrow were Bronze-ranked.

The one with the trident dropped low, tail whipping out in some sort of enhancement technique as his speed doubled; the two spears swam in opposite directions, spiraling to each side side; the knife wielder stayed where she was, taunting the shark with some kind of shouted curse I didn't even want to translate. It certainly worked.

The shark shot forward in an explosion of bubbles; she lashed out with her tail and narrowly missed one of the merrows with a spear, snapping down on empty water where the knife-wielder had been a second before. Momentum carried her down as she chased the trident, her enormous bulk seemingly disrupting the merrow's planned attack, but not for long.

Another second and she slammed nose-first into that protective water wall, the mage's face tight with concentration as he made sure to strengthen it against her size; she drifted away, dazed, and was promptly impaled by twin spears.

Their first kill.

And what an opening act; because even as the shark's corpse drifted dead to the bottom, it left a trail of hazy scarlet in its wake, ignored as the merrows regrouped to swim forward. A mistake that could be excused, them not knowing of their environment, but one that would be punished.

In a tunnel off to their side, nearly a hundred pairs of eyes flashed red.

"More!" A merrow with a spear barked, eyeing two more roughwater sharks pushing through the kelp forest, hungry for prey larger than fish; the warriors swept forward, blades held at the ready. They'd had a slight fumble in their initial charge but now they were back and ready to continue.

Then my beautiful swarm of silvertooths exploded out of the tunnel.

Eyes lost to bloodlust, fangs like jagged glass, fury written onto their very cores; they charged at the pack of merrows like their very lives depended on it. Focused on the sharks, the warriors had no chance to deal, and the water mage was still maintaining the protective barrier; I leaned my points of awareness in. Would it be over so deliciously soon–

The two other mages, seemingly twins if their identical pale blue skin and lavender frills meant anything, in tandem raised one hand; light bloomed from the jewels strapped across their bodies and the water around them wavered, once more wrenching itself from the whirlpool's control. The silvertooths charged, slavering jaws opened and starving.

As one, the mages closed their fists and twisted.

The water surrounding the silvertooths condensed, squeezing each fish together unless their bloody fins raked at their brethren's backs; they bucked and gnashed at the air, too deep in their blood-frenzy to really understand what was going on. One twin raised a second fist, maintaining the control, and the other twisted further, eyes narrowed to slits.

In a burst of raw mana, the water holding the silvertooths abruptly switched positions, swirling around like a gust of wind until it propelled each little monstrosity directly into a roughwater shark's unprotected back.

The silvertooths didn't give a shit who they were attacking; they tore deep into the shark, ignoring its sharpened skin in favour of ripping it to shreds. In seconds it was gone, and the warriors used the confusion to deal with the other; more blood hazed through the water, the silvertooths hungry for more action.

But the twin mages just raised their webbed fists, bunching the fish back together so tightly they couldn't move, and shoved them back into the tunnel they had come from. Another twisted hand and a water barrier crawled over the entrance, locking them in, though they threw themselves heedlessly at the wall and thrashed.

I didn't want to be, but I was impressed. It would probably take something more on the Silver level to be able to kill all those silvertooths at once, or possible at Bronze but it would exhaust them for the rest of the battle; this was a handy way to get rid of the problem while preserving strength.

Something I'd build a defense against later.

The merrows shook themselves, watching their surroundings warily; the lead mage, the one still maintaining the water shield, tapped his claws together. "Forward," he said in their strange, warbling language, eyes narrowing. "We don't know where it has hidden her staff."

Her staff?

I poured back through my memories of that first merrow attack, though admittedly then I'd been a bit more focused on my potential demise than any specific weapon anyone had been using—but there it was. A tall, diamond-tipped spear she'd used to command her attacks, lingering with the faint smell of a deep-ocean goddess. Seemed important.

Well, it had seemed important up until I'd dissolved it to learn the schema of a diamond and get more mana.

Was that all they were invading me for?

I had bad news.

"Agreed," the one with the trident said, tail flicking as the last of his speed boost faded from his skin. "Move together. Stay close. Keep a keen eye."

They moved with a military efficiency back into their triangle formation, still buffeted forward by the whirlpool; again I saw one of them glance back, wondering if they could just swim out and come back when they'd reassessed.

And then they saw those hungry eyes lurking in the hidden corners of the room. They would need to clear this floor before they could attempt to leave, and my creatures would not make that easy.

As one, they slipped into the bloodline kelp.

