The once-airship, now a fiery orb, crashed into the forest. Thanks to the makeshift firefighting team's efforts, it didn't burn down too many trees. When the flames were finally extinguished, Tasha made a surprising discovery—something remained.
The airship's pilot had been reduced to charred bones, and the intricate machinery within had melted into an unrecognizable mass of molten metal in the dragon's flames. Yet, fragments remained that hinted at their former purpose. Ghost rummaged through the scrap heap, finding objects she couldn't pass through. These metals bore intricate engravings, their lines glowing with a faint indigo light. Tasha felt these reminded her of something familiar. At first, they resembled circuit boards, then she recalled the runes surrounding the magic pool.
Neither quite, yet both somewhat.
Even in these minimal fragments, they appeared astonishingly exquisite, utterly unlike handcrafted work. They evoked no images of craftsmen hammering anvils behind thick spectacles, no thoughts of forge fires, cottages, or artisanal work. Instead, the cold, precise lines carried an industrial aura, the hair-thin patterns suggesting electroplating or precision assembly-line manufacturing. It didn't resemble some mystical, incantation-laden magic array, but rather a rational, logical circuit diagram.
Yet the indigo residue within these "circuit boards" mirrored the droplets in the magic pool.
Shrink the power contained within, stretch the time flow of liquid magic stones—repeat this countless times—and the traces become nearly indistinguishable, differing as much as a dried-up riverbed from a mighty river. The magic within was too faint. If Tashan weren't a dungeon highly sensitive to magic, ordinary humans or non-humans wouldn't see or sense that blue trace at all.
The runes on the floor of the dungeon library might be closer to it, but when Tashan asked, Victor flatly denied it.
"The library holds only magical runes and magic circles," Victor said. This thing in your hand isn't magic at all. It's too weak to store any spells—just decorative patterns."
"They look very similar," Tashan countered.
"Humans and monkeys look similar to me too," Victor retorted harshly. "You've simply seen too little."
The Dungeon Book offered no support for her conjecture. Perhaps he had a point.
Tasha's association likely stemmed from her limited exposure to similar patterns. Though equally enigmatic, the fragments held by the ghost carried an entirely different aura compared to the four great runes at the dungeon's core.
The runes encircling the magic pool were each as thick as a finger, their strokes bold and expressive—like cursive script versus formal楷体 when compared to the fragments... No, perhaps cursive script versus printed Song typeface. Any being encountering those four runes would instantly associate them with earth of every hue and texture, water both flowing and still, wind both gentle and tempestuous, fire ranging from warmth to blazing heat. They were a universal language more abstract than the Forest Pact, a primordial syllable, the first seed of thought. The four runes are powerful, rugged, born of chaos—unadorned, like natural traces forged in the creation of the world.
The markings on the metal fragment lack such raw power. They resemble a complex, rigorous language where every stroke carries precise meaning, requiring years of study to master. To the uninitiated, it reveals an icy visage. Gazing upon it is like glimpsing a corner of countless gears within a colossal machine, or looking up at a floating city shimmering faintly amidst the clouds.
To put it less poetically, the runes of the dungeon lineage are art; the metal runes here are advanced mathematics.
"At the very least, they aren't decorative patterns," Tashan remarked. "Otherwise, nothing would have survived."
Dragonfire is no ordinary flame.
Centuries ago, in the days when a dwarf master could charge into a dragon's lair wielding a great hammer, "dragonfire quenching" was considered the pinnacle of weapon crafting—any weapon forged without the finest materials and most advanced techniques would vanish into a wisp of air in dragonfire, leaving not a single hair behind.
The dragon forged in the dungeon couldn't compare to the dragons of old, but according to the two contracters present who'd seen true dragons (Victor and Old Oak), aside from lacking a dragon's wisdom and dragon-speak magic, this newborn dragon was remarkably similar to the real thing—far surpassing any wyvern. Before the official battle, the dragon knight tested the limits of the dragon's breath. In truth, Douglas had gotten far too excited, lighting fires everywhere like a kid with his first lighter.
