Dragonheart Core

I dove into the schemas like I had starved for a millennia.

Seros took careful guard at the entrance of the room, because I certainly wouldn't be focusing on anything else for a good while; I tore through skin and fur and root and leaf, devouring all the juicy knowledge. Gods. These schemas.

I savored every one.

Scorch Hound (Rare)

One of a large family of elemental hounds, it hunts in massive packs, chasing prey many times their size without fear. They target their burning bites at their prey's weak points, slowing them down for an easy kill.

The first and most beautiful, my mind already spinning with thoughts of swarming packs of canines ready to feast. Nowhere on my current floors to put them, although they could do well on the fifth's dry environment; it seemed like I'd be moving my plans for a storm-choked environment even further back.

Mottled Scorpion (Uncommon)

Hiding under rubble or leaf, it waits with an all-encompassing patience for victims to fall prey to its barbed tail. In times of hunger, it leaves its disguise and hunts as a scavenger, feasting on the dead.

What my spiders dreamed they could be; this thing's size was already beautiful, and I very much liked the sound of its venom. Although an all-encompassing patience for prey and a willingness to go and scavenge seemed like contradictions. Maybe there were two subspecies?

Its roots pull in many times more water than it needs; the excess is released through its bark as mist, preventing the sun from reaching other trees that would wish to encroach on its space.

Oh! This might have been a fool's hope, but they sounded different from the towering palms that so often dotted the shore; if this plant had to have a strategy to stop other trees from blocking its sunlight, maybe it wouldn't be the absolutely massive height that would be a hard stopper on my ability to put them in my dungeon?

Fire-Tongue Flower (Uncommon)

From birth, each flower catches on fire to dissuade hungry creatures; as they burn, the smoke carries away their seeds.

Another beautiful fire schema; my desire for a volcano themed sixth floor grew with every passing second. And I could hope that while the flowers burned slowly, they might be hot enough to do some real damage to those that wanted to collect their fragile petals.

Creeping Vine (Uncommon)

This mobile plant crawls to wherever there is water, planting itself until the water dries up, wherein it seeks new territory.

Now that was interesting—I'd thought, when I'd first seen it slithering over the floor when dumped from Nicau's bag, that this wouldn't be unique when compared to my beautiful thornwhip algae. But it seemed that these were two different styles of mobility; one that moved for attacking, and one that could move, but didn't necessarily have to. Hm.

Moonstar Flower (Exotic)

Pale and delicate, it is said they carry the wishes of a god. Those that ingest them find their future paths smoothed with good fortune.

Oh. Oh.

Now that was a true find.

Already an exotic plant, which I presumed didn't mean it was a revitalized fossil like my other two exotic schemas, and a description that actively mentioned the gods. Always a good start.

And luck-attuned mana! Or some bastardization of it; would there be anything stopping me from just force feeding all my creatures with it?

Truly magnificent.

I settled back on intangible haunches, just absorbing all the information I'd consumed. That was more schemas than I'd ever taken in before, and all were wildly different and carrying their own brand of power. I was nearly drunk on the potential. My thoughts kept racing far ahead of my mind.

Where could I put the cloudsire palm? Nothing other than my Skylands were tall enough, even if they were the shorter variant of palms; and how would they play with cloudskipper wisps? Collabtive? Combative? What if I could grow the palms in some form of toxin, making the mist they exuded poisonous?

And the mottled scorpion; something perfect to hide in plain sight, keeping their eyes fixed up while something scuttled beneath. But with their size, even if they were discovered, it wouldn't be an immediate death like it was for so many of my other ambush predators. If the jeweled jumper was found before he could get away, he was dead. I had a sneaking hope the scorpion wouldn't be the same way.

The creeping vine, too; how did it compare to the thornwhip algae, even if their mobility was different? Would it be something where it would be worth having both on the same floor, or did they fulfill entirely separate purposes that clashed with each other? What about its desire for water; could I control that? Give it water when I wanted it to stay still, then remove it when I wanted it to move?

