POV He-Who-Chitters-In-The-Dark

  Six days. It had taken the rats six days to crawl, scratch, and gnaw their way through the living and vibrant location they had been sent to claim. The source of that claim was proving elusive, however. The creatures…not so much. They were clearly in evidence as they burst from the vibrant life around them to attack the column. They were all strange in their own ways. Large chitinous things, flying creatures covered in strange pointed fur, and weird plantlike beings that shambled out of the greenery itself.

  He-Who-Chitters had kept them together and alive through magical might and strategic sacrifice. The benefit of their brutal march was that despite the losses his clanrats were learning rapidly. Perhaps it was the residual effects of experiments done so long ago by the tall one. Regardless, the Aether of the slain rejuvenated those who survived and those who were slain took many with them so that the column might continue. He-Who-Chitters had grown in knowledge himself.

  The discovery that, when left with a hint of remaining Aether, the crystals could recover their Aether rather than become completely barren changed how the Mad-Ones fought. Instead of draining a crystal completely, they cycled the carts so that by the time more crystals were needed the ones in the back of the column had recovered sufficiently to be used again. In this way, the Mad-Ones and He-Who-Chitters kept up a steady stream of spark-lightning. They had even learned new magic arts by experimenting.

  Instead of one solid stream of lightning, they sent out smaller more controlled bursts, blasts, and bolts. He-Who-Chitters had grown the most in this due to his constant fight against the attacks from the air. The creatures were fast but he had learned to fan his lightning outward like the Deep-Maw, that creature from the water so long ago. The diving creatures couldn’t evade the different streams and so were caught. Likewise, he had learned that while lightning was weak against the green things that shambled they were in turn weak to the blue-green fire that he had wielded when he first awoke to magic and Aether.

  Now the Mad-Ones switched spark attacks when necessary, maintained their crystal lifeline, and protected the column. Such constant warfare had worn them all down, however. Even the brutes were tired, their mighty sinews straining to pull the carts of crystal to where they needed to be. The warriors were weary of the fight, despite the Aether that came from the corpses of slain foes.

  He-Who-Chitters looked over the column with a critical eye. The rats were spent. They had given everything but still, the creatures attacked. They had killed so many and driven away others but finally, they were close. He could feel it in the way the Aether swirled ahead. He squeaked orders and the rats currently embroiled in combat leapt away smartly even as the Mad-Ones called down Spark-Fire. Carapace popped and the greenery shriveled as the fire washed over everything in its path until the magic was spent.

  With another squeak, the whole column charged forth in one last burst of speed and broke through the vegetation into what seemed to be a huge clearing. He-Who-Chitters quickly had the brutes cluster the carts together so that the Mad-Ones might have fuel for whatever they would face but for the first time in days, silence fell over the column. The rats stood waiting, flanks heaving and fur drenched in blood and sweat. Nothing came into the clearing.

  He-Who-Chitters didn’t let himself relax even though his body and mind screamed for him to. Instead, he looked around the clearing that they had found themselves in and froze even as he began to crane his neck upward. In the center of the clearing, so tall he wondered how they could have missed it, stood a massive tree. And perched upon a branch, looming large was a pitch-black creature of death. Its sleek form gleamed in the sunlight even as it seemed to suck in all such light.

  Black eyes peered down at the rats and He-Who-Chitters felt a chill as those eyes passed over him. The intelligence in them scared him for he knew he was looking upon a creature that surpassed him. It had an aura to it that shook him to his core. He couldn’t explain the feeling nor could he fathom how such a creature could come to dwell in such a place. What happened next, though, was outside the rat’s means of understanding. The creature blinked its large eyes before pointing with its wing.

  At the base of the tree, where the wing pointed, was a hollow. With a squeak, He-Who-Chitters rallied his rats for one last march and they wearily made their way across the clearing. The creature watched them the whole time, its black eyes unreadable and alien. When they finally reached the hollow the rats hurried inside, glad to escape the piercing gaze of the tree’s guardian. The hollow was clear of danger, open and spacious but one clear defining feature. Hovering in the air in the center of the hollow was a green gemstone, etched in glowing lines.

