Rebecca's attempt at cheerful conversation hangs in the thin, high-altitude air. "So, erm... This place is nice." Aura's eye roll, while predictable, doesn't deter Becca. "Do you miss living up here? I don't mean this place specifically, but being off the land."

  Aura pauses, a flicker of something unfamiliar crossing her face. The air is different. Lighter, perhaps? She hadn't realized how much she'd adapted to the ground. Then, her gaze lands on a familiar face: a former courtier, now a royal guard, their expression a mix of disdain and accusation.

  "Aura, what are you doing here?" the guard demands, voice sharp. "Traitors are forbidden from these heights."

  "I am a princess," Aura retorts, her voice tight. "I go where I please."

  "Not anymore," the guard sneers. "You forfeited that right."

  The argument escalates, words like poisoned darts flying between them. Becca, sensing the rising tension, steps forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Hey, look, there's no need for this. We were just having a chat. We'll be going soon."

  The guard, surprised by the interruption, hesitates. With a final glare at Aura, he backs down, muttering something about "knowing her place."

  But the damage is done. Aura's chest heaves, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The guard's words, the familiar disdain, the feeling of being trapped – it all coalesces into a burning rage. Without conscious thought, she raises her hand, and a searing beam of dark energy erupts, tearing through the ancient tree. A gaping hole, smoking and splintered, marks the spot where the Void beam struck.

  Silence descends, thick and heavy. The air crackles with residual energy.

  Becca looks at the damage and thinks, Oh, crap. That was... Intense. I knew she was upset, but... That? That was raw power, pure rage. And... Was that a Void beam? I need to diffuse this, but how? She's clearly lost control. What do I say? What do I do? Should I try to calm her? Or is that the wrong move? I need to be careful. I don't want to make it worse.

  I need to remember she is hurting, and that this environment is likely very very triggering for her. I need to be calm.

  Aura, on the other hand, doesn't think much different.

  What have I done? I... I didn't mean to. It just... Happened. That power, it surged through me, and I couldn't stop it. They make me feel so small, so trapped. I hate them. I hate this place. But... That was too much. I've crossed a line. They'll... they'll... Panic claws at her throat. She can't breathe. They'll punish her. They'll lock her away. Or worse. She's ruined everything. She's a monster. A failure.

  Aura's eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat. She stares at the smoking hole in the tree, then back at Becca, her face a mask of fear and fury.

  "I... I didn't..." she stammers, her voice barely a whisper.

  Becca takes a slow, deliberate step towards Aura, her voice soft. "Aura, it's okay. You're okay. We're okay. It was an accident. I know you didn't mean to." She keeps her voice low and even, trying to project calmness. "Let's just... Breathe. Okay? Just breathe with me."

  Just then, a portal shimmers into existence, and Abi steps through, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene. "What happened?" she demands, her gaze sweeping from the ruined tree to Aura's trembling form.

  Dungeon Story

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Aura and Rebecca

  The sun, a benevolent spotlight, warms my soul as I chill beneath its manufactured glory outside my lodge. A perfect day for basking, or, as it is every day in my Domain, a perfect day I made. A sigh, laced with contentment, escapes me.

  A gentle breeze, programmed for optimal comfort, rustles my hair, and a chilled beverage materializes in my hand. Perfect condensation, a tiny umbrella, the works. I take a sip. Divine. Almost enough to distract me from the reason I I retreated here.

  Almost.

  The image of the Elven King's face, a grotesque mask of bewildered rage, flashes before my mind. The pathetic father. I’ve even managed to dial back his inherent douchebaggery, a minor miracle in itself. But I can’t linger; the girls are waiting. And, let’s be honest, I’d been itching to teach Aura’s royal pain-in-the-ass progenitor a lesson. Or a hundred. Randy, bless his moon, is probably still tallying the exact number.

