Legendary Dungeon Seed

by Marc Robert

  They had THAT in common.

  And maybe, just maybe because he was a dungeon core now, he could provide Rania with something akin to the cure that she needed.

  And perhaps she could provide Osman with what he needed too …

  Maybe …

  … maybe …

  And anyway, this was HIS dungeon and he had committed to saving her, and saving her was exactly what he was going to do, no matter what the cost!

  Osman began to recite the words again: forwards and backwards and forwards once more, a pure ball of molten blue mana building up in his center — vexing and swirling, crackling and radiating — as he chanted, the dark elf’s eyes growing wider and wider with each word he spoke in The Forked Tongue.

  It was a PURE FIX for her!

  Perhaps the best fix she had ever had!

  So that when Osman’s second burst of mana thrust into her being, she did cum. Oh yes, she came uncontrollably, crying out and cooing and squirming, her toes curling — she was getting off SO, SOOOOO HARD!

  {±9 MP} appeared in the air above them, although neither Rania nor Osman really seemed to notice, being so occupied with each other as they were.

  He kissed her full on the mouth as she came, and held her throat, which somehow made her cum even harder, prolonging her orgasm and sending tiny aftershocks through her tight, little pussy.

  “Oh my god Osman Spar, why didn’t we figure THIS out sooner?!”

  “Maybe we would have,” he laughed, “If you hadn’t been so hell-bent on killing me the whole time!”

  That made the dark elf smile.

  And he LOVED her smile …

  … her fanged little grin!

  It’s not that it made him forget about Kendall, it’s just that … Osman could get lost in that smile, and getting lost in something (or someone) else right now was maybe the best thing for him.

  Rania bit her lower lip and eyed the dungeon lord like a house cat eyeing its hooman keeper or captor: curiosity, love, devotion, hate, and a savage feral grace all rolled into one.

  That look was almost TOO MUCH to bear!

  But Osman bore it …

  He met her gaze, and eyed her back.

  And they kissed again!

  When they finally came up for air, Osman said: “We’re gonna have to do something about your HP too, y’know. You’re not totally out of the woods yet.”

  Amanita Muscaria

  “I’ve got just the idea for how we can fix that,” Rania grinned.

  The dark elf was getting hornier by the second. Osman could tell by the salacious glint in her eyes and the way she was scissoring her legs open and closed, open and closed, as if daring him to ravish her. Even after the whopping orgasm he had just given her, she still craved more.

  He craved more too, of course. There was no doubt about that! The dungeon lord wanted to make love to Rania for hours and hours on end, and in as many ways as humanly (monstrously?) possible. However, he wasn’t so sure that that would solve her rather urgent lack-of-Health-Points problem.

  In fact, he was pretty certain that it wouldn’t!

  They had gotten lucky with him being able to channel his own mana directly into her failing core using his {Imbue} spell. But Osman knew that it wouldn’t work the same way with her HP.

  And how, by the gods, did he know that?

  Well, because …

  … he had just freakin’ tried it!

  While she was laying there caressing her own thighs with the palms of her hands and eyeing him with such smoldering intensity, he had whispered the spell-words, focusing on the dark elf’s Health Points this time around. However, as he should have guessed, it turned out to be a complete and utter dud, like fireworks whose fuses had been lit but then just fizzled out. And it wasn’t just the taste of ash that that failed casting left in Osman’s mouth, but a sulfurous taste as well, like stinky rotten eggs.

  Rania wrinkled her nose. “What’s THAT smell?” she asked, “Eeeeyuck!”

  “Failure,” the dungeon lord blurted, {-5 MP} appearing — and promptly bursting — above his head as he untangled himself from the dark elf and stood up. Osman needed to think and her nearly-naked body was clouding his judgement.

  He had almost expended all of his mana and, frankly, he should have known better. He only had 5 MP left now and needed to consider very carefully how to use it.

  “It’s obvious what you need to do,” Rania said, smirking.

  The dungeon lord looked at her. How did she …

  “Our minds are still linked, Osman Spar: vaguely, but truly. And actually a little less vaguely at this particular moment, since you just gave me the most earth-shattering O of my whole entire life!” she grinned her fanged little grin.

  Osman smiled down at her, happy that he had made her so happy. (And happy that he had healed her soul too, of course!) “So what is it? What do I need to do, O’ Wise One?” he asked snarkily, still smiling.

  “Whenever my lord and master wants to expand his kingdom, or needs to make an emergency infusion into one of his thralls or minions, or some other vital skill tree optimization, he takes a bit of his own mana and regrows the amanita muscaria.”

  “The ama-nita-what?”

  “The amanita muscaria,” the dark elf repeated, pointing at the tiny, little mushroom patch not far from where she lay on the floor.

