Uno

  I think I fucked up a bit.

  I didn’t expect this… escalation.

  The fighting was supposed to last a few days at the most, then the aggressors would run out of fodder and kindly fuck-off, preferably crying all the way home. Like a sports team after an awful away match. Like a toddler whose toys I had broken.

  Instead, the Lich doubled, then tripled down, and we were now in the fourth week of the siege. Hell, it was hard to call it a siege anymore - it was just a meatgrinder. The surrounding artificial underground had been turned into a slaughter pot, a bubbling stew where Lich and I were throwing our creatures, hoping to come out on top.

  I was afraid of what kind of undead would be born out of the murder abyss we had made. The tunnels and valleys that the explosions had created were now full of blood-soaked earth filled with screams of the dead and the dying. All this resentment, anger, and despair had to go somewhere. On Earth, I would expect an epidemic. Out here, however? The malice took a more concrete form.

  There were other problems, too. Humans and their beastkin allies were complaining about a lack of sleep. Considering how quickly Lebir Exploders were made and then sent to the battlefield, I understood their apprehension, yet there wasn’t much I could do about it.

  The suicide bombers were needed to keep the enemy off-balance, literally destroying the status quo by reshaping the battlefield. Each day, they were making new tunnels and collapsing the old ones. Without their input, we would’ve already been drowned in bodies.

  So I kept the production up, and they continued to explode, taking both allies and enemies straight to hell.

  And it was because of that mechanical malice, the coldness that came with the great equalizer of death, that every single living being surviving in the abyss below feared the hiss and roar of Lebir explosives.

  And that circled back to the complaints. While the people perched above the slaughterhouse weren’t in physical danger, they were instead being ground down mentally. The constant clang of fighting, explosions, screams, and especially the stench were wearing them thin. Some decided to fill their days with violence, sending spells and arrows toward the enemy's sprawling encampments. Others chose more peaceful tasks, like growing food, making more people, or reinforcing the newly made plateau.

  I mean, Silver Oasis was standing on the top of my dungeon, whose ceiling was made from mana-reinforced stone, so there wasn’t much left to strengthen, but hey, I let them do what they wanted.

  If it helped their mental, then it helped enough.

  Then there were the insane ones, who asked to be sent into the grinder.

  Charles had refused to indulge their self-destructive impulses, and so did his girlfriend when they turned to her. For a first, and then a second week, at least.

  Then some of the idiots managed to sneak by, entering the abyss.

  Some even made it back.

  They were broken, tired, and scarred for life - with a few utterly infuriating exceptions who rared for another go, addicted to adrenaline.

  These unintended casualties tested the patience of Silver Oasis’ rulers. Neither Agnes nor Charles liked their people being killed, nor did they accept not being in control. In a bid to change their focus, I introduced the garden variety of Ratlings to the surface.

  I thought that the reaction to their appearance would be more extreme, with witch-hunts and screaming mobs chasing the poor rats down, but the populace seemed… fine?

  Almost placid.

  Shellshocked, maybe?

  I mean, people weren’t screaming and running for their lives, but there was a layer of tension and distrust that came with “man-eating” monsters freely moving amongst their “fodder”. The feeling of the sheep herd not sure if the four-legged animal walking amongst them was a dog… or a wolf.

  It was an exaggerated fear, without being grounded in reality. Mostly.

  My creatures preferred either snake meat or home-grown vegetables. Or rather, magic fruits and vegetables, which Feeder’s burlap-wearing rats were tending to. According to the few monsters that did partake in sentient flesh, it was stringy and smelled bad.

  The presence of beastkin and their attitudes helped, too. It was hard to focus on the visual differences when all around the “normal” humans walked humanoid cats, dogs, and bulls - some of them more animalistic than my brand of creatures. So… what was the difference between them and the monsters?

  Questions like these kept people off-balance. Guessing. Wondering. Wasting time not witch-hunting my creepies.