And flowers! Gods, the sea-drake in me was desperate for coral, the brilliant colours and textures and patterns; flowers would have to do for now. Any splash of colour in these halls were more than welcome, even if it looked like my schemas favoured the garish red over any more subtle blues and greens. I'd have to experiment with how the smoke-seeds worked; if I gathered enough of them, would there be enough to choke out invaders? Maybe force them to retreat?

Scorch hounds sounded like the perfect opposite to my kobolds—working in a pack, but strong and powerful where kobolds were weak and diminutive. But if I could get them to maybe work together, using the kobold's intelligence—if it could be called that—alongside the scorch hound's strength, they could dominate any number of invaders. Probably threaten my larger creatures as well.

A truly exciting thought. All of this was exciting. I couldn't wait to see just how these new schemas worked with my current ones, flowering and improving and strengthening my halls–

Seros crooned a touch worriedly in my direction.

I shook myself, swiveling a point of awareness back in his direction. He stood guard in the room, though I'd consumed all there was to guard, and bobbed his head when he'd noticed he'd gotten my attention. At my mana which was currently coursing through the room like a hatchling caught in a current.

Ah. I should probably reign myself in a touch.

Thank you, I impressed on him, and promptly darted down to my core room for some experimentation.

Because as much as all the other schemas called to me, there was one even louder than the rest.

The moonstar flower.

The schema's description tried to play coy, with it was said they carry the wishes of a deity, but I was pretty sure that was as much of a waving flag that the gods could do without stepping on another god's toes. The great pissing contest of the sky and all that. Even without the good fortune, there was something special about these flowers, and I was rather determined to figure out what.

I was also rather determined to keep them long enough to study, so I would be growing the first batch directly in my core room. I darted around, avoiding the little hoard of silver and jewels I'd been building up, and churned a patch of limestone into soil, dumping detritus on top. A few quartz-lights on the wall and it seemed like we were all set, according to the information I'd gotten from the schema. It was a picky plant, yes, but more for the amount of ambient mana that had to be present for it to grow; something I could provide in spades. I glanced back at my core.

Dragonheart Core

Mana: 72.6 / 75

Mana Regeneration: +0.6 per hour

Patrons: Rhoborh, God of Symbiosis; Mayalle, Goddess of Whirlpools

Titles: Resurrector

Just under full mana, with what I'd used to heal Nicau. Plenty to experiment. That was seventy-two beautiful points just begging to become new creatures.

So I reached out, tugged a few points from my core, and set about creating the newest of my new collection. Half a dozen flew immediately into shaping the bare outline without breaking a sweat.

Hm.

The mana continued to pour from my soul.

I was getting slightly uncomfortable with the amount I was losing.

Then, finally, it finished coalescing into a small, delicate bloom, warm white with five petals and a silver center. Pollen, soft and infinitesimally small, started to gather, pale green leaves unfurled from a thin stem. The ideal of a plant easy to crush under one's heel.

With the notable exception of the fact it took forty-fucking-two points of mana to create.

That was more than it had taken to resurrect the sarco. Gods.

Yeah, this was an evolved schema. Probably twice evolved, if not more—even with something influencing luck, there was no reason it should have taken this much to create.

Well, I'd found the reason I couldn't just forcefeed it to all of my creatures.

Thankfully, my core room was as close to safe as you could get in my dungeon; Seros spent all of his resting time here and a good deal else, and there weren't many creatures intelligent enough to want these flowers on the floor. Maybe the greater pigeon, as an evolved beast?

It was still a pigeon. I wouldn't hedge my bets.

But I would be leaving it to grow here, undisturbed by the outer world; once I had enough of a population, I might transplant it to other locations, but I would be avoiding having to recreate it if at all possible. That was far too much of a mana cost to validate making it.

Gods. Forty-two. I'd carved out the entirety of the original Fungal Gardens for that much.

I gave one last glare to the little bloom like that would make it easier to make before darting back outside my core room. The best way to soothe my concerns over the moonstar would be to spend more mana.

