Dragonheart Core

Even with all of the wonderful, lovely, darling, beautiful evolutions I'd already done, there were still three more messages crawling across my core.

Don't misunderstand it, I was still not particularly pleased at the mass-scale invasion, and I raged and cursed and hated all that they had taken from me; but, well. These evolutions were very, very appreciated.

Not even appreciated, earned. I'd earned these fucking evolutions, and it was well within my right to claim them.

So claim them I shall.

The vampiric mangrove disappeared under a scarlet glow, the last of the blood from the dryadic corpses dissolving into motes of light that swirled around its trunk as it settled in for a long change—I'd, um. Hm.

It was a tree. How was I supposed to move it down a floor once it finished evolving? I couldn't just keep it in the Drowned Forest—Rhoborh wouldn't accept the new changes and for all that I'd been a sea-drake, I had a moderate understanding of how dryads worked. They needed to protect their Ancestral Tree, and leaving said vulnerable tree in the front entrance of my second floor felt like, to put it lightly, a terrible idea.

But. Ah.

Again, it was a tree. I couldn't very well open up a path down a floor and wait for it to merrily trot its way down.

A question for a later me.

I drifted away from its evolution, sending a few calming tendrils of mana throughout the room to keep creatures from latching onto its current defenseless state, and called Seros back to me; he straightened, sea-green scales still crackling with excess mana, lightning forking around his frills and ivory fangs. His will was indomitable, but creatures were meant to evolve; he could only hold this back for so long before the urge to sleep took over the hunger and the hunt.

To my hoard room, I urged, carving the quickest path out in his mind; he rumbled his agreement and slipped back into the canals, letting the current tug him along as he swam on. A few creatures, particularly those slighted by not having received an evolution, poked their heads out of their dens as if they planned to attack.

The mana burning off Seros' scales quickly convinced them that no, they did not in fact want to fight him.

Smart choice.

As Seros made his way down to my fifth floor, I had one more task to complete before I read his message, and I flew to the Jungle Labyrinth with a glee that bordered on hysteria. It had been a long, long time since the first cave bear had graced my halls with its presence, and since a crushing force had fallen from the ceiling and wrapped it up tight enough to cut off blood flow and let the cave spider's venom and Seros' mighty claws finish off the rest. Her evolution had been one of my first, and look how far she'd already come with it.

So now it was time for another.

The horned serpent was ready to evolve.

She hadn't taken quite the same level of care as Chieftess, merely a few glances over her serpentine horde before she'd slithered back to the den herself, dragging the unconscious body of the naga-ancestry human, Kriya. But I'd expected that of her. She ruled her horde with tyrannical precision, and those that fell behind were left behind; she had no time nor care for those that couldn't keep up with her.

It was an interesting discussion. Were the kobolds made weaker by Chieftess' kindness, or were the snakes made too few by the horned serpent's apathetic cruelty?

I certainly tended to lean towards draconic strength, but I had also seen how well the kobolds worked together and how one could rise above, such as with Chieftess, where in the horned serpent's army, the only way a snake could prove itself was by evolution. Whereas there were healing kobolds, hunting kobolds, defending kobolds already, even if they all shared the same species. On the fourth floor, a snake proved themself by either bringing back enough food for the horned serpent or becoming food themselves, but by sticking with her, eventually they garnered enough mana to evolve, which was more than many of the kobolds above could say, and they'd been a group for much longer than the horned serpent's horde.

Fascinating, really. That was why I had such a diverse dungeon; if I only had one or the other, I would never have seen this perspective.

But for now, the horned serpent slithered back to her den, snakes clearing the way before her in a rippling wave; very understandable, considering her grey-black scales were glowing like a second sun with excess mana. She bowed her antlered head to get through the opening, underbelly scrapping on harsh limestone before she reached the gentle moss I'd spread over her den. She peered into the mound I'd carved in the back, piled high with slumped bodies of other evolving serpents, and made a distinctly pleased hiss; greater soldiers for her sprawling army. I was, in particular, looking forward to seeing her reaction to the newest horned serpent.

Absolutely no doubt in my mind she'd beat the young thing into the ground first, to make very, very clear that this would not be a rivalry situation, but then hopefully she would train her little follower into reaching the same heights that she had.

The heights that were only ever climbing as she finally, finally, curled up atop a bed of granite I warmed as best I could with a faux sun of quartz-light and settled down for her evolution.

I read her message with a glee that can truly not be overstated.

Your creature, a Horned Serpent, is undergoing evolution!

Please select your desired path.

Psionic Serpent (Rare): Its body is covered in crystalline horns, extending from the point of its nose to the tip of its tail; harnessing raw mental force, it has no need for simplistic movement, carrying itself by power of mind alone.

