Dungeon? This Tree? Why Don't You Join Me for Lunch? (Dungeon Core)
Chapter 80: Going Home

Chapter 80: Chapter 80: Going Home

My head was bowed low. Titan... I had wanted it. I couldn’t blame Titan for taking advantage of the fact that I had wanted him.

But...

I needed to make sure that he didn’t do any harm! I was a peaceful nymph, a peaceful dungeon core!

If I managed to make use of the skill he gave me, then I was going to make sure that he never got out of the Cave of Sin!

A cave I was going to visit more than once, even if I didn’t know it.

Because, as much as I hated to admit it, I didn’t want to share Titan with the rest of my harem.

He was my boss mob.

There were two ways the relationship between a boss mob and a dungeon core could develop.

Most times, the two ended up with a slave-master dynamic, with the boss mob being the slave.

The poor mobs were expected to lay down their lives for their cores, after all.

But there was another thing that could happen. Something that had happened between Titan and me.

The dungeon core could fall in love with its creation. Something his or her mana had made into their deepest desire.

And when that happened...

I shook my head.

I needed to level up! One skill at a time!

I took a cutting board and some onions. My hands went through the motions as my mind was deep in thought.

Chop, chop, chop, slide to the side in a big pot, which was about as big as a witch’ cauldron. Then take another onion.

I knew that those onions were from an older shipment. That they were no good.

But Titan had given me more mana than I knew what I could do with!

The tourists, for all that they now regretted the fact that they had come and certainly pestered Aron for refunds, were still in the forest.

Making their way out.

I was taking their mana from them. One percent per minute.

To put it in perspective because I needed to know how fast I was killing these people, so I could move on from my pity party and do something about it, it went something like this:

I was sucking away 1 percent per minute. A human got about fifty mana points per hour.

If the human started off with all of those fifty points during that one minute when I got in range with them, then 0,5 points, that is to say, half a point, went to me in that minute alone.

Now, the humans were no sitting ducks, thank the Lord.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have even survived until their natural regen happened...

I had only two healing mushrooms. Without an idea, how I was going to give the humans the soup without going to them and getting them all in range of the skills, I chopped onions.

Wanting to make an onion soup with just two healing mushrooms added to it.

Because it was something I knew how to do.

Small steps, as Methuselah always told me, make for big distances being covered.

Of course, back then he might have been talking about the eternal quest his roots undertook in the search of water and nutrients, but I was grasping at straws at that point.

If the humans died, if Solas found out, if Pan found out...

"Sylvan?" Aron’s gentle voice got me out of my musing.

I must have looked like a dread because he came to me slowly, so, as if not to spook me. His hand was like lightning when he took the cleaver from my loose grip.

Loose grip... too loose. I could have cut myself.

"What’s wrong?" He pulled me into a hug. My eyes were stinging.

Something told me that it wasn’t because of the mountains of onions I had cut and stored away in the biggest pot I could find.

"Titan... Titan is a monster," I cried out. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was the truth. "And I still love him."

What was wrong with me, I asked myself. Was I going to fall in love with everyone who showed interest now?

Who was next? Solas? Doran?

Belladonna?

"Sylvan," Aron tugged me away from the cutting area. "Tell me everything."

There was no judging in that lovely, familiar, voice. He was my soulmate.

I should have known that he would never judge me.

And yet, as I cried in his arms, my story probably needing a translator, he tightened his grip on me.

"You are to never create another mob," his hand was black. Shining...

"No!" I knew what he was about to do. He was going to take away my dungeon core status and take it upon himself! "I can’t lose the Tree of Memories! It holds them! All of them

Aron blinked at me, as I took a hold of my blonde hair and began to tug.

"Theanore’s giggles," I said between trying to take in a breath. "Marinus’ grumbles."

I saw as Aron made a step towards me.

His hand was still black.

"Methuselah’s voice."

That last one made him pause.

I didn’t like to speak about my first tree with my soulmates. It wasn’t so, as if I wanted to keep them locked out of that part of my life.

It was just that it still hurt.

"He got chopped down," it was the first time I told Aron of it. The first time I told anyone but Theanore and Marinus of it.

It was my deepest regret.

His last act of heroism.

"And I can’t even hate the woodcutter, Aron! The man wore rags! He was skin and bones! Methuselah probably saved him from starvation," I fell to the ground.

Hearing my own words, I tried to think about my first tree. My kind and loving father.

I was not like him.

He had done his best for me, but I still loved Titan. Titan, who...

He was no different from that woodcutter. Titan, who was just as starved.

Just as poor. Just as desperate.

"I am going to die," I moaned out, as I began to shake. "Titan is going to cut me down!"

I didn’t mean with an axe. Aron knew it too.

It was time for a change.

But for the love of me, I didn’t want to. It was too painful, too terrifying...

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