Dragonheart Core - Chapter 42: A Tyrant's Rise

Chapter 42: A Tyrant’s Rise

The fourth floor, while certainly not bustling, was starting to pleasantly trot its way towards filling.

The horned serpent, of course, had started to stake out her territory; she’d spent her first few days just exploring the endless tunnels, psionic magic at the ready and her crystalline antlers glowing to light her path, but now she had found her way to the final room of the labyrinth and decided she liked it, with its faux stone trees and emerald walls. She claimed it as her den and went into the tunnels to hunt—though she did, of course, not quite complain about beasts invading her territory when Seros stayed by my core.

She was too smart for that.

Seros split his time evenly between the fourth floor and the Underlake, swimming about and hunting at his pleasure; now that the armourback sturgeon population was more stable and I could recreate them should the need arise, he had initially enjoyed working his fangs past their bulky armour, hunting them whenever he felt both the call of hunger and the urge to sharpen his skills. But now the roughwater sharks presented an equally interesting opportunity; while the sturgeons were just starting to learn to fight back instead of living out their passive lives, the sharks were only too happy to fight, and some had even attempted hunting Seros as he passed through their waters. A glorious challenge. He rarely came back to the fourth floor hungry.

Rihsu also learned the darkness of the tunnels. Her eyes had sharpened in the gloom and she could find her way around with careful flicks of her forked tongue and the sheen that flashed over her eyes whenever a glowing spore passed in front of them. Still clumsy and fumbling, but she was a normal kobold no longer—she had a warrior’s spirit and heart, and even her stumbles looked predatory.

Not that she had much to hunt, unfortunately.

I’d sent out the great mana-filled call to my other floors but as it turned, the fourth floor wasn’t great for hunting; the only dens available for smaller creatures were the oases formed whenever two tunnels connected, small pockets with fresh water and a bit of breathing space away from all the grasping walls. For stone-backed toads who lived their life in constant fear of something grabbing at them from the shadows, it wasn’t a fantastic deal.

Luminous constrictors had made their way down, though. Their flash attack had never been more effective than in these dark, dreary halls, and it made hunting them even a challenge for Rihsu or the horned serpent. Their scales protected them from the worst of the thornwhip’s attacks and so they could slither free through the darkness, ever hunting.

And their prey were the rats.

Most still stayed on the first and second floor, the little ratty empire oh-so very proud of their burgeoning tenant system, but others more filled with mana and hungry for more had made their way down, clutching whatever jewels they could find. The original and strongest, the one who’d been debating which jewel to bring to her new depths, had done a rather fantastic job at coordinating and taken a large slab of jade, almost too big for her clever, grasping hands. It had come from the patches of jadestone moss I had scattered around the Drowned Forest and now nature-attuned mana filled its gemstone heart, wisps drifting out to the rat’s own channels.

She really couldn’t have chosen a more useful jewel, and I imagined her hoard would grow full of more pieces of jade.

And her evolution was so, so close. Triple her normal size, able to rise and walk around on her back legs, clever and quick enough to gather jewels and make the journey down to the bottom floor. Soon. I couldn’t wait.

Unfortunately, just staring at her with enough points of awareness to frighten off an eyebeast wouldn’t make that evolution come any quicker, and I moved on.

Back to the fourth floor.

See, the problem that only rats had come down was weighing on me. They would be a fine food and a plentiful annoyance, but that wouldn’t be enough. The thornwhip algae didn’t need much sustenance but it certainly would prevent others on the floor from getting it, and after a while the saturation of my mana wouldn’t be enough to keep the prey populations from coming down here. Rihsu and the horned serpent could train here, popping up to the upper floors for feed when need be, but I needed beings that could stay on their floor without need of smaller creatures to hunt and still be a threat to invaders.

I pursed intangible lips and pondered, drifting through my tree root tunnels; not nearly enough safe spaces for the kobolds to take up shop here, and they’d lose their access to the mangrove trees for their wooden tools. Perhaps the cave bears, but they were slow and lumbering, and invaders would only have to avoid tripping on the razorleaf lichen to avoid them. There were small pockets where perhaps the bat could hide in, and it did only need bugs to survive off, but one glancing blow from a thornwhip’s grasping arm would stop its flight before it could even begin.

…only needed bugs.

I flew back up to my first floor.

Hundreds of species of bugs lived there, drawn from the cave by the richness of my mana and the ever-present rolling waves of mushrooms and algae. They feasted until they grew fat and bloated, laying down the new generation, and then were promptly snapped up by a hungry stone-backed toad, were caught by a cave spider’s hidden trap, or fell victim to a lacecap’s bile-covered web. Numerous unpleasant ways to die, really.