Naga (Rare): From the foes it kills and claims, it takes; shedding its animalistic form, it hunts with both claws and tail, speaking hissed lies to those greater and ripping out throats of those weaker.

Empress Serpent (Rare): For all its followers are blindly loyal, it demands more; slipping from mind to mind, it controls its rising horde to do its bidding, allowing only perfection from those that swear fealty.

Fucking fantastic.

Everything immediately jumped out to me—unlike with the cave bears, whose evolution of lesser bugbear had been a, well, lesser variation on a sapient race, her potential went immediately into a pureblooded naga. Seemingly abandoning her psychic power, but exchanging it for speaking, which paired very well with the honeyed lies that nagas were known for. And considering I had already made a trend of entreating invaders further into my halls with promises of treasure and power and respect, having a naga spokesperson who also came equipped with jagged claws was a lovely little deal indeed.

But if I didn't want to leave behind the psychic powers that made up so much of herself, there came the psionic serpent—abandoning mere mortal styles of movement and flying through the halls, twisting and undulating in the air like some avenging thundercloud, presumably also a power that could be used to rip her enemies to shreds as she soared overhead. And while her horns were already very attractive, I couldn't help but picture them spreading down her back like a waterfall of crystals, glimmering over her scales with a glow that rivaled the sun.

And then the empress serpent.

It was—well, it was her. Tyrannical, vicious, hungry for more than what simple prey or followers could provide. Her previous abilities had merely been a mana-light, something to trick invaders into walking to her fangs with open arms; it had been her that transformed it into a summons, calling snakes of all types and sizes to serve her. She had been the one to take herself from an ambush predator to a ruler, a monarch, a queen.

An empress, some might say.

And when faced with that, there was really no option at all.

It was curious, though, how it was simply called a serpent. My other snakes were constrictors, or cobras, or kraits; but the two options here that weren't naga were merely plain serpents. Was there something important in that? An archetypal serpentine being, above previous species, or perhaps the rising steps toward some greater height?

Creatures could only evolve five times, I knew, until they could no longer condense their mana any further into a new shape. There were hardly any hard and fast rules on the matter, always filled with exceptions, but I knew that the general ideal was that each evolution narrowed in their focus more and more. Why something like my little silverhead had gone from a simple-minded schooler to a vicious schooler to the vicious leader of a school, as with the royal silvertooth. Each step of their journey only carried them further and further towards that mythical fifth evolution, where they would reach the stars that had been promised to them.

Very few creatures ever got that far, my instincts told me. For all that creatures were born the same as their parents, getting to skip as many steps as they had and start off powerful, that still didn't make it easy. Natural evolutions were rare, limited by the lack of pure mana needed to power such a change, and dungeons were even more rare; considering the danger that lived and breathed inside dungeons, creatures didn't get a chance to reach that impossible height. Even dragons, as loathe as I was to admit it, were only fourth evolutions. There was still somewhere higher to be.

But I wanted my creatures to reach that peak.

The horned serpent was narrowing in her focus, staying as merely serpent for the time being. I couldn't wait to see what she became next.

I selected empress serpent.

She hissed, curling up as waves of light radiated through her antlers, spilling over the den as her serpentine followers watched in awe. As they damn well better. Once she finished evolving—which I had the terrible feeling was going to take forever—she was going to be a god compared to their pitiful little minds and forms. I would need to speed up my plans for further floors, giving her more space to roam and control and conquer; she deserved the world already, and hells if I wasn't going to give it to her.

I watched her evolution settle over her, mana curling with a strange paternal pride.

But I couldn't just wait around as her body slowly rebuilt itself; because a floor below, having successfully stomped his way past scorch hounds and mottled scorpions and greater pigeons and baterwauls, Seros had reached my hoard room.

I flew down like a loosed hurricane; points of awareness spiraled around him, mana thrumming against the silver and draconic runes spread over the walls, the moonstar flowers gleaming delicately below their quartz-light, my core in all its marbled scarlet-black glory proud overhead. Seros was curled around it, the light under his scales so bright it was blinding; he'd held out for as physically long as he was able but now the evolutionary sleep struck him like a physical blow, our connection littered with drifting and hazy thoughts.

And excitement from both of us.

I pressed soothing mana over him, let silver root and sprawl around him like a comforting embrace, and peered at the golden letters crawling over my core.

Your creature, a Seabound Monitor, is undergoing evolution!

Your Title of Resurrector bestows a path.

Draconic Monitor (Exotic): It has consumed of a sea-drake's flesh and reawoken its power; though the world does not yet bow to it, the times are changing, and soon it will grab onto the legacy it has chosen with brandished claws and bared fangs.