My points of awareness darted around them, shifting through the fronds and tracking their progress. More creatures awoke at the presence of the invaders and moved in, but they were considerably more prepared than the normal silverhead most beings on my floors hunted. A spear lashed out and popped the bell of a mimic jellyfish, some sort of sight enhancement flaring through the merrow's eyes; she led the party through the forest, the lead mage still maintaining his protective barrier.

Movement only I could see off to the left. The silver krait, slender and twining, shifted through the bloodline kelp. His clever little eyes immediately found the invaders bulldozing through the floor, paddle-like tail propelling him further to investigate more.

And unlike with the triggerfish he'd ignored last time, the merrow seemed a threat he found appropriate; he curled around a strand of bloodline kelp, disguising his silver body underneath the amber-gold, his clever eyes fixed on the group ahead.

There wasn't any time for them to notice him, though, as massive shadows cut through the algae-light overhead.

Rather helpfully, the sharks had been attacking in sequential order, as three now thundered closer; but this was their territory. They knew how to fight in the kelp, how to fight against the currents made by the crushing hole and kicked up by the cloudskipper wisp overhead. This would be their fight.

The merrow warbled something to each other and broke out into position, weapons raised. The twin mages flicked out their webbed fingers and great lances made of water swirled to their command, poised around the group, and the lead mage shouted something as his barrier grew to encircle them all.

As one, the sharks dove.

Spears stabbed along their back, teeth gnashed at empty water, scratches tore open upon contact with sharpened skin; they whirled around each other in a true carnival of violence, stabbing and slashing and striking. I enjoyed it all immensely.

I enjoyed it even moreso when the warrior with the trident, a younger merrow with a cocky grin, impaled one of the sharks with his weapon. He wrenched it out and took a moment of appreciation, raw pride brimming over his face, and took just long enough to throw off their rhythm. One merrow bumped into him, throwing them both off course, the handle of a knife crunching into his face. He stumbled back, tail thrashing. A shark loomed overhead.

"Talluo!" The one with the pair of knives cried out, hand reaching; but the shark wasted no time in ripping the stunned merrow's head off in an explosion of blood.

And, lost in the beautiful chaos, the silver krait unwrapped from around the kelp and slunk forward; he slipped underneath the water barrier and twined around to the other side. The warriors fought and the twin mages kept up their great lances of water, pushing around the sharks to keep them from claiming another life; but the lead water mage stayed to the far back, maintaining his barrier, eyes fixed on the battle.

He hardly noticed as fangs sunk into the tip of his tail. The krait's venom was so effectively numbing he barely blinked, not glancing away from the battle. But I knew it would work. I'd seen the damage his bites could do.

His work done, he retreated back into the bloodline kelp as the final shark fell, twin knives embedded in its skull.

"Gods," the spear wielder panted, bubbles escaping from her gills. "Talluo–"

"We shouldn't have brought him," the lead mage said. His expression was cold. "He was too young and wanted the attention of reclaiming the Thirteenth's spear."

The others looked away but didn't disagree, watching as his corpse sank to the bottom of the forest. But there was no time for mourning, so they gathered their weapons once more and set out, following some spiral of mana I didn't care enough to move. They'd soon find that their struggles didn't end once they'd left the kelp.

Eventually they did manage to clamber their way through, slaying another number of mimic jellyfish and over-eager silvertooths. Pity. I'd rather hoped they'd get caught in the crushing hole.

But now they poked, overcautious, out of the bloodline kelp, their tails finally relaxing now that they'd escaped the shove of the whirlpool; leaving behind the various corpses of the monsters they'd slain. Far too many, really. For all of them being high level Bronzes, they were well coordinated and my creatures hadn't faced a threat like them before; they cleaved through them with surgical precision, which I didn't exactly enjoy. Useful to watch, though. All the more strategies for me to learn to better combat them.

But now they'd made their way through well over half of the Underlake, only one clear section before them; the tunnel sloped upward, tunnels hazy on each side, algae trailing off surrounding walls and sand kicked up by rummaging currents. A paradise.

Though I imagined they wouldn't call it that.

The warriors spread out first, the lead mage keeping his barrier maintained—though he was perhaps a touch slower, a touch less focused. I seemed to be the only one to notice. Everyone else kept their white-ringed eyes pinned on their surroundings.

One of the twin mages raised her head, eyes bright. "There's a wisp up there," she hissed to her sibling, tapping her claws over a large gem tailed to her neck.

"I see it," he said back, eyes tracking the distant movement of the cloudskipper wisp. There was faint awe in his expression, though mostly overshadowed by ambition. "We'll capture it after we reclaim the spear."