  The King’s transformation, however slight, is a testament to my… Persuasive abilities. Not that I have much experience with royalty. My encounters with the "elite" tend to resemble a slum fire in a hurricane.

  There was the human King, still languishing in my dungeon. His soul, Goblin reconstructed, has endured my "Soul Guide" sessions, followed by Veris's… Enthusiastic ministrations. Now, he exists on ambient mana, a perpetual, suffering reminder of his crimes. He killed my family and Mama Core never forgets.

  Then, there's also the self-proclaimed gods. Two of them, to be precise. "Self-proclaimed" being the operative phrase. Apparently, anyone can slap that label on themselves. Even me, technically.

  My interactions with the celestial blowhards were no less disastrous than my dealings with royalty. Though, I’ve had fewer gods to deal with. Maybe the others are to busy throwing divine pool parties to care about little old me.

  Doubtful. My perception is, shall we say, skewed, thanks to the current and former Lazy God. Whose name has long since evaporated from my memory banks. The second God inherited the first's title after I, accidentally, usurped hers.

  Let’s be clear though: the title found me. I didn’t steal it. I was blissfully unaware of its existence until Kolena arrived, spitting celestial venom.

  A strategic blunder on her part. Did she seriously think insulting a Dungeon Core would end well? I was remarkably restrained by letting her stay. My beauty factor, naturally, working overtime.

  But back to the Elven King. Even endless cycles of death hadn’t prepared him for Aura’s “renovations.” His face, a study in shock and incandescent fury, screamed volumes.

  It's hard not to laugh after what the elves subjected me to.

  I’d love to absolve myself of responsibility. I was, technically, absent during the incident. But I know better. Three beings know the truth: me, Becca, and the shard-absorbing princess. The spherical hole in the palace wall, a testament to the raw, untamed power, is undeniably the work of a Void Beam. And I haven’t been firing any. Which means that when Aura absorbed that sliver of my Core, she unintentionally gained access to my skills.

  Great job, Abi. A brand-new, throbbing headache.

  I doubt she intends to demolish the palace. But some skills are… Temperamental, especially without proper instruction.

  Time to clean up this mess.

  With a mental flick, I send the shell shocked King back to the Coliseum for another round of… Re-education. Then, I turn my attention to the real problem. “Well?” I direct my attention to Aura and, for good measure, Becca. “Care to explain?” It's a bit harsh to include Becca, but I'm already in Queen Bitch mode. I'll smooth things over later.

  Aura, predictably, denied everything. A few gasps rippled through the gathered crowd as she uttered the words, but I radiated an aura of “shut the fuck up or I'll eat you,” and silence descended. Everyone except the Oncoming Storm, that is. She was vehemently denying any participation whatsoever.

  Aura, the prime suspect, remained stubbornly silent. Then, a shake of her head. “I didn’t do that.”

  What's with this sudden wave of adolescent petulance? Me's already being difficult and now Aura's channeling her inner teenager, vying for the title of “Most Blatantly Denying the Obvious.”

  I could list a thousand instances in which I might have handled the situation better, but I didn't, so there's no need to go down that mental rabbit hole.

  "Really, Aura? Really?" By that, I meant her childish behavior and my subsequent exasperation. Though, I have to admit, I have no idea how old she actually is. Princess, slave, vague timeframes. My knowledge was… Lacking. As per.

  Still, she isn’t a child. Not by my highly-calibrated Dungeon Core standards. Though, my standards might be a tad skewed, considering I can wap out legends like Deputy Mayor Sacha. Her kind are special. Super Dungeon Core magic for the win.

  I smile as a flicker of amusement crosses my face, and Aura relaxes, mistaking my momentary distraction for a lack of anger. I immediately rectify that, dialing my frustration to a comfortable 5 on the Abi scale. Furrowed brows, a hint of menace, but nothing that will result in collateral damage.

  Aura snaps back to attention, or, rather, rolls her eyes and shrugs. “What? I’ve always wanted a window there.”