I purred, and my mana trembled at the walls of my hoard room.

Not yet a dragon, but I would frankly have been rather insulted if it were so easy to become a dragon—he had three more evolutions before he would reach that fabled peak, and gods above if I wasn't going to get him there. He'd fought for this honour, for this glory, and now he was scraping his claws on the barest hints of the potential he would one day become—what could be a pride greater than that?

Also. Hm.

I'd forgotten that I'd first met Seros because he'd been eating my corpse.

Fun way to remember that.

But that meant nothing—well, not nothing, but I was rather determinedly choosing to forget once again—in face of this evolution.

Lowly little peasants, the pissants of the sea who had dared live on my territory, had their own thoughts on what being a dragon was. That it was simply a lizard who had picked up wings and mana along the way, perhaps a breath-weapon if they were in the mood, and then grown to monstrous sizes. They thought that was it.

That was very much not it.

Being a dragon meant being more. It meant separating yourself from the mere mortals of those lesser, claiming a gravitas over the world, staking a claim in Aiqith that went beyond simple territory or measurable land. Our numbers were few and far between because Aiqith just didn't have enough to support more of us; didn't have the mana, didn't have the power, didn't have the room.

For all that we were only fourth evolutions, still with greater peaks to climb, there was nothing that could be called merely draconic. If you were draconic, then you were important, and you had the power to match.

This wouldn't be just an increase in size, maybe a boost to Seros' hydrokinesis. I didn't know what aspect of draconic abilities he would be getting, but he would be getting something, and it was going to change him in ways that other evolutions simply didn't.

I burned with pride as I selected draconic monitor.

Seros disappeared under a silver gleam, reflecting off my hoard room and the various treasures and runes and artefacts I'd spaced around; this would no doubt be an enormously long evolution, reaching peaks of time I would absolutely not be able to wait patiently for, and I would need to make sure that my hoard room would keep him safe. I hoped that the surrounding silver would help, actually; feed extra mana into him like actual dragons used their hoards for, maybe speed up the process.

Maybe.

I wasn't holding my breath.

But there Seros laid, curled around my pillar and preparing for a change that would shake this little pirating city to its core.

They thought they'd killed a dragon? Sure.

I wondered how they'd react when it came back.

But for all that I could very safely fall into a pit of delightful fantasies about watching Seros rip the Dread Pirate's head off in a glorious explosion of blood and gore, there was still one more message etched across my core, a force that I'd been forcibly shoving to the back of my awareness as I dealt with all my other evolutions first.

Because even though I'd lost most of the mana that I'd won, even though my creatures had been lost or killed or captured, even though I still had so much I needed to rebuild; I had won, and those above recognized it.

Congratulations!

You have reached the threshold for evolution. As a reward, the gods have deigned themselves to offer you gifts, if you believe you are worthy to accept them.

You may choose an Otherworld schema and either an expansion to your mana pool or regeneration.

Finally.

It had been a long, long time since I'd evolved last—which did make unfortunate sense, considering that it would only take more and more mana for me to keep reaching new barriers, much like with my creature's own evolutions—and I read the alert greedily. I'd well deserved it, after surviving such an explosion of invaders.

Still the irritating, pissy little message from the gods about them deigning themselves to give me a gift, but I was content to ignore that for the moment. I still hadn't forgotten that they had chosen not to give me a schema when I'd first become a dungeon core.

I loved Seros, but starting off with kobolds would have made this much, much easier.

Frustration for another day.

I reread it again, just making sure everything was as I remembered it; two options to pick from, either an expansion to my pool or my regeneration. There was a brief moment of debating—I'd well seen how much mana I'd lost due to my shallow reserves, only a handful of invaders filling up my available seventy-five points and the rest lost and useless even as I desperately needed it to refill my halls. Not a pleasant feeling, to be certain.

But then I thought of Seros, of Nicau, and the power their Names had granted them.

With these new evolutions, I had many more creatures that deserved Names of their own. The empress serpent, without a shadow of a doubt—maybe Chieftess, giving her the actual Name instead of the funny little name Nicau had called her—the mage ratkin, leading her own budding group of scholars—the midnight cave bear, silent guardian of cubs and floors alike—the fledgling sea serpent, terrorizing the Underlake and the new floor I was constructing for him—the vampiric dryad, first proper humanoid of my halls.

Far too many options for the piddly two-thirds of a point I regained per hour. Seros and Nicau had both taken roughly a third for themselves; I couldn't just cut myself off by continuing to Name creatures without increasing the amount I got from the Otherworld. So.

I selected regeneration.