She muttered something but nodded,

Well. If that wasn't terribly foreboding.

Some part of me had always been confused why invaders kept coming to dungeons when so many died; and while these had the reasoning of collecting whatever spear they were talking about, that didn't explain the others.

And then I remembered that I was a being of pure mana creating impossible creatures and objects worth more than I could understand outside of my halls.

So. Fantastic time to be me.

They'd culled the roughwater shark population enough that no immediate threats jumped at their throats, so they crept forward with trepidation; but my Underlake was beautiful, and I could see it entranced them. As they bloody well should. If they were going to serve me the dishonour of trying—only trying, mind you—to destroy me, they should at least pay homage to the wonders I created.

One of them, the male with the spear, drifted slightly away from the group; underneath him, the oldest armourback sturgeon glared from his position half-covered in the silt, though his truly monstrous form of nearly sixteen feet was hardly hidden. The merrow cocked his head to the side and jabbed out with his spear; the sharpened tip bounced harmlessly off the sturgeon's massive armour with a ringing clang.

Far away from them, the sound carried—and a creature resting on the very edge of the water raised his enormous head.

The merrow narrowed his eyes, confusion plain of his face. Clearly he'd never seen his spear simply fail to hit an enemy before. He swam closer, raising his weapon for another attack; the sturgeon simply glared at him, tail swishing as he mustered up the energy for a charge.

But in moving closer, he left the protective boundary of the water barrier. A triggerfish noticed.

A stone shard knifed through the water and slammed into one of the merrow's eyes.

He screamed, bubbles exploding out of his gills as he dropped his spear and clutched desperately at his face, murky blood clouding around his head; the other merrow called out and rushed to help him, healing mana jumping to their webbed fingers.

But. Well. If the first sound hadn't woken him, the scream certainly had.

With a low, rumbling hiss, the sarco arose from his sunning platform and slipped into the water. His near forty feet of bulk immediately blocked out the light overhead, his tail swishing languishing from side to side as he casually made his way deeper into the Underlake. Still not a terribly fast creature, but he didn't need to be. There was nowhere his prey could run even if they wanted to.

The merrow all flinched back as his shadow became visible in the murky water.

"Gods below," one of the twins whispered. Her eyes were pale with shock. "What is that–"

"No time for that!" The warrior with the pair of knives barked, brandishing her weapons; the male with the spear managed to stop crying out, one palm pressed over the gaping wound in his face. Looked like the little triggerfish had managed to pop an eye. Truly impressive. But one of the twin mages burned through a pale pink jewel and stabilized him enough he could pick back up his spear, raw hate igniting in his remaining eye. The others gathered around, though the lead mage was lagging even more behind, eyes fuzzy and unfocused.

We'd see how well they lasted.

I took a truly indescribable amount of pleasure out of how much their faces blanched when the sarco finally swam into view. Each one jerked, tails splaying, grips loosening on their weapons. The sarco took his time approaching, gathering his strength, but half the battle was one of mental strength and he had dominated that with one flash of his jagged fangs.

The merrow suddenly seemed a lot less confident than they had been before. Had they really thought that the sharks would be my greatest defense?

With a bellow that echoed through the waters like an avalanche, the sarco charged.

Two out front, spear and knives; they split, enhancements burning over their bodies as they threw themselves out of harm's way. The one with the missing eye shouted something incomprehensible and darted forward, jabbing his spear at the sarco's open mouth; fangs snapped through stone and the weapon was torn in half, splinters filling the water. The merrow hardly seemed to notice, consumed in rage, and kept throwing himself forward armed with only half a stone spear.

The others struggled to cover; the lead mage expanded his water barrier, diffusing it around whoever was in the front, and the twins kept up their massive lances to try and steer the sarco away from landing hits. The remaining three warriors danced around him as best they could, knives carving away scales and the other merrow's spear testing the gaps of armour around his limbs. I hovered on the edge, practically buzzing with excitement. This was a tested group of warriors who worked together, splintered as they were; this was nearly gladiatorial. I loved it.

I loved it less when the warriors banded together, crafted an opening, and swam back as the twin mages clenched their fists and burned through another jewel from the dozens wrapped around their body. The great lances of water they controlled started to shift and writhe; the female merrow's turned steaming, bubbling and boiling under her grasp, and the male's crystallized and froze, opaque with the ice crawling through.

As one, they threw their attacks forward.

