The Slime Dungeon: Book 1 (The Slime Dungeon Chronicles) (12 page)

Doc was intrigued, "So essentially, it's a slow transformation from being inanimate to sentient. That's rather fascinating."

"Yes, but it also doesn't help the dungeon be a good person. Dungeons are naturally selfish; it is the core of their being as they have no soul. Every living thing exists to increase a dungeon's power in their "mind", but the older the dungeon the more cunning it is in regards to that. You are different because you've experienced life before somehow, which affected your development."

"So am I a good dungeon?"

"The goodest!" Claire agreed.

"That's not a real word."

"Stupid Doc needs to be quiet and say thank you for the compliment."

"Thank you, Claire." Doc deadpanned, "Can you explain the dungeon pixie role in all this?"

Claire nodded, "I think I can. Back near the beginning of dungeons, a forest pixie made a contract with one of the first dungeons. This dungeon was the oldest at the time, and thus was the craftiest. At the time, the pixie was fleeing hunters and took shelter within the dungeon. The pixie made contact with the dungeon heart itself after the hunters chased it down to the boss room. While the boss fought the hunters, the pixie made the first pack with a dungeon. In agreeing to bind his soul to the dungeon, the dungeon would protect the pixie forever. The pixie lost his green color and became black, and the dungeon achieved the first sentience level."

"Sentience level, what is that?"

"Basically, it began to refer to itself. Having the ability to call one "I" is a big deal you know; it means one can refer to himself and thus can begin to learn how to grow as a person/monster. Anyway, the pixie had children within the dungeon, but the natural corruptive nature of dungeon mana passed the contract down to the children. They naturally sought out other dungeons and bonded with them, and their children also did the same. Over generations, the race of dungeon pixies came about."

"How is a dungeon pixie different from a regular pixie?"

`Claire hummed for a moment, "Well, besides the connection with dungeons, dungeon pixies are only slightly different from our surface brethren. They tend to rely on wind or plant magic, but dungeon pixies are more naturally attuned to earth magic. Our colors differ as well; they being green, blue, or yellow while we are brown, black, or purple. Color can be random, though, so we don't rely on it too much. Dungeon pixies lost the ability to use healing magic, but gained the ability to control pure mana by forming things with it."

"Oh, so you mean those blue walls things with words?"

"Exactly it Doc,” Claire nodded, "The most important thing a dungeon pixie does is pass down knowledge. Dungeons don't communicate well with each other; in fact, most tend to fight when they meet another dungeon. I'll explain how that happens in a moment. Dungeon pixies are taught from birth all about what a dungeon can do in order to keep dungeons successful. A successful dungeon means my race has a safe home and can flourish. Dungeons are rare enough these days because of incompetence or lack of knowledge, so this is really important."

Claire giggled as she read Doc's feelings, "You want me to explain about dungeons meeting each other don't you?"

"Yes, please; that sounds really important."

"Well,” she began, "There are three ways dungeons can meet each other. The first way is natural, when two territories expand and touch each other. It tends to happen in places where there are more dungeons than usual. Typically, they each open up a hole and attack each other with their monsters. Since they are both dungeons, the monsters won't die when they leave their own dungeon. The winner eats the power of the other, killing the dungeon. Luckily for us, the dungeon pixie pact just moves over, so we don't have to die. In fact, we tend to gather and eat a meal while watching the battle."

"The second way is more mysterious.” She waved her hands in an attempt to be spooky, but it only made Doc laugh. Disappointed, she continued, "Some dungeons gain the rare ‘phantom ability’. It allows them to teleport temporarily to another location during the full moon. The adventurers think the dungeon is only open on the full moon, hence the "phantom dungeon" name, when actually the dungeon just moves locations. If it meets another dungeon, they fight the same way, but with a time limit. When the night ends, the dungeon returns to its original location."