"We meant no harm! We just wanted to test the legendary dragonflame sword and try roasting meat with dragon breath like in the stories... Who could've guessed both stoves would melt?" Douglas pressed his hat to his chest and addressed Tashan solemnly. His eyes fluttered innocently, making him look as adorable as a husky that had destroyed a sofa.
Marion, deprived of her midnight snack, and the Amazonian seeking justice for the dwarven craftsmen, would teach him a lesson on the training grounds.
In any case, mere steel stood no chance against dragonfire.
The airship's outer hull had been burned to nothing, leaving no clue as to its composition. Yet components of unknown function—even human bones—remained intact, protected by some unknown force. Among the iron scraps lay unexploded duds and bombs preserved almost flawlessly, resembling robotic vacuum cleaners when held in hand.
Tarsha couldn't decipher a single word and had no interest in deciphering them, though there were members in the dungeon who were keen on such matters.
"I've seen this before!" declared Hogan, the Dwarf Chieftain, his thick fist slapping his palm in frustration at the parts he couldn't recall. "Our ancestors carried something similar when they migrated to the Wanderers' Camp, but it was lost during the escape."
Traditions faded quickly among a race in perpetual flight. The Artisan Dwarves were roughly the same age as ordinary humans, and even the oldest among them couldn't explain it properly. The Oak Elder vaguely recalled something similar, but expecting an ancient tree to grasp advanced mathematics was asking too much ("Forgive me, I've never been particularly enthusiastic about things beyond nature..."). .
Though deprived of ready knowledge, these dwarves retained their innate talent and fascination with such devices. From the day they acquired it, their research continued day and night. Much sooner than Bita Sanda anticipated, she obtained results.
"Degraded Magitek Bomb: Due to disrepair or other factors, degraded versions of magitek bombs detonate directly under severe horizontal displacement, impact, or high-temperature environments. They're conspicuous, require lengthy activation, and cannot withstand violent horizontal displacement, but their destructive power remains noteworthy."
It seemed this was why the north hadn't deployed magic bombs on a large scale in battle. Such bombs were utterly unsuitable for lateral projection—they'd blow up their own forces. They appeared viable only for carefully placed detonations or slow-moving airship airdrops.
Not a single grain of gunpowder was used in these magic bombs.
Its core energy source is a thumb-sized magic stone, encircled by circuit-like patterns. Artisans can only replicate these designs now; more samples are needed to learn how to analyze and deconstruct them. It's hard to imagine that a single magic stone surrounded by gibberish could produce such immense effects.
Then again, the initiation of nuclear fusion begins with the collision of tiny atomic nuclei. To those lacking knowledge, it might as well be witchcraft.
Tasha glimpsed another technological system.
Both the captured magic bombs and the mechanical birds contained magic stones to varying degrees. When the artisan dwarves finally succeeded in separating the molten metal mass within the airship, Tasha flew over immediately.
The container, still bearing numerous runes, was pried open. Like a containment layer being breached, she instantly sensed a familiar aura. Inside lay a fragment of a dungeon core—the very energy source powering the airship.
Neither Tasha nor Victor showed joy.
"Well, this is just great," Victor snorted. "Abstract ideals can endure for generations, but when profit's involved, people will flock like flies no matter how many generations pass."
Like a starving wolf spotting its own kind's flesh in an abandoned shack—this was far more than mere sustenance.
"I'll fuse the core now. Future opportunities will only grow scarcer," the spectral form gripped the dungeon fragment retrieved from the airship. "If enemies appear during this..."
"I know. Contingency plan. You've gone over it countless times." Victor urged. "Hurry up and go. I have no immediate plans to kill your little kittens and puppies."
"You'd better not," Tasha replied, half-joking, half-threatening.
The crimson fragment flew toward the dungeon's core.
Since arriving in this world, Tasha had experienced two dreams.
