《I, Dungeon》1.4
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"Who are you?" Was the first thing I asked the woman when I came back into being. My entire self somehow transported from the endless void, back into the small one-room hut. While the woman responsible for sending me there, was sitting on one of the unbroken wooden chairs, pursuing through the papers in hand.
She didn't seem surprised when I spoke up, which wasn't the same for me. After spending all that time screaming at her to stop trying to kill me with the hammer and pin, and yet getting entirely ignored, the fact that the woman even perked up when I uttered those words felt strange to me. Like I was the one who was snooping around and checking out a beautiful woman without her knowing it.
But I was able to push those thoughts to the side and instead concentrate on the woman. "Who are you?" I alsed again, desperate as I was for answers.
"I'm from the Dungeon Initiation Committee," she replied, standing up. Her tone was pleasant yet professional, like how I imagined a lawyer or a high-ranking official would speak. And yet, she had forced me to feel pain like no other, in what seemed like mere minutes ago, so my tone was anything but. I couldn't quite keep the vitriol from slipping i
"And what does this Committee do? Torture new Dungeon to insanity?"
"Save them from insanity actually," she didn't seem at all bothered by my harsh tone. Her facial expression remained placid and almost bore. "Our job is to help set up a new Dungeon, aid in freeing their Cores from the cocoons and explain to them how a Dungeon System actually works."
I admit, her clear-cut answer left me speechless for a while, words unable to form in my throat as I repeated her words in my head.
"How did you save me from becoming insane? Because the last thing I remember was you trying to hammer a nail through my skull even when I was screaming at you to not do it? It hurt. A lot."
"Ah, well I'm sorry for that. While your Core is still inside the Cocoon, it's not possible for anyone to hear a Dungeon speak. So I apologise but I never heard your screams," she admitted, eyes looking down for a second. The looked ashamed but it was hard to tell if she truly felt it or this was all a set-up to prevent me from going ballistic with rage.
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"I see," that was all I could say for a while. Silence once again returned to the small hut.
Though the woman didn't seem bothered by it, happy to take her seat on the chair, the papers kept to a side and gave me the time needed to think her words through.
"What do you mean by 'Cocoon'?" I finally spoke out, after the silence got too much for me. "Was that skull my cocoon?"
"Yes. It was."
"But why was my Core in it in the first place? Who even placed it there?"
"No one did," she said. "A newly formed Dungeon Core is always born inside a Cocoon to keep it safe from minor predators that might harm it before the Core is fully developed."
"And this cocoon is always in the form of a skull?"
"Yes," she nodded. "A Core is like the brain of a Dungeon. So when a soul is transmigrated into becoming one, the place where the soul originated becomes the thing that protects it during the initial hours after its birth. Hence the skul--"
"Wait!" I interrupted her immediately, once my brain caught up to what she said. "Soul Transmigration? What do you mean by that? And what the hell happened to my soul?"
"Nothing of consequence," she replied smoothly. "It was simply moved from its original vessel — your human body — to become a Dungeon Core. It wasn't harmed in any way, if that is what you were asking."
"But it was removed from my body!" I felt my voice which till now was chipped and filled with anger, suddenly bounce up to a higher decibel in panic and fear.
"It was, but by that time, your body was already decomposing. Your soul wasn't ripped from your still alive self, but after you died and it was free to roam before slipping into the abyss, we got hold of your soul and put it inside a Soul Gem, ready to be transformed into a Dungeon Core."
"But who gave you permission to do that?" Panic from before was quickly replaced by rage. My voice echoed throughout the small room.
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But the woman remained unfettered by it all. Placing her papers to the side, she spoke. "You did."
And just like that, my entire rage and anger fizzled out into nothingness, confusion and uncertainty once again plaguing my consciousness. "I did?"
"Yes, you did. Once your soul leaves your body, the Committee sends their cleaning crew to pick up your soul. It was them who asked you what you wanted to do next? Return to the Abyss from whence you came, or be transmigrated into a Dungeon Core? You chose the latter," she shrugged. "So that is why we are here."
"I-I…" I simply didn't know what to say. There was a possibility that all of this was a ruse to keep me docile and not rage at the injustice of it all. And the fact that I didn't recall anything before my supposed 'death' didn't help either.
But still, I persisted. "I don't remember ever doing that. So how do I know you're not lying?"
"Because you've signed in the documents about giving up your chance to return to the Abyss and instead become a Dungeon Core. Here let me show you," she picked one of the papers from the bunch and turned it towards a nearby wall.
My formless eyes zoomed in onto the document. Wondering what use it was since I couldn't even understand the words written on it— and I could read it. Huh? The words on the paper were printed in English with what appeared to be my signature at the bottom of the page. This wasn't there before.
Respected Sir/Madam,
Chairman,
The Dungeon Initiation Committee,
Nevermore,
I hereby permit you to use my soul to form a new Dungeon Core so I may continue living and not be pulled into the ever-present Abyss. I was made aware of it after I died by your Cleaning Crew and after some careful consideration, I decided to take up on the offer.
Thanking you,
Mr T. Claire
"Is that my name?" I couldn't help but ask. During the time spent here, I was too busy trying to understand where I was and what was happening to me, my lack of body and the strange ability I possessed to feel every part of this small hut, to remind myself that I had forgotten my own damn name.
Upon hearing my question, the woman turned the paper around and looked at it herself. She then nodded. "The signature has the remains of your soul essence. And unless one gives it away freely, there is no other way for someone else to sign this paper. So yes," she turned the paper and kept it neatly amongst the other bunch. "This is your signature and your consent that you wanted to be a Dungeon."
"But I don't remember ever doing that?"
"You will. Once you complete the registration process, your memories will soon resurface. You don't need to worry." She then looked at me. "So, do you have any more questions or should we start with the registration process?"
I did have a lot of questions. Like how I died? What is this Dungeon Committee she is talking about? What was the place I was in once she cracked open my skull? Was that the Abyss? How did I come back? Who was the boy? What was on the other side of that white door?
There were simply too many questions I didn't know the answer to. But I decided against asking her for reasons that were not clear to me. Instead, I looked at the woman and said, "No. Let's begin with this initiation of yours."
For the first time, the smile that formed on her lips was genuine. "Good. Let's do so."
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**cover not mine <>-- "words i never said" kind of feel --a collection of some of my poetry-an outlet for me to release my emotions and thoughts and everything in between.all poems published are, in fact, mine.if something ive wrote inspires you to create your own art; fret not, my child, and write, draw, or do whatever it is you do best! <>just please dont forget to @, tag, or send it to me as, i myself, am a lover of all things beautiful and creative - and perhaps a little odd.if you repost, just credit me.tw: some poems may be a little dark, depressing, or triggering. i will add a tw to the really dark ones, but if i were to add one to every poem that may shake the faint of heart; there would be one on every page. i write from the heart and soul-everything and anything that comes from a place of realness will not be tolerated by everyone.take what i write as you will!some may not understand it;some may live and breathe it;some may walk away feelingheardseen understood.this is a way of setting my thoughts and emotions free. and yes -that is a warning. <>"it is a mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it." - Aristotle started: july 5th, 2022finished:
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