"The third way is the hardest way. Some powerful dungeons gain the ability to turn themselves into a floating island. They fly around the world in set patterns and encourage flying birds to nest on them. Adventurers use the beasts to get up to the dungeon, and most islands have a thriving town on them based around the dungeon. Island dungeons never fight each other because the effort would result in both dropping to the ground. They can fight ground dungeons though by settling down on the ground. It's a rare thing, but it's happened before."

"Do you think I could become a flying dungeon?" Doc asked.

Claire hesitated, then answered, "It's possible, but unlikely. Those dungeons tend to have an affinity toward wind magic, but not all of them do. Phantom dungeons tend to have shadow magic, but again it's not a strict requirement. That's something to wait for another day. For now, just concentrate on reaching the next level for more power."

“What about dungeon personalities; you said you remembered differences?” Doc prompted her.

“Not all dungeons are the same, just like every other living thing in the world.” Claire began, “Some dungeons, like my mom’s, are very selfish and don’t allow big pixie families by eating any that leave the safety of home. Other dungeons encourage big families so the pixies can help manage the dungeon.”

“So the personalities only differ when it comes to pixies?”

“Yup, all dungeons eat everything else. Well, many do accept monsters from outside, but have a strict power requirement.”

"Okay, Claire. Oh! Another group is coming our way, wish me luck."

"Good luck!" Claire smiled at him as he left for his slime body. Claire pulled the covers up to her mouth as she stared down.

"Thank you Doc," She whispered, "But I won't tell you about… babies yet." She turned bright red and covered herself with her blanket again. Some things were meant for later.

Chapter 16

              Simon the Shepherd sighed as he led his flock back to the barn. It had been a long day out in the fields; a very boring day for the young sheepherder. He had followed the flock of people out to the dungeon camp and watched it quickly change into a small town. The town had grown, but he was still a poor shepherd with only a few silvers to his name from his momma.

              "Get you sheep, come on now!" He called out, using his stick to guide the cackling creatures into their pen. He had hoped that he would be able to enter the dungeon for quick money, but had been disappointed to hear that the slimes required magic to kill. Even a cheap copper sword cost a lot of coins to be enchanted, so he was out of luck.

              "Stupid dungeon," he muttered to himself as he locked the gate, "Why couldn't it have held goblins or animals? Why did it have to be so difficult and choose stupid slimes?" The boy was also a tad bit on the negative side, more likely to blame everything, but himself, for his problems.

              As he closed the door to the barn, he walked over to the owner's house and knocked on the door. A butler walked out and bowed to him. "Fine job as always sir shepherd and a thank you for your assistance,” he said, "The master wishes you a good night. Here is your daily pay.” He handed over a silver piece and disappeared back into the house.

              Simon snorted, "Yeah, right; I bet the ‘master’ doesn't even know my name... Prick!” To be fair, the merchant who owned the sheep had a lot of business interests to attend to, but Simon didn't care.

What he did care about was getting home quickly. He rented one of the small tents at the edge of the town, and all the tents were magically protected. The other shepherds had been talking about wolves moving in the area, and one had commented on the rumor of a demon in the area.

              "Not for me, nope, not at all,” Simon muttered as he hurried away, "Only heroes are good for fighting monsters and demons. Leave the scraps for us needy people."

              As he neared the town, a low growl alerted him to his surroundings. Cold sweat began forming on his brows as he slowly turned to his right. A pair of red eyes gazed at him, and was quickly joined by a low growl. His mouth dry, Simon slowly turned his eyes toward the town. It was close, but not close enough to escape if it gave chase immediately.

              Thinking he was clever, he bent down and picked up a stick. He waved it at the eyes, "Doggy wants a stick?" Simon had never seen a wolf, but surely it was just like a dog; he had never, however, heard of a wolf with red eyes. After all, only monsters and demons had red eyes because of all the blood they ate from virgins and tiny babies. As he considered this, the stick was torn out of his hand and he was knocked into the air. He flew and landed farther down the path, gasping for air.

              Panicked, he struggled to his feet and hobbled as fast as he could toward the town.