  It was a total “Ah-Duh!” moment for Osman on several levels. Firstly, he already knew using the {Imbue} spell to regenerate the red caps could be the key to everything, but somehow he had forgotten it the moment he had touched Rania’s breasts and started imbuing her directly. Secondly, he had also temporarily forgotten that the dark elf actually served a much more powerful and experienced dungeon core than he was, and so she probably knew quite a great deal more about how to run a dungeon than Osman did. And thirdly, maybe if he hadn’t gotten so caught up in the prospect of having more sex with her, he wouldn’t have been so daft as to try and solve her HP problem using {Imbue}.

  Chasin’ pussy dulls the mind! Bock used to say to him. How could he have forgotten that?!

  Nevertheless, he did forget, leaving him with only enough MP now for just one shot at regrowing the mushrooms.

  Osman shook his head …

  If the {Imbue} spell failed to work on the amanita muscaria, it would almost certainly mean GAME OVER for the dark elf.

  And, even if it did succeed, the dungeon lord wasn’t quite sure what the end result would be. Would the spell regrow all three of the red caps? Or just one of them? And — if it only regrew one — should he eat it himself and hope for a mana bump so that he could potentially start the process all over again and try to regrow some more? Or should he feed it directly to Rania and hope that it restored her HP count to a stable level, instead of just giving her some rando option of picking a new spell or weapon or some shit like that?!

  There were way too many factors involved!

  This was FAR TOO CHAOTIC to be a good way to run a dungeon (or any other profitable enterprise, for that matter), Osman thought. “Is this seriously how your lord and master does it?!” he asked, exasperated.

  Rania grinned and nodded: “Yes!”

  “How the hell does he tolerate all the … uncertainty?”

  The dark elf furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

  “You know, not knowing what you will get from the mushrooms every time you eat one.”

  “Oh yeah. That … Well, master always says: ‘Other Earth provides; who are we to quarrel.’”

  Osman clenched his jaw. In the real world (and also as a paladin), he had preferred quantitative answers over qualitative ones whenever and wherever possible. But okay … okay … he had already agreed with himself that now that he was a dungeon core he would embrace the chaos and play things more by instinct — lean into The Hunger and all that — and this, well: this WAS all part of that new approach, right?

  … right? …

  He shook his head again. Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn�
��t. But, if he thought about it that way, he found that he could at least start to feel a bit more zen about whatever may come.

  “What rank is your lord and master?” Osman asked, picking his iron rod up off the floor and holding it out in front of him like a magic wand.

  Rania beamed: “Legendary … of course!”

  “I should have guessed.”

  The dark elf tilted her head, confused.

  Osman clucked his tongue, then started to recite the spell-words: forwards, and backwards, and forwards again — gleichzeitig — the arcane incantation more familiar to him now. It felt good and right and, unlike his most recent attempt on her Health Points, the dungeon lord felt the spark of life in his solar plexus. It was impossibly warm and gyrating there, spinning like a pinwheel composed of pure molten energy. But blue! And crackling … and whizzing!!!

  This raw power mustered itself up out of the very spell-words themselves coupled with Osman’s remaining mana until this molten ball of blue energy grew so huge and intense that it suddenly broke free from its own spinning and snaked down Osman’s wand-arm, and then through the wand itself — through the ancient, dragon-bone handle and the pure black iron of the item’s bulbous head — streaking across the cavernous room and flowing full-on into the three headless white stalks that were all that was left of the tiny mushroom patch.

  The dungeon lord’s eyes grew wide at the sight of it!

  {-5 MP} coalesced in that fat, blood-red font, alerting him to the fact that he had just spent the very last of his mana on this endeavor. The notification hovered there a moment, then collapsed in on itself accompanied by a wet smooshing sound.

  That’s ominous! Osman thought.

  But he didn’t care about that right now. Instead, he was eyeing the stalks intensely, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was SUPER-NERVOUS. If this didn’t work, he’d be right back where he had started — again!

  Although this time, this time he’d have the dark elf’s death on his conscience.

  He wasn’t quite sure if he would be able to cope with that! Not after how he had just imbue’d her, and made her so happy. Not after how they had kissed! And certainly not after how she had looked up at him with her cat-like eyes: all feral, yet … willing to submit.

  He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if she died because of his utter mismanagement of his one and only resource!

  He shook his head back and forth, on pins and needles …

  The mushroom stalks were STILL headless!

  And nothing …

  … NOTHING seemed to be happening!!!

  WTF?!

  He held his breath and braced for the worst!

