Chapter 23: Filterdown

Chapter 23: Filterdown

Water gushed from within the mountain.

I'd managed to twist out a second tunnel underneath the river, guiding the water down in great spiraling loops to avoid punching through the walls of the second floor. I wanted it to be wide enough that creatures could swim down and that enough water would be flowing through to create a current, but not so much that I would destabilize the river and stop my very necessary source of water.

It took more trial and error than I was really comfortable with admitting. My knowledge of water as a sea-drake apparently didn't extend to knowing the subtle nuances of trying to shape ocean currents in an enclosed space to maintain oxygen flow and limit sediment build up. Fantastic.

But now water thundered down into the massive room, sloshing about in the sand as it struggled to rise. Being three thousand feet long and one thousand wide, I was well aware it would take a while before it was full, but I was patient.

I paused, then reached up—currently my main entrance from the second floor was just a random tunnel dug beneath the canal, one last defense for forcing adventurers to have to enter the canal to find their way deeper. Not necessarily useful now, given as I didn't want to empty out my canals full of creatures just to fill the third floor, but once it was full; I kept up the barrier between the floors for the moment but dug a few smaller tunnels in preparation. Multiple ways for smaller creatures to swim their way between floors.

As another idle thought, I strengthened the limestone with flecks of iron to ward it against erosion. Wouldn't be great if all the shifting water just merrily dug its own way through my floor.

But then I could relax, only a handful of points to my name, and listen as the water poured out of the tunnel overhead. Hours, if not days, until it was full; but I could wait.

Gods, for even a fraction of the ocean I had once called home, I could wait forever.

-

The largest of the armourback sturgeons poked curiously down the sprawling tunnel in the canal's bottom, his shovel-shaped head brushing against the smooth limestone. I perched over him with all the patience of a gnat.

Hurry up.

He took his bloody time before finally slipping down the tunnel.

A few dozen feet straight down, enough that I had felt comfortable my second floor wouldn't collapse into the third if an earthquake hit, and easily ten feet wide; as much as I would've appreciated squeezing the tunnel down to an inch to make adventurers have to burrow their way down, my creatures were just too big for that. I needed to focus on them first.

The sturgeon finally emerged onto my freshly-filled third floor.

Dark and cool, full of softly swirling eddies, bubbles wobbling up to the surface; thousands upon thousands of gallons of fresh water loomed before him like the most inviting floor I could have mustered. Rock outcroppings and tunnels and great expanses of sandy shallows, filled with the, ah, best I could for plants?

Of the five plants I had, only one could grow fully submerged in water; I'd strung great curtains of green algae over as much as it would survive on, its pale glow diffusing through the third floor like emerald dust, but it, well.

Listen. I was a vain creature, and seeing algae as the only interesting thing on my latest floor was less than pleasing.

I'd created a few shifting pockets of air, tucked away on the surface in little oases of room; in there, I poured dozens of whitecap mushrooms, leaning them so far off the edge that their mycelium dangled partially into the water. Hopefully they'd evolve into something useful for this floor.

It was quite irritating how slowly plants evolved. Those with some innate sense of self, like my vampiric mangroves, were actively hunting prey and collecting life mana; I knew they would take a while to evolve, given their already complex selves, but I knew they would eventually.

Even besides that, it was me who commanded the dungeon, who had created her; surely she could hear me? Could feel my mana when I reached out to my creatures and told them to attack?

A horrible little thought snuck out to me.

When the attack before last had come, with the Bronze and her lackey, I had told my creatures to prepare to attack; the other two kobolds had come together with their insane rat plan and successfully won. But I remembered being confused at why the third kobold, the first and the strongest, hadn't answered the call; she'd been too busy trying to hunt down the turtle, on the clear other side of the dungeon.

As if she had either ignored my call, or not heard it.

Good gods. Had she sworn herself to Seros?

What the fuck.

-

He huddled further against the wall, claws scrabbling at the stony floor; the two goblins moved closer. Their black eyes pinned him like darts.

"'e's a bit small, eh?" One croaked, adjusting the hand on its stone-tipped piece of wood. It looked painful, looked sharp; like the things that had stabbed him. He rumbled, his cuts aching; he just wanted to go home. Back to his mushrooms and water and freedom. "Some kind of runt, are ya?"

He shuffled further against the wall. Maybe if he pulled up on his shadow mana he could hide from them, could get them to leave him alone–

The other goblin marched closer, tapping its weapon against the ground. It peered at him, its teeth still exposed. "An akkyst, looks like. 'ittle baby who never learned to fight."

Akkyst? He didn't know that word. But he... he knew how to fight. His legs bunched, claws digging into the stone; he was bigger than these goblins. The two humans had been monsters with magic and metal; these were small. He could fight. And if he beat them, then he could leave, could try to go back to the dungeon where he would be safe–

The goblin saw him try to rise, chortled, and slammed the butt of its spear across his muzzle.

He fell to the ground, bawling; all of his cuts stung anew, muscles tired and shaking after days of running away; he didn't want to fight. He just wanted to sleep.

"Useless," one of them snorted. "Jus' kill it so we can finish scouting."

The closest goblin frowned, leaning in; it poked a finger about his face, pulling up a lip to stare at his ivory fangs. He whined and curled tighter around himself.

Its black eyes glinted. "Akkyst or not, still a bear. The horde will never turn down a war animal."

He didn't like any of those words. Those his cuts stung and cried out at the motion, he huddled against the wall, claws dug into the wall like that could protect him. Maybe they would just walk away. Run away.

"Come along, little Akkyst," a goblin crooned, jabbing him with its spear again. "Up you go. The horde'll find some use for 'ou."