Chrysalis

Chapter 847: That Deep Despair (958)

Deep within Pangera, things were stirring. Stone cracked, ice shattered, fire roared and winds howled. The monsters of this deep darkness revelled in the flood of mana that poured from the centre of the Dungeon, eyeing the rivals with whom they had sparred for hundreds, if not thousands of years whilst younger beasts stepped lightly, desperate to avoid the eye of their elders as they squabbled amongst themselves for resources. This is the world where no naturally born creature had ever set foot.

The final Dungeon.

True horrors lurked amidst the caverns here. Monsters so powerful and ancient that simply breathing in their presence would be impossible, so suffocating was their aura. Creatures who were born of, and soaked in rivers of mana, the rules of their existence warped and twisted by energy. In this place, nothing was as it seemed. That which was solid flowed like water, that which was liquid floated like air. Forwards could be backwards, up could be down and time could be anywhere and nowhere. The concentration of mana was so thick here, reality itself groaned under the weight of it, pushed to the brink of breaking.

Any creature born of such an environment, any monster that could thrive in it, was nothing less than an apex predator and amongst the most fearsome beasts in all of existence. Demons and Gods in their own right, these mighty beings were proud existences, pushing their fiendish intellects to the limit every day over centuries to survive.

And yet.

Something greater stirred now. The truly ancient. The real Ancients. How long had it been? The monsters retreated to their dens, cast glamours and wrapped themselves in shadow as the oppressive, all-encompassing wave of dread washed over them. Had it been so long that they had forgotten? Did they grow complacent? Had they really dared to dream that perhaps now they measured up to the only beasts who still slept beneath them?

A foolish thought.

In a pocket of pure fire that burned like a sun, a being awoke. Though it possessed no limbs, no arms or legs to speak of, it stretched, and as it did so the flame grew yet more dense and hot, until the air, the stone, even the fabric of space and time began to burn. As if rising from a deep ocean, consciousness returned gradually until finally the Ancient broke the surface and awareness returned in a flood.

Fire mana boiled and condensed in the heart of the miniature sun, until it began to harden and solidify. Shards of red crystal, the most pure flame mana in all of the world, began to form. As they formed, cracked and reformed, a tinkling sound could be heard ringing out beneath the ever present roar of hungry flame, tiny flecks of crystal swirling through the inrushing air.

Old, older than the Rending itself, the creature surveyed its surroundings leisurely before expanding its mind. In an instant the monster’s thoughts swept over thousands of kilometres of Dungeon, the weaker beings it sensed huddling low in their tunnels as they felt the gaze of a true apex predator touch them, ever so briefly. Fortunately for these monsters, it wasn’t them that the Ancient was interested in; instead it reached out, beyond the caverns of unworldly heat that made up its domain and outwards, stretching further to circumnavigate the globe, scanning the entirety of its home stratum.

It searched for its peers.

Responses were mixed. The Demon God was close to waking, its thoughts could be sensed bubbling under the surface as it drew in the mana needed to sustain it. Hunger had awoken, unsurprising, given the way its appetite was never truly sated. The desperate need to eat would always ensure it was the first to return to being fully alert. Yet more had begun to stir, the slow eddies of their sleeping thoughts quickening as their cores basked in the rising mana.

The stench of toxins and death had begun to permeate the edges of the flaming caverns the Ancient called home. With a flex of will it sent purifying fire roaring throughout its domain, purging the corrupting mana. A necessary process when Decay’s territory bordered one’s own. The poison creeping beyond the boundaries was a sure sign that Decay too was rising quickly. It would not be long before almost half of them had awoken fully. How long had it been since such a thing had occurred?

Carriflare could not recall.

Another mind, terrible and great, reached out to it across the void. It was no easy thing when two Ancients connected to one another. Forces too great to exist in proximity could create unwanted effects if they were to draw close. This meant contacting each other was a delicate thing, the proper distance had to be maintained, lest their prodigious minds clash and unleash destruction across the Dungeon.

It took a moment for Carriflare to recognise the alien thoughts that had extended towards it, a being it had not spoken to for over a millennium. With care, the connection was established as Carriflare worked to withhold its power and its contemporary did the same. The tiniest thread of thought hovered between them, through which each could sense the ravenous power that lay beyond. Much of their exchange occurred as images and feelings, flashes of impression and intent. In the mix, some words were exchanged.

[What hope this cycle?] Carriflare asked.

[SOME,] Odren replied.

That was promising. Such words were seldom given from the Father of Monsters.

[Are there any that you like?]

The Ancient known as Odren was more aware of the goings on within the Dungeon than the rest of them, ever fascinated with the creatures known as Monsters in a way the others simply weren’t. They cared for completing the circle, nothing more.

[SOME,] Odren replied once more, and Carriflare could feel the torrential glee roiling within the vast intellect beyond their tenuous link. [INTERESTING BREEDS THIS TIME. FRESH MEAT.]

A crude way to phrase it, but Carriflare understood the meaning. The Dungeon was producing new types of monsters, moving into a new phase in the cycle.

[Is there time?]

Nothing for a long moment. Then:

[SOME. ENOUGH.]

It would have to do.

The contact was broken and the Ancient settled once more into its own mind, its own domain. Yet more mana would be needed before it regained its strength, but for now it could engage in a simple hunt. It had been so long…