Chapter 7: Open Doors

Chapter 7: Open Doors

The last of the cave spiders scuttled off to their various positions in the dark, little ruby-red beauties with serrated mandibles like shattered glass. I pulsed waves of adrenaline and the excitement of the hunt through them as they set about making their webs, pressing thoughts of blood and mana into their insipid minds.

They still lacked the scales and horns of true perfection but even I could admit I was warming to them, absentmindedly guiding stragglers to the better dens. It helped they weren't intelligent enough to disobey.

Luminous constrictors, on the other hand, had plenty of thoughts.

I'd made dozens of spiders, the middle tier between insects and Seros, and with the quick reproduction rate their schema spoke of I knew they would have no problems flooding through my first floor. So I made ten beautiful serpents to keep their ego down.

As with the spiders, I found I could only influence their creation so much before they started to absorb my mana instead of being changed; and without more creatures to study, there wasn't a chance I could figure out how to make them venomous. Disappointing.

I settled for fiddling with their bioluminescent scales, extending the effect to their entire underbelly instead of only beneath their throat. Expanding their size, their fangs, their flashing eyes; and oh, how I wanted to make them just as brilliant as my spiders, turning them pure white like ghosts in the dark.

But they were ambush predators. The spiders could still hide in the shadows; at nearly eight feet long, the serpents didn't have that same advantage. Grey and black scales would have to stay.

For now, at least. Already my mind spun with ideas for the second floor.

The problem with them came when I suggested to their fledgling little brains that they should focus on killing newcomers to the dungeon. As if one, they had all slithered away to the various dens I'd carved for them, cutting through the waves of whitecaps and algae with nary a rustle; I had a brief moment to admire the beauty of the movement before motes of mana trickled back to my core.

Three spiders dead, just like that.

Reptiles weren't fond of obeying.

Angling a glare at the crushed remains of eight legs disappearing down a serpent's throat, I wasted another two points to weave a half dozen into existence far away from the occupied dens, muttering intangible curses. At least the constrictors got some mana from the deal, even if the amount I received was a fraction of what it took to create them.

It also taught me more about my powers; creating so many creatures at once let me see the minute differences in each, little variations from colour to size. The same ability that kept me from having to consume both genders to fully recreate them. When I dug my mana into their corpse and examined their core, I saw all the possibilities they could be, even those that were deactivated.

The variations were certainly interesting, at least. One of my spiders was a fierce little brute, shaped with aggression above self-preservation; already he had set his sights on a lacecap with a handful of pathetic, struggling flies stuck in its web. I wished him all the luck. Another lurked in the shadows, mandibles narrow and extended like an extra set of legs. The largest of the constrictors was a lazy, vain creature, slithering up an outcropping to loop her coils through the rocks. She glared at the spiders that could scuttle safely over the ceiling away from her fangs, pale eyes tracking the progress of a web. Size didn't necessarily equal intellect but there was a refinement to her thoughts, a lurking annoyance at her lack of options for capturing prey.

Constrictors, spiders, mushrooms. Letting my points of awareness diffuse through the cave, I gathered my mana closer, something almost like nervousness fluttering at the edge of my thoughts.

Was I really ready?

Opening the doors was a necessity. I knew that. The holes I'd poked brought enough oxygen and theoretically I absorbed enough mana from the Otherworld to always create prey for Seros, but it hadn't been anything I had or hadn't done to attract the human; she had come because my mana brought her.

More would always come. My mana sharpened to steel at my grasp.

A glance back at Seros to see if he was prepared and then–

My lizard. My monitor. My idiotic lump of a reptile cheerfully snapped another fish down his gullet, languishing over the surface of the pond like the great lazy beast he was.

The fish that, might I remind, I only had seven of.

I slapped a wave of mana over our connection—he twitched, nearly sinking below the surface before he regained hold of his fledgling water abilities.

He still took a second to finish swallowing before turning to me with a hiss.

Second reason to open the entrances: I needed another creature worthy of a Name.

I plunged my awareness into the pond, darting past trailing webs of pale sea-green algae; larger than I'd previously thought, nearly six feet deep and ten wide. The island in the middle loomed overhead: there. Two pale fish, huddled for cover under an undercropping of stone. The last two.

Small mercies.

