Dungeon Core: Bugged Ascension

With his heart now on display, and despite his general orders to stand down for most of his people, they hang tight to their vigil. There are more eyes watching and ready claws and still pools of Mana just waiting for a shoe to drop so they can unleash havoc. His Patron looks at him with curiosity though makes no moves to approach closer, while the dungeon’s core just thumps away.

His attention is quickly pulled away from the staring contest his creatures are having, and he tries to dive into his logs and Template Library to better investigate if his Patron was right about his spawns. As he’s looking through it, he doesn’t see anything that would give sufficient information one way or the other. So, he goes deeper and tries to shift his perspective by focusing on Thing.

Though it seems to take a little while, that ends up being the right set of keys to unlock this particular door. As he backtracks through Thing’s logs, even as unintelligible as they are from his perspective, he’s able to track all four data points for when he got his various critters. Alongside this, there are dozens, perhaps hundreds of other identical spikes that seem more focused on altering or upgrading patterns.

The final puzzle piece are the partial hits that come after Cutest is incorporated. The timeline from Thing’s perspective doesn’t stop with her. Their work ethic is intimidating and there are several other spikes of a similar nature involving their attention, though not reflected in his actual data bank.

“[You are fascinating to watch. The way that Mana and Mako flow through you and your creatures is awesomely complex. What did you just learn from Thing?]”

Now back in the waking world, he takes a few moments to breathe deeply and calm his racing heart. Once he feels more grounded and less faint, “You were right,” and he just pushes right past the preening arrogance of his audience. “Thing has managed to Assimilate Territory on quite a few other creatures, but they aren’t mine in the same way these are. The problem I’m having though, is if it was just based on my theme, I should still have a bunch of others. A variety or conglomeration of fly at the very least.”

His Patron nods at this, “[I think I know the solution to this issue as well, and it ties into my previous hypothesis about your progression. But before I reveal my thoughts, as an act of good faith,]” and he extends out one of his wings, feathers resting on the ground, “[just touch your heart to me and I shall grant you that {Boon}. It’s not much, as I am both limited in what rules I may bend, and also not so generous as to grant you the world for free.]”

His scions are still hesitant, but after several pups scurry back and forth for a sniff, a touch, a taste and the heat does not burn then, nor the edges cut them, they acquiesce. There is a moment then, with his heart effectively resting partially on Aurora Hephaestus’s wingtip and the dungeon can feel the echo of his Patron’s own mana heart beating. With a surge of heat that flows from his center, down the wing, and then concentrated at the feathers in contact with the dungeon, the intent and complexity of the shaped Mana and Mako are an awe to witness.

Your Patron has granted you a {Boon}. Theme Vault for spawning {Elemental Bird} has been unlocked.

As the category {Elemental Bird} has one discovered template already in Template Library; Disease Theme has granted {Pestilent Picidae} as well.

Due to conflict between Theme and {Elemental Bird}, any that are not compatible may only be spawned while {Boon} is active. Grow stronger and advance to permanently unlock unsupported templates.

“Wow, okay. That worked. Uhh, looks like I would only be able to make a specific species of those without the {Boon} staying active. So, until I get stronger, if you’re wanting more of the… {Powder Puffbird},” he snickers at the official name a bit, “You’ll need to leave that gift given. Though, hmm, I seem to have run into a different sort of issue. I don’t know how to actually spawn them?”

He sifts around in his menus and some of the arcane mechanism of the System, “It feels like I could make the one I have already into a scion, but that wouldn’t really address the issue, since the pattern doesn’t want to split like the mice do.”

His Patron gives a fatherly chuckle, a bit smug, a dash of condensation, but ultimately followed by useful guidance, “[Fortunate indeed that the time has come for my advice then. You’ve reached a plateau, young dungeon. I’m not sure if you’ve realized it, but your core isn’t growing larger like it used to. Before, my presence this close to you was enough to watch you grow as you cycled Mana and Mako that my Lair connection funnels through me to you.

“[Now though, you need something more. You must {Establish} yourself. Up to this point, you’ve been relegated to who and what you are, growing within those narrow confines. The time has come to make decisions about the future. And for a Dungeon Core, those will shape the rest of your life. There are three main paths, like I mentioned before, and innumerable ways to soar through them all.

“[The Wild dungeon is just more of what you already know. Growing and strengthening yourself, adapting and learning the world, and interacting with whatever crosses into your lands. The Profane dungeon is an endless hunger, as a drive to consume, strength, and power are your guiding efforts. The Divine dungeon is one that seeks the path of sapients; from your challenges and tests, they will make teams and cities will be built upon the potential you awaken in them.]”

A wave of his wing stalls out the questions the dungeon would ask, while it also brings this latest session of Thing’s experimentation to a close, “[The choice is yours, and you will not get my personal opinion on them, there are Rules and then there are {Rules}. As your Patron, I can only tell you this next step: You must {Establish} your own {Motif}, a true expression of who you are through the lens of what power you wield. My power was fire, but I chose the forge over the wild flame, or the kiss of the sun.

“[Choose, young dungeon. Take your first true step into adulthood. As for your other problem… look around, dungeon. See the grasses, the earth, the trees, this very spring with its basin of water. You are already establishing your presence here; it’s there, just waiting for you to shape it.]”

As he takes flight, he passes on one final note, whispered in the wind, and heard only by his own ears, and thus Thing as well, “[As for small birds? Many of them nest in trees.]”

