Expansion, p.1
Expansion, page 1
part #2 of Dungeon Robotics Series
Dungeon Robotics
Book 2 Expansion
Matthew Peed
Copyright © 2019 Matthew Peed
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First publishing, October 2019.
Matthew Peed
Dungeon-Bros Publishing
P.O. Box 481
Dover, TN, 37058
https://www.Patreon.com/DungeonRobotics
https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/21700/dungeon-robotics
About the Author
Matthew Peed is a single father who works hard to provide for his daughter and also for his loyal readers. He has read or devoured millions of pages of novels, web fiction, and any other media that he can get his hands on. He started this project in order to shape something with his own mind that he could leave for his daughter to read.
Chapter 1
Regan
Three days before the meeting at the guild master’s office, I was busy cleaning up a mess I had made. My little black hole wasn’t an actual black hole; it had just pulled everything into my dungeon through a tiny hole that I’d opened. I added some gravity to mimic the effects of crushing anything that was drawn through the gravity well. I had successfully killed everything I’d pulled through except the last necromancer. Amazingly he was still alive, if only barely.
Once we made it back to my dungeon, I let my body fade back to mana. It was the first time I realized I preferred being in my core mental form to having an actual body. It felt like a wet suit or chains that were keeping me contained.
I looked at the mana gain from all the people still in the dungeon. It was quite a bit, and I realized that I needed to get more people to this town. While my devices certainly helped and would always be reliable, mortals really seemed to be the more powerful of the options for the immediate gain. It even increased when the mortals cultivated mana inside the dungeon. I don’t know if the tier of my main core had anything to do with it, but I felt like I was gaining more from people than normal.
I felt a flow of mana from deeper in the dungeon and sighed. I really hadn’t expected the necromancer to survive the pseudo black hole that I had thought up. I moved down and saw a crushed body surrounded by debris. I wasn’t able to absorb it due to his aura, so I moved some automata into the room to clear the debris in order for me to get to the man.
I considered how I was going to control him. The easiest method would have been just to kill him. He deserved it in my opinion, but then I would lose out on some valuable information. Sigh . . . I really wished Reed would wake up already so I could see how the effects of the Mind-Control script were doing in regard to the state of his mind.
After a few minutes, the automata had cleared the rubble away, exposing the man. His entire body was crushed. Any ordinary mortal would have been dead already. Green sparks were flashing over him, and his head was encased in a globe of green mana. The sparks would hit a part of his body, and the place would repair, but it would be noticeably dead. Gray, mottled skin covered gnarled muscles and organs in the spots that had already been fixed by the magic.
It looked painful to me, but I couldn’t tell from his expression, given that it was a mess. There was torn skin for the upper part of his face, followed by a missing jaw. Where there should have been hair were only bloodied holes as if each hair had been pulled with tremendous force. Oh, wait, it was, I thought with a small chuckle.
I considered what to do while studying the magic at work. I wanted to know my enemies, so their magic was a good place to start, in my opinion. Their reasons could come second. I mean, what was a good reason for destroying life as these people knew it? Then it struck me: I had three perfect examples of their magic and runes in Puppet’s hands.
He was on his way to his training room. I had told him to keep watch on the people who were in the dungeon, but they’d mostly left by that time, as a few hours had passed and it was well into the day. I mentally sent for him to throw the collars on the ground so I could absorb them.
A moment later, with three clanking sounds the collars were tossed from his belt, and I absorbed them, making sure to keep my eye out for any harmful effects that might have been able to affect my dungeon. Knowledge flooded into me, quite in-depth knowledge at that. I finally had a semigrasp on the necromancer rune system.
The runes seemed to be sketchy. They were the same runes, according to my absorption, but they were written differently, much like English to Japanese. They spelled out the same thing but in different ways. I finally found a reference point in the origin point of the target. The rune for “person” was the same, if slightly altered, but I was able to figure the rest out from there.
It seemed that the necromancers borrowed some knowledge from the demons, if I understood the magic correctly. Unholy mana seemed to be a combination of dark and demonic. I wasn’t sure if that was only in the beginning, or if it was still like that because there were quite a few necromancers by that time, according to Louella and the marquis. It seemed to me that the mana had grown into its own branch, much like a mutation in genetics becoming a dominant gene if the people desired it.
I put that aside for when I had access to more information, which would hopefully be soon. Then I looked at the nearly dead necromancer. Now that I had a basic understanding of unholy mana and magic, I could see that he was trying to turn himself undead while maintaining his intelligence. A lich, I suppose. I couldn’t have that. I made a table to work on the collar nearby.
I pulled up the collar schematic in my mind, then looked through it to make sure that it had me designated as the master. I also made it out of mithril and light metal, as that would channel my mana better than the dark-blood-steel stuff it had been made of before. I understood from the knowledge I’d gained that to make the steel, they had to sacrifice a virgin. I didn’t feel like using that today. I reworked a few more sections with my own script and adapted the enchantment here and there. Mainly it appeared the collar was designed for dungeon core avatars, so there were whole sections that dealt with keeping us stuck in our physical bodies.
