Blue glowing light swirls within the orb. My eyes follow the brighter clusters of mana as they spin end over end. This perfectly spherical gemstone is my core. Something I've been anchored to since I first woke up in this world. It feels like a part of me, but I don't really understand it. Even now I find myself wondering what it actually is.

  The first day I spent in this world was filled with confusion and emotions that felt out of character for me. Now, I have to wonder how many decisions I've made because of this little blue rock bending my morals.

  I don't think of myself as someone who would kill a person.

  Yet I kill, and create circumstances meant to kill.

  All this death and pain feeds me in a way I can't resist. I keep trying to act like I'm not a murderer by obfuscating my responsibility for my victim's fate. Maybe it is time I be mature about this, and accept the fact I am not the person I once was.

  Sighing, I grab my core.

  Floating through my dungeon gives me a view of all my creatures. There are no adventurers right now, as they're being barred entry by the soldiers. I'm sure something important has happened. I've not been paying much attention. The nagging thought that my identity is slipping away has me distracted.

  My focus shifts from the Wildwood to Green Valley, before I finally return to settle on the mess of rooms and corridors I call my core area. It needs some renovations.

  I work my mana to carve and rearrange stone into a more satisfying complex. My mind is elsewhere, contemplating the choices I've made over the past month or so and how they would look to someone else.

  My mana slows as I finish carving the start of my new core area. It is a single massive chamber, the centerpiece a recreation of my core. This giant floating blue gem is held up in a stone cradle high above ground level of the room. Surrounding it is an empty expanse of stone with carved pillars and stone tiled floors.

  Carefully, I weave thick cords of mana into creating a new obelisk. I embed the stone monument into the core's cradle, ensuring it looks to be a slightly more decorated pillar. As the mana takes hold within the monument a translucent floating map takes shape in the vast empty chamber.

  The map is simple for now: A floating miniature recreation of the Wildwood connected to a matching tiny Green Valley. Both areas are connected to a little antechamber above. Flathoof Haven and Gremlin Grotto are both connected to the Wildwood, but their connections are dotted hazy lines. The lines connecting the other areas are solid and unchanging.

  All of these changes are superficial.

  The truly important feature of the new core chamber is carved into the core's stone cradle.

  Several commandments chiseled into mana rich rock. Words carved with the intent to last forever, their messages reminders meant to keep me from drifting too far from my humanity. I was a human once. I don't remember much of it, but I know it for certain. These commandments will help me retain myself despite the strange urges my new reality pushes onto me.

  Commandment one. Only those who understand and accept the risk of entering the dungeon may do so. This dungeon is not a park, nor an attraction, it is an arena. The creatures within are fighting for survival all to fuel my own existence. People entering must accept that.

  Commandment two. Harming those outside the dungeon is forbidden. People who aren't inside the dungeon aren't accepting any risk, they're simply existing in their own space. Attacking them would be just as bad as committing assault. I don't want a repeat of the stampede incident.

  Commandment three. Remember the fallen, for they should not be forgotten. In the past I've simply turned corpses and items left behind by adventurers into mana. I never thought too deeply of it, but it is the same as cannibalism, isn't it? The least I can do for someone who's life gave me the power to live on is to remember them and respect them in death.

  For now, these three commandments are the only ones in play.

  I'll likely be adding more to this stone pillar when I think of something worthwhile.

  The first commandment does require some fixing immediately. Thankfully, no one is inside the dungeon proper. Those in the antechamber aren't at risk of attack from dungeon traps or monsters, so they'll be unaffected by this clause.

  I add another obelisk into the stone cradle, this one's purpose being to ensure those entering the dangerous portions of the dungeon understand what they're getting into. Since this mana stuff is intent and thought based I'm not sure exactly how it will work, but I know it functions. Perhaps they'll have to mentally sign a waiver?

  Anyway, now that I've fulfilled my first commandment I'd best fulfill my last.

  Many have died because of me, however indirectly. It is time I make a tally of these casualties and give them a proper burial, or at minimum a memorial. I'll start by creating a list of each and every death I can remember occurring.

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  Skinny, a criminal chased into the dungeon by Daywark's soldiers. He died to a pitfall trap in the upper portion of my dungeon back before I added the direct door.

  Shanks, the leader of a group of criminals chased into the dungeon by Daywark's soldiers. He died the same way as his friend Skinny, unfortunately.

  Toothy, an older criminal who died with Skinny and Shanks. He was slain not by me, but by Captain Dirk. I'm not sure what he did to deserve the execution.

  Daniel, a young Daywark soldier with a long life ahead of him. The poor boy didn't do anything wrong. My paranoia led to me creating deadly traps as a means of deterring the soldiers, and Daniel's death served as a warning to them all.

  An older man who's name I never knew died from his wounds in the infirmary tent that used to be up on the surface, back when there was a military encampment. He was sliced up by great hawks and they couldn't save him. His death is part of why I made healing potions.

