(Curator Pov)

“For the last time, we do not need to inject goddamn chemicals into the mice!”

“And what I’m saying, you absolute troglodyte, is that your subjects would be more reliable if they weren’t running off fanciful delusions. Just have them work how nature intended!”

Nothing new here. Just Head and I, engaging in one of our increasingly commonplace arguments, and he’s only been here for all of two hours! That chalk-line bastard is probably busting his guts laughing at us.

We don’t mix as people. Essence difference or not. It doesn’t matter, we’d still despise each other anyway.

Great, now the researchers are scared. Ehhhhhh, scare-curious. “As much as I love arguing with you, we should probably stop.” I turn his attention to the... I’m gonna say vibrating researchers. Whether in fear or not, my fellow core got the gist.

Much like G’s previous rampages, the dungeon responded to our turmoil. The mine's stagnant air grew hostile as its inhabitants whipped themselves rabid. Signs of an oncoming outbreak, another Flowering Night. And these dumbasses were excited. The heart of a researcher is as deep and unfathomable as the subject they chase.

And Head looked upon this suicidal act fondly. The madman.

“Tch, very well.” Eagerly separating, the rash pervading my mind numbed into a tolerable itch.

I am loath to admit, but we’re in this mess together, come hell or high water. I’m too invested in seeing how this story pans out. And Head wanted to resolve this as quickly as possible to assure his world fair goes off without a hitch.

And therein lay the question. How do two individuals who can’t even stand being in speaking distance work with each other?

... Hmm. That itch. Head’s essence did rub me the same way for a few weeks after I won it. Extracting that bundle of mild irritation from myself, its influence is negligible. White noise, if anything.

Actually, why is this piece of Head not affecting me? The scrooge himself could possibly cook up an answer, but that would mean talking to him.

For now, simply prodding around provided enough answers. For one, this wasn’t just Head’s essence anymore. Having merged with mine in the intervening months. It evolved(?) Into a new type. Not weaved or mashed together, it was one solid block of-.

“What are you doing?” Speak of the devil. “That is my essence.” Fixating on the unusual object, the boy declared halfheartedly as he fell deep in thought.

“I was just figuring out why this piece happens to be less of a pain in the ass than its source.” I tried being a tad more diplomatic, key word tried. But the itch hit like a bag of bricks.

“That’s it!” Rudely snatching the essence ball away from me. He started weaving it into the dungeon, leveraging his knowledge of petrology to make quick work of the surrounding stone. So this is what an older dungeon's work looks like. His control over essence and Dp was meticulo-.

“Come on. Help me weave this essence in, or have you not figured out something as simple as that yet?” This bitch.

Following along only because I was curious to see where he was taking this, nothing else. Despite our disagreements, I couldn't help but admire his work ethic. Going pound for pound, Head was simply more experienced. He was faster, more accurate, and made tighter weaves. But he always kept pace with me.

I must stress, this is simply observations for future study, not a comparison.

By moonrise, the dungeon was entangled in this new weave. Maybe by a hair’s breadth that incessant itch had dulled into something manageable. “This should at least put an end to the damned beating in my head.” A sentiment shared by my roommate.

“So-.” Cutting me off in advance, the boy pre-fired off an explanation. “Alright, listen up. This dungeon is now a hybrid of our essences. And before you ask, no. This is not the same as simply incorporating a fixture onto a floor.” Rude. “I mean, the very fabric of this dungeon has... *Sigh* Alright, imagine if this dungeon’s core was theoretical science-.”

Something tells me Head has never been great at explaining stuff. From my understanding, that ball of essence started off science-based, and being stored literally inside me, it incorporated my essence and evolved into something completely new.

Making it a neutral ground between fantasy and reality, not unlike some modern fairy tales akin to Frankenstein’s monster. Be that as it may, serious work was put into stretching what we had to encompass the dungeon, with extra being incorporated into the core room for obvious reasons.

“-And to think you had something like that on you the entire time. Not like you could have done anything with it anyways. It takes time and understanding to morph the very core of a dungeon, even one as blank as this. You’re a thousand years too early. Try understanding a dungeon’s basic structure first.”

This little-. Tch, he did cover for me. But I couldn't let this stand. “Now listen here, you-...”

I’ll cut to the chase. One argument later. Which I won, by the way. We finally settled down. With every bit of spite exhausted, talks progressed smoothly despite passive-aggressive comments being mixed in.

Trading information on current events. Everything lined up. Except Head clued me in on an unusual push by the council to proceed with the world fair even in these trying times. Other than that, anyone not in the current blast radius has been content to watch the Dutchy explode. Nobody wanted to be the one to escalate a domestic situation into an international one.

Even if it came at the cost of precious trade routes and technological exchange.