The moments after are a revelation to the dungeon, “That’s what those phantom vibes have been! Oh, woah… That’s a flood of new sensations. I feel tingly and woozy and gross. Alright, I need to map out these things to stabilize myself, because this level of chaos is too much.”

The random impressions, now that he’s learned what they are and has acknowledged them, quickly start to spiral out of control. Shifting in intensity, style and means of communicating their information. Part of him just wants it to stop, but enough of him recognizes how important a visualization of this will be.

The phoenix was initially surprised that he knew when he’d arrived, saying that domain awareness wasn’t expected this early. So, if his domain is going to be his first chance to detect changes and also serve as his passive defense, there really is only one organ it can be. One that can insulate him against the mundane everyday sort of activities while reacting strongly to the faintest touch of strangeness.

There is a snap of pressure as his world shifts once more. The massive tsunami of Mana and subsequent explosion of Mako from his heart fills him with panic. The power is too much for him to contain, deflect, or even direct. The throbbing of his heart grows more and more painful while his breath catches in his throat, even as more and more energy continues to cascade into and through him.

He’s right on the verge of passing out when he feels comfort and care and concern alongside the new sensations of fur and feather and… fleas?

He comes back to himself with all three of his scions pressed up against him, each pushing their love for him and doing their best to siphon off the overload. The overwhelming amount of Mana triggered an evolution for each of them, advancing them further along their paths.

Having happened far sooner than it should have, he can tell that only Gnat was truly prepared to grow and feels content with her new form. While the others were forced to take something expensive and divert the storm towards it, doing anything to help. As he looks at them, he recognizes that his breathing has calmed, and his heart is no longer beating hard enough to tear itself apart. But some instinct tells him this is only a temporary thing.

He doesn’t know how he knows, but just like he can feel the beating of his heart filling his domain. Somehow, he can tell that each beat is coming ever so slightly faster than the last. If he doesn’t manage to find his own sink for the immense influx of Mana, when next he loses control, everyone will die.

“Sorry everyone. I don’t know why that thought, that change had such a devastating reaction, but thank you for saving me. For saving all of us. I don’t know how much more time we have, so I’ll need to do this fast, but I can’t make a mistake like that again.” The waves of encouragement, thankfulness and humility from his scions is inspiring and a great focusing lens for what he must do, “First. Everyone needs to head to the-“

The power leapt to his tongue as he was about to speak, one more syllable could have doomed a new life incidentally, for {Names} have power too, “Take us to the tree where we’ve kept the bird. I can feel them as a minion now but need to buy us some more time. As potent as all of you are, trying to stretch your patterns too much more this early and you could break. Your souls all need time to adjust.”

His glance at the new entries that have been added to his Template Library from his scions’ evolutions or that have unlocked from his own advancement could be a way to spend Mana when he gets desperate. But some deeper part of him knows that’s not a real solution… or rather screams at him that doing something like that would be the worst way to survive. Only as a last resort.

His focus still skipping as his nervousness increases with each quickened beat of his heart, it is a sharp {Pain} that rouses him once more. Gnat is flying away from him with blackened sludge-like blood dripping from her new beak, while Thing tries to restrain Cutest as she rages and her swarms of mice and rats leap after the bird that stabbed him.

It takes him less than a wing flap to review their memories before speaking again, “It’s okay Cutest, I’m fine. Gnat, I’m sorry you had to do that, I know how much that hurt you to do. Thank all of you for being here. I need to introduce you to your new brother.” His heart’s blood had sprayed out for a couple of beats before the wound healed. While still in a daze he nonetheless notices that had reset some of the overload.

So, as he’s learned of another trick to delay the inevitable, “Put me in the hollow, I need contact if I’m going to try something this out of pocket.” Despite his consolations, Cutest refuses to allow Gnat near the core again, carrying it herself inside the tree and holding it up against the ceiling. He makes sure that enough of his mind is with each of them, the tides of his own gratitude and pride and love for each of them suffusing their bond.

As a new growth of roots or branches reaches out to embrace his core, he tells each of his children to give him space, “Okay. Step one. Secure myself to the tree, check. Step two,” he takes a shuddering, deep breath to center himself as he can already feel his heartbeat quickly spiraling out of control, “Do something stupid.”

I gather my will and my words and rather than speak once more, I scream my defiance, my Truth into the world, “I AM THE DUNGEON OF DISEASE! I choose my path, and it is MY WILL that determines how that manifests in this world. I AM GROWTH, ADAPTATION, MUTATION!”

Just breathing is a struggle, and my voice is already hoarse from shouting and the strain of my proclamations, but I persist, “A-N-D I AM COOPERATION! I am NOT a plague that consumes all in its path. I am opportunity and potential.”

My vision and consciousness are on the verge of whiting out, but my body, my very flesh is magic itself. So, I still my racing heart for a moment and in that silence, I declare, “My {Name} is D.N.A.”

The transcendent cataclysm of Mana and Mako that crashes through his domain pushes him almost all the way into the black, but he has more that needs to be said, “I {Name} this species: Heartwood… and shall make him my scion… my son-” as the darkness takes him, he would swear he meant to speak a name, but he could not hear any longer, nor see, nor feel. Though, when next he looked through his logs, there it would be.

Name accepted by Scion “Life.” Soul imprinted onto “DNA” |Disease Dungeon, Thermal Spring Mountain|.