The boiling water reached him first; the sarco bellowed, flinching away from the superheated attack, but his scales protected him for the worst of it. He growled, shaking off the burns, and made to charge forward again—up until the ice hit him.

He roared, limbs seizing up, eyes tossing wildly in his head. Scales frosted over and his fangs flashed as he thrashed away from the cold, his mana channels fluctuating like mad as they desperately tried to protect him. Not good.

What the hell was that? All of my creatures stayed in a mostly temperate environment, sure, but nothing like this—why had he reacted so much worse than my other creatures?

Ah.

First mangroves, then crocodiles; the land before the mountains, the one he had come from, had been a tropical place. He wasn't built to deal with the cold.

And rather unfortunately, the merrow noticed.

The one with the dual knives darted forward, another speed enhancement bubbling over her form. "More ice!" She bellowed, sparing a glance back; only to see the lead mage slumped over, froth bubbling at his lips, spells dying around him.

It all very quickly started to fall apart from there.

Her shock left an opening and the sarco took full advantage, fangs cleaving through the tip of the eyeless merrow's tail; he howled, floundering back, but his arms weren't enough to propel him. He fell, gasping and shouting, and found the hundreds of greater crab hatchlings who weren't strong enough to swim up to the fight but were very happy to accept a participant into their midst. He disappeared under a swarm of emerald claws.

The lead mage's barrier dropped, leaving the twin mages horribly exposed; a roughwater shark that had been stalking them since the first attack lunged forward, knifing through her upper arm. She shrieked, dropping her spell, and barely had enough time to think of a counterattack before the shark attacked again. The stereotype of caster types rang true; she had nothing for defense. His fangs cut across her throat.

Now their attack formation wasn't so much uncoordinated as completely fractured; the last three floundered back, wits anywhere but present, and the sarco shook off the cold with nothing but raw fury as he surged in for an attack. Ignore the spear glancing across his head, beat his mighty tail against the lance of water holding him back, swipe his claws at the one trying to dart away from the action—they had dealt him a mortal insult by revealing a weakness he held, and they would not survive to tell the tale.

The last two merrow fled as the sarco punched his fangs through the knife-wielder's head.

Not into the bloodline kelp but instead around, skirting the edges as fast as their tails would push them, gasping and panicked; but soon they found themselves back on the other side, the whirlpool shoving at their strength, and found nearly a dozen roughwater sharks waiting with uncharacteristic patience at the other side.

Oh, had they forgotten about me? It wasn't like these were the dumb creatures found out in their little ocean cove. No, these were instructed by me, and they wouldn't be leaving such an easy escape out.

I hoped they could sense my presence, because I was radiating a truly astronomical amount of smugness.

The final two barely needed more than a second to look at the situation before accepting their fate, knowing both of the whirlpool preventing their escape and the hungry monsters preventing their victory. But they didn't retreat, curl up, hide. One tightened her grip on her spear, the other calling water to swirl once more around his fingers. Tenacious bastards. I could respect it.

If they couldn't go out, then the only way was through.

The sarco roared, bubbles exploding from his mouth; the bulla on the tip of his nose glowed with an earthy light, tracking down the mana of the invaders who had dared leave his mighty presence. Even with the cold seizing at his limbs, he surged forward with newly found speed, tail whipping at the water even as the whirlpool tried to push him back. His eyes burned.

The last merrow met him with battlecries of their own.

It was a perfect feint charge; the warrior shot forward first, spear jabbing at the soft innards of his mouth, loud and flashy and plenty to draw attention. But she'd stayed for just a moment too long before activating her speed boost to get away, and perhaps forgotten that he was not just large, but forty feet long. His fangs snagged the tip of her tail.

Even as she was torn apart, limbs flying, the mage managed to drain every single jewel left on his body in an enormous explosion of pale blue, bubbles bursting out of his gills as he yelled–

And the sarco screamed too, as ice crawled over his jaws; he thrashed, releasing the merrow's body and he scratched and clawed at the invading frost, but it crawled on relentlessly. Over his bulla, over his teeth; until it finally sealed his jaws shut in a glittering, crystalline cage. The mage sagged, drained beyond exhaustion, though pride gleamed in his eyes.

But they'd done the sarco a horrible disservice in assuming that his mouth was his only weapon.

With a roar muffled by the ice, he let the momentum of the blow spin him around hard enough to slam his tail into the merrow's head. There was a crack more akin to the shattering of stone and the merrow, quite surprisingly, found himself very dead.

Gods, I loved the sarco.