Chapter 49: Communer

Chapter 49: Communer

Nicau awoke with the vague sort of realization that he hadn't expected to wake up. So already, things were looking up for him.

He blinked up at the cragged stone above him, a dark mess of shadows except for a strange, vaguely green light coming from somewhere he couldn't see yet. Something soft was below him, though wet. His head hurt.

But he wasn't dead. Maybe? He didn't know what happened in the afterlife. Maybe everyone who died just appeared in a dirty cave.

He stiffened. There was a certain cave he was thinking of that seemed more likely. Nicau closed his eyes, tugging on that bare power he had; it came awkwardly at his call, stiff and unwieldy from unuse. But still he managed to wrangle it, searching for trails of mana and power–

And immediately had to shut it off as his mana-sense screamed.

Yeah. There was magic here.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

He winced, sitting up; it was a small room, walls rough and cramped, made of a pale grey stone he remembered from the Alómbra Mountains, though more... silver? than what he was used to. Common green algae was below him but glowing, and water trickled down the rock on the wall opposite.

And ever so faintly, in the back of his mind where his mana-sense was still reeling from the power it'd beheld, there was the barest scent of dragon.

Dungeon.

The same one he'd begged for life from, and apparently got, but in his mind he'd had a bit more of a thought that not being killed also meant being let out. Looked like that was not the case.

But if it had wanted to kill him, it would have done so already, and he stood up from his algae bed with a bit of hope from the idea.

And immediately came face to face with a lizard.

He squawked and fell back, back pressing against the stone; the monster poked its head through a crack he hadn't noticed before, golden eyes bright. It had speckled red scales, horns curling over its head, muzzle lined with fangs. Maybe a bit taller than him, bipedal but hunched over, claws clutching a deep scarlet spear tipped in bone. A kobold.

Before, he'd only seen them as heads and horns sold as trophies, but now he'd seen them fight. And as easily as Aloma had been defeating them, she was Silver ranked. Nicau certainly wasn't.

He was fucked. Fantastic. Not an ounce of combat magic in him and certainly no physical prowess, but maybe the kobold couldn't recognize that. Maybe. Nicau raised his fists, still pressing his back to the wall.

The kobold blinked at him again, forked tongue flicking out, but didn't enter the room. Its slitted eyes were almost... curious?

Nicau's heart was pounding so hard it physically hurt, but he couldn't help but be curious too.

The dungeon had taken his pigeon and presumably killed Aloma, but left him alive, tucked away in this little cavern. He could recognize the blood-red wood of the kobold's spear as the same mangrove trees from the second floor, the same golden eyes as the other kobolds, though they'd had different coloured scales. So. Still within the dungeon.

"Hello?" He tried. Never hurt to be polite.

The kobold made an odd hissing sound, tilting its head to the side. Then it promptly decided he wasn't a threat and squeezed its way past the crack in the wall, setting its spear down. Its tail swished curiously as it padded towards him without fear.

Nicau certainly had a lot of fear but it wasn't like there was anywhere he could run to; he settled for bracing his arms over his face and whimpering.

But the kobold didn't attack, instead bending its digitigrade legs and narrowing its eyes at his chest—his clothes. It seemed confused, reaching out to almost hesitantly run its claws over the rags. Nicau could feel its cold touch through the thin fabric.

It looked up at him and warbled.

"Uh." He grappled for an appropriate response. "My clothes?"

The kobold blinked again, hissing something that could have potentially been an attempt at mimicking him, and poked the fabric again.

...it reminded him of the other streetrats.

A strange comparison that came out of absolutely nowhere, but there was a sort of child-like innocence in its motions, curious about the world with a desire to learn. And though it was nightmarish and powerful and monstrous, it clearly had some form of intelligence. Did it want clothes? Did it know what they were for? Covered completely in overlapping scales like plate armour, it didn't need them, but it seemed fascinated by the concept. What about something like the merrow, where they had decorative strips of fabric and jewels, not covering anything but merely to accent?

Nicau remembered once more that he was trapped in a dungeon and whimpered again.

The kobold stiffened, jerking away from him; its eyes slid to the ground, closing in a sort of worshipful awe. The spines running down its back twitched like a storm was racing over them.

Then it shot back to attention, grabbed his wrist in a grip like iron, and tugged him out of the relative safety of his cave.

He squawked, stumbling behind; it grabbed its spear with its free hand and maneuvered them both through the crack in the wall. Nicau held back a very sincere scream as he came face to face with an easy two dozen other kobolds, all watching him with wide golden eyes, all crowding around like he was a Mythril ranked hero. They were in an even wilder cavern, filled with little hollows carved into the walls with algae beds, fresh water dripping off stalactites and pooling in gentle ponds for drinking, kobolds sitting in clumps and carving slivers of bone or preparing corpses for he guessed eating. A society.