  He-Who-Chitters immediately knew that this was what they sought. Why the tree’s protector had not stopped them he did not know but he was grateful nonetheless. He moved closer to the gem and found it hovered just out of reach. He squeaked an order and two brutes came over with a cart. Climbing atop it he reached out and laid his paw upon the crystal. It was warm and vibrant to the touch and he could feel the barest hint of a presence come forth. He squeaked at its question and immediately felt the environment change.

  The-One-Who-Was-Not-There was suddenly present, coming into the hollow and hovering unseen. “You have done well.” The being’s voice thundered over the rats, echoing in the small space. The tired rats squeaked in terrified awe and the voice seemed to dim in volume, though it retained its otherworldly quality. “Your reward will be great for this service.” It was here that He-Who-Chitters felt the being’s awareness focus on him.

  “You in particular deserve something special. You have been known among your people as He-Who-Chitters-In-The-Dark. Now you will be Named Iskra’Seher, Spark-Seer, and The Mad Prophet.” With those words, The-One-Who-Was-Not-There flooded into the rat’s awareness and He-Who-Chitters felt something click on the inside. It was a reshaping and a transformation of identity. He felt himself fade into unconsciousness as the words of his god followed him. “Sleep deeply Iskra’Seher. You have done well.”

  POV Valterra Unok’Davaas

  The Dungeon Core looked upon the gleaming form of his rats before turning to look at the vast, seemingly never-ending scrawl of words that blazed across his Core.

  Valterra reflexively shut out the influx of Schemas. As surprised as he was by the sheer volume of them he was more concerned about the rat he had just officially Named, the current status of the other rats, and the description of the garden itself. Not to mention the status of the Rakali, the rat-men he had claimed through the efforts of Geckodo.

  The description was the easiest to understand. He felt the heart as if it were a part of him and he recognized many of the sigils from his time as a child when he was still mostly artificial. The fact that it was a failed experiment engendered a faint sympathy within him. It was Sapient, that much was sure but it did have a faint hint of a will. That will was manifested as a push towards seeing things grow. It wanted, as much as it could, to see things flourish and it simply pushed all available Aether towards that goal.

  If this was the basis for the garden, Valterra could piece together what the heart of the pond would be. Most likely it would be another Monster Core turned Dungeon Core with an affinity towards water. He would need to tell Geckodo so that he would know to look in the pond itself for the heart. With his observations of the heart complete, the Core turned to three separate System announcements and looked over them contemplatively.

  Valterra looked over the new additions to his ranks. The Rakali had no Schema he could see but the fact that he had seen them start to shine with the light of evolution made him wonder whether or not he would be receiving a new one soon. The fact that he had acquired the previous Schema seemed to line up with his thoughts. The warning attached to it and the subsequent warnings on his rats made sense but also irritated him. If he couldn’t come up with a way to evolve them all simultaneously he might be left with a locked Schema and only a few members of the ensuing race.

  The fact that they were all on the same Evolutionary Path at least helped but it meant that the lesser evolved rats would need to evolve further before he elevated them. Something about it though didn’t make sense. Why would the System lock a Schema from growing in intelligence and deny him the chance to choose such an option? Maybe it was an automatic thing for other Dungeons? He decided to ask.

  Valterra hummed a considering tone. He could understand why the System, and Krat’Imos, would put such a limit in place. Without his Divinity, he would have no claim on the creatures that became Sapient. Not only that but it would be difficult for such a Sapient race to grow without a god and the Divine Potential that comes with one, especially surrounded by Dungeon Monsters. However, as both Dungeon Core and god, he could properly guide his creatures in their evolutions and treatment of any future subraces.

  All in all, he was pleased. He would have to look at all the Schemas he had received later, first, he had to relay what he had figured out to Geckodo and let him get started claiming the pond. He also had to figure out what to do with the garden itself since he didn’t know if any of the Schemas would change now that he had claimed them. Would his Title affect creatures that were already large, to begin with? With so much to do, The Core left the hollow where his laboratory rats rested around the heart of the garden and got to work.