  That was good.

  Seeing that the surface was barely stable, I turned my attention elsewhere. To the newly opened “gates of hell”. It was the name I had adopted for what the rats called the Big Hole. Or maybe the Biggest Hole? Anyway, it was what was left from the explosive entrance that started this whole ordeal, with a black void cleanly attached to the third floor.

  Yep, ya heard it right. These blood-soaked halls weren’t part of my third floor. Yet.

  It pained me greatly to see such slaughter and to not partake - the souls needed for the next floor beckoned, after all. Still, I decided against the expansion - I wasn’t sure how the dungeon’s rigid structure would interact with the constant explosions. There was also a threat of detection.

  While the Geinard Kingdom didn’t have any magic to pinpoint the presence of a dungeon (although they could roughly guess its location), who knew what spells those crusty undead had access to?

  It was a gamble I wasn’t willing to take.

  Similarly, I held back when it came to claiming the murder-hole proper, even after going all in. Taking the place over would mean that the tunnels were going to grow static, their structure no longer able to be influenced by the constant use of explosives. I could try to finagle some mechanical or magical solution, changing paths and sending the unwary to their doom but the enemy had a simple answer to that kind of defense.

  The might of numbers.

  The exploration parties we killed were being constantly reinforced with a small trickle of monsters wandering into the Lich’s encampment from beyond the hills (although their amount had lessened over time). Worse, if the dead were recoverable they turned up again at my gates, this time as zombies, skeletons, and other nasties.

  A disadvantage of fighting against a necromancer.

  Recycling was a powerful tool, after all.

  This made the use of explosives even more important and proved that an old adage, kill it with fire, still held true. The rats were especially enamored with that one, their arsenal expanding with green-tinted zeal.

  Of course, the enemy wasn’t stupid and decided that going around the tunnels, instead of through them, was a viable option. I quickly stopped that notion with new groups of Lebir Exploders hidden away. My bombers sent their scouts (and vanguard) to kingdom come each time they tried to circumvent me. In the end, the only change was that the murder-hole grew larger.

  It took a few botched tries for the enemy leadership to understand that around Silver Oasis, you don’t go where Uno doesn’t want you to go.

  As for how many Lebirs I had waiting, curled up underground?

  Many. Much too many.

  It was a number big enough to turn the surrounding hills into one big labyrinth of death. Not that I was trying to do so. We had to think about the future and how people would trade with the Oasis. How would they travel in and out of it. Not to mention the undead problem we were sure to encounter.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  In retrospect, I could probably make some bridges and call it a day, so the problem wasn’t as big as it first appeared. But details, details.

  The Lebir manufactorum never once stopped its production since the inception of the idea, so I stuffed their “product” whenever I had room, even outside my influence. I would gladly send this explosive army to kill off the Lich’s subordinates, if not for the fear that something like a Chain Lightning would make short work of them.

  Hell, even Charles’ Meteor spell would be enough to start a domino effect.

  And that would be just wasting resources.

  So the rest of the undead remained as a not-so-hidden card. Or, more like, a counter to the enemy's strategy. Since neither side had any other options to break through, the war turned into an attrition battle, World War One style, just with less artillery.

  It was a race I was sure to win, and that was my problem.

  If I knew that, surely the Lich did too?

  It felt weird that the old monster didn’t order its troops to surround the place anyway, completely cutting the Silver Oasis off from the surroundings. It wasn’t like the undead magus had any scruples left. I chalked it up to the overall weirdness of our opponent. It’s ranting about the tests, and the new generations might be a clue to what it was thinking.

  Not like I could do anything about it even if it decided to act.

  I still planned and strategized. My rats were evolving, and my avatar, Duo, was happily murdering his way through the tunnels, true to his new, spiky form.

  The only way out of this stalemate seemed to be either to throw an elite force at the Lich, taking it out of the equation, or something more ridiculous happening, like an army arriving on our doorstep unnoticed and unannounced. Considering the technological and magical level of this world, such an occurrence was doubtful.

