Below, in the Dungeon
The Revenant watched the Wretch skitter along the corridor walls.
It moved well. No wasted motion. Four limbs, each tipped with claws. A gnarled spine. No eyes. It felt through sound and scent. Not intelligent, but obedient.
It would serve.
He moved deeper into the dungeon.
The walls here were unfinished. The stone raw, bleeding mist and potential. The map unfolded in his mind with each step. Dozens of rooms waited to be shaped. He could already feel how the dungeon wished to grow: crooked tunnels, narrow death-chokes, wide chambers perfect for ambushes.
He reached the first intersection and extended his claw. The wall reacted.
It rippled like liquid glass, then split open.
[Room Created: Feeding Den]
[Trap Slot Available: 2]
He focused, and two long, narrow metal shafts rose from the stone. Bone spikes, laced with black ichor. The trap was simple. Brutal. Perfect.
His vision blurred as the core whispered.
[Trap Set: Bone Spikes (x2)]
The Wretch slithered behind him, curling into the far corner like a faithful beast awaiting orders.
But the Revenant did not rest.
He placed his claw to the stone again.
[Monster Created: Wretch (x1)]
[Remaining Resources: 3]
A second Wretch emerged, limbs trembling, its shrill cry echoing through the stone. The first shrieked back.
They knew each other. Kindred, but not equal.
He turned from them.
Let them settle. Let them hunger.
The next intruders would find more than darkness waiting for them.
Above, in the Town of Breachmark
A girl ran through the streets barefoot and bleeding.
Citizens turned to look but did not stop her. They had seen that kind of running before. Panic soaked into every heartbeat.
She shoved open the heavy doors of the Adventurer's Guild and fell to the wooden floor in a coughing heap.
Silence followed.
Then chairs scraped, boots thudded, and hands reached for her. Guild medics swarmed. Potions uncorked. Light magic hummed.
"Name," someone asked. "Name and party."
She coughed blood. Shook her head.
"Marra," she choked. "Scout. Copper-rank. Echo Team."
The medic paused. The room went quiet.
"Echo Team entered the Hollowstone Rift three hours ago," the Guild officer said.
"They're dead," she whispered.
A deeper silence settled.
"Cause?"
Her hands trembled. Not from pain. From memory.
"It wasn't just monsters. It learned. It watched. It waited until the mage spoke. Then it tore her throat out. It didn't attack the knight until he was off balance. It knew."
The officer frowned. "A dungeon spawn?"
"No," she said. "It was more."
She remembered its eyes. Not blind rage. Calculation. It listened when she screamed.
"It let me live."
The Guildhouse filled with murmurs.
Let her live?
Why?
Back Below
The Revenant crouched by the remains of the adventurers he had killed. The dungeon had consumed most of their gear, but a few pieces remained.
He turned over a crushed steel gauntlet, sniffed the fading blood in the seams.
Memories flickered.
A name.
Marra.
He did not know how he knew it. It had not been spoken aloud.
But when he had torn the mage's face apart, he had seen it in her mind. Her thoughts had been wide open. Terrified. Screaming about Marra.
Now he saw her again in his mind, the small one. The fast one. The one he had not killed.
He had let her run.
Not by mercy.
By instinct.
Some part of him wanted her to return. To bring others. To speak his name.
To spread his legend.
He was not just a monster.
He was the first king of this place.
The Revenant rose, eyes burning with memory.
Far above, the dungeon's stone ceiling echoed with fresh footsteps.
Five more were coming.
And this time, he would let none escape.