“Really lacking on intel front, aren’t we?” All the researchers ever did was theory craft and occasionally pull off the golden girl’s level of insanity. Meanwhile, the guards mostly kept to themselves, offsetting their employer’s vigor. Letting loose on quiet nights with hushed banter and all that, but nothing substantial.

“For once, we agree on something. Being so uninformed while next to a country on the brink of civil war, is disconcerting.” At least we see eye to eye on proper information gathering, dissemination, and preservation.

One good thing to come out of my disaster ingenious plan was that the crystal forest expanded far and high enough to peer over the walls. While we wouldn’t be listening in on the hottest goss anytime soon, we could keep an eye on things.

“The insurgents are launching another campaign against the council.” Head pointed out the urban warfare being waged on one of the arterial streets. The open commercial vein was barricaded with a plethora of broken furniture and whatever debris the Dutchy’s knights could gather.

“Strange. That road has no strategic value. Why an office district? There's nothing worth pillaging. The same could be said about the knights. Why protect that area?” Head mumbled to himself, trying to make heads or tails of each faction’s actions.

But I knew what was going on. That speck of a wagon fleeing the scene was unmistakable. “Zhenya,” I uttered, getting the scientist boy’s attention.

“Who?”

“An adventurer from my dungeon. The local branch head tasked her with escorting Junia, a witch, and her apprentice back to the Dutchy.”

“Junia and her apprentice Rudi. Yes. I recall those two quite fondly. They submitted a rather radical thesis this year. Claiming to have created a new recipe for healing potions, mixing dungeon ingredients with cheap, easily attainable materials.

That would make sense. The girl is infamous around these parts due to her unique talent. As for the boy. There have been whispers of him dabbling in heretical arts.”

Before I could question that last tidbit about the mad alchemist, we felt a disturbance in the dungeon. “What are those spazzes up to now?”

“Did you forget? We changed the very core of this dungeon, you dolt. Of course, there would be renewed interest. Although, their enthusiasm is a little off-putting.” Yeah, I don’t like how they were eyeing up the walls. Makes me feel naked.

Moving on, Head wasn't kidding. The dungeon had shifted quite drastically. Mainly behind-the-scenes aspects. All I can say is that things made more sense. As if Head's chem-elementals made up the walls and floor.

But another change that happened was to the creatures. No longer were they simply material beings made of paper, part of them, usually ones corresponding to the elements, in which case fire. Burned brighter than ever, giving off an ethereal warmth like the elementals of myth.

Hold up! Is that Fredrica?

(Zhenya Pov)

“Rudi, you see them?”

“Nope. I think we’re in the clear.”

“I don’t sense any magical activity.”

“Me neither.”

With the coast hopefully clear, Rudi snapped the reins causing his horse to burst out of the alleyway alcove we were hiding in.

Hitting the cobbled streets hard, the stallion took off like a beast-folk possessed, causing the wagon to almost tip over. It was a risk we were willing to take. On edge, our nerves were left frazzled by the sudden attack.

Our destination was Castle Ratinsaal, the Dutchy’s crown jewel. Seat of the council and our best bet at safety.

As it turns out, Ellie was carrying a report meant for the council members but figured she’d make a pitstop home to pick up some tools. They’re sisters, alright. Living to the beat of their drum.

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(Yesterday)

“Juni!” Realizing her sister was present, the pink tornado tackled Junia with all the sibling love she could muster.

“Ellie.” Erstwhile, I was treated to another facet of the purple witch. One I never thought I would ever see, exasperation.

From there, things simmered down. Although, Ellie’s pampering never faltered. Fussing about all sorts of things. Apparently, Junia getting out of her lab was almost unheard of. One could even call her a lab rat. Heh.

Ellie explained the reason she needed the equipment was due to an unusual dungeon that popped up a while ago and its explosive growth. Give it to an older(?) sister to know how to catch their younger sibling hook, line, and sinker. The purple girl hung on her sister’s every word about this new oddity. To be fair, we were already going to check it out, but she spun it in a way that absolutely tantalized the purple gremlin.

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Leading to today. We offered Ellie a ride to the capital. But the moment our wagon plodded through the secondary entrance, far more heavily guarded than the main one, that’s all been sealed. We were accosted by insurgents. They probably had a few scouts watching. Pouncing at the chance to slay a witch.

Giving chase even as we barrelled through the streets. Riding wagons of their own while lobbing and firing various pieces of junk.

Luckily we raced across an attachment of soldiers at the end of dealing with another attack who offered us aid.

Strange enough. Ever since the labs, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Well, no time to think about that. Back in the present, we let out a hefty sigh pulling past the grand gates into the loyalist faction’s command center.

“Alright, you guys stay here. I’ll turn in this report, and we’ll be on our way to the dungeon lickity split! Watching Ellie dash away, I couldn’t help but notice a strangled smile on Junia’s lips.