The Dungeon Child

I have come to a decision.

I need to kill Richter.

If I'm honest with myself, I don't know why the conclusion took so long to get to. As an immobile dungeon, I suppose I was more used to my enemies - or my prey, more accurately - coming to me. It simply hadn't occurred to me that I could go to them.

And of course, that's exactly what I'm planning. I have eyes all over the school, and I'm working on a more permanent method of traveling between school and home. A stream of dungeon domain has been slowly growing between the two, and once the strings connect, I should be able to establish the entire town as my dungeon.

Brief visions of a planet dungeon flash before my eyes, a dungeon so large and powerful and with so many cores that I would never be destroyed again. Would Charlie want a throne? Dillon... could have a smaller throne, but the Mother could definitely use a throne. She complains about her back frequently enough that I may have to modify her physiology at some point.

The train of thought leads me to its natural conclusion as I consider the fact that I have not yet revealed to the Mother my true nature, and a slight stab of worry cuts through my good mood. What would she think about it?

I push the thought away with a moment of uncharacteristic confidence. Once the entirety of the world lies beneath my chubby thumb, any and all concerns the Mother might have regarding my conqueror's mindset would vanish like adventurers in a false treasure room full of mimics!

Or at least, I hope so.

Charlie pokes my arm, distracting me from my reverie and pulling me back to the smelly bus we're riding in. She has to raise her voice over the clamor in order to make herself heard. "Jason? Are you okay?"

"Of course. I'm perfectly fine." I give her a wide smile and she leans back a bit, her face wrinkling. Frowning, I touch my own face. "What is it?"

She gestures to... well, me. "Maybe don't do that."

My eyes widen. "Smiling? I thought you liked that." I start filing through my memories of Charlie, trying to find an incident where she'd stated that she disliked smiles. None come to mind; if anything, her love of smiling is unequaled to any human I'd met in this life or the prior.

She hurriedly shakes her head. "No, I like smiling! But you look weird when you do it. Like cartoons!" She smiles widely and lowers her head, raising her arms and wiggling her fingers. "Mwahahaha!" She weakly chirps, and I can't help but blink in my confusion.

"Is that... what is that?"

Settling back in her seat, Charlie shrugs. "I dunno. Like a bad guy! You have a take-over-the-world smile!"

Well... I can take that as a good thing. Bad guys and good guys can both be perceived as the other depending on which side of the equation one sits on. In my case, I'm confident I'm the good guy. After all, there's no way a disorganized rabble of humans can possibly come up with a better method of government than myself. I managed a dungeon full of monsters for several thousand years, after all! I'm certain I can handle a planet of weak little humans.

We pass through a wave of invisible dungeon mana into the parking lot of the school, and the bus squeals to a stop. As children start getting off, I absently take a look at the surrounding area. A number of vehicles are placed at varying intervals, obstructing my vision to certain areas, but I can still see the top of a familiar black van.

I pause, feeling my breath hitch. I know exactly whose van that belongs to. Of all the fortunate timing - I hadn't expected to see Richter here on the same day I decided to wage war on him.

Turning to Charlie, I solemnly inform her, "I need to go talk to somebody. I'll see you after school." After a moment's hesitation, I hold my hand out and infuse her with a good amount of mana. "And... someone might come after you. Find help first, but blast them if you have to."

Charlie's eyes turn very round. "Are there bad guys here?"

I nod, and Theory pokes her head out from beneath my shirt collar. "Yes, but Theory should be more than enough to take them all on. Be prepared, though."

She nods rapidly and hurries off after the other kids, and I sense a slight amp of mana as she funnels her own unique spin of my mana into her wrists. Her control really has improved significantly since I first introduced her to magic. I just hope she doesn't burn the school down.

Taking a deep breath, I walk between the vehicles and command a decent portion of my insectoid army to dig beneath the vehicle. It shouldn't hurt to be extra prepared, after all. No need to be stingy.

Walking straight up to the van, I rap the back door with a knuckle and back away. I feel Theory tense, her improved limbs digging somewhat painfully into my shoulder, and I brace myself.

The door is thrown open and Richter glares out. "What do you-" He freezes as he sees me, eyes widening.

A short moment pauses, and I give him my take-over-the-world smile. "Hello, Richter. How's your cheek?"

Without the slightest hesitation, he pulls a short weapon from the vehicle, takes aim at me, and pulls the trigger.

The small bullet escapes the barrel with nary a whisper and smashes into my chest, and I'm thrown to the ground. I lay there for a moment, heart racing. Was I dead again? Was that all? Why had I been so stupid as to goad him? I should have just killed him before the van opened...

...but I'm not dead.

Forcibly calming myself down, I examine my chest and exhale in relief. The only injury sustained from the shot is a bit of bruising: it appears my own reinforcement has proven successful in dividends. "Theory," I say aloud. Richter's eyes widen impossibly further. "Take them out."

A blur erupts from my shoulder with far more force than the bullet had as Theory rockets into the van, straight at Richter. The last thing I see of his face is a shocked expression before he's hurled through the front of the van. Several heavy impacts alert me to the remaining crew members inside the vehicle, and I stand up to dust myself off. "That was easier than anticipated. Thank you very much, Theory."

The parking lot detonates in an eruption of green, emanating from Richter's location, and a wave of toxic mana washes over me. I amusedly watch it sink into my skin, and I reconfigure it into extra dungeon mana. What had Richter thought would happen?

My forehead wrinkles. This mana... it's mine. Or at least it used to be. All mana has a distinct signature, and this has distinct traces of my own.

Stomping through the plague magic, I pause. There are a lot of people in my dungeon, and only one of them has any magic to start with. Should I... should I protect them?

How much mana would I get if I let them die?