I awake when he leaves my mind. I am in control of me at last and I halt the race he forced me to run. My memory is full of stairs, halls and rooms, the last few typically with no door or the doors are broken, hanging ajar. I quickly recover my breath. Oh! I own a breath and I breathe in deeply and then cough. The dust is thick, and I recall the last part of my journey and the dust devils I kicked up as I fled at his command from his presence through his Dungeon.

I hate him. I discover hate at this very moment, and it is the exact emotion to describe our relationship. I realise the perfect contrast, the love, and the adoration I share with my creator. Separated from him, somehow and sometime in the future, I will return to him, and I will free him. I will not return to him as a shade and cause him pain, once again. I will improve, and I will manipulate this Dungeon Core to grow strong and develop skills regardless of the insults I must suffer, I will endure when I can, torment him. My oaths finished; the moment is upon me to rise.

My steps in the dust show me the direction I travel. My gifted eyesight enhances the inherent luminescence within this dungeon. I don’t understand its source, Azizos would, and I refuse to ask him for an explanation. He squats at the back of my mind, aware of me, as I am aware of him, a link I will sever when he is no longer of benefit to me. I am sure this is Zeus’ plan, grow strong until free. I call the Dungeon Core ‘a him’ and although he doesn’t display a penis, as does my creator, his image of himself is masculine and his attitude towards females is dismissive and punitive. He expects me to fail and wills me to fail, this time I refuse to fail, and I will kill and destroy before any kill or destroy me.

I concentrate, listening. Silence is my reward. Azizos has urged me here falsely; I am the first to travel this hallway for an indeterminate amount of time and I realise I don’t perceive how existence is measured. It is then I realise he believes I am a nothing, his to tease and taunt and dismiss from his sight. He exudes such disrespect for me, I am worthless to him, I will reinforce his view and utilise it as a cloak as I improve and grow stronger. I discover revenge.

The roof of the hallway clears the top of my head easily. Upon my return, I can now confirm some of my height is lost, how much I can’t measure. Nehal would need to bend over to walk this hallway, I am sure. Azizos’ favourite would fight at a disadvantage here, interesting. I conclude Nehal will forever remain with his Master regardless of his power and skill, therefore, to survive him I must never visit. Joy and happiness permeate my body and I appreciate the discovery and realise now there exists an opposite to sadness and sorrow.

The joy lightens my step as I make footprints in the dust, I pause; my toe draws in the dust, idle foolishness. I wait for Azizos to call me to task, to stop playing, silence. I need to press my advantage and hasten to the next broken door kicking up dust behind me deliberately enjoying this carefree fun.

My body is firm and flows effortlessly to my will, I am no longer a statue of beauty; I am a statuesque beauty as I am aware my face is from the Goddess Aphrodite. As each Goddess blessed me, I sensed their reasons as I acknowledged their gifts.

The room is full of dust, broken wood littering the floor and rocks, a wall of rocks. The rocks spill through a doorway diagonally opposite the doorway I used to enter the room. If I intend to continue forward, I need to remove the rocks, consequently one by one I lift them away from the doorway and stack them in a clear corner of the room. The various sizes of the rocks, larger than my body, don’t challenge my strength and I don’t tire. I sweat and the dust from the room and the rocks stick to me, and my ebon skin is covered. I don’t need to eat or drink perhaps Azizos against his will sustains me; I hope so, anything to annoy him.

I am in no rush as no urgency is upon me, I proceed quietly, listening intently when I carry the rocks. If Azizos sent me here, even falsely, intruders could attack in the future and I refuse to be careless. Rock after rock until eventually, the outline of the door reveals itself to me, excited I continue.

A clunk reaches my ears as I place the first rock in a new corner of the room to commence a new pile. Straightening, eyeing the rock pile I notice small pebbles tumble, then a rumble. The rumbling grows and rocks the size of my fist and then the size of my head shift, some spill into the room. I sprint from the room, through the doorway; the thunder builds into a crescendo behind me.

I halt halfway down the hallway and turn. Rocks follow me out of the doorway and into the hallway and rest at my feet. My eyelids seal shut as the dust cloud escort envelops me, where I sweat, I am now dust-covered. I wait, listening.

Rocks are disturbed as they are picked up, I overhear grunting as those toiling away exert themselves. Words are spoken and I recognise them as words as occasionally a sound repeats. A silence starts. Will I try to greet these strangers? Should I ambush them? Am I confident I can defeat them; how would I judge? I ball my fists and prepare, climbing on the pile of rocks spilt into the hallway, I approach the doorway of the rock room. The rocks don’t displace underfoot, luck or a benefit of my construct I ask myself and don't find the answer.

