Dragonheart Core

The chittering, crawling thing's blood spilled fresh over her claws.

Rihsu howled her victory, banging her curled fists over her chest with a roar; the bug had been a hard battle, not because it fought back, but because its armour stood fast and strong even against her most mighty blows. But now, she had splintered through its back and ripped out its last shreds of life.

More mana, bright and fierce, burst through her. She drank deep of that power, the raw potential from the scuttling thing's death. Not enough, not anywhere near enough.

It would be a long and hard journey until she was strong enough to evolve a second time. Even now she could remember the taste of the last human she'd killed, thrashing in the water; even with how many other creatures had stolen their share from her kill, it had been so much power. She craved those kind of kills.

But here on the fourth floor, where mana misted against her scales, there were no great threats. Only these bugs, boulder-like things that shuffled around in the dark, and they didn't fight back. The rats offered no other challenge, and the serpent's army was too powerful. She couldn't risk it.

But if she went back up to the higher floors, those with more of the shelled beasts she had earned her name with or the enormous furry things, then she missed the mana of this lower floor. And the great Dragon had told her to train down here, to learn to fight in these dark and cramped halls. She could not fail Him.

So she tore her claws out of its corpse, ripping free chunks of meat to scarf down. She had slept before this fight and that meant she would have enough energy to go out once more, to venture through the snaking halls and find another challenge. Hopefully she could find something that would present an actual challenge, if another fleshy human just happened to invade right now–

Something moved at the corner of her vision.

Rihsu hissed, claws dripping and raised, and spun to face it. Her eyes went wide.

The Dragon approached.

Even at her new height, He towered over her, the beginning of horns on His head scraping against the tunnel's ceiling. The air flexed and wavered like the water within it wanted to go to Him, beading over His blue-green scales and running down His sides. His golden eyes gleamed in the dark, sea-green frills extended and whispering with power, tail swishing behind Him with enough strength to crush her.

She dropped to the ground, legs cluttered awkwardly beneath as she tried to kneel. Her Lord.

Come, Seros said to her mind, through their connection that raced so fiercely below her scales. Rihsu darted back to her full height and padded after Him, watching with awe as He chose each intersection without a moment's hesitation. She had started to learn to navigate by feeling the ambient mana of the core, tracking when she moved further or closer by how much there was in the air.

But He chose each tunnel correctly, and she felt the mana lessen as they went further and further up.

Until at last they emerged from the tunnels, back into the open platform with the water beyond. Where she had fought the merrows and earned her first evolution, though she didn't, ah, really know how to swim.

Which was an insult that couldn't be allowed to stand. How could she serve underneath the Dragon if she couldn't join Him in His realm?

He looked back at her, golden eyes bright. Come, He said again, and slipped into the water.

Rihsu sucked in as massive a breath as she could manage and jumped in after.

She hadn't been on the third floor for a while and she could feel it had changed; a current tugged at her floundering skills, the water more murky and filled with silt. She clawed back up to the ceiling, muzzle breaking through the kicked up waves to suck in another breath of air; Seros swam below her, completely at home in the water. His eyes flashed.

The water fled from her mouth, a trail of air spiraling down from the top of the room and wrapping around her muzzle. She blinked but stopped swimming up, drifting down to be on the same level as Him; the air stayed with her. She could breathe.

She was so consumed in that thought that she did forget to swim entirely, and had to flounder her way back up.

The Dragon flared His frills, vibrating with the mana He was using to keep her alive. He stared around at the water, all the fish darting around and the wavering shadows of the kelp forest beyond. At the land where He dominated.

You will swim, He said, flashing His own claws—where instead of her own thin, barely-present webs, His were fully extended, built to push through the water. I will teach you.

Rihsu imagined she wouldn't have been happier if the light of evolution overtook her this instant.

Once you can. The Dragon twisted, tail swishing to keep Him at the same height in the water, and looked further into the floor. Something dark lurked there, casting a shadow to swallow the forest overhead, drifting over top with an enormous, twisting tail and jaws shaped like whole stalagmites. Then we will fight.

Her entire world lit up. Something that large would grant her plenty of mana with its kill, maybe enough to evolve—would she then join mighty Seros, reaching the waterbound status to swim without need of air or pitiful land?

The Dragon looked, although that was clearly impossible, hesitant. Not to kill, He said. Just to fight.

Rihsu cocked her head to the side even as she paddled furiously to try and stay upright. Why not to kill? The Dragon commanded these halls, and there were none who could correct Him. So why would He create a creature to be fought, but not killed? What were His reasonings?

They were not for her to know. He was too far above her.

So instead she nodded, bracing her claws, and prepared to learn.

-

The room was empty.

She bristled, branches shifting in an intangible breeze as she tried to see further into the den of the lizard-things. But through her information she collected through the spores and the mushrooms and the algae and the moss, thousands of feelings and thoughts and details flowing through her, she knew that the other being was already gone.

