Dakota Krout - Dungeon Born (The Divine Dungeon Book 1)

“I don’t suppose you have any open meridians?” He was a bit exasperated as he pulled her away from another rock fall she had almost triggered. “Can you cycle Essence to your eyes?”

“I know how…” Rose flushed, “I’ve never done it though. I’ve just never had a way to replenish my Essence if I used it.”

Dale nodded, “We’ll explain it when we clear the next room.” They stepped around the corner and went very still. Row upon row of Bashers blocked their way across the room.

“This should be interesting.” Hans noted, slowly drawing his daggers. As if that were a signal, the swarm bounded toward them with deadly intent.

I watched the Cat until it finally awoke. Stretching powerfully as all cats seem to do, it exposed a regrown tentacle that the enchantments on the Silverwood tree had sliced off. It glanced at the tentacle and purred, pleased by what it saw. The tentacle reached down and pet the Cat, reminding me that they were separate creatures. The huge Cat glanced up at the celestial glass above and hissed. Apparently it did not like the brightness of the room. A few people had gathered and were looking down, commenting on the unexpected sight of the Cat. It gazed around the room, all three eyes again locking on the space where Dani and I cowered under the Silverwood tree.

It padded over and peered down at where we were. The night before had taught me caution however and I had reduced the size of the opening, as well as lined the space with poison and spikes. No one would put their hand in this jar without losing a chunk of it. I could feel the malevolent gaze of the Cat as it tried to determine if hunting me was worth the trouble. In the disconcerting way of all cats, it seemed to lose all interest and instead walked away and resumed basking in the thick Essence, occasionally lapping up a small droplet of the super-concentrated Essence.

I was also getting stronger and was back to near thirteen percent capacity. To achieve my next rank, I needed to strain against the bounds of my current capacity until they weakened enough for me to achieve a breakthrough. If I had a week or so, I could easily move into D-rank four, possible even D-five if I had uninterrupted time to cultivate. The sun had risen though, and soon I felt the steps of a group coming to try their luck. I turned my attention to them, as the Cat didn’t seem to be threatening me anymore.

I no longer felt the need to hold back. With this influx of Essence, I had enough to fully devote my creatures to attacking, and could restore them to full strength without the worry of running too low to defend myself. Right now, it was far more important to me to get every drop of Essence I could in an attempt to force a breakthrough. If that meant cannibalizing my troops, so be it! I’d rather use them to take out the humans though. I called every Basher out of their hidden warrens, forcing their minds to the breaking point as I ordered all of them to fight to the death. The heavy pressure of combat that I was going to apply was now just beginning in the second room of the first floor.

Dale's group had new people in it, I recognized a few of them from their time in my dungeon, but the female was entirely new to my depths. I caught their names as they talked, and prepared to give them the fight of their lives - a real battle. As they wasted their time cultivating, I arranged all of the remaining Bashers of the first floor into ranks in the next room. When they attacked, they would move as a wave, the first rank jumping, then the second directly after. The third rank would start charging as soon as the first hit, and jump to attack when the second wave landed their attacks. Then they would reform in their lines to do it again, over and over until the humans were pulp.

The lazy adventurers made their painfully slow way to the third main room of the first floor, stopping in shock at the arrayed forces. They reached for the weapons they had foolishly put away... Which was when I gave my command to attack. The waves of Bashers charged forward, flying recklessly toward the uncomprehending adventurers. With a sound reminiscent of a drumline being played, the smooth horn of each of the Bashers found a home somewhere. Some were dodged and hit the tunnel wall, many hit the front line adventurers. A few hit those in the rear, Rose and Adam, who cried out in pain louder than those standing on the front line. Those cries drove my bashers into a frenzy.

My lines of Bashers kept up a constant battering of the adventurers, even as they began to counterattack. A Warhammer I had gifted Tom some time ago came into play, the enchantment releasing a shockwave of force with each successful hit that was enough to burst the eardrums of the nearest Bashers, if not kill them directly. The Bashers actually hit would vanish in a spray of viscera, the force of the strike quintupled by the potent enchantment. The roaring barbarian was soon covered in gore and began laughing as the blows seemed to not affect him. He charged forward into the room, leaving his companions behind as he sought a glorious death in battle. I was more than happy to oblige him.

He spun his whole body in a spiral, killing a half dozen Bashers in midair. Their coats now sanguine where they were once white, the Bashers howled like dogs as they threw themselves at this lone target. Several were able to impact his knees from behind, driving him to the ground with an * oomph* . Racing toward his head from all sides, many were rebuffed as arrows slew them. A dagger attached to a swiftly moving Hans * snicked * into the battle, killing as many in near a second as Tom had managed the entire fight. Still, several Bashers landed their attack, but were knocked away at the last second by a glowing barrier. The cleric had formed a wall of solid Essence around his kneeling comrades’ head, though the cost of driving his Essence so far from himself was making him shake and sweat.

Dale had also joined the melee, swinging his Morningstar to deadly effect. The spikes on the ball, if they did not kill the Bashers directly, opened massive gashes that bled out the small bodies in seconds. Powering through arrows, Rose never stopped moving as she weaved amongst the attacks, firing at a speed which numbed the mind. If a Basher got too close, the hardened shaft of the bow would swing at them, most often crushing their spines. As many Bashers as there were, they still were simply no match for such a well-equipped team. I needed to increase my ability. This purge of creatures may actually be just what I needed to start filling the lair with more dangerous Mobs.

The Party stood in the room - until they fell to the ground that is. Adam fell first, the strain of holding the barrier draining him to a paler color than was his norm. He hit the floor with a small * splash* as he fell into the lake of blood and bodily fluids. The others followed suit, except Hans who eyed the floor with distaste. Despite a few splatters on him from the wildly swinging Warhammer, his clothing was still immaculate. The blood soon vanished, except in the areas where the human auras were too close. Small puddles of blood were soon the only remnants, but even those vanished as the party moved away from them.

They sat down and began cultivating in an attempt to recoup the expenditure of Essence they had used. Adam especially was working hard to swiftly condense the cultivated Essence, and color began returning to his face. The expended Essence had returned to him quickly, well, technically the Essence had actually looped out from him, formed a barrier around Tom’s head, then returned to Adam’s center when the barrier was dropped. Still tiring I assume.