A smallish head peers around the doorway, covered in brown-black leathery scales a small white horn protruding between red eyes. I strike with my fist expecting resistance, none exists, I overbalance and fall upon the rocks. The head of the creature explodes as my strength drives my hammering fist straight through it; bone and leather fail to halt the force, my momentum stopping as I crush rock in the follow-through. The creature’s blood splashes over me.

I glance into the rock room and quickly raise the back of my bloodied hand before my eyes querying what I have accomplished and am therefore distracted as a thin weapon targets them. I recognise it as a spear, the expertise to wield the weapon filling my mind from somewhere. The point stings my flesh without penetrating and I react by closing my hand around the spearhead and jerking the wielder to me. The creature collapses forward onto my prone body lying on a bed of rocks and releasing the spear I wrap both my arms around it and crush it.

{Dragon Essence absorbed. + 5.0%}

I roll the dead creature off me, sit up and peer into the rock room seeing multiple pairs of red eyes staring at me. They are crouched, their small horns on their heads scraping the roof of the room. The body and blood of my first kill vaporise and I sense Azizos’ presence exuding joy. I hate his joy, although I recognise this is my task, I am feeding my Master. My second kill remains and it’s uniquely this kill, which belongs to me. I must kill while they are away from my Master’s body, not in contact with his Dungeon, to claim them for Zeus’ purpose.

The creatures edge nearer. I pick up one of my attacker’s spears and I heft it testing it for balance. I don’t twig onto why; it seems the most natural preparation. Then I throw the spear targeting the leading creature, although the room is full of them, and the end of the spear shaft passes through its chest hitting whatever creature is behind. The spear pings off the stonewall of the rock room. It signals a rout of the creatures, and they flee the room. Three creatures fade and my Master is overjoyed.

I am confident, and I rush to follow them, I need to crawl over the rocks, spider-like and approach the opposite doorway with caution. A swelling of shouting followed by whimpering answers. I continue until I can stand on the outside of the doorway, a roof of wood shields the entrance although dust still rains down occasionally.

{You have exited the Quest Dungeon of Azizos.}

Azizos' presence exists, although feint, a sliver of memory or a shadow. I am overjoyed, is this freedom? Is the slave now free?

{You are currently 58% Dungeon Dominate and will need to return in 42 hours or need respawning.}

I guess not. Forty-two hours, how much is that I ask myself?

I notice many small creatures staring at me and pointing. Three larger creatures with their backs to me slowly follow their pointing fingers. One stops when the spear I throw bursts through his chest continuing over the heads of the smaller creatures. The smaller creatures flee. I am taller than these larger creatures; they reach below my nose. Their skin, not scaled, although still black-brown, their humanoid face reminds me of my creator’s although fanged, flat splayed nose, black beading eyes under forehead ridges. One of the creatures charges with a long-bladed weapon, a variation of the spear. The other releases a thin missile from its weapon.

My spear passes the thin missile, both in-flight targeting their casters' opponent. The arrow glances off me a slight prick of my skin, a tiny hurt. My spear bursts through my opponent’s chest and he collapses. The other creature completes the arc of his bladed weapon, striking my neck; I am too late to block the shaft with my arm. The blade bites, the pain level less than the strikes from Nehal, although this blade is now stuck and I see him trying to draw it back. He is too far to hit with my fists, although I notice him drooling and a bulge between his legs.

I am suspicious about the bulge, step forward, and kick him between his legs, releasing his weapon he crumples to the ground his lower abdomen crushed into his stomach. I extract his weapon from my shoulder, the wound slowly seeps blood, which swiftly hardens and seals. I heft his bladed weapon, and knowledge of a halberd flows into me and then claim the other weapon he carries, like his speared companion. The weapon’s techniques and usage add to my knowledge of their weapons. Instinctively I retrieve an arrow, place it against the bow proper, the feathered end into the string. I pull back easily. The string snaps and whips my face. Too much draw, I will need to make allowances for the weakness of the weapon.

The creatures who fled carried several torches away with them, the remaining torches lay on the cold stone cavern floor, their flames fluttering casting token light. A tromping sound builds, many boots marching on a solid rock floor. As I try to peer into the far reaches of the cavern, I discover my sight has limitations and I cannot observe the far wall, yet as the echo builds, I realise I am in a huge cavern.

