Mark and Alverost watched through Axel’s eyes as the dungeon of clan Longtail expanded. Creaking, gray wood rose slowly from the ground like expanses of ancient and gigantic fingernails, crunching down into the soft earth as they expanded to consume the territory of Clan Blighteye.

The dungeon moved like a living thing. And it was.

“The council is ready.” A Kobold spoke in hissing tones as he ascended the wall next to them. Axel turned, and Mark and Alverost released his mind. He stumbled for a second before catching himself, descending to the war council. Mark and Alverost followed, trailing clouds of perception.

“We have to move now!” Zeek urged, pounding his fist against the table. “Every minute we give them is a minute to convert more of us to their wicked forms.” He leaned forward over the table, golden and shining, a full head taller than any other Kobold, and he stared them down as if waiting for a challenger.

“We need to wait.” Valleria said. “Scout them out. Identify their numbers.”

“Zeek is right.” Mark said, interrupting them. Everyone at the table looked up. “Scouting them out and knowing their numbers would help, but not with how rapidly they’re about to grow.”

“We should prepare for an assault in an hour.” Alverost said. “Mark, can you use your abilities to refresh the troops?”

“I already sent a messenger to have them gather at the east wall. What will you be doing in the meantime?” Mark asked Alverost.

“We will need every advantage for the coming fight.” Alverost said, and Mark felt his perception swivel away to the glowing arcana being juggled in Axel’s fingers.

“An Arcanist could be a great help.”

“Let me take it.” Valleria said, standing. “Its the least I can do to pay back the Clan Below.”

“Its dangerous, though!” Mark said.

“Its a risk we need to take.” Alverost replied. “We will do an accelerated merge with Valleria, and after Axel is healed, we will merge the other with him.”

Axel looked between the floating mass of Alverost’s perception and Valleria before he sent the crystal sliding across the table. Valleria caught it with one hand, looking at it reverently. Mark’s perception slid away, heading to begin refreshing the troops— they would need their stamina restored and weapons and armor repaired.

Mala was the next to leave, scooting back in his chair silently and rising, before heading towards the underground section of the dungeon.

“With me, Valleria.” Axel said, directed her to a side room of the above ground complex that had been slowly growing in the Fourth Strata like a mushroom out of the dirt.

Valleria entered cautiously, looking around while holding the Arcana to her chest, as if afraid it would shatter like glass if she dropped it. Valeria looked around the empty room. It was through a hallway and behind another chamber, an unused bedroom that she alone now occupied, and she sat in a mushroom chair back against the wall.

“So what now, Alve? Do I just… eat it?”

“Eat it?” Alverost scoffed. “That would definitely kill you.” Dungeon roots emerged from the ground dozens of them pushing upwards. More emerged from the wall behind Valeria, melding into her flesh. She went stiff. “Put it here.”

With jerking movements, Valleria deposited the ovoid, silver crystal to the dungeon roots.

“Typically, theres a complex ritual. It takes multiple days to complete, and you slowly absorb the power bit by bit.” Alverost said. The crystal— and more dungeon roots— rose around Valleria. “We don’t have time for that. You’re going to get all the power at once. Its going to take some adjusting.”

“O- Okay.” Valleria spoke, her teeth grinding against the pain of the mana Alverost was forcing inside of her. It was a necessary step— her body probably wouldn’t have enough to fuel this transformation.

“Are you ready?”

“Y-Yes!”

“You might want to close your eyes.”

The last thing Valeria saw were the dungeon roots and Arcana plunging into her chest.

Splotch rode a lizard.

It was huge and ungainly, a Kobold shifted beyond all recognizability by a dungeons mana; it was the size of a Kobold’s house, and it more dragged itself along the ground than walked; the Boar Dragon itself was reduced to his steed. The whole of the cave smelled of a mix of fire and natural decay, mushrooms consuming the soil and fire renewing it.

Today he marched with hundreds of Kobolds at his side, pushing forth great carts embossed with crudely pressed silver sigillum, ready to burn down the last of clan Longtail. In the distance he could see Silver and Axel at the head of Kobold hosts, ready to lead the charge, and beyond them, the ever growing nest of clan Longtail, moving like a hideous creature of wooden bone to absorb their new territory.