The first dream was vibrantly colorful, set against an emerald green backdrop. Beneath lush trees and over rolling grass, multicolored sparks danced like a kaleidoscope. The second dream was golden-red, where crimson scales shimmered like jewels. The friendship between dragon riders and dragons radiated golden light alongside the sun. Though the dream's details had blurred, its brilliant colors remained etched on the canvas.
The third dream was iron-gray.
Flames licked the hearth, crackling and popping within the cave, casting light upon a diminutive craftsman. At first glance, it resembled a workshop deep within a dungeon, yet closer inspection revealed significant differences.
The space was vast, yet only one person worked within it. Tasha spotted mechanical arms on a nearby table, with more seemingly hidden in the distance, lying silently against a blurred background that concealed its true nature. Across the nearby flat ground, rows of identical, half-human machines stretched outward, their exposed metal shells etched with intricate runes.
The newest unit stood open, its craftsman currently extracting something from the furnace with tongs.
The furnace's ignition unleashed a blinding light, causing Tasha to instinctively shut her eyes—forgetting she couldn't be harmed. The radiance sent shivers down her spine, recalling the instant a magic cannon erupted. Only when she recognized what the tongs held did she understand the source of her primal dread.
It was pure instinct. That sizzling, smoking object, glowing with brilliant gold light, was a dungeon core.
It wasn't in its pristine, original state either. Complex golden threads shone across the dark red core, like red-hot iron wires twisting around a heart. The dwarf in the welder's mask held it up to the light, exhaled contentedly, and carefully placed it into the open machinery.
The door burst open.
A young dwarf rushed in, grabbing the artisan dwarf's arm, letting the scorching tongs singe his coat. He yanked the craftsman outward, shouting, "Enough, Father! We must go!"
"I still have work to do!" the craftsman growled, shaking off the younger dwarf—far stronger than him—"Leave me be!"
"There is no work left!" the young dwarf screamed, "We have lost!"
Only now did Tasha realize it was a "she." Unlike the easily identifiable male dwarves, the female dwarves of the past appeared quite sturdy and robust, with equally solid arms. A pair of goggles shielded her eyes; the reflective lenses were round like clock faces, and Tasha couldn't see her gaze.
The old dwarf stubbornly shook his head. "We haven't!" he muttered, glancing at the neatly arranged machinery on the ground. "Look! We still have so many airships..."
"Airships that can't fly are just stones!" the female dwarf roared, her hand sweeping harshly across the workshop's corners. "Open your eyes! How many functioning golems do we have left? How many alchemy labs can still operate? You're all we have left, Father! You can build a hundred, a thousand engines, but we can't even light an extra lamp!"
No need to see to know her state of mind. Her voice, thick with despair, echoed through the cavern. Tashan suddenly realized the barriers blocking his view weren't walls. They were—countless machines.
Robotic arms hung motionless. Countless massive machines stood silently around him, devoid of light, devoid of movement, serving only as silent ornaments. Though countless lamps adorned the ceiling and surrounding walls, only the one beside the craftsman glowed—its flickering flame dimmer than the furnace fire. The dwarf craftsman, hearing this outburst, fell speechless. He lifted his welder's mask, gazing around in bewilderment as if just awakening.
"Go! Go!" his daughter pleaded. "If we don't leave now, it'll be too late!"
The dwarf craftsman let out a roar like a trapped beast. He suddenly charged toward the forge, snatching a massive iron hammer from beside it. He hoisted the hammer, which was nearly as tall as he was, and hurled himself at his creation.
Tasha saw blue patterns flare across the hammer—it was clearly no ordinary tool, but some specialized weapon or instrument. The dwarf swung the massive hammer through the machinery, his thick arms bulging with muscle, veins throbbing on his forehead. CRASH! The crawling mechanical core was flattened with ease. BOOM! The steel golem standing beside it shattered under a single blow. The world, gleaming with iron-gray light, seemed as fragile as paper, crumbling apart beneath the creator's hammer.
His shouts grew hoarse, his voice cracking with grief as the old craftsman tore his creations to shreds. When his breathing steadied, the female dwarf charged into the fray and seized his hammer.
