The forest grew unfamiliar the deeper Ernest wandered.
The trees twisted unnaturally here, their trunks warped as though melted and regrown. The ground was damp with a sickly warmth, every step sinking slightly into soil pulsing with faint light. The air hung heavy with mana, thicker than any he had felt before. His small body shivered, but his eyes gleamed with anticipation.
This is different. Not beast, not pack, not tribe. Something greater hides here.
He followed the pull. It led him into a clearing hidden by ancient trees, their branches bending inward like a cage. At the center, half-buried in the earth, pulsed a jagged crystal. Dark light throbbed from within it, each beat sending a ripple through the air.
The Dungeon Seed.
Ernest's lips curved faintly. So this is the source of their fear.
Around the seed lay carcasses—wolves, deer, even goblins—rotting faster than natural, their flesh sagging from bone. The stench was suffocating. Yet as Ernest stepped closer, the corpses twitched.
A wolf's ribcage cracked. A goblin's arm spasmed. Then, slowly, grotesque forms pulled themselves upright—bodies warped, twisted by the seed's mana.
The Dungeon had begun.
They came at him in dozens. Wolves with too many eyes. Goblins with limbs bent at unnatural angles. A deer whose antlers split and curved like blades.
Ernest's small fists clenched. His heart pounded, but his face was cold.
"Kneel."
A wave of mana surged outward. Several creatures dropped instantly, their bodies slamming into the dirt. Others staggered, their twisted wills resisting.
"Die."
Two convulsed, collapsing. Yet more pushed forward, shrieking.
Too many.
Ernest's breath quickened. His Voice lashed out again and again.
"Sleep!""Break your arms!""Feed on your kin!"
The clearing erupted in chaos. Wolves tore goblins apart. Goblins clawed at themselves. Blood sprayed, the stench thick. Ernest stood at the center, a conductor of madness.
But each command drained him. His chest tightened, his vision blurred. Blood dripped from his nose.
So many… too many…
The seed pulsed faster, birthing more twisted forms from the shadows. Ernest's knees trembled. His mind burned.
If I stop, they'll swarm me. If I falter, I die.
He clenched his teeth until blood filled his mouth. His eyes blazed.
"Obey hunger. Feed!"
The horde convulsed. Monsters turned on each other with rabid screams, tearing flesh, crunching bone. The ground shook with their frenzy.
Still, more came.
Ernest swayed, his small body collapsing to one knee. His chest heaved. His hands trembled.
Not enough. I need more. Stronger. Absolute.
The Dungeon Seed cracked.
From its core, light poured outward, searing the air. Then it rose—a massive shape, taller than the trees, its body rippling with muscle and corruption. An ogre-like guardian, its flesh split with glowing fissures of mana.
It roared, the sound shaking the forest.
Ernest's head pounded under its presence. This was no wolf, no goblin. Its will was immense, like stone against his Voice.
Still, he raised his chin.
"Obey me."
The words thundered, tearing from his throat. Mana surged outward, the clearing trembling under its weight. The guardian froze, eyes rolling, muscles spasming.
But it resisted.
The strain ripped through Ernest. His veins burned, his vision went black at the edges. His body convulsed, small and frail against the weight of the command.
"Obey… me!"
Blood burst from his lips. His knees buckled. His will screamed.
And still, the guardian resisted.
Ernest's teeth ground together. Not the body. Not the mind. The instinct.
His voice cut sharper, precise.
"Guard me."
The ogre jerked violently. Its massive head turned, gaze snapping toward the horde of twisted monsters. It roared again—this time at them—and charged.
Its fists swung like hammers, crushing wolves into pulp. Its massive foot smashed goblins flat. The corrupted horde shrieked as their guardian turned predator, slaughtering them without mercy.
Ernest sagged, panting, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. Yet his eyes gleamed coldly.
Yes. That's it. Not brute force. Precision.
The guardian crushed the last abomination into the dirt. The clearing fell silent, broken only by the pulsing seed.
Ernest staggered forward, his small boots splashing in pools of blood. The crystal throbbed violently, light spilling like veins across the soil.
He pressed his hand against it.
Mana surged into him—wild, endless, threatening to tear him apart. His body shook violently, his chest seizing. For a moment, he thought he would explode, his frail shell unable to contain it.
But the Endless Veil wrapped around him, smothering the flood, cloaking him in shadow.
The seed cracked. Its glow dimmed. The twisted monsters collapsed into dust.
Silence.
Ernest staggered back, panting, drenched in sweat. His small hand trembled, but his lips curved into a cold smile.
The guardian loomed behind him, its head bowed, its corrupted form trembling with obedience. His first true servant.
The gods may rule the heavens. But here, in the shadows of the forest, a child had seized power that bent the very laws of the world.
Ernest's eyes gleamed. His voice was a whisper, hoarse but sharp.
"This world offers me its secrets… and I will take them all."
Far away, in a temple of stone where candles flickered before a god's statue, the air shifted. Flames guttered and died. The statue cracked, a fissure splitting its face.
Priests gasped, falling to their knees in terror.
"An omen…" one whispered. "Something has stirred."
The gods had felt it.
And in the forest, Ernest Aldery—no more than a child—stood with blood on his hands and a monster at his back, his cold smile daring the heavens to look his way again.