              "HELP ME! HELP ME, PLEASE!" He cried out at the top of his voice. He saw guards turn toward him and he felt relief flood through him. He was going to make it; he was going to live!

              As if saying, "Nope," his leg was grabbed by sharp teeth and yanked back. He fell on his face with a cry as he screamed in pain. Needle sharp daggers cut through him and filled his mind with pain. The sudden rush jolted his mind, causing him to remember the stories his momma used to tell him; stories of demon wolves who stole through the night.

              "Worgs,” he whispered through the pain, "The demon wolves are here.” He saw guards running toward him, but the beast pulled him away screaming into the night.

              When the guards reached the spot, all that was left was blood filling small lines the size of fingers in the ground.

              The night had come to life.

***

              The night found Doc once again practicing his tentacle technique in the boss room. After days of hard work and practice, he had the focus and skill to control four tentacles at the same time. While on mana it may not have sounded too impressive, but considering the first boss fight that had involved no tentacles, Doc considered himself well on his way to tentacle supremacy.

              "Great job and all Doc," Claire commented from above him, "But don't get too difficult. Killing everyone who challenges you may be good in the short run, but I guarantee that if you draw in the A rankers this early you will mostly likely die. I mean that in the permanent definition."

              "I know Claire,” Doc agreed, "But, I still think it's important to improve my skills. I want to get big enough to have multiple floors with a boss on each one. Can I be really strong on the final floor in that case?"

              Claire giggled, "Of course, silly; feel free to go wild once you have floor bosses. Too bad you lack the variety for them as well as the space."

              "A dungeon can dream, right?"

              "Technically no, dungeons don't sleep and thus cannot dream, but I see your point.” Claire rolled her eyes at Doc's annoyance, "Come on big boy, don't get your tentacles in a twist."

              "That's a really dumb saying," Doc complained, "Twisting tentacles just fuses them together into a bigger tentacle. I can easily undo or redo them in any way I want."

              Claire didn't have a reasonable answer for that, but her need for satisfaction was quickly forgotten as the two picked up on a commotion outside the dungeon.

              "Sounds like the adventurers are in a mood doesn't it Claire?"

              She nodded, "Something has them riled up. Did you do something weird again?"

              "I'm telling you the song was unintentional, but the answer to your question is no. Let's go see what’s going on."

              The two moved up to the dungeon entrance and peeked out; Claire from her hole and Doc from himself. From what they could see, a rather large battle was taking place in the woods near the dungeon. Flashes of fire and magic occasionally lit up the sky, but the action was too far for Doc to see who was fighting.

              "Claire, can you tell what's going on?" He asked her.

              The pixie put her hands over her eyes and squinted as she gazed into the forest. "I see a lot of figures battling some kind of animal… make that animals,” she finally let out, "I think those are adventurers and guards fighting, but what they are fighting is beyond my sight in this darkness."

              They watched the lights as they lit up the night, and occasionally commented on a pretty burst or particularly loud battle cry.

              "Whatever they’re fighting, it sure is making a lot of fuss. I wonder what kind of monsters or beasts could manage this."

              "Well, I'm not familiar with the area, but we did sense those wolves the other day,” Claire commented as she thought back.

              "Would those wolf things really be so difficult to fight?" Doc asked curiously.

"Well," Claire began, "Wolves are known for their speed and pack efficiency. Unless they were dire wolves, I don't think any strong adventurer would have any trouble. Wolves have sharp teeth and claws, but very little defense for combat."

              As she talked, Doc picked up on something approaching the dungeon. Forgetting Claire, his awareness wandered to the farthest edge of his territory and focused on the approaching figure.

              A creature approached him, one he was not familiar with. It walked on four legs, and was covered by hair similar to what humans and elves had on their head. Its nose and mouth were longer than both races, and its ears were on top of its head instead of on the side. Doc also noted that it had bright red eyes; something he had never seen before.