I collected every schema when they died, of course, and when all added up their hundreds of deaths did give me a fraction of a point every day; but it was only partially that I did not care for nor see the point of bugs that I had ignored them. What pointed bite could a mosquito offer against the beloved thorns of my mangroves? What deadly fear could a moth with two faux eyes on the backs of its wings inspire against the rumbling power of my cave bears? What cursed distraction could a cricket muster against the shrill shrieks of my baterwaul?

So I had been rather content to merely keep their populations up to feed my creatures and let them be. They didn’t have anything like the ironback toad, nothing to protect them on their endless quest to gather enough mana to evolve. There had never been a chance.

But perhaps I could manifest one.

Bugs were small, fragile, but ultimately wanting of little; they fed off smaller bugs or plant matter, both of which I could create in endless numbers even if the fourth floor killed them. And bugs could potentially be that extra last distraction, just enough to get an invader off their guard so that they would get lost, would be taken by the thornwhips, or would not notice the hungry attention of my few larger beasts.

This would be a wanderer’s floor, filled with those gathering mana and strength for plunges to deeper floors, but not their den. There merely weren’t enough opportunities for food and rest for creatures to make their permanent lives here. I knew Rihsu would wander the halls, hungry for a challenge, and the horned serpent would build her powers and abilities here, and perhaps I could finally find a creature to live fully in the stone forest of my final cavern, living there and stalking outside as a fast and invisible foe; but not now.

If this worked, the main combatants would be the thornwhip algae and these potential bugs.

I reached out with grasping tendrils of mana to the stone shelf I’d originally built all those weeks ago when I’d hoped that I would find a vegetarian schema willing to fight for the best food; I scattered mushroom and algae alike and carved a shallow divot into the limestone, perfectly round and smooth with a small island in the middle. A twist of mana brought a protective stone shelf overtop, to keep the curious paws of the cave bears away, and then I turned back to the island. Concentration bubbled at my core.

I pried open my connection to the Otherworld, reached deep, and pulled out a single drop of raw, condensed mana.

It glowed like a miniature sun, spinning and sparkling and burning with light; I very carefully carved a smaller divot into the island for it to sit upon, letting it splash into the shallow depths. Barely more than a thimbleful, but near five points of mana sat in that tiny hole. Plenty for some bugs to evolve.

I called to the creatures on the floor.

The largest would have no way past the rock shelf, and they both respected and feared me enough not to break it. But the bugs, the scuttling little monstrosities who could fit past the gap in limestone, would be able to go further. To see the mana I had so generously placed out for their potential consumption.

Where they would, hopefully, encounter other bugs with similar thoughts. Then, if they could rub two braincells together to create a thought in their insipid little minds, they would realize that there wasn’t enough mana for all of them.

A gladiatorial ring.

The winners would evolve, or at least be strengthened by the mana, and I would gain some new beasts for my fourth floor. A win for all parties involved, really.

Well. Except those that died. But I couldn’t please everyone.

–

She raised her antlered head, peering at the darkness around; this new world with its moving walls and empty halls called to her, filling her with power anew and boundless possibilities. Her eyes had always been underdeveloped but she had no need of them here, not when her powers reached wide and far and showed her where all her prey and competitors were, little glowing lights in a world only she could see.

Her horns glowed stronger.

She was nearing full.

It wasn’t like her previous fullness, where the death of a few furred things had been enough to bring her near bursting, to fall asleep and wake up changed. Now a kill would bring her but a fraction of what she needed and then she would use that power on her hunts, her intangible goal stretching farther and farther away. No one else had been born again twice, shedding their weak previous selves for new elegance and power.

But she was close. Endless hunts and rests and always delving deeper to the richer, more plentiful power, and she was nearing her limit once more.

But who would she be then?

Her previous rebirth had taken her from a lowly beast hunting even lowlier vermin in the shadows to a predator, crowned and deadly, calling prey to her as they obeyed like helpless fools. But was that enough? Was that who she wanted to be?

She hissed, white light rippling out of her horns and splashing over the walls. The green-growth shriveled away from its touch.

Using her powers that could touch minds and sense thoughts to merely hunt was a waste. She was a predator, still armed with fangs and size; using her call was just making things easier for her. She didn’t need things easy.

This place was rich with power and hungry for authority. It didn’t need another brutish beast, content to skulk in the shadows and use boundless powers for little more than her previous form’s blinding light. It needed a leader.

And, well. She had never been one to reject the call.