Once I was satisfied with the rework, and having looked over the schematics at least a dozen times, I decided it was ready. As I looked at the collar, I felt that the attempt I’d made with the leg was child’s play for the person who’d designed the collar. After I read the runes in the collar, I was worried that I may have put Reed into a coma. There were certain limitations in using the collar, but for my purposes it would work quite well.
I moved over to the man, who was still trying to fix his body. I probably took half an hour working on the collar, and he had only managed to fix his neck and part of his chest. He was actually rebuilding his body so that it functioned, for the most part, normally.
I remade my avatar and grabbed the collar from the table, then grabbed the top of his head to lift him off the ground. I wasn’t usually a mean person, but I really had little tolerance for my enemies. The man started, but it was literally a dying man’s last efforts. The golden metal with green circuit-like designs were roughly attached to the man’s neck. I was expecting it, but the man started to scream bloody murder when red sparks started bouncing off his body.
I think he realized what had happened a moment later, because right after that the sparks died down and he stopped screaming. It seemed the dungeon had designated him as one of mine now, and mana started to heal his wounds. I made sure to restrict the mana from helping further than healing his wounds, though. This left him with a half-lich, half-living body.
I contemplated tossing him to the ground but decided to set him down, as he really couldn’t fight me now. After a few minutes, he seemed to have healed enough to be responsive. He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. I watched to make sure that everything was working correctly.
He finished looking around, then directed his gaze at me. “Master . . .” he said with evident hatred in his voice. I saw his face twinge in pain for a moment.
“Welcome to Dungeon Automata, my humble abode,” I said in an annoying voice that I hoped equaled his hatred. “How about we start simple—what’s your name?”
There were another few sparks of red before he finally spoke. “Wrakras.”
“Good, good. Now I’m sure you’re not important, since you were sent to a place like this, but let us see if you know anything valuable,” I said as I rubbed my hands together. Considering that they were made from metal, it sounded like knives sliding against each other.
“Just kill me!” Wrakras said with annoyance.
“No, that would be too easy on you. What? You don’t want to be tortured, like, say, all those others you’ve no doubt tortured yourself?” I asked with mock surprise.
“Humph, I can’t say anything even if I wanted . . . to . . .” he started to say when surprise appeared on his face.
“Oh, you caught that, did you? That’s right, I know about the necromancer silence curse. Though, thanks to the collars you gave me, I was able to understand and remove it,” I said, nodding in sympathy.
“Free . . . I’m free!” Wrakras shouted all of a sudden, catching me by surprise.
“You ok there, man?” I asked, concerned.
“Ok?! Ok?! You try being unable to say certain things and sometimes not even being allowed to think them for nearly a decade! Helicilia is a bitch! Ha! It worked, damn it. I hated that wench from the bottom of my soul. I don’ t give a flying fuck if you are the leader, you should listen to me every now and then! Ahh, this is so liberating!” Wrakras gabbed on once he realized that the curse was gone. This continued for several minutes, him ranting and raving about people, places, events, and all sorts of things.
“Ah! Would you shut up for a minute!” I shouted over him talking basically to himself at this point. The collar kicked in and forced him to be quiet. I sighed in relief; I might have released something I shouldn’t have. I turned back to him. “Who is the leader of the necromancers? I think you said Helicilia?”
His eyes widened, but then he sighed and nodded. “Whoops.”
“Are you a necromancer by choice?” I asked in confusion, considering his ranting just now.
“Yes, nearly twenty years ago, people were getting close to the center circle, so they enacted the silence curse,” he answered, explaining, for some reason, why he had the curse.
“I see. Why?”
“Why, huh . . . I have forgotten after all this time. Power, of course. I was young and beaten down when a brother of the necromancer following reached out to me and asked if I wanted revenge. I said yes, and here we are today.”
“Hmm, well whatever. What is the necromancers’ next plan of action?” I said, letting it go.
“Don’t know. We operate with a severe lack of information when on assignment. The only ones who know the big goals are the council and Helicilia.” He seemed to be done, but the collar sent sparks across his body. “Ouch! Alright, alright. I do know that there were plans in the works to destroy one of the capital cities,” he explained further.
“Which one?!” I demanded, worried about the implications this could have on the dynamics of this continent, which was already a balancing act.
“That, unfortunately, I don’t know. I was never going to be part of it, as I was too low tier,” he answered with a shrug.
“Low tier? You’re almost high-tier two,” I said, surprised.
“Yes, and the ones going will mostly be beginner tier three with a few mids mixed in,” he said as he nodded.