"Let's go," she said wearily. "Leave them behind."
"Our kingdom is lost!" " the craftsman roared. "What use are they now? To leave them for our enemies?"
"For those who come after us," the dwarf woman said. "The glory of the dwarves will always live on in our creations. It has always been so."
It has always been so, and ever shall it be.
Even when there are no more kingdoms, no more dwarves, this wondrous technology and its mighty power will endure, becoming legend.
Tasha gazed upon a sand table.
A vast blue sea encircled a verdant continent, where countless races dwarfed like chess pieces. She watched pointed-eared beings and staff-wielding figures depart, while dwarves and smaller dwarves clashed in a scuffle. The diminutive ones scattered in defeat. Dragon-like creatures, part lizard, part bat, soared upward until they vanished from sight. Tasha watched them vanish into the unknown void. When she looked back, the furry race had just been scattered by the dwarves. In the blink of an eye, tiny humans built cities. Their brilliant radiance reached its zenith, spreading identical hues across every corner of the continent. Other-colored pieces grew increasingly scattered and scarce, swallowed by this overwhelming light.
Tasha felt a force pushing her toward the sand table.
What was she?
Perhaps having experienced too many forms, Tasha no longer knew her own state. Was she a person? A city? A ghost? Or something else entirely? She drifted toward the sand table, her form growing more tangible the closer she approached. By the time she landed, she still hadn't figured out what she was—so she simply stopped trying.
Tasha watched the dwindling colorful specks, fully aware of her purpose.
Compared to the minuscule world within the sandbox, she loomed colossal. She felt omnipotent—even the impenetrable walls humanity had built would crumble beneath her slightest step. She was a titan standing tall, a mischievous child running through seaside sandcastles, holding the fate of all creation in her hands.
Yet Tasha knew exactly what she must do.
She grew lighter and smaller, her form shifting as she willed it. Her gentle descent crushed no living thing. She combed every tiny speck of light from the human tide, gathering them into her own city. Here, the dimmer lights could flourish freely.
This beautiful world should not be confined to a single hue.
Is this your choice? Is this your answer?
The formless, immaterial spectator met her gaze. Tasha's hands, combing through the crowd, transformed into claws. Her arms encircling her domain grew long and vast. She saw a dragon awaken from slumber, its sharp claws clutching its treasure. They looked at each other, as if gazing into a mirror image.
Fiery flames scorched her bones. The sensation felt good.
The dungeon core pulsed. After the second fusion, its shape no longer resembled a planet but a living heart. Magic flowed through its veins, making certain sections of the core glow intensely, as if molten lava surged endlessly within.
Tasha lay somewhere, her body covered in viscous liquid. Its cool touch permeated her bones and flesh. Ah, it was "that body." Hadn't it felt warm like a womb before? Why was it growing cold now?
It was her own body that grew hot.
Fiery flames had forged Tashan's bones into steel—no mortal blade could sever her limbs now. Scorching blood coursed through her veins; even a torch thrown upon her would leave her untouched.
Tasha gazed upon the sapphire sky, upon the crimson heart hovering above the pool. Her new body had been nurtured within the demonic pool, and now, the time for birth had come.
She slowly rose from the pool's depths, filled with blue liquid, droplets of blue glistening as they fell from her bare skin. Standing proved arduous, like a butterfly newly emerged from its cocoon or a newborn fawn rising for the first time. Thankfully, the pool's droplets prevented her from choking or suffocating. After struggling for a long while, Tasha finally managed to steady herself. She lifted her head and gazed toward the core.
The irregularly shaped dungeon core failed to reflect her face perfectly, but one thing was certain—the image inverted upon it was not a wolf's skull.
Perhaps a mirror should be installed here? Tasha mused. She could use the dungeon's perspective to see herself, but she didn't want to. Standing waist-deep in the pool, she bent down. For the first time, she saw her face in this world reflected on the now-calm surface.
It was a Western face, not her former self, yet a subtle resemblance lingered between her brows—perhaps a reflection of her heart. Her hair fell to her back, slightly curled, still black. Tashia lifted it to reveal ordinary human ears.
