A towering, slender figure strolled through a dimly lit cave, its only illumination spilling down from a cavity high above its head. Through that opening lay stars of countless shapes-some vast, others not larger than shallow dots—strewn across the sky.
They appeared as though someone had drawn them from a pouch and, with gentle, deliberate movements, sprinkled them upon a black canvas.
Upon that primordial canvas also rested a great round body, far larger than its radiant brethren.
Its hue mirrored that of a cobalt, the mineral hidden deep within the soil. The moon, aided by its smaller kin, continued to pour its light into the cave, as though fearful of missing even a fragment of the events about to unfold.
The fifteen-foot-tall figure planted its steps confidently into the earth, each stride even and unhurried, as if untouched by the passage of time or the presence of any other being in creation. From its form to its mannerisms, everything whispered the same truth: this creature was not human.
Piercing black eyes scanned the surroundings endlessly—observing, calculating. Its expression was unreadable, for its head bore the likeness of a bird, crowned with a long, slender beak. Brown skin stretched beneath garments befitting a pharaoh, untouched by the cave's biting cold. Yet the imperial symbols were absent. In its massive hands rested only a single orb, no larger than a palm—though given the creature's immense size, its true scale was impossible to discern.
The figure pressed dusty, deep-golden particles from its right palm into the sphere. Within it, the grains stirred like sea waves crashing upon a distant shore, before being exhaled outward as visible vibrations. They rippled through the cave, striking every surface within a radius of ten meters.
Again and again, the process repeated—pouring the dust, the internal motion, the resonant release—until the enitirety of the stone structure had been mapped from beginning to end. Most mortals would have long since lost patience, but this being was ancient, its tolerance refined and perfected over countless ages.
When the cartography of the stony expanse was complete, the figure returned to stand beneath the same cavity through which moonlight poured. Bathed in its cold blue glow, it retrieved a handful of sand from a pouch and began to blow gently upon the ground.
A throne befitting a divine being began to materialiase, grain by grain. First came the outline, then the finer details. Carvings emerged—stories depicting the great god Thoth, Egyptians bowing in reverence, and even fearsome creatures such as the Nile crocodile. Other images followed: King Narmer, Cleopatra, and Egypt's entanglement with the Roman Empire. A carpet of deep crimson, the color of fresh blood, unfurled beneath it, completing the spectacle.
Mortals would have offered chests overflowing with gold for such a throne, yet to the deity it was a hastily fashioned thing.
He sat upon it, drawing several slow breaths—a brief reprieve after the tedious labor. But rest was fleeting. Rising once more, with his remaining free hand, he flicked his fingers.
The sound snapped through the air and echoed across the grotto.
One by one, the creatures awakened.
They varied wildly in form—some tall, others squat; some lean, others massively built. Wolves and bears rose alongside skeletons, goblins, crawlers, and even a strange, doll-like entity whose origins were impossible to discern. Their purpose was unknown to them, though that ignorance would not last long.
Before any of them could speak or act, a translucent light-green screen materialized before their eyes. White letters scrolled across it:
Dungeon_Crown-System.exe-Installing
Below the text, rows of battery icons filled gradually one after another.
For a brief moment, the loading interface vanished. In its place appeared a single directive:
Go to rest.
Then the screen shifted
Red flooded their vision. The text appeared one more time followed by a sharp symbol-!- pulsing like a command rather than a warning.
Some creatures attempted to resist. Others fought the growing heaviness pressing down on their minds. A few of the more intelligent ones, fearing slaughter once control was lost, dragged themselves toward dark corners and narrow crevices, seeking isolation.
It was futile.
Drowsiness overtook them all. One after another, bodies collapsed to the cavern floor until, at last, every creature fell in unison—claimed by the spell of enforced sleep.
The deity sat firmly upon the throne. Above it, the orb projected a hologram composed of multiple overlapping windows. At their center glowed a title, displayed as if in proud declaration of authority:
Dungeon Designer.
With a mere thought, he issued a command
Function command ,,Surveillance,, —STOP.
The hologram vanished in the very next instant.
In a hoarse yet clear voice—deep, masculine, and resonant—the words escped his beak, spoken aloud despite the emptiness surrounding him.
,,Phase one completed,,
Carefully, he wrapped the orb in a piece of cloth and placed it upon the throne. His gaze lingered on it for a moment longer.
,,You no longer belong to me, he thought. You belong to the future crown that will emerge.
Behind him, wings of deep black unfurled, vast and magnificent, their surface scattered with stars as though fragments of the night sky had been woven into their feathers. Each wing stretched longer than his own towering body, perfectly formed to bear his immense weight.
With a single powerful flap, the deity ascended, passing once more through the same cavity from which moonlight had first poured—leaving the dungeon, and its fate, behind.