  So instead of worrying, I focused on grinding.

  Grinding flesh, bones, and souls against each other in this hopeless battle.

  Charles

  It was maddening.

  This war had escalated so much that the resolution was out of my hands. No single warrior or mage was able to sway its course anymore. It was the same with the battles that the Geinard’s Kingdom waged.

  No more knight charges that broke the enemy. No more workings of magic decimating those who opposed us. Just tactics and unfeeling, cold mathematics of numbers thrown against numbers. Again and again.

  And both now and in the past, it was simply unacceptable to me.

  I was the one who held the reins.

  I was the one who defended this place.

  And I was the person who decided who lived and who died, not some nebulous hand of fate! Not some statistic!

  “Charles.” My fiancé’s voice shook me out of the stupor. I grimaced before admitting to myself that Agnes was one of the few people who also decided our future. As it was right.

  “Charles!” Her voice echoed against the walls of the chamber.

  “Yes, love?” I choked back, the ash in my throat turning back into spit.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “The supply situation, mostly.” I lied without a second thought. It was ungainly to trash like a child, after all. “I assumed it would be worse, especially since surface travel had been pretty much cut off by the monsters and undead.”

  The former princess tutted under her nose, before answering. “Thankfully, Uno had a whole operation underground, providing him - and us - with just enough food and resources.”

  “I wouldn’t say thankfully.” I glowered. “The whole idea that the dungeon had been doing such things right under our noses, and we were none the wiser, doesn’t sit well with me. At all.”

  “And yet it is a reality.” Agnes shrugged, playfully tilting her head. “And trying to control everything about life is an exercise in futility. Especially with the stuff that our resident Dungeon does.”

  “Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

  “Suit yourself, but…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t think saying such things where Uno can clearly hear you is such a great idea.” She pointed at the nearby Lebir standing guard with the endless patience that only the dead were capable of.

  “There isn’t a single place in the Silver Oasis where he can’t hear me.” I deadpanned.

  “So?” She smiled innocently.

  I threw my hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, sure. You win. I’m just stupid that way. Can we go back to the problem at hand? The lack of supplies?”

  “There’s not much of a problem, though?”

  “Not everybody likes eating snake meat.”

  “Is that so? It tastes fine.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t that cannibalism, since, you know, you’re now part-snake?”

  She puffed up in indignation.“Nagas, my dear, are not snakes! If you disagree, then you probably shouldn’t eat any meat, cows and goats included.”

  “What? Why?” I was confused.

  “Course, they are as similar to you as these monster snakes are to me! Don’t be ridiculous with such claims, dear, or the beastkin will revolt.” She smiled, licking her lips. “Anyway, the meat of Uno’s creatures isn’t bad. I don’t get why people don’t like it. It tastes a bit like chicken, bland, but they’ll do in a pinch!”

  “I’m more afraid of the greens that Uno rats are hauling to the surface. We need to check them for human consumption, not to mention we need to control how they spread from the plateau.”

  “And why should we?”

  “So our people won’t starve?” I answered, confused.

  “No, not about that. Why should we stop the Silver Oasis plants from spreading?”

  “Because they’re dangerous? The benign seeds aren’t the only ones that are being transported upward. The other day, a hauler nearly lost his leg when a Spike Sundew grew on their path. The damn thing was camouflaged too, easily blending with the environment.”

  “Yep. That’s what I’m talking about.” She grinned evilly.

  “What do you mean?” I asked tiredly. Seeing her complicated expression, I pressed on. “Please, no more riddles. My head hurts already.”

  “You’re no fun!” She exclaimed, before pouting for a few seconds.

  “That I am, and that’s why you love me.”

  “Cheeky!”

  “And true.”