              More importantly, he immediately picked up that the creature was in distress. It stumbled every few steps, and he could see wounds on its body. However, the creature did not deviate from its course toward his entrance, its eyes resolute and unwavering. It carried two furry things in its mouth, and he could pick up the faintest of whimpers from them.

              “Is that a wolf?” He wondered to himself, “It seems like it is hurt.” Feeling sorry for the creature, he sent a tendril of magic toward it in an effort to comfort it. Working with tentacles for so long had made forming things into tentacle forms natural for him. As the magic touched the wolf, it froze and jerkily moved its head up to look at where his mind was. Doc could see relief in the wolf's eyes.

              “How strange,” he thought, “I didn't think beasts could feel anything.” Yet, he could clearly see the emotions within the wolf's gaze, as its steps quickened toward the dungeon entrance.

              Doc moved back to Claire as she finished her long winded explanation on wolves. "Claire, we are about to have a visitor,” he announced.

              Startled, she turned to him questioningly. He gestured with his mind at the approaching wolf. Claire's eyes widened.

              "Doc, that's a worg!" She cried out.

              "What's a worg?"

              "A worg is a demon wolf. It is a type of wolf that evolved into a monster. It's very rare in these parts because the elves kill anything demonic as soon as they find it. Outside the demon country, anything with demon tendencies is hunted.” She shook her head, "We can't let it enter the dungeon."

              "Why not?" Doc asked stubbornly.

              "The church, remember? They are really opposed to demon things, and letting in that worg will just spell trouble for us."

              "She's injured and carrying little worgs. I'm going to help her.” Doc declared.

              Claire moaned, but knew it was pointless to protest further. As the dungeon itself, Doc had final say on anything dungeon related. They stopped talking and watched the worg pattered up to the entrance. It stopped right at the edge and sat down on its haunches. It dropped both fur balls and wheezed loudly as it bled.

              “Oh mighty dungeon, I beseech thee for thy mercy.” Doc and Claire heard a new voice in their mind.

              "In return for thy protection, I offer my life and that of my daughters to serve you for the rest of our days. I swear on my heart we mean no harm to you."

              "She's invoking dungeon magic.” Claire quickly explained, "Remember how I explained to you what natural born monsters and dungeon born monsters were? A natural born monster can offer their monster heart to a dungeon, which binds them forever. They will not die within the dungeon, but become servants forever to the dungeon lord."

              "So, I can make them monsters of my dungeon by accepting?"

              "Yes, but I don't believe she's offering that of herself,” Claire deduced as she eyed the worg's injuries, "She's dying, and so has offered her essence to you to increase your capacity. Her offspring, however, would become monsters for you to use."

              "Oh mighty dungeon, do you accept my plea?" The worg asked again.

              "I do.” Doc answered simply.

              The worg made a canine smile, and nudged its daughters into the dungeon. The fur-balls whined and licked their mother's injuries, but the worg pushed them away.

              "Hush yourselves children. Serve this dungeon well for your family, as we entrust all our hope with you. Fare thee well, my children.” With a last smile, the worg looked directly at Doc.

              "Thank you,” she said as she lay down and dissolved into a million small lights. The little worgs cried and pawed at where their mother disappeared, but she was gone.

              "Claire, hurry and take them to the boss room.” Doc ordered as he observed the forest, "I think those adventurers just finished their fighting.”

              The two of them tried to move the puppies, but the little ones were too overcome with grief and weakness to move. Doc noticed a few adventurer groups heading their way, so he forcefully took some slimes and had them carry the little ones away.

              He watched the adventurers walk up to the entrance, and listened to them argue about whether to give chase or not. Feeling a bit annoyed, Doc used a tiny bit of magic to form a skull in the likeness of the worg mother. He had the skull grow out of the entrance wall and felt a certain sadistic joy as the adventurers jumped at the skull's sudden appearance. They grew pale and fled the area to Doc's immediate relief. Sighing to himself, he returned to his room, curious as to what he was to do with his new charges.