I thought of the automata I had at my call. It looked like it was time for an upgrade into some real high tech. I needed to be prepared for the worst that should happen if the necromancers decided I was a real threat. If you considered the fact that the valley wasn’t captured by the necromancer party that had attacked, they would know that they’d failed and would most likely send another attempt—and this one would be stronger.
“How long?” I asked Wrakras, in case he knew.
“Hard to say, but around six months give or take a month.”
“Ok, next question. How did you have enough collars for all of us? We had only come out of the dungeon a few days ago.”
“We have a few mages who are making them day and night, so each necromancer carries around three or four. They can be used on most entities, according to the higher-ups.”
“Hmm, is that how you have Alara?”
“How do you know that?! No . . . never mind, you’re the closest dungeon to her now, so you must have ‘talked’ to her.” He paused for a few seconds. “So that’s why they sent us to this brand new dungeon,” he muttered in a low voice.
I cringed at the memory of her trying to talk to me and the collar activating. “Get some rest and finish fixing your body. I have a lot of work you’re going to be doing . . . willingly or not,” I said after the memory faded.
“As my lord commands,” Wrakras said with a mocking tone, earning himself a few golden sparks.
I chuckled and turned to leave. Time to get to work.
Necromancer Council Meeting
In a room, five people sat around a large table. Their faces were cloaked in darkness, except one person’s, a beautiful woman with pale skin and blazing green eyes—as in actual flames outlining the eye like some type of demonic mascara. She was tall and slender, with a body that many men would kill to make theirs. She seemed to pull the little light that was in the room to her. Many would say she had yet to pass twenty winters.
A man who was obviously elderly looked at the woman. He seemed to be contemplating what to say. It was hard to believe that such an old person would be afraid of the young person in front of him. After a long moment, he seemed to decide on what to say.
“We . . . lost the group in Central Valley,” the man said, a drop of sweat falling into the light.
“Why?” the woman said with an almost honey-like voice.
The man gulped and answered, “We . . . we don’t know yet. All the operatives have gone silent.”
“Find out,” the woman said quietly.
“Yes, ma’am!” the man said, bowing.
The woman looked over to another figure at the table. This one had a complete set of plate armor on, covering every centimeter. It was pitch-black with jagged spikes on what seemed every couple of centimeters or so. The figure returned her gaze without flinching, unlike the elderly man.
“How goes the other offering?”
“No problems as of yet. The individual will succumb on schedule,” the figure answered in a gruff voice that sounded like it had been through quite a lot over the years.
“If we can manage this offering, we will be able to effect a great change on this status quo that has been going on for far too long,” the woman explained, as if talking to children.
“Have no fear. I will not fail, unlike others,” the armored figure said while sending a glance to the elderly man.
The old man growled in dissatisfaction but held his tongue.
“I accept nothing less. Now, return! I don’t want to see any of you until the next ritual,” the woman said, waving her hand.
“Yes, Master Helicilia!” the figures said in unison and started to break into motes of shadow that seemed to melt into the background.
Helicilia got up from her seat and made her way out of the room. In a hallway that seemed to go on forever with innumerable doors lining it, she walked for several minutes. With each step she took, it seemed that she had moved dozens if not hundreds of meters. Finally, she stopped in front of a door that had black chains lining it.
Helicilia whispered an incantation, and the lock holding the chains floated in the air as if waiting for her to pass. She stepped forward and walked through the chains and door altogether. Inside the door was a massive room that would remind people of a cathedral. It had the pews and altar, only instead of the white that most gods used to represent themselves, this altar was utterly black. The darkness was moving as if alive, seeming to reach out to anything living that might come near it.
Helicilia moved toward the altar, passing the pews as she made her way. In the pews, as if there to witness a sermon, were thousands of black orbs. Each orb had a flickering flame inside, with some being bigger than others. The closer to the front of the cathedral she got the more prominent the flame inside each orb got.
After almost five minutes of walking, she arrived in front of the altar just out of reach of the living darkness. The darkness pulled back, revealing a figure that was consumed by the living shadow. There kneeled a woman with pitch-black wings that would be nearly twenty meters long if she stretched them out. A black halo sat on black hair that went to her waist. The halo was pierced by two horns that went several centimeters out. Cracks seemed to war between the halo and the horns. She was kneeling in front of the altar as if in prayer.
This was a flügel, an angel that has left the celestial realm to live as a mortal. She was the previous necromancer council’s greatest achievement . . . and they used her as an ornament. She watched the soul flames of the followers. Still, she was stuck permanently at pseudo tier three, which some people were never able to get to.
“Morka Nalenezo, the party that went to Central Valley, did any survive?”
Morka opened her eyes. Green flames similar to Helicilia’s own lined them. She stood up, reaching nearly two and a half meters and towering over even Helicilia. She turned to glance at the pews for only a second. “Two remain,” she answered in a whisper that might have given normal people nightmares.
“Who?” Helicilia demanded.
“Wrakras and Julie,” Morka replied.