Then he was dragged further on.

They emerged back out onto the second floor, the mangroves rustling quietly with their bone-white leaves, the canals rumbling beyond, moss billowing and small things scampering between. A paradise, really, or at least he certainly would have thought so if he didn't know the truth.

He gasped, crushed flat to the ground. Something raced through his channels and touched deep within his soul, mana kicking up and spiraling; everything in his body ached and hurt and trembled as something moved within, searching and gnawing and ripping at his innermost being. He saw his mother, reaching out to her newborn, his father, glancing down at his son, a nameless spirit, deep cavern walls, gods above without number.

They all spoke as one.

Nicau.

-

Well. I thought that went well.

Nicau was, once more, completely conked out, sprawled bonelessly over a section of billowing moss with his eyes rolling into the back of his head. The horned serpent flicked her tongue, her psionic abilities slowly detangling from the sort of web she'd needed to wrap around his mind in order to let me communicate with him, though I could tell she was still very curious. Not about Nicau in general, but more about his thought process; what he had wanted in return for service.

I imagined she'd make some headway on her little tyrant side goal she'd been working towards.

But my thoughts were focused on Nicau. My newest Named creature.

Yes, I'd Named him. Yes, I did regret it almost as soon as I did it.

But that was the only way I knew that I could welcome him into my dungeon. Same as with Seros, I'd had to Name him in order to implant my mana within him, and while I'd been coming up with some strategies I'd been testing on bugs that I could sort of bleed them dry of their natural mana and quickly replace it with my own to make them a technical dungeonborn creature, Nicau was a sapient person. The exact thing that the gods protected my mana from.

So. The Naming.

Was I pleased about it? In part. Nicau, after a little threatening and reminder of his own mortality, certainly seemed like the groveling loyalist that would function well as an underling. The fact that he also had enough intelligence to actually be able to collect information for me, as well as a standard, boring human body that wouldn't arouse suspicion if he went out gathering schemas, was another plus.

And his Blessing was only another bonus.

Blessing of the Communer: all who speak shall be understood.

I wasn't positive, but I was holding out hope that by speak, it meant sentient creatures. So perhaps not the squeaking of the lesser rats nor the chittering of bugs, but certainly the kobold's warbles and Seros' hisses. Not as useful as the Blessing of the Depths, which I knew we'd only unlocked part of with Seros' hydrokinesis, but still very applicable for the scenario I wanted Nicau in.

Although I couldn't help but feel like it was a slight against me.

The horned serpent had done her job, letting me settle in her mind and then connecting to Nicau's, so it had been all my own incompetence in that communication. I had consumed dozens of souls who all knew the same language; I should have been able to talk freely with him. Instead I'd stuttered my way through the topic as he tried to parse through my words.

Horrifically embarrassing. I'd be better by the time he awoke.

But while I was certainly pleased by his potential, that didn't mean I didn't wish I could have Named someone else. The horned serpent was certainly working her way towards a Name, same for the little mage-rat; even the first wisp or the kobold chieftess.

But instead I'd gone with Nicau, and now I had to wait. Because rather unfortunately, the downside of Naming something had come into effect again. I glanced back at my core.

Dragonheart Core

Mana: 13.2 / 75

Mana Regeneration: +0.6 per hour

Patrons: Rhoborh, God of Symbiosis

Titles: Resurrector

Just like Seros had, this greedy bastard was taking my precious Otherworld mana. Roughly a third of a point an hour, gone. Disappeared. Beyond my control.

It was less disastrous than it had been with Seros, given as I hadn't had four floors all generating me their own supply at a very constant rate, but this would still be irritating. There was a lot I could do with those points, stuff that Nicau certainly couldn't.

Come to think of it, what was he even doing with that mana? From the blast of thoughts and information I'd gotten from him, his only skill was sensing and following mana trails, certainly not enough for how much he was taking. And his new Blessing wasn't exactly the type to use a lot of mana. And the same for Seros—given by how often he took great pride in hunting down roughwater sharks, he wasn't even using the mana as sustenance. Little bastard was just feeding on me.

Nothing had changed when he'd evolved from underground monitor to seabound monitor, but I had a very sneaking suspicion that when he evolved again, he'd start taking more than a third of a point. So. If my next evolution could come quickly so I could replenish my mana regeneration, it would be much appreciated.

It would be up to Nicau to prove his worth past the disadvantage he'd so generously given me.

But I would leave all those questions for later days, when Nicau woke up from his newest nap. For now, I needed to keep focusing on my fifth floor; it was so close to being fully carved, where I could finally start placing various plants and creatures around, but I wanted a second look. And who better than my first Named being?

The Named being that was currently getting his ass kicked by the sarco crocodile.

Fantastic.