Splotch lifted the reins of the giant lizard one handed, whipping it. In his other, he held a leaf bladed spear free and wild. It bucked as the lizard drove him forward over the rough ground of the Hallow. The place they marched over was clearly once a city, a ramshackle mix of rusted metal and rotting wood all that remained of the city.

Then it ended, the ground giving way to a pit that marked the dry river bed of the hallow

The Kobold’s approached the wall like a charging wave of death, feeling the dungeons very domain pulse around them as the flamethrowers sparked to life, spewing light and fire and death at the hold of clan Longtail. Their sickly looking gray wood spread to the border here— and caught flame like kindling, erupting. Splotch heard a rumbling, a sound like all the fury of the Clan Below focused in a single charge. He shouted, joined by dozens of other Kobolds at first, then more than a hundred as he led the Boar Dragon through the burning wall. He felt wood singe against his scales as it crumbled free, falling into pieces.

Reaching out, he snapped up the Changed Kobold waiting in ambush, his enhanced muscles easily overpowering him and ripping him free of the wall, before throwing him forward in front of him.

His mount caught the Longtail in midair with a crunch. Chewing, he continued forward. Below, dozens of Clan Below Kobolds clashed with Longtail Changed, their keratin blade arms meeting metal— or in some cases, wooden— weapons. Splotch paused, stopping his charge and pulling his mount back. Axel was back at the base healing, preparing to assimilate the second Arcana. He surveyed the field. He didn’t see Silver anywhere either, but Zeek— Zeek had noticed too, before Splotch had.

“Retreat!” Zeek shouted, his voice lost to the din of battle, of the crackling wood burning all around them, and of the blades clashing with Changed Kobold flesh. But Splotch heard him, and he lifted back the reins, encouraging the Pig Kobold to a deep, throaty shout, before charging to Zeek and lifting him up. “Retreat!” Zeek yelled again as Splotch tore through the crowds, stepping on both changed and Clan Below Kobolds. A few were crushed as he made his route. Splotch felt a mounting pressure unlike anything he had felt in his short life. He turned to Zeek.

“Swelltide! Retreat!” Zeek shouted again, before turning to Splotch. “Ride! Cross the river before we’re trapped here!” He leaned over Splotch’s shoulder, staring forward as a breeze began to tickle their scales. There was a dim noise as air began to move in the caverns. Zeek grimaced. “Its a big one. How long has it been since the last? 100 cycles… 150… no, more…”

The wind was a roar by the time they crossed the river, and in the fighting retreat, dozens of Kobolds laid dead across the pathway. The Motley army of the clan below moved towards the wall— and it was like the earth itself roared.

Wind picked up as the air itself seemed to implode, Splotch’s clothes being forced upwards, the reins of his mount thrown out of his hands and into the air. It squealed. Splotch covered his ears as the roar grew louder, and louder, and then stopped, all at once as the wind silenced and was replaced by a defining rumble.

Then, distantly, a slam. Splotch dismounted, jogging past the wall at the edge of their defended territory and climbing up it, looking over the distant mouth of the river. At the edge of one of the territories, a cloud of dirt and water spread— and then the light in the ceiling began to dim. As the world turned to darkness, the only large source of light the burning of Clan Longtail’s domain, water sprayed and foamed over everything. The fires began to go out. Splotch stood alone at the wall, staring at the dimming and twinkling fires of Clan Longtail.

Deep below the Hallow, Splotch stepped through the halls of the Clan Below. The guards posted there nodded in reverence of him. Unlike Axel or Silver, he was revered and respected by all of the Kobolds. He rolled the cold stone over in his hands. Arcana. That’s what they had called it; a key to power.

It wasn’t one that Mala coveted. But it was one that could benefit the clan. They were hesitating to use it, delaying it; but he knew it was a power they needed now.

Mala burst out into the farms of the Clan Below, offering a quick series of clicks that brought Longback down from the ceiling of the building. It skittered around him, and he offered it a piece of bat meat as a treat, running his hands over the chitin.

Longback was double the size of any of the other Centipedes, its monstrous body a sight of horror for most Kobolds.

Mala thought he was cute.

Mala pushed the Arcana towards him.