The fifth floor would be my first focus; I could see three schemas working well here, maybe four. The Skylands were sparse at best, with everything but a few insects being flying critters. It made sense, because my islands weren't exactly brimming with space to fill, but it did lend to a very empty feeling. I wanted more.

And that was the problem; I had two options. I could either push forward with my original plan for the Skylands, filling them with cloudskipper wisps and lightning and now the cloudsire palms, pumping it full of humidity and filling in the area beneath with some sort of dangerous water feature. That was still my end goal, I knew; it paired too beautiful with the open air and the towering islands.

Or I could use the other schemas.

The scorch hounds and fire-tongue flowers were lovely and appealed deeply to my love of the elements, even if the rather brutish and primitive fire. I wanted that danger.

It would be my sixth floor, I knew. So I would just have to wait a little longer until I felt comfortable digging down; my first floor wasn't complete yet, the fourth and fifth were so barely populated, and I'd made the mistake before of making too many floors without a stable plan for them all.

Alright.

I'd keep the fifth floor dry for the moment, using it as a… storage place for all my more fire-inclined schemas, and wait until the first and fourth were done to an acceptable level before tunneling down for my sixth. Fine. That was a decent enough plan.

It still killed me to stuff the cloudsire palm schema away for later use.

I covered that frustration by immediately creating three scorch hounds.

They flowed quickly from my core, a little under nine points apiece—still expensive, definitely another evolved monster, though it felt near free after the torment of the moonstar flower. I drained myself near empty as three figures swam into glorious view, situated on the center, largest island.

Maybe four feet tall, covered in deep auburn fur with black patches around their paws and muzzles, as well as a streak down their back. Twisting obsidian horns curled around their perked ears, tail thin and lashing, claws wonderfully sharp and digging into the stone. Already I could see the heat escaping from between their fangs, the twin embers that made up their eyes—not an elemental, but a beautiful attuned creature. I loved them already.

They blinked as they came into existence, sniffing curiously at the air and each other; some pack instinct took over and they immediately accepted they were bonded and a pack, moving as one as they bounded forward. They crossed one island with ease, padding over the thin bridge, exploring around their new home. Already I caught them watching the prey above, flitting around without a care; although I'd need to bring more rat and toad populations down here to feed them. Tricky thing about a temporary floor.

I really should have just waited to create them, but there wasn't a chance I was going to sit on every schema I'd just collected until the time was right. I was far too impatient for that.

My impatience did strike again as I had to wait a few hours just watching them before moving onto the next schema.

The fire-tongue flowers. Their schema said this habitat was already fine for them, although admittedly with dirt instead of stone, and I bounced around softening up the limestone and added general topsoil things around; one appreciated upside of being a dungeon. If something wasn't right, I could simply make it right. Very easy.

I let them bloom.

They came out as low-growing shrubs covered in charcoal-green leaves; or, not low-growing, but merely attaching to whatever I grew them on. With only a little coaxing, it rooted into some loosened stone up the side of the enormous cavern, winding around the rust-red iron veins I'd pulled from the wall. Huh.

Again, I reminded myself, not permanent. Keep it basic.

I promptly created more spreading up the wall, plumping them up with mana so their flowers would sprout fast; they did so, great fire-black blooms with the air wavering in front of their blooms. Almost immediately, their centers start to burn, creeping ever outward as smoke trickled to the sky above. Peering closer, I could see that there was pollen at the center of the flower, and the smoke seemingly… solidified them into seeds? Or was the other binding element alongside pollen?

Fascinating.

Unfortunately, by that time I was truly out of mana, enough I could feel a few of my older points of awareness popping into nonexistence on the higher floors. I wanted to continue—I knew the mottled scorpions would also do well on this floor, in both the current dry state and the eventual stormy peaks, and I wanted them to have time to settle in—but I needed to wait. Previous invasions had shown me how bad it was to be empty when invaders came knocking.

And besides. I had one more floor to work on.

With these schemas and a last few tweaks, it was finally time to complete the Fungal Gardens.

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