Tiny Dungeon

Valterra was exploring his Dungeon. Specifically, his Fourth Floor which was the house’s original basement which he had then flooded. There were a number of areas he had walled off from the waters to protect the contents with most of those areas being his creator’s old laboratories and veritable libraries of notes. With time to spare from Dungeon creating until Krat’Imos implemented his request or for one of his various teams of creatures to secure a location of power, Valterra figured it was time to go through those rooms.

They were fascinating, especially the laboratories. There were gizmos and baubles made of clear material that his creator’s memories called glass. He made sure to analyze one and found that it would be difficult for him to make without extensive use of Aether. It was a good thing that he was a Dungeon Core then and had plenty of Aether to spare.

After spending a little bit of time playing around with glass, Valterra moved on to explore the copious amounts of notes lying around. Most of it was magical jargon that he had no hopes of deciphering although he did find an in-depth analysis of the rats in the basement and the experiments on them. Excited, the Core moved more of his Awareness to the room and began to go through the notes.

As he had expected the rats had been modified through both natural and magical means. Extensive testing had been done to ascertain how each experiment had improved either the rats' physique or intelligence with successes being tested further. In a strange turn of events, the notes on the rats were easy to read with none of the magical jargon present on the other notes. The physical experiments were easy to follow but tapered off rapidly. There was only so much the Archmage had been able to do without adding Aether.

Once he had though, the experiments rapidly grew more interesting. Some of the experiments had been rather explosive failures that made Valterra cringe despite himself. Most of the changes had come when the Archmage had begun feeding the rats food enhanced with Aether in gradually increased increments. Apparently, the ratios had been extremely important as a few had turned into monsters after consuming the food. He even found the tiny cores the rats had formed before being killed by Calamvor. They reminded him that he had his own collection of failed experiments sitting by his Core soaking up Aether.

One thing Valterra could say about his creator was that the man was meticulous. Every experiment was noted carefully and the information was extremely useful. If he hadn’t known better, the Core would say the information had been laid out exactly for a Dungeon Core to use. Some of these experiments he could replicate perhaps even better than the Archmage. The thought made him pause.

He didn’t know much about his creator despite the memories he had but each one tended to point to the opposite of what his uncles and aunts had claimed. The meticulous notes and the memories in his head didn’t point toward a man who would abuse his power or intellect. In fact, most of his memories said the man was kind and jolly if a bit serious when it came to his work.

He knew the memories he had gotten weren’t a very clear indication. There were too many gaps as they progressed, with little to none of his memories being of when Calamvor was old and in the prime of his power. He had none from when he had been created. This hadn’t bothered him before but as Valterra expanded his senses and looked at his Dungeon, the house, the basement, the yard, the places of power that his people were on their way toward, he had to wonder if it had all been planned.

He felt again at his boundaries and lost himself in the little details before he noticed it. A large presence at the very edge of his senses. It pawed at the edge of the clearing but to Valterra’s astonishment the space resisted its attempts and it moved off. Even as it did he could feel smaller presences dart through the barrier and rush into his territory. He pushed his senses to the limit and felt the barrier pulse in response. At the same time, he felt runes buzz in the ritual room, the room where he had been created.

He darted there his Awareness looming large. There was a small pedestal hidden away behind a false panel of the wall. With the room so full of Aether before he hadn’t noticed it but he noticed it now. It pulsed steadily as runes on its surface twinkled and glowed. There was more too. Hidden even deeper was a crystal etched with runes, one of which burned like a supernova to his sight. Even having never seen it before he knew who had written it.

Valterra had found that Divine Potential had a certain flavor depending on the divinity in question. Having been in the presence of all of his uncles and aunts he knew without a doubt that the one who had carved the rune had been Krat’Imos. Either that or it had used his potential. The realization set Valterra’s mind tingling. This was Calamvor’s secret sanctum. His creator had hidden what looked to be a control for the various runes of the house as well as this treasure here. Why would Krat’Imos have granted a rune to the person who had created him illegally?

Doubt flickered through his Core and he moved closer to the crystal. For all that he was the Dungeon itself, he found that he couldn’t sense the object at all. Every time he tried a rune would flash and its presence would dim in his mind. Intrigued in spite of himself he moved his Aether closer and found that the crystal flickered in response. Acting on a whim he went ahead and tried claiming the thing instead. He was not prepared for what came next.

The crystal dissolved and a torrent of Aether and golden Potential was sucked into his Core faster than he had ever experienced before. It burned in the most painfully pleasant way. By the rush, he knew that the Potential he had gotten wasn’t a small amount but it was what came with it that surprised him more. A presence. It was old but distinct. A voice, kind but distant echoed through his head.

“Testing, testing. Ahh, whatever I hope this works. Hello, little one. I’m sorry for not knowing your name but I don’t think I will be there to see you named. Krat’Imos thinks I’ll survive but I made this just in case. Consider it my last Will and Testament to you and perhaps to another if you would be so kind as to share it if you can. I believe you deserve an explanation for how and why you exist. I’m sure the gods haven’t told you much.

Most likely they have made me out to be the villain when in reality there is a much worse enemy out there than you can even imagine. Ahh, but I am getting ahead of propriety. I should introduce myself first. Hello. I am Calamvor, Archmage of the Third Authority and High Architect of Krat’Imos. I suppose you could say that I am your father.”

Valterra’s mind spun even as he struggled to comprehend what the presence in his head was saying. He could feel it there but it wasn’t quite real. Intangible and yet distinct. The voice, Calamvor he supposed, carried on despite Valterra’s confusion.

“I have encoded this crystal with my memories up till now, the day before your creation. At least it should be. Each memory is like the chapter in a book. Pick one and it should play out in front of you exactly like it happened.”

The presence began to fray around the edges and the voice became gradually more and more distorted. “I’ve gotta go and prepare to create you. If everything turns out like it should then I won’t need this Aether recording. But in case something goes wrong do me a favor will you.” The voice was serious as it continued.

“Get strong. I’ve prepared the land and the creatures for you, you will find the notes are contained in this crystal as well. The gods are preparing for something and you are a centerpiece of their plan. I refuse for my only offspring to be a sacrificial lamb. So I have prepared what I can so that you might be a lion instead. It's up to you to take it.”

Even more somberly Calamvor continued, his voice breaking a little. “If you ever have the chance to meet my granddaughter, Natalia, tell her that I love her and that I’m sorry I never got to complete my promise. She will know what I mean. Soon, so will you. My hope is that my ceiling will be your floor, son.”

“I hope it isn’t presumptuous of me to call you my son. You are what survives me. I trust you will make me proud.” With those final words, the presence distorted completely before fuzzing out and dissipating. Valterra was still for a long moment before checking his logs. He had received almost two thousand Potential, an astronomical amount. Even as he clicked out of the System he could feel a new weight upon his Spark that he hadn’t had before.

He instinctively knew that if he touched upon those weights that they would manifest into the memories his creator had mentioned. Their presence left him conflicted. He hadn’t much considered the why of his being created. He had been and that was enough for him. Playing in his Dungeon, surviving the invasion of the Fae, and cleaning up afterwards had all pushed any other considerations from his mind.

Now, though, he had the time and his creator’s words echoed through his head like ringing gongs. “The gods are preparing for something,” Valterra muttered, trying to piece together what his creator might have meant. In the end he gave up trying but he didn’t immediately open one of the memory chapters either. He needed to process all that he had been given and prepare himself mentally for whatever he might see. One thing was for sure though. He was going to have words with his uncles and aunts afterwards.