  But then — then all of a sudden — something DID happen …

  The three white stalks began to shimmer and to glow, enveloped by an icy blue aura of sorts. It was really quite beautiful! And Osman’s mouth parted in awe as he watched what was happening. The icy blue aura grew in intensity, going from a lighter, sky blue (which had been the color of the crackling ball of pure mana that the {Imbue} spell had generated in the core of his being) to a darker, more … royal blue, and then suddenly to a smoldering amber color that was exactly the same shade as Rania’s infernal eyes. This amber light throbbed once, and then again, and then began zigging and zagging up and down all through the headless white stalks, reinvigorating them in some way …

  Osman could see that!

  He looked to the monster girl then. She was also wholly transfixed by the spell’s effect, the glow of the light casting eerie shadows across her gorgeous elfin face. If he hadn’t already done so, the dungeon lord may have just fallen in love with Rania then, seeing her there like that: the light and shadows playing across her joyful expression.

  And then: not one …

  … not two …

  But ALL THREE of the red caps bloomed again in all their glory!!!

  It was almost as if it was a blessing upon their reunion and Osman knew then what he must do next concerning the dark elf. Although he was a little bit fearful at the prospect.

  What if she said … ‘No’?

  The thought of that made his heart ache. However, he was also excited too. She might say ‘Yes!’ She might … she very well might! And, frankly, he was much more optimistic than pessimistic about his potential success, which was almost a total inversion of his real-world self.

  However, before he could unpack all the varying implications of that, the amber-colored spell-light faded, leaving the cavernous room engulfed by darkness once more.

  Brrr-br!

  {Congratulations, you have successfully regenerated your … HOARD}

  Hoard?! That was an odd choice of words, the dungeon lord thought.

  But, then again, maybe it only confirmed what he had already suspected all along: that these mushrooms were indeed the lynchpin to unlocking his dungeon’s true power.

  Brrr-br!

  {You have acquired your first Mana Core Cultivation ritual … SOUL BINDING}

  Ah ha!

  Now THAT was interesting!

  Osman hadn’t expected to get a skill increase out of figuring out how to regenerate the red caps, but it made sense.

  “You did it!” Rania clapped her hands together.

  The dungeon lord nodded. She was genuinely thrilled for him and — seeing that — made it almost impossible for him to speak. He knew that if he tried to say something to her just then, in that moment, that he might actually start to tear up. The dark elf was so damn happy: pure-hearted happy, not gleefully sinister like she had been when he had first met her in The Esk’lyn Wood.

  Something inside her had changed, and changed for the better.

  Osman could feel that.

  In fact, he knew for certain that he had directly contributed to that change, which made what he planned to do even more urgent, and perilous.

  “What’s wrong?” Rania asked.

  “I … I wouldn’t have been able to … to … DO ALL THIS … not without you … your help.”

  “Du Charmeur!” the dark elf grinned up at him, her cheeks blushing red.

  “It’s true.”

  “Don’t go all mushy on me, Osman Spar. Even though, I must say, I do like to be needed.”

  The dungeon lord smiled. She always seemed to know just the right thing to say to alleviate the tension.

  “Now bring me one of those red caps,” Rania insisted, “so that I can finally recover and give you what you … deserve!” Her feral grin widened, revealing her tiny, little fangs.

  And Osman could see that that salacious glint had taken up residence in her amber-colored eyes again, too.

  How the hell did he get so damned lucky?!

  First Thrall

  Osman grinned down at Rania, utterly amazed at how lucky he was.

  Then he stood up and walked over to the mushroom patch, eyeing the newly-grown crop with a certain level of pride. He crouched down beside the mushrooms, stowing his wand away in his inventory and plucking the first of the three red caps. He did it delicately, and with great care, as he had learned to do the last time that he had harvested them, ensuring that the entirety of the cap remained intact so as not to risk losing any of its potency. Then he looked back over his shoulder at the dark elf and said, “I’m sorry, but these taste really terrible.”

  She tilted her head: “I … I kinda like how they taste!”

  Osman laughed. “You would,” he said.

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” the dungeon lord smirked, “Nothing at all.”

  Rania shook her head, well aware that she was being teased in some way. Although, she actually kind of liked that too. It felt cozy …

  … homey …

  Reminding her of the deep, dark tunnels of Erd’esk’gaia where she grew up, born into a brood of nine unruly siblings …

  Osman stood and walked back over to the dark elf, the mushroom cap in the palm of his hand. He kneeled down beside her, smiling warmly, holding out hi
s open palm. The red cap looked so tiny on it, especially now that he had grown to the size of a brawler. He almost didn’t even recognize his own hand. In fact, he still couldn’t quite believe that all this was actually happening.

  “My lord and master doesn’t give a qwooparp about me,” Rania frowned.

  The foreign word drew Osman from his thoughts. “What … what’s a qwooparp?” he asked.