How exactly did the element extraction mechanism work? Tasha wondered. Since humans were the majority, did she appear purely human? Good. No beast ears or pointed ears—blending into the crowd would pose no problem. With this thought, she pressed against the edge of the magic pool and leaped upward.
Tasha fell backward.
The moment she lost the buoyancy of the pool water, Tasha suddenly felt the weight on her back. Her center of gravity wasn't where she'd expected. Her usually agile, light body suddenly felt clumsy and awkward. Her arms flailed uselessly in midair before a powerful gust of wind lifted her body. Splash! A pair of enormous wings beat the water's surface, the recoil propelling Tasha's feet off the ground.
Red dragon wings spread behind Tasha.
"No 'canceling head vulnerability,' but it seems to possess certain dragon-like innate abilities?" Victor exclaimed in astonishment. "Your luck is truly astonishing."
"You should have said 'Good morning' or 'Glad to see you safe and sound' first," Tasha replied calmly, landing and steadying herself. "Or complimented my beauty."
"That falls outside the scope of contractual services," Victor chuckled, sounding oddly pleased.
Tasha walked toward the Dungeon Book that had been moved here and pinched its pages.
"It's a pleasure to see you safe and sound on this beautiful morning," Victor quickly declared.
"It's equally nice to see you," Tasha replied kindly.
The banter ended there. The evolved dungeon examined itself, realizing its current state wasn't mere luck.
"New Title: [Dragon]"
"A legendary ancient dragon once left its blessing and a fragment of its soul within the bloodline of a cherished friend. The intangible dragon soul guarded the friend's descendants, slumbering through generations until you touched the soul it protected. Only then did the dragon open its piercing eyes—congratulations, you have passed the dragon soul's trial and gained the dragon's recognition."
Tasha wasn't entirely sure what the test criteria were, but since she'd passed anyway, there was no point dwelling on what might have happened if she hadn't.
Tasha's character sheet also underwent some changes.
The Broken Dungeon - Tasha
Title: Keeper (Draws elements from the protected to form your body), Dragon (You guard your territory and subjects as a dragon guards its hoard - additional dragon attribute bonuses)
Attributes: Severed Abyssal Bond - A powerful force severed your connection to the Abyss. Though the dungeon's core originates from the Abyss, you do not belong to it. / Affinity with Nature's Breath - The Keeper of the Heart of Nature bound you in a pact. The will of nature once cast a glance your way. / City of the Coiled Dragon - The lingering will of a legendary ancient dragon acknowledges your existence Character Cards: Clever Goblin Ah-Huang (?), Dungeon Book Victor (?), Half-Werewolf Marion (Nature), Oak Guardian (Nature), Quarter-Elf Mavis (Nature), Dragon Knight Douglas (Dragon), Bard Jacqueline (Magic)
Covenant Factions: Artisan Dwarves (Magic), Amazons (None), Captain Harriet's Remnants (None), Druids (Nature)
Buildings: Kitchen lv2, Residence, Watchtower, Forge Workshop lv2, Cemetery lv3, Training Ground, Herb Garden lv2-Apothecary lv2
Skills: [Dungeon Master][Suspicious Salesman] [Mana Healing] [Full Moon - Wild Call] [Heart of Nature (Fake)] [Workers Have Power] [Reserve Elite Warriors] [Military Morale] [Add Another Spoonful of Sugar] [Dragon Blood Bath] [Turn Up the Volume] The progression from "Ruined Dungeon" to "Incomplete Dungeon" is quite significant. Does the Dragon attribute function to enhance the power of manufactured "physical entities"? Do the newly added brackets after character and faction cards indicate their racial traits? Then what about the question marks after Ah Huang and Victor—do they signify chaotic attributes or undetermined traits? These questions would take time to unravel.
New dungeon information poured relentlessly into Tashan's mind, and certain changes stirred something within her.
What was once impossible had become possible. If that were the case... perhaps some plans could be adjusted.