But her chance to meet with one of those strange, outworldly beings was gone.

Perhaps she couldn't have done anything, still unable to speak their tongue nor move fast enough to mimic speak, but the possibility of it enraged her. For however young or awkward this one seemed to be, it was still from that famed outdoors. With society and language and differences.

Her thorned roots writhed.

If the being would not meet her on this side, after her week-long trek to reach its habitat, then she would have to return to her previous location. Back at the beginning of the floor, where those strange beings would arrive.

There was no time for complaining. If she were to learn, to go even further past the After that she now was, she had to learn.

-

Maybe Nicau was a bit dramatic, but stepping back into the sun after a week of algae-light was blissful.

His eyes could barely make out his surroundings, so weakened and stunted from the caverns; he squinted and wiped tears away, hands over his face. Long, long minutes passed before he could even begin to make out his surroundings.

But it was beautiful.

The mountain's entrance was directly over the cove, crystal blue water lapping at the pebbled shores, white sand breaking on the edges; towering palm trees rustled overhead, stonecrop tumbling down the mountainside, silver flashes from fish darting through the ocean water. A thousand moving parts, all bound together in the hot, humidity-drenched air that wavered with rainbows in the corners of his eyes and wisping mist escaping off the early morning ground. That perfect heat with cold wind pricking gooseflesh on his exposed arms, the sun lancing over his skin with all the heat it could muster. Colours so much more varied than the grey-blue he'd been stuck around.

The world he'd lived in for the majority of his life. He'd never seen it quite like this before.

Absence made the heart grow fonder, and all that.

And there, tucked in the cradle between two mountains, stood Calarata.

Mudstone walls, terracotta roofs, cobbled streets. Even from here he could see the main road, winding its way up the terraced city, leading to the enormous castle-esque house on top that housed the Dread Pirate. Over top, two little wavering bits of sea-green stood; the wings of the sea-drake he had slain. All the scales and skin and fangs had been repurposed to create magical artefacts of great power, but the wings were less useful. So instead they had just become another symbol of his power, a reminder to Calarata.

Nicau wondered how he felt that the dragon he'd killed was still alive, in a sense.

The Dread Pirate surely knew, if Lluc was out investigating, but he'd noticed that they only called it a dungeon, rather than anything specific about the dragon. And with Aloma dead and Nicau presumed so, that would be another out in which they weren't collecting more information. So maybe they wouldn't figure out it was the dragon, at least not for another while.

And by the time they did, it would be strong enough with what Nicau was bringing it to defeat them.

He pondered that for another moment, squinting out at Calarata.

That was his home, even with his new dungeon alliance. He loved it, for all its flaws, even though Calarata didn't love him back. But now he was working to destroy it, giving the dungeon all the power it needed to crush all the adventurers who wanted to make their living.

Nicau paused.

…only the adventurers, right?

He knew the basics of dungeon delving; adventurers went in search of glory, power, and all the powerful magical objects they could grab. And then that amount of resources they collected came out and had to be sold and transported off, and Calarata was uniquely suited to be very much in the interest of selling unique items without the regulations of the Leóro Kingdom.

And the dungeon… presumably only hated the Dread Pirate, right?

Nicau wasn't overfond of him either, but surely the dungeon had to understand that trying to kill the entirety of Calarata wouldn't be the best plan. And in fact, if it kept those pirates around, they could bring it all manner of unique items and animals and gold, as well as plenty of bodies to feed it. In an almost cohabitative relationship. Right?

He stared at it a moment longer.

That would be the best case scenario. He could be allowed to return to Calarata, though his soul still belonged to something far below ground, and he could be the one telling the dungeon's will to the wider world. Facilitating the sale of rare items, animals, mana—bringing in all the power he wanted.

And potentially dethroning the Dread Pirate that kept Calarata in such a stranglehold.

Nicau let the fanciful dream flit about him for a moment longer.

Not now, though. He needed to build power, to help the dungeon grow until it could hold itself as a threat. So he needed to collect these… schemas, to build the dungeon until it grew to new heights he couldn't comprehend himself. Already he knew there were more floors than the two he had seen, stretching further into the gloom below.

So presumably any schema he gathered would be useful somewhere? He squinted at his surroundings. Was the dungeon large enough to support a palm tree?

And was he supposed to bring back large things? It wasn't like he had a cart or something to drag stuff back. Maybe more making a shelter with them and making multiple trips?

Nicau glanced back at Calarata one more time. Soon, he'd return with his new powers and status, and he'd live there for his own glory. But not now. He let his newly gifted mana surface through his channels, spiraling through his body with that same, burning feeling. He'd figure it out.

And thus he turned to the right, where around the other side of the Alómbra Mountains there stood the great jungle, where creatures and plants anew lurked.

Time to gather.