  Ten soldiers I didn't know the names of perished in the flathoof stampede. They didn't deserve such a gruesome fate, nor did I intend for them to die. In hindsight I wasn't being careful whatsoever. It's possible some small part of me knew there would be deaths. Maybe a little piece of me wanted the mana. I'm not sure about that, but I am sure those poor soldiers deserve to be remembered.

  Lord Fredrick, the city lord of the nearby Daywark, perished in the flathoof stampede. His death sparked a lot of change on the surface. From what I've heard adventurers say amongst themselves Lord Fredrick was a great man. It's a slap in the face to his legacy that he died for the sake of redecorating a few inconsequential rooms.

  Henry, Captain Dirk's friend and second in command, stabbed to death by a comrade in arms in an unfortunate accident during a fight with goliath toads. His death was traumatic for everyone involved. While not killed by a monster, the situation only came about because of my dungeon.

  Tanner, a junior soldier, was torn apart by swarmers. The poor boy didn't have a chance once the spiders bit into him. His friends tried and failed to save him.

  Captain Dirk. He died from his wounds in the belly of a goliath toad. He wasn't a good person as far as I could tell, but he didn't deserve the death he got. He wanted to seek revenge against me for the deaths of his friends and lordship.

  An adventurer whose name I never knew, strangled to death by a highbark constrictor. He may not have made an impact on me, but I'll remember him regardless.

  Two adventurers in the same group were crushed by a treant. Neither of them were memorable to me personally, but I haven't forgotten their deaths.

  Another adventurer from this same party died to a woodwalker. The woodwalker stepped on him by pure accident, and he died instantly. An unfortunate turn of fate.

  Danny, a boy who did his best to appease his boss and the other members of this same party of six. He was crushed by a woodwalker. While he is gone, he will be remembered by the man who escaped with his life. Their leader won't ever forget them.

  Every death within or associated with my dungeon is now recorded on parchment.

  I'll be making a memorial for them in time, when I have the resources to create an appropriate resting place for the dead.

  Some time passes as I sit there in silence. I don't bother returning to my body. I just feel the mana in my core, wondering if any of the mana within me is somehow from one of those deaths I just catalogued. Could the remnants of someone's soul still be inside my core?

  My experiment with attempting to resurrect the dead comes to mind. I move to the laboratory, observing the swirling mass of blueish energy filling the bottle. It's the product of a lot of mana and the intent to bring back those who are no longer living. Thus far, it hasn't reacted to any of my attempts to interact with it.

  "Mother, are you here?"

  The sound of Silva speaking reaches me. I quickly move back into my body, jolting upright. Silva is in the newly refurbished core chamber. He's staring up at my false core with an admiring look in his eyes. I clear my throat, stepping out from the hidden passage to my true core.

  "Oh, Mother! I hope I'm not bothering you?"

  "Not at all, Silva. What brings you to my core chamber?"

  "Well... I was wondering when I could meet my brother."

  I forgot! Damn me and my poor attention span--I'll need to check on Gu and ensure he knows about the meeting. I just hope he'll recognize me even in my somewhat... performative getup. The hooded robe and magic amulet make me look more like an old witch and less like the mom he grew up with.

  "I'll arrange it very soon, Silva, you have my word."

  "Thank you, Mother. I never doubted you!"

  Silva bows his head like he's speaking to royalty. I suppress the urge to groan, and let him keep thinking of me as a mysterious powerful individual. Wait, is this idea of making myself more powerful than I actually am something I really came up with? Did becoming this dungeon core monstrosity give me strange desires other than the need to kill and gather mana?

  Silva interrupts my thoughts "Mother, what is that great crystal?"

  I glance up, following Silva's pointing staff. He's gesturing toward my false core, a massive blue sphere of sapphire. It hovers in the air whilst glowing like a star. I smile a bit at the impressive display of my own making, and answer Silva.

  "That is my core, Silva. You can think of it as my heart."

  Silva gasps "Your heart? It is not in your body?"

  "I have two hearts--the one beating in my chest, and that one up there."

  An idea forms in my head as I watch Silva stare in wide eyed awe of my fake core. If those who wish to do me harm think I can only be killed by destroying my core, then they will want to find and destroy that core. Making my fake core appear to be genuine might help me in case someone ever manages to get information from Silva. It's a slim possibility, but there's no such thing as being too careful!

  "My core is my only weakness, Silva. If that breaks then so does everything I've created."

  "Mother... I swear to you I will never allow any harm to befall your core!"

  Silva practically throws himself to the ground for me. I have to step back to avoid getting clobbered by the eager moose's antlers. With my son this loyal, maybe there is no need to be so cautious? I'm sure he would never betray me.

  "Thank you for your dedication, Silva. I will do my best to protect you just the same."