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Cores created to reach her Home room.

For the most part, the people in the room ignored the constant production, which seemed almost automatic at that point.  Ever since the darkness had clouded her mind, some parts of Sandra’s normal routine and operations had occurred automatically; Winxa thought that this was one of the reasons the people in the room could actually communicate amongst themselves.  Translations to each of their minds were transmitted almost as a reflex by the Dungeon Core by that point, which was how they understood each other – otherwise, they would have no way to converse.

“Is there anything we can – or should – do?” asked Brunothe, one of the Orcish mercenaries.  While he didn’t expressly describe what he was talking about, Winxa tensed up as she caught his tone.

“I can’t see that helping in the slightest,” Delarthe immediately responded.  “Even if we were able to do it – which I don’t want to and neither should you – shattering her Core would only delay the inevitable.  Like it or not, Sandra is our only chance to survive…as long as she doesn’t destroy any other dungeons, that is.  If she succeeds, then I don’t think we’ll have any chance of survival in the future.”  Winxa was sure by that point that Sandra wasn’t actually listening to the conversations while a distant part of her mind translated their words, because Delarthe’s words about shattering her Core would’ve likely garnered some sort of reaction.

“So you’re saying that we’re lost no matter what we do?” a female Orc mercenary (whose name Winxa had forgotten) expressed with irritation.

Delarthe was silent for a moment as he looked at the others with something like determination in his gaze, before it collapsed into resignation and a shrug.

“I—” Kelerim cleared his throat.  “I’ve been trying to get through to her as much as you have, and I feel like I’m close – but I also feel like she doesn’t want to talk to me.  Whether it’s because I remind her of what my father did to Perceine or some other reason, I don’t think I can convince her otherwise.”  There was a grumble through the group as the Blacksmith basically just said they were all doomed.  “However, I don’t believe all is lost quite yet.”

“What do you mean?  It sure sounds like it to me.”

Kelerim answered Chryla along with everyone else, who also seemed as interested in his answer.  “Just because none of us can get through to her, that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone who could.”

“Who—?  Ah, I see…but where are they?”

That’s precisely what Winxa wanted to know.  She hoped Kelerim was right, because they were the only thing that the Dungeon Fairy could think of that might re-establish some sanity inside of Sandra.  When Gerold, Violet, Felbar, and Echo left for their homelands to obtain help, it was like a shadow of darkness had fallen over the Core at their departure.  When they didn’t return, Winxa could tell that Sandra was starting to lose some of her mental stability due to feelings of abandonment.

If anyone could get through to Sandra, it would be 1 or even all 4 of them – if they ever came back, that was.  What happened to them?  Winxa wasn’t sure, nor was there any way for her to find out; regardless, the Fairy resolved not to give up on the Dungeon Core while they still had a chance to return.  She just hoped that their homecoming was in time.

Meanwhile, the people in Sandra’s Home room, who essentially comprised the leadership now that the Dungeon Core was no longer “in attendance”, decided to continue on as they had been doing by protecting the nearby lands.  It was all they realistically could do, after all, unless they decided to take that step they had been referencing earlier and destroy Sandra’s Core – which Winxa fervently hoped it wouldn’t come to.  To stop the even greater expansion of the other Cores, though, that might be exactly what needed to be done.

As the group scattered to their tasks – the mercenaries with obvious enthusiasm at killing more Dungeon Monsters, while the Rangers and Shieldmen appeared simply resolute – Winxa looked down at the Core beneath her.  The bright-shining Dungeon Core was surrounded by layers of small, whirling Dungeon Monsters of different kinds, designed to act as a rotating shield of sorts for defensive purposes.  If the time came that Sandra needed to be destroyed rather than allow her to nearly guarantee the annihilation of the nearby races, it would be difficult – but not impossible – for the people who just left to do the deed.  Deep down, something told her that it wouldn’t come to that, but she had also seen too much tragedy in her day to hope too hard.

But she could hope a little.

Chapter 2

Red rage painted Sandra’s vision of almost everything she looked at, based on the anger she held toward the dungeons that had attempted to breach her Home room; it was further sustained by their annoying insistence on defending themselves.  Initially, her fury had included the entire Orcish race for sending an army to destroy her at the same time, but most of that had faded over the last day.  She still wanted to get back at them for hurting Perceine, but the one that had done the deed was dead; his punishment was enough to cool her vengeful ardor towards the rest of the Orcs, though if any other Orcs stepped foot in her wasteland without permission, she wouldn’t hesitate to throw every construct and Dungeon Monster at them until their blood stained the dry, brittle dirt and stone of the environment.

In other words, she didn’t intend for any of them to get close enough to harm her or her people – ever again.

As for those people, she felt that they were the only reason she hadn’t

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