Chapter 57: Gathering Trip

Chapter 57: Gathering Trip

I had never regretted a decision in life—or death, I suppose?—as much as I did shaping the baterwaul.

With the mana from the merrow attack, I'd finally had enough to fully build populations of all the critters on the fifth floor; dozens of greater pigeons, near a hundred baterwauls, and easily several hundred caterpillars inching their way along the outer wall. I could already spot several cocoons building up on those iron-rust vines, which was superbly exciting. There was still a sort of vague question why their metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly didn't count as an evolution; unless they'd specifically grown to mimic that? That was what their whole being counted towards?

Who knew. I had been a dragon, not a bug.

But unfortunately, with so much food, the baterwauls came out in their full glory. Shrieking, screaming monsters that seemingly poured from every free corner of my world. Gods. They were beyond irritating.

But I would be strong, I would hold out, and I would imagine how miserable every other invader would be when they had to face the little bastards.

I would also start planning for my sixth floor sooner rather than later. Something water related, that was already set—I'd held out for the only-humid fourth floor and the truly dry, scratchy sensation of the fifth, but I wasn't going to start going back to old, boring stone and blank walls. No, my sixth would be a return to my beloved water. Maybe a full open ocean, plenty of room for Seros and the sarco to dominate.

No. I shook a point of awareness.

I wanted to avoid the same trap I'd fallen into with the fifth floor, where all the schemas that would actually work there were being collected after I'd already built the damn thing. I'd wait this time until I had the creatures to dictate what floor I'd build for them.

Open ocean was truly tempting, though. As much as the Underlake sang sweet nothings to my memories of currents, it needed more space. More free expanse. More dark, shifting waters where there was no light to show when something could lunge from the shadows.New novel chapters are published on

I bit off that particular trail of thought before I could spiral back into dreaming of being alive. Not now.

So instead I flew back around the fifth floor, shoring up stone and adding more boulders to the main islands; something for creatures to hide behind. If I wanted the kobolds to move here, would I have them live open and exposed on the islands, or try to live along the bottom? That had potential for plenty of room, but also deeply inhibited their usefulness; if they had to clamber up the islands just to attack their prey it wouldn't exactly be beneficial. I'd need a race a little more suited to cavern living to find a paradise here.

Although there was always the chance that I could just flood the floor, letting invaders drown if they fell off, and fill it with all manners of nasty beasts to make sure that no one would escape from it. The thought certainly had merit, since I was already pondering trying to add some sort of storm overhead with a cloudskipper wisp, and it could rain down into the faux river. But that would completely devastate the butterfly population, and probably severely hamper the bats and pigeons. Hm.

Sometimes planning took a lot out of me.

But thankfully for this time around, I was presented with a distraction. Several pale glowing figures slowly lost their light in the far corners of my fifth floor.

Just as I'd hoped, it hadn't taken long for them to evolve.

Half a dozen groundbreaker ants lifted their heads, examining the cave I'd tucked them in with brand new eyes. They were, in a word, enormous; the queen was already a foot long, antennae flicking as she took in this new space. Then there were three workers, half her size but with mandibles with points like pickaxes, earthy brown carapaces shining in the light.

Then two beautiful warriors.

They matched the queen with their size, a foot long, and they were built like actual bricks; enormous wrought armor, jagged spikes over every surface, jaws like shards of glass. They took half a second longer to wake up than the others but they immediately started moving, splitting away from each other to circle around the other groundbreaker ants, keen black eyes glaring out at the surrounding darkness. Warriors through and through. I couldn't wait to see what trouble they got themselves into.

He'd known it would come. Only one, maybe two days since he'd woken up, enough time to meet with the various kobolds and figure out the dichotomy of this new world. He didn't mind it, not really. Honestly, considering that most pigeoncatchers in Calarata wouldn't hesitate to knife each other in the back for a single day of food, this was downright pleasant. They were giving him food from their hunts, a room to stay, even companionship. He could remember many cold nights where he'd have given a lot to have this.

Although he needed to show them fire. There was only so long he could go eating raw meat before it'd kill him.

He scarfed down the last piece, blood beading on his outer lips, and stood; some kobolds matched him, excited to be even a touch closer to the power that shaped them. Chieftess turned to him, her golden eyes narrowed.

"I have to go," he said, picking up the thin little spear he'd helped shape. Just a piece of wood from the strange, blood-hungry mangroves that he would swear moved, with a sharpened rib for the tip. Primitive but certainly above what he had before.

But every glance at things like this, at the raw meat they consumed, at the beginnings of a society but without the real trappings of a successful one. Could he show them more? Maybe... smelting, though he only knew the basics himself, to mine out iron from the walls and shape impossible weapons. Or farming, if he could find a crop's seed on his expedition. And not clothing, since their scales weren't exactly revealing, but belts and straps to hold various items on, like the mana-filled jewels that merrow wrapped around their body. Maybe even proper construction, building homes instead of just dens carved into the stone.

If he did all that, maybe the dungeon would see fit to grant him even greater powers.

He could feel vaguely what he had gotten already—something that let him speak to creatures capable of a language—but he couldn't help but feel like there was something more. His soul sparked with mana. Not Bronze yet, because he certainly wouldn't pass the combat trial required for the Guild to declare you up a level, but he felt his mana would now read as such. One little selling of his soul had already gotten him this.

So he stood, gathering his spear and brushing down his already tattered clothing. Chieftess mirrored him, her own spear close to her side. She tilted her head to the side. Coming back?

"Yes. I don't know when, but yes."

Half because he was pretty sure the dungeon would be able to kill him from a distance with this soul-bond, but half because he wanted to come back. Living in this dungeon meant potential beyond anything he'd ever seen before.

And would he be leaving the dungeon and turning right so very quickly so he barely had to even see Calarata and instead poke his head into the jungle on the other side of the mountain? Absolutely. Lluc was still out there, and Nicau rather fancied his head still attached to his shoulders.

But no matter. Because now he was leaving, and he would return victorious.

"When I get back," he promised. "Then I'll show you fire."

The second oldest kobold in the back of the cave, the one who mostly spent his time hunting and hadn't given himself a name yet, perked up.

Branch made a low squawk-hiss before standing up as well, brandishing his well-polished spear and bracing his shoulders. His tail lashed behind. A guard until he reached the outside world. "Thank you," Nicau said very earnestly, clutching his rather pitiful spear a bit closer to his chest.

He rather hoped the dungeon would be able to give him some slightly more combat-useful powers, because otherwise he would only be able to collect plants instead of creatures.

Branch nodded, chittering in that word-less agreement sound, and started to march out of their den.

Nicau exhaled, centering himself. It was time. He followed.