Kill, not eat, I urged him, pushing threads of mana through our connection to guide him to the location. I'd create more for him to eat later; but I could only do that if he let me get the schema first.

Its back was awash with it; not moving, like an active enhancement, but thick and jagged like crystals. Some sort of protection, defending it from ambush attackers; something of which caves were full of. It had probably wandered for all of its life without fear.

Unfortunately for it, my snakes didn't rely only on their fangs.

And the one that had attacked was pissed.

It rose to its full height, eight feet of glorious marbled scales, and slunk around the back of the rock outcropping; the toad crouched under the far side, already calming at the lack of its predator. It eyed the fly-filled lacecap.

Idiots were far more entertaining when I was fighting them.

The snake slithered over the rock, dragging its heavy coils up with barely the whisper of scale on stone; below, the toad hopped out of its cover towards its prize. Greedy little fool. All my various points of awareness swiveled in.

The snake hissed and the toad jerked, glancing up—just to be blinded by an explosion of light. It croaked, wavering. The snake slammed its beautiful fangs around its neck but didn't bite down, just securing its position; with the grace of an eel it wrapped its coils around its body.

With my newly-enlarged serpents, the spiders would be just a snack; the toads, being nearly a foot long, were a far more enticing prey. It croaked, limbs thrashing weakly, but its mana armour meant nothing to the crushing force of a constrictor. My snake squeezed tighter. Another minute and it was done.

Its mana was deliciously flavoured, like cool earth and fresh soil, and that taste contained shards and fragments of knowledge on how to control it. I spent a soothing pulse of apology to the snake but dissolved its prey before it could begin to eat it, feasting on the information.

Stone-Backed Toad (Common)

These amphibians have attempted to recreate the protective scales off their reptilian brethren, growing pebble-like protrusions of earthen mana over their back. This makes them slow and stationary, but predators will find their skin nigh-impenetrable.

I could have purred. My luminous constrictors used tendrils of mana to release their bioluminescence and Seros had his fledgling hydrokinesis, but this was my first creature to utilize it in a proper elemental form. As a dragon, I'd used water mana to guide deepsea currents. I wanted my creatures to have that same skill.

The snake hissed in the vague direction of my core and slithered off. But I could see earthen mana diffusing through its pathways, won from its kill even if I hadn't let it eat.

Maybe a future evolution.

I wove a handful of stone-backed toads from three points and seeded them throughout my various dens, little ribbiting fools—they'd have to fight for access to the best lacecaps and access to the pond, let alone the garden thick and ripe with mana-filled mushrooms. None of my creatures were those that could properly eat them, but maybe the toads would find a way.

I did so hate things going unused. My dungeon deserved respect. I was halfway through wondering what would happen if I just created several of the toads in the garden, whether that would start competition or just scare others off, when-

A rumble.

Something plodded outside of my river entrance, thick and heavy enough I could hear its footsteps like the beat of a drum. The webs over the entrance shuddered as if caught in a wind, something rather impossible in the deep underground, I might add. I jabbed my awareness towards the darkness beyond.

A wide, snuffling nose poked into my cavern, surrounded by ragged black fur; pale brown eyes and rounded ears emerged next, ivory fangs below. It growled, massive chest thundering.

Alright.

I'd gotten used to being small. Mostly. Whatever tinges of jealousy I got looking at Seros was diminished when I compared him to the vast breadth of my cave. Two weeks ago I had been a leviathan large enough to eat whales. Now I was a pebble.

So it was safe to say my sense of size was a bit skewed.

I didn't know whether that was good or bad as I beheld the bear entering my cavern.

Four feet at the shoulder, nearly six long, paws the size of my old scales; it plodded down my gentle little slope like an avalanche. My dragon memories had no real equivalent to bears, certainly nothing similar existing in the ocean; my dungeon instincts, on the other hand, told me that they were dangerous with an unfortunate penchant for desiring power.

Power such as a connection to the Otherworld.

I grabbed hold of my ambient mana and tuned it to hunger, to bloodlust and rage—my various creatures stirred, arrow-shaped heads peering from alcoves and spiders pausing in their weavings.

And, most importantly, the underground monitor that had been here since the beginning rose to meet the eyes of the intruder.

Go, Seros.