Axel arrived at long last, still dragging the giant bug. He felt his masters attention a while after he returned, a dull perception of being watched. The slacker, Mala, had barely held up his side of the great bug, but he could feel that carrying it back had paid off.

Through his connection with his master, he felt excitement. Pride even. But alongside it was a feeling he didn’t understand. Alverost felt wary— not of Axel or the insect, of which either he would be able to understand. For some reason, Alverost felt wary of the pride he had for Axel. Regardless, Axel had decided to do his best to serve his master, to demonstrate the superiority that had been imbued in him.

Much had changed in the time they had been gone, and already, Axel could feel the tiredness sinking into his bones. It brought back memories of long hours spent in the dark, an endless cycle of sleeping and wake, of the hideous, chittering things that had occupied these rotting halls with him when he was less. Now, though, Axel was made to be more.

He stood side by side with Mala and Silver when the gods addressed them.

“What is that?” The Green God, Mark, asked. Always asking so many obvious questions.

“Chittering thing. Found near wall. They hunt us, once. Now I hunt them.” Axel spoke with a voice full of pride, speaking highly of his accomplishment. As he spoke, he worked with Mala to drag the giant insect through an open door of a great, stone wall. Silver lead the way inside, staring around curiously.

“Find rusted metal. Stabbed in eye.” Silver spoke, trying to claim his credit. Axel glared at him. “We killed, together.” Better, but not good enough. It was mostly Axel’s work. Axel felt the longer sentences were becoming less confusing. He could use more and more words.

“Metal?” This brought the full focus of Alverost onto Silver. “Come here, show me.” Silver raised the pile of scrap in his arms. “Iron… copper… rust… I can’t see all of it, bring it over near the dungeon core and lay it out.” Alverost instructed. Silver tilted his head sideways, walking deeper into the courtyard. The mushrooms had been pruned back here, cleared to make way for stone walkways that lead deeper inside.

Across from the entrance they had crossed through was another doorway, which Silver quickly disappeared inside of. Axel could vaguely hear Alverost speaking to Silver, Jealously welling in his chest.

“Axel! Mala! Come here.” Mark spoke, a path lighting up in Axel’s vision. Axel sent a begrudging glance towards the room Silver had headed to before following.

They followed a trail down the hallway, and Mala stopped behind Axel. Axel continued following the trail, finding a door of marbled white and green. “Look! Its fungiwood. Good for privacy. I have the hinges working, I’m just working on the lock to keep it in place.” The Green God, Mark, spoke. “Give it a push!”

With trepidation, Axel pushed it open, looking warily inside. It was secured, the ceiling pressing low to the floor below, separate from the world outside and just tall enough to fit Kobolds. A white mushroom glowed in a pot full of dirt, providing light. At one side, another mushroom grew from the ground, forming a long rectangle.

“Tada! Its a bed. It must have been at least a full day for you, right? This is your room. You can sleep here!”

Axel approached the bed carefully, prodding it. It was made of mushroom, but had a soft surface that his hand sunk into. Axel had only ever slept in the dirt before. With great distrust, he tested his weight on it, sinking a knee into the mushroom before rolling onto it entirely.

Through the wall, he heard Mala snore, a grating noise. A bed? His own bed? Axel closed his eyes, but then quickly opened them again, the sensation of closing them in the dim light reminding him of the long dark before. It had been a few days since he had met the gods, and the gods had been asleep for most of them, but Axel’s life had changed entirely in that time.

He kept his eyes open, not trusting the darkness, but he quickly found them sinking low again. Drifting in and out, he stared at the luminescent mushroom beside him.

Sleep took him without his notice, claiming him and pulling him down to the world of dreams.

He dreamed of himself slaughtering dozens of many legged, chittering things.

Alverost frowned internally at the metal scrap laid out before him. Iron, rusted and rotten. Not even inlaid gold. The armor of a soldier, surely, but not of a noble. It confounded him.

Why was there armor left behind inside of a cave? The idea that this place might really be a fallen dungeon seemed less obscene by the second. Alverost was eager to push his influence far enough out to investigate; if this place truly was a fallen dungeon, they could be in danger to the monsters that still occupied it.

Monsters like… Alverost swiveled his attention to it, left behind in the courtyard. A many legged mass of chitin and teeth and interlocking carapace.

“That is a big bug. They’re normally much smaller than that where I come from.” Mark spoke. “Its a good thing we have walls now.” Mark paused. “You don’t think that thing would, say, eat a dungeon core? Right?”

“Judging by the contents of its stomachs… no. It eats Kobolds.”

“Thats not really much better then. I’m glad we have walls now.”

“Most bugs can climb over walls.” Alverost answered. He was uneasy, wondering at what other monstrosities might lurk in the dark.

Mark prodded at the metal scrap, his roots visible as they moved through the earth, poking and prodding. “Iron oxide… iron… I wonder if we can create this?”

Alverost felt him change the metal, the rust falling away. He didn’t object.

“Now if I could just get some carbon… I wonder if I could just create an alloy…?” Mark spoke to himself. From one of the pieces of metal, Mark’s mana revealed a spearhead. It tore itself free from the rust and grime that covered it, a cold, dark gray metal.

It came with a great expenditure of mana— almost everything they had recovered since Mark finished building the little fort around them. Its edges were sharp, a fungi-wood handle of green-marbled white quickly forming in the spear heads slot. It stretched out, a long staff to hold the spear at its end.

“Ah… we should arm our Kobolds.” Alverost said after some waiting, reaching out to some of the scrap metal himself. This piece would be for his changed Kobold, Axel. With this, he would hopefully be safe if he ran into more of the giant insects. Alverost bent it together, metal moving like clay under the influence of his dungeon tendrils, sharpening, bending into a wicked, curved blade. He moved the metal, forming teeth which emerged from its edge— all the better to cut through hard carapace. By the time Alverost finished making the sleek, black fungi-wood handle, their mana had dropped precariously low.

“Iron and blades… but no silver, damn it.” Alverost cursed.

“Its alright. I’m sure we will find some on tomorrows expedition.” Mark assured, though the confidence in him faltered. “And then we can send for help, right?”

“If only things were ever so simple, Mark.” Alverost replied, ever the pessimist. “With any luck, there will be no further complications.”

Mark paused, but Alverost felt his attention focused on the gigantic insect. “Do you think we can heal it?”

“You cannot heal death. And… my father is more of the expert on necromancy than I am. I never cared for it.” Alverost marked a pause. “Its rather boring in practice, soulwork.”

“How much mana do you think it would take to make another one? A whole, living being?”

“Definitely more than we have right now, thanks to you insisting on building beds for our minions.”

“It only took a few tries!” Mark replied sheepishly. “Tomorrow then?”

Alverost sighed. “Tomorrow.”