3 3. Adventurers

Mana radiated out from the shadow's hand and into the sleeping dungeon core. Fenrir could feel the core pulsing softly as it sucked in the mana. Like breathing, Fenrir explained to Evan.

Weeks passed by as Evan spun more mana, feeding it to Fenrir, who in turn fed it into the empty core. It was a monotonous cycle, but after centuries of an aimless existence, they relished the work.

Spin. Pass. Feed. Spin. Pass. Feed.

* * *

The sleeping core woke up in an explosion of light. There was a moment of disorientation as the shadow that Fenrir was controlling dove into the ground to avoid any damage.

Fenrir coaxed the shadow back under his control and guided it back to the core. A light blue glow surrounded the once dull and gray crystal. It no longer sat motionless on the pedestal, but floated several inches above it, rotating slowly.

Fenrir roared in triumph, waking Evan from his slumber. "My King. It is awake."

Evan pulled on the invisible thread of magic that he had attached to the summon and joined Fenrir inside the shadow. "Can we speak to it? Does it understand us?"

The shadow core took a moment to look over the newly awakened core. "It is a young core. It has likely not developed sentience yet. If we are patient, it should do what all dungeon cores are forged to do."

"How can you tell its age?" Evan asked. Despite the centuries that they had spent together, Fenrir had never revealed much about dungeon cores and Evan had always thought it better not to ask.

"Dungeon Cores change color as they age and grow in strength. Blue, green, orange, purple, red, and then black. Blue, green, and orange cores are the most common. Purple cores are rare. There may be a handful of red cores in existence. Only two black cores have ever existed. Of which, I am one," Fenrir responded.

Evan could hear the hint of pride in his voice as he spoke, though it seemed laced with something else. Sadness or anger. It was difficult to tell.

"How do cores grow in strength?"

The shadow core sent the image of a shrug to Evan as he responded. "We kill everything that enters our dungeon."

Evan hesitated, a hundred questions on the tip of his tongue. Fenrir sensed the incoming onslaught and left the shadow, whispering in his mind. "I am tired, my King. Ask them some other time."

He found himself nodding. The core was entitled to his secrets. He turned his attention back to the shadow. The dungeon core had been hard at work since waking up and Evan could feel the mana stirring around the shadow. With a final glance, he sent the shadow through the cracks in the floor and out into the maze of tunnels and rooms that he had become so familiar with.

Evan found himself enjoying a stroll through the tunnels. If he closed his eyes and focused on the shadow completely he could almost pretend that it was his feet slapping the cold dungeon floor. His hands that drifted across the dungeon wall. His face that felt the warm, sticky air as it rushed past—wait a second. He'd never felt any air in the dungeon before.

He opened his shadow's eyes in confusion. He found himself face to face with a large red wolf. Its mouth was fully open and Evan barely managed to get the shadow out of the way before a blazing ball of flame escaped the wolf's mouth. The fireball splashed against the dungeon wall, leaving nothing but black, charred earth.

Evan found himself grinning in excitement. A dungeon monster! Fenrir had been right!

The wolf lunged at the shadow once, twice, and then a third time. But what the shadow lacked in power, he made up for in speed. Evan dodged the swipes by gliding up and down the walls of the tunnel. Despite the fun he was having, he knew that he had to keep the shadow safe. The room that trapped him was hidden — no doubt another precaution taken by the Architects. He would need the shadow to guide others to him and Fenrir.

With a thought, the shadow raced back to his King. His God.

Fenrir watched in quiet satisfaction through Evan's eyes. He could feel the anticipation radiating from the summoner. Joy. Anger. Triumph.

Several days passed by. Evan or Fenrir would occasionally send out the shadow to scout the dungeon. Their once deserted prison was now overflowing with monsters. Wolves, spiders, slimes, and even a small pack of kobolds had taken up residence in the various rooms that littered the dungeon.

The dungeon groaned and rumbled. Evan felt the ground underneath his feet vibrate with the intensity of an earthquake. A loud noise reverberated throughout the dungeon, like the creak of a rusted door being opened. He could feel a sudden shift in the mana that had penetrated the chasm he was chained in from the dungeon core above. It swirled around the room like a hurricane. The moments seemed to stretch on until at last the mana storm died down.

"We've — we've left the Labyrinth," Fenrir whispered. The core's voice sounded strange in Evan's mind. A mix of shock, worry, and joy. For the first time, Evan realized how much he had come to rely on Fenrir over the centuries. How close he had come to insanity. How hard the core must have worked to ensure that Evan's mind stayed intact in some small way.

* * *

Baal slid the blade across the human's throat. Red blood splattered across the floor as the human clutched his hands to his ruined throat in a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding. A moment passed before the light in his eyes went out.

The elf stared at the human corpse as he pondered what he had learned. A system? Video games? Levels?

He spat on the floor in disgust. The human had been beyond useless. A complete waste of his time. His words made no sense.

Baal stared across the frozen battlefield where a group of humans continued to battle a number of Ice Elves. He had not been surprised when his kin had begun slaughtering the human warriors with ease. But then a warrior in black armor had appeared and begun to turn the tide of the fight.

It had been obvious to Baal that the human was their leader. He had carved through several of the elves with each stroke of his axe. The humans cheered the berserker onwards, certain of their victory. Baal chuckled at the thought.

The elf had expected the human leader to know more. After torturing the human for over an hour, all he had learned was that humans had access to a system. But by that time the human's mind was so far gone that he couldn't even speak.

He wiped the blood off of his blade and moved towards the battle. He needed to learn more. Needed to figure out how the humans were gaining their power.

* * *

The shadow followed the trio as they continued down the tunnel. One of them, the archer, drew her bow backward and released an arrow covered in lighting. The wolf that was lunging at another member, a warrior, fell to the floor in a heap, whimpering as its body spasmed.

Evan watched them with intense interest. The archer and warrior were strong, but it was the healer with blonde hair that had surprised him the most. She appeared to be the leader of the small group, and it was obvious to the summoner that she was smart.

She positioned and repositioned the group to ensure that they were never surrounded by monsters and took her time to map out the cave on a piece of paper as they walked. Once, when a spider had gotten past the warrior, she had punched the spiderling into submission in a dazzling display of martial arts.

Even more curious, as Fenrir pointed out, was the mana that the group seemed to be absorbing from every creature they killed. They had never seen anything like it. Only dungeon cores had that ability.

After another hour, the group began to slow down. They had emptied several of the rooms and had built a small camp in one of them to rest.

Evan guided the shadow closer to the camp, but still kept its presence hidden.

The archer groaned, "Astrid, did you bring anything other than this dried jerky? The stuff tastes terrible!"

The blonde girl laughed in reply as she threw a plastic bottle of liquid to the warrior. "Sorry Mel, that's all I got. Not like any of us can cook anyway."

Mel sighed as she nibbled on the stick of dried meat.

"My King, we should bring them here. Attack the warrior. They will follow," Fenrir whispered.

Evan took control of the shadow and formed a crude blade from one of its arms. He made sure that the shadow blade was dull. He didn't want to kill the warrior, he needed them to escape, but he had to make sure that they followed.

With a single fluid motion, Evan had the shadow slice at the warrior's chest. The warrior yelled, more in surprise than in pain, and stood up.

The shadow jumped backward, avoiding the slash from the warrior's blade. He commanded the shadow to run. Fast enough to not be captured, but slow enough for the party not to lose sight of him.

Evan grinned as he watched the archer and warrior race after the shadow, with the healer yelling at them from behind to stop.