I collect the containers of arrows, the quivers from the three larger creatures and place them on my back their straps across my chest. I collect the two remaining bows, strapping one across my chest as they did. Then I remember and my hand drives into the slain creature’s abdomen and rips free his liver, which I then swallow. The pain lances savagely as my head throbs. I quickly drop the spear placing my ‘clean hand’ on my forehead and discover it doesn’t alleviate my suffering.

Unknown moments pass before I recover. I wipe my bloodied hand on his exposed cloth and realise every creature met, has clothed themselves, I alone walk naked. To be civilised is to be clothed. I straighten and witness a line of creatures arrayed against me, during my ‘moment’ they deployed before me undetected, I am at least thankful they didn’t start their attack, perhaps in shadow, prone, I am difficult to spot and find.

Multitudes of the smaller creatures stand in front presenting spears; behind them, larger creatures drawing back on their bows, wait. To either side of this line stand taller creatures, these remind me of Nehal, although shorter than him, and not as accomplished or perhaps sophisticated. They wear clothes, armour, and are armed with an assortment of shafted weapons, and boast muscular strength. One though commands and orders the others; his hand raises high above his head, his armour glints in the weak light offered by the torchbearers of his army, marshalling in the cavern.

--- Azizos POV

I curse her again; my lack of arms means I will never strangle her and enjoy her death. How I wish to witness her destroyed.

Nehal is broken. He doesn’t comprehend. I observe as he practices with his sword, the swings are without grace, without form, and his body motion clumsy. He throws his sword away in disgust; it clangs against the wall of my Core Room. He reaches for his halberd and the old Nehal returns. What disturbs him is not simply the loss of his sword skill. He now seems incapable to learn, unable to rediscover his skill. Nothing translates or transforms from his halberd skill, I morn with him, his loss of body movements and forms, the loss of his greatest martial artistry.

I am inside his head, his distress thrums. She is responsible for unmanning my favourite, my pride. There exists a single setting on her menus responsible for this calamity and I quickly change it.

Mana feeds me, a small amount, a boost I am overjoyed at this unexpected bonus. I follow the source and find the minion responsible. It is she. Her debt to me is enormous compared to the one recent trickle and she needs to feed me much more. The pattern is known to me, as are the weapons and armour, still I absorb them for the mana they yield.

While within her ‘menu’ I deliberate on one setting and decide to restrict since I can.

{Set Dungeon Roaming Range (Unrestricted/Proximity/Dungeon/Zone/Room): Unrestricted.}

I will the setting to Dungeon.

{To change this setting the minion must be present before you.}

I rage and curse her. I rage and curse the system. If I could pace and kick an object I would, as a consciousness though, I seethe and boil within. Again, she thwarts me, and I don’t comprehend how or why. Her ignorance is defeating me!

{Living Construct Aphrodite has left the Dungeon.}

What! I order her back, I demand she return. Our link is tenuous, a link of ownership not command, is she free?

{Living Construct is currently 58% Dungeon Dominate and will need to return in 42 hours or need respawning.}

“System explain ‘Dungeon Roaming Range’!”

{The Living Construct is unique and as such can grant the Dungeon unique benefits, to limit this benefit; duration on Roaming Range applies. As the Dungeon Core strengthens its Domination, the Construct will align to usual minion behaviour. For every unit of time away, they must remain within the Dungeon based upon Roaming Range.

Unrestricted – hours away, Proximity – days away, Dungeon – hours recovered, Zone – days recovered, Room – double days recovered.}

I stare at the information, reading it repeatedly eventually focusing on the words, unique benefits.

Character Sheet: Aphrodite Name: Aphrodite Culture: Greek Mythos Race: Human Superior Spirit: Human Body: Living Basalt Soul: Dungeon Dominate Sentient Dominate: 10% Monster Dominate: 11% Dungeon Dominate: 58% Hominine Essence: Level 10 Avine Essence: Level 10 Dragon Essence: Level 0 Strength: 65 Grasp: 65 Toughness: 65 Constitution: 65 Vigour: 65 Endurance: 65 Dexterity: 15 Agility: 65 Quickness: 55 Wisdom: 75 Perception: 55 Mettle: 55 Intelligence: 50 Willpower: 20 Power: 20 Charisma: 20 Glamour: 50 Beauty: 100 Languages: Greek Orc Gifts: Regeneration Prolific Fertility Shadow Hide Silent Step Spear: Level 1 Halberd: Level 1 Bow: Level 1