  “Sure. It’s simple.” She shrugged before deflating. “The plants are already growing. All of them. And I mean all of them. All the stuff that Uno’s rats brought to the surface. The Handberries, the Rock Fruits, the Azure Potatoes. And with them, the rest of the seeds are carried upward too, willingly or unwillingly, just like you mentioned. Soon we’ll have our hands full with sorting the good from the horrid.”

  “I really don’t want to see what Spewing Root looks like in the wild.” I added.

  “You mean the Shooters?” I nodded to confirm. “Yeah, these are not fun.” She trembled. “An elder variant can easily blow a man’s head off. But Knife-bushes? Silver Ironbarks? Ax Conifers? They’re resources!” She counted on her fingers.

  “Dangerous resources! Don’t forget that with those, we’ll also get Fiery Dandelions and Strand… Stranger… Strangleroots, too.” I stopped myself from spitting on the ground. “I have seen and felt enough explosions to last me for a lifetime.”

  Agnes waved her hand in denial. “You forget we have an advantage - our knowledge! We know how they propagate, how to cull them, and where they grow the best. Gods below, even their thrice-cursed names are something that Uno had provided! For the people of Silver Oasis, these growths are a known variable. Something they can sidestep and even use for our advantage!”

  I shook my head. “I’m not stupid, love. You’re not telling the whole story, aren’t you?”

  Agnes only looked on with a wistful expression. “Would it change anything? Would reminding you of the dangers and the future that is going to happen influence your decision?” She gritted her teeth. “And let our people starve?”

  “In the end, no matter how hard we try, the seeds of Uno creations will escape.” I deadpanned.

  “And then the world will become a much more dangerous place. A bit later, though.” She finished my words. Seeing my expression, Agnes continued, after taking a deep breath. “Because these plants, these… dungeon’s children… they’re adaptable. They thrive in the wastelands, for Goddess' sake! They don’t need the dungeon aura to survive either! Once the seeds spread to the Geinard’s Kingdom wheat fields, thousands will die.”

  “And thousands more will starve.” I added, my eyes widening.

  “Yes. Now you see what the future will bring.”

  There was an uneasy silence as we gazed into each other’s eyes. I was the one to interrupt the moment.

  “We need to stop it.”

  “No! Our people will starve without them. And Uno will never agree to turn his Dungeon into a greenhouse.” Her eyes turned fierce. “Let them propagate! Let's change the world. Let those who can’t adapt, simply perish!”

  “Let the sheep be devoured! Let the Kingdom feel what we felt!” She whispered in the end.

  “Is this the world you want to live in?” I asked, sadness setting in my eyes.

  “No. But it’s the only world I can live in, now. I am a beast, remember? An unclean thing.” She smiled, but this time her cocky grin looked more like a sneer. “So let those who abandoned me feel the taste of despair. Those who sent you here to die, those who turned their backs on us. Those who want to use us and then throw us away. Why should we care about their well-being?”

  “It won’t work that way. You know that.” I countered. “The culprits, instead of dying, will be turned undead, escaping our grasp, and the vampires will rule the Geinard’s Kingdom. That’s if they don’t already rule it.”

  She cradled my head, whispering. “Let me have this, Charles. A girl wants to have hope, sometimes. For some justice.”

  I hugged her tightly, as our bodies shared warmth in silence.

  The moment lasted an eternity.

  Or five minutes.

  So, of course, somebody had to interrupt.

  “M-my Lord!” A wheezing soldier barged into the room, skidding to an awkward halt as he saw us, all tangled up.

  “What is it?!” I growled, feeling Agnes' mana churning like a beast stalking its cage. “This better be important!”

  “Y-yes!” He squeaked, before swallowing loudly. “Our scouts found refugees in the tunnels!”

  “What tunnels?”

  “Those carved by the rats, sir! And what’s more, the refugees are orcs!”

  “What?!”

  “Led by Dungeon’s chosen!”

  I felt a headache coming.

  “Uno, you bastard!”

  “What are you planning now?” I screamed.