My entire body freezes. No. That's not right. My hand keeps moving, but I have no control.
"Do you like humans?" A question echoes inside my head. Not words. But the meaning is clear.
Memories of my life flash before my eyes.
My mother. Not a pleasant sight.
A maid knocked up by a lord and tossed aside, into slums.
Every misfortune. Every misery. She blames everything on me. Maybe she's right. Maybe not. It didn't matter.
Forced to beg and steal just to survive. Yet, she only complains, not helping.
The image shifts.
A bloodied corpse under me. My mother.
The abuse. The insults. The hunger and pain. I couldn't take it anymore.
At the age of ten, stone in my hand, I'm free at last.
The pictures rapidly change, showing my whole life.
The older I get, the wider the smile becomes—a mask to hide the disdain and disgust. To trick myself.
The final memory. Entering this chamber and touching the orb.
Sight returns. "No. To hell with humans." Most people in my life were terrible. The few I considered friends… left.
A feeling of understanding washes over me as a new inquiry along with images rush inside me, "Do you hate us?" The question isn't only about hate, it contains many negative emotions, but hate comes out the strongest.
Ancient times. An age long buried in history.
Enormous cities on land, water and sky, filled with forms unlike human, more… monster.
A name surfaces—Invaris.
A race of varied forms, sizes and intelligence. One trait unites them—bodies capable of storing magic, forming what is known as magic stone.
The lesser invaris resemble wild beasts, animals. But stronger.
The higher ones… outsmart and outskill humans in every aspect.
The sight gives me chills… If I had hair that is.
Small dogs run around, goblins and trolls march alongside towering giants, all moving in harmony.
A giant black dragon roams the sky, covering quarter of the city in shadow.
A dragon? That size. That power… I'd crap my pants facing that monstrosity.
Countless creatures I've never seen take my breath away.
Do I breathe? I still don't know.
And there—humans. Coexisting peacefully with invaris.
The view zooms out, showing the whole world. Invaris are strong and many, but few.
Yes, humans are weak. Much weaker. But they compensate with sheer numbers.
The times were prosperous. Yet, blinded by the promise of strength, they started hunting the lesser invaris for their magic stones.
Of course this happened. I would expect nothing less from humans.
Soon, invaris started to notice. Attempts to deny the accusations failed—humans lost all pretenses and war erupted.
Using stolen power and overwhelming numbers, they rivaled invaris. Greed and fear drove humanity to strive for a genocide.
Seeing no possibility to turn the tide, greatest invaris minds gathered—dungeons were created. The last bastions of invaris race.
Over night, their cities disappeared. With them, every single invaris.
Their works became the foundation of dungeons.
Everything that made invaris went into dungeon cores—the hearts.
The cores hid deep, filling dungeons with shadows of their former selves. No mind of their own. Fraction of former power. And upon death? The monsters return to the core, leaving behind a remnant of true magic stone.
Reduced to husks. All for survival. One hope—to reclaim their rightful place.
The age of dungeons began.
Humans were wary. With time, invaris turned to myth, then forgotten completely. Only monsters remained.
The dungeon cores patiently wait for their moment. For someone like me—human, but not. Without connection to their kind. No magic. Only this person could be transformed, to lead invaris back to the light.
Do I hate you? The invaris? Seeing the history from their point of view—my perspective is skewered. But… "No, I don't hate you."
Sadness. Anger. Despair. Frustration. Determination. Hope. Compassion. Kindness. Myriads of emotions rush into me—too many to name, to understand. With them, a request—to help, to save. Rise and reclaim their glory.
What I saw… What I lived… Maybe invaris are where I belong.
One thing is clear to me—refuse and turn into pile of bones, never to move again. There is only one option…
"I agree."
The blue orb flies into my chest, merging with me.
Time escaped me as I stood, motionless, watching.
I fall to my knees after regaining control. Touching the orb—dungeon core—was the only thing keeping me upright.
Standing up, I hear a soft, female voice, 'Kaelen.'
Looking around. Nothing.
'Hey, Kaelen,' comes again, louder.
Am I insane?
'Kaelen. Kaelen. Kaelen.' My name keeps sounding out.
"What?!" I snap.
'I knew you could hear me, Kaelen.'
The voice comes from… everywhere? But no one is here.
'Don't ignore me, Kaelen. Kaelen.'
Hearing my name over and over… "Stop! Stop calling my name!"
'Then talk to me, Kaelen. Didn't you just accept me? And you're ignoring me? Meanie.'
….Right. I accepted…
"Are you the dungeon core?"
'Ding, ding, ding. It's me! Gimme a name.'
I take my head off and give it a good shake before putting it back.
'What are you doing?' the voice inquires.
Didn't help. Fuck. "Where are you?"
'I'm inside you. I'm you. You're me. We are one. I want a name. Now.'
"Slow down, will you. I'm having a crisis here."
Did I make the right choice? I pace around when suddenly, a dog trots out of nowhere, tail wagging. He bites off my leg and I fall to the ground, thoughts scattering.
"What is this?! Give my leg back! It's not a chew toy!" I hop around, chasing him. His black, wolf-like appearance and glowing red eyes don't scare me now. I want my leg more than I'm afraid.
The voice laughs. 'I made him. It took you so long to notice me. He's a bloodhound and will be your companion. He also wants a name.'
"You name him! Give me my leg!" I stop chasing it.
Seeing the game is over, the dog comes to me and drops the leg.
"Bad dog!"
The dungeon core giggles. 'Names, we want names.'
"Why don't you have a name?"
'You didn't give me one.'
"Didn't you have a name—before becoming the core I mean."
'Before? I wasn't before. Now I am. I need a name.'
The voice keeps nagging. "Let me think!"
Female voice, childish and a round blue ball. Hmm. What to name you…
"Do you really need a name? I'm not good naming things."
'Yes. Yes. I want a name!'
Pacing, I think. The dog sits next to the altar, head turning left and right as I walk.
Childish… no, cheery.
Hmm, yes. "Chirri, you are Chirri."
Pointing at the dog, "You are Tibi."