Chapter 1: Chapter 1 (incomplete)

Dungeons are a strange thing.

That is because dungeons are, in simple terms, an localized overload of natural mana that compresses into a core. That core will absorb with all these mana bits, a big Cluster of thoughts, emotions and sometimes material. One of the best examples is the Mythril core of Berund. Follower of the god of metals Harzoid. Its making took half of  the Berund barony and Beral with it. The death toll was numbered at least 20.000 humanoids, 3 major churches of the Windgod Feruth, 1 church of farming, 2 churches of the firegod ifrit and around 20 other smaller temples of gods. To defeat the core, it was dragged into the fires of the vulcano of Stampat which is known as the dwarven heartsmithy. As it stands, dungeons are at one side natures way to hinder accumulated mana to spontanously combust and a good way for all that can pass through its entrance to get experience, rewadards and the potential glory of  destroying its core. At the other side, dungeons with their waves, Build and standing alone,the so called"first impact" of their Birth are an absolute menance to All that live on this World.

Excerpt of notes from Prof. Balduin Froselius Haseldorf, level 128 grandsage, specialized field of dungeon economy.

It was dark.

At some point, these long winding Tunnels were lit, but since the fall of the core of Parka many things gone wrong. The surving monsters are now rampaging through this place, while the Structure, devoid of magic was so fragile, any pimp with decent level would be able to bring a greater part of it to collapse. Lower level adventurers and merchenaries are scavenging what's left of it. Even the iron or Word of the once big Gates isn't left where it belongs.

"What in Farons Name are we doing here. There is nothing good left" said an mage to his group.while kicking a rock against a wall that gave off dust on impact. A few sandlizards that feasted on the corpse of a windhound scurried into Cracks that littered many of the Walls.

"If you didn't want to be here, then you should have said us that you are out on this mission" said the leader of the group. A basic swordsman "it was stated on the quest that this is a scavenging Mission. We are here for anything made of metal, nothing more, nothing less. Its easy money while our scout is gone."

"And because of a scavenging quest, you dragged us out of bed, it was 3 in the morning! For what its worth you even dragged me with you. What have you thought can a ratkin Priest take on weight that isn't heavier than my staff?"

"There are still monsters here. Even after ten devildamn years. A bit of healing while fighting makes the day look much better than without. Perhaps we are lucky to find some divine spark or perhaps even a piece of it, that core blasted itself apart while sorounded by a few minor gods." Barked the swordsman back

They went deeper into the fallen structure, not knowing of the splinter of dark green crystal that gave of sparks. Not seeing the green tint in the eyes of the lizard that held a piece that looked like the part of a beer bottle, while running into one of the cracks with it. The one piece of crystal who killed the hound that was unlucky enough to stand in it's way as the explosion of the core ripped apart the lowest 17 levels of the dungeon.

If they only knew what they could have done, if they saw that splinter that held the mainconsciusness of the dungeon that dug too deep for what it earned the Ire of the demons,grew too high for the liking of gods and took too much place on the surface. So that many decided the end of it.

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