There was a vague hole somewhere deep in my core where Otherworld mana poured through—I was only tangentially aware of it at most times, a distant hum as pure mana filtered through my stores and filled up my reserves. If I focused, I could actively feel and concentrate on it, but most of the time it was content in the background.

It was decidedly not in the background now.

I hissed and barked as my insides did their damnedest to shred themselves, the hole widening and tearing and ripping—my mana spiraled out of my control, lashing at the walls of my hoard room, before there came a deep, earthshaking snap.

Pure, delicious, wonderful Otherworld mana flowed through me, brighter and stronger and more brilliant than before. I heaved for intangible breath as I wrangled my own strands back under my control, tucking them tight around my core as I peered back to see what I was working with.

Dragonheart Core

Mana: 13.9 / 75

Mana Regeneration: +1.8 per hour

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

Titles: Resurrector

Absolutely brilliant. That was enough for multiple new Names; it seemed that every evolution tripled either my pool or my regeneration, whatever I chose. The simplicity was appreciated.

There was a slight fear that maybe Seros' evolution would mean that he would take more of my Otherworld mana, so I would wait for him to finish before I actually started Naming things, but still the potential lurked heavy on the tip of my awareness. So many beautiful, brilliant Names and all the power they brought; Blessing of the Depths and Blessing of the Communer had already given me so many opportunities. I couldn't wait to see what more brought.

Well. I would have to wait, unfortunately. Terribly inconvenient.

But at least there was one more prize I could claim for today.

Please select an Otherworld schema:

Ironridge Crab (Rare): Hunters often specialize—this creature specializes in all. Boasting massive claws for both defense and offense, it gathers ore from seafloors to build up its shell as an impervious shield and for ramming opponents.

Firetail Fox (Rare): Born half fox and half elemental, this wiry creature has no fear of environments or predators. Spraying sparks from its tail, it runs faster than the eye can see and sets forests ablaze in its wake, fireproof fur allowing it to feast on its prey as they burn.

Iceborn Mammoth (Rare): Not so much akin to ice as shaped from it, this creature announces its arrival with both a shout and a charge like an avalanche. Its tusks are made from ever-growing ice, carefully sharpened to gore all those in its path.

Oceanic Slime (Rare): Water bound together by an immense mana-gem, this patient predator disguises itself as a massive body of water, attracting all manners of prey. Because of its biology, smaller creatures can swim freely through its body, fooling larger creatures into trusting its waters, a mistake they can only make once.

Capturing Coral (Rare): It spreads and collects; anything it grows over is stored and kept safe inside, creating dizzying patches of reef where attunements run wild and spirits howl for freedom.

That was… hm.

I didn't believe in coincidence, not really. There were far too many spirits and deities and sufficiently powerful beings out there that changed the facts to their liking for me to ever really believe that things just happened.

My sixth floor was going to be a coral reef, my seventh fire, my eighth a proper jungle. These were planned out, for all that I hadn't shaped them yet, and I'd been collecting schemas in preparation for them. I hadn't been subtle about my plans.

But for all I made plans, it was rather hard to ignore that I was missing a key ingredient of one of those floors.

A key ingredient that was now offered to me.

It didn't… it didn't feel like a test, because it would be a shitty test, but neither did it feel like a challenge. How could this possibly be a challenge? They were giving me what I needed. It couldn't be an apology either, considering the demeaning message of my evolution and the fact that they had specifically only offered older options that had no use to my next couple of floors, thus forcing me to pick this one.

But it certainly felt like something.

I just didn't know what.

I already had a crab, the firetail fox was too similar to my scorch hounds, the iceborn mammoth didn't fit in any of my plans, and the oceanic slime had no floor to house it. The gods must have known that.

And that left only the coral.

I would have picked it anyway, because I'd already been shown those other options and I hadn't picked them before, but now something uncomfortable crawled over my core. A vague sense that I was playing into some greater power's hands—which, as a dragon, I was supremely uninterested in.

But I did want a coral reef.

I selected capturing coral.

My core snapped open and the raw impression of coral was shoveled into the crack; impressions of silver polyps and sprawling reefs and an impossible number of colours and shines and voices—I broke off with a hiss, gathering my mana tight around my core as if that would soothe me.

It didn't, but the transfer ended soon enough, and a new schema sat proudly and ready to be made.

Because I would be making it.

With all my creatures sitting in dormancy, waiting to evolve, there was finally nothing more to pull my attention. Still more creatures to make, still floors to restock as I reclaimed my mana—faster now, thankfully, with the evolution—but it had been far, far too long since I'd made a floor.

And, well.

The invasion had shown me how powerful I was.

I couldn't wait to be even more.

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