The Bee Dungeon
Chapter 7: Bee-come the Master

The gateway then slammed shut, locking the Hunger out once again.

The black tendrils' spread through both the core room and the meadow began to slow down, until they eventually stopped. The entire Tower fell silent.

Beginning cleansing.

Belissar slowly rose to his feet as the rumbling stopped. He glanced at the black tendrils within the core room, but they didn’t move any further. He glanced in the core, but there was no sign of the monster. He crept to the door, and gingerly stepped outside.

He gasped.

The flower field was black and wilted. Everywhere he looked, tendrils of the Hunger reached across the ground, leaving dead flowers in their wake. The breeze carried dead leaves through the air. The trees in the fields were black and crumbling.

And everywhere he looked on the ground, he saw dead bees.

He walked through the field in a daze. The field was silent. Not a flower left to rustle in the wind. Not a single bee left to buzz about.

Not even the one who had saved him.

Belissar fell to his knees as he came to one of the trees. He reached out to a pile of debris under the branches. There lay the remains of one of his hives. He reached in and picked up two sticks. The wax and dandelion cords holding them together crumbled. He held a dead bee within his hand.

He clutched his head.

Something cracked inside of him.

He let out a long scream, and then fell to the ground, curling up in the ashes. Tears streamed from his eyes as sobs wracked his body.

Why?

Why him?

Why always him?

He had lost his parents...

He had nearly starved...

He lost the old beekeeper who took him in...

He lost his entire village...

And now he had lost his bees. Including perhaps the one real friend he had ever had. All because he, someone unworthy, had dared to take a Tower of the Gods from those who had been chosen.

This dead and barren field was the result.

His heart constricted at the thought of the little bee he had helped out of that spider web. Who had brought him to a Tower of the Gods just to save him. Who hadn’t hesitated before jumping into the jaws of a monster, just to buy him a little time.

And with those thoughts came the thoughts of others. The beekeeper, the old woman who had taken him in when he was lying in the dirt. All the days she spent showing him her bees, and how to care for them. And even further back...to a time when he rarely wept at all, comforted in the arms of his mother and father.

His sobs grew louder. He did his best. He never made a fuss. He kept his head down. He followed every law. He gave honor to the gods and the Tower Lords. He was agreeable to everyone. He never complained no matter what they did. Not when they stole his food. Not when they trampled his fields. Not when they took his mead and his honey. Not when they left him to starve.

And yet...

Time and time again, more bad things happened. He brushed it off, he held his tears, he said that it was just plain old bad luck.

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And yet, it only ever got worse.

And now, even when the gods were coming for him, the world was not content to let him have anything. Everything he had, everyone he cared about, had to be stripped from him.

“Mom...Dad...Mrs. Imkomos...my friend...”

He finally broke.

Belissar didn’t know how long he lay there. He wept and he wept until he could weep no more, and then he lay there, staring blankly at the dirt.

But then...something changed. His body began to grow warm...in fact the whole Tower began to grow warm once more. The ground, the sky, the air, it all began to glow and shine. Belissar slowly sat back up and rubbed his eyes.

His eyes widened at what he saw. The black tendrils of the Hunger began to recede, shrinking and streaming towards the core room. Shoots of grass and dandelions broke through the dirt and began to bloom. Color returned to the tree branches, and green leaves began to cover them once more.

Cleansing complete. All spawners and features reenabled. Core corruption now at 37%. Core cannot be cleansed until dungeon is fully established.

Next Initial Purification attempt in 3 days.

Conduit respawning.

Belissar watched as the room returned to normal, the flowers returning as if nothing had ever happened. And as he read the last message before his eyes, his heart began to pound and his eyes began to tremble. He glanced every which way until he looked back at the door to the core room once more. His eyes went as wide as they could go.

A single bee flew out and towards him. He held his breath as she approached.

“King! You’re alive!”

He held up trembling hands as she danced in the air. She landed on his palms and began dancing happily. Tears filled Belissar’s eyes once more.

There she was, the bee with half her left antenna missing.

His friend.

He gently cupped his hands and brought them to his chest, hunching over to curl around them as best he could.

“Thank goodness...”

Tears streamed down his face once again and he began to sob once again, only for a different reason.

When Belissar had finally calmed down, he stood back up and looked over the flower meadow. The breeze began to blow in his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, smelling the flowers. He then opened his eyes.

His friend had survived...or been brought back, more accurately. The flowers had regrown, the meadow had healed, and the Tower still stood.

But all was not as it was. The frames he had built were gone. The monster bee queens, the hives they had built, and all the workers they had borne were gone too. Belissar watched as a new one crawled out of the monster spawner, and he instantly knew. She was different, not one of the three who had perished. Only his friend had been brought back.

Next Initial Purification attempt in 2 days, 23 hours, and 47 minutes.

He knew now what those words meant. He knew now the process by which the Towers purified the Hunger. He knew now why the Tower Lords wielded such great powers. He knew now why only those chosen by the gods could take care of the Towers.

And he knew now the consequences of someone unworthy taking that job. Like him.

The shade would be back. It would once again seek his life. It would once again bring death and ruin to these fields.

And as the Dungeon Master...it now fell upon him to fight it. To take up the mantle he had stolen and fulfill the duty issued by the gods to the chosen Tower Lords. A duty that he was entirely unprepared for. And one that would have deadly consequences if he failed, for every living thing that dwelt here.

He looked at the monster bee queen as she shook herself and then flew in the air before him, waiting for him to speak. His friend buzzed and flew off his shoulder, joining the queen in watching him.

A fire grew in chest, and he began to scowl. He grit his teeth as he remembered the sight of the dead bees littering the ground. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

Belissar decided no more.

He no longer cared if he died.

He no longer cared if the world wanted to crush him.

He no longer cared if he had stolen from the Tower Lords.

He no longer cared if he was one of the chosen.

He no longer cared if he was prepared.

He no longer cared if the gods would smite him for what he had done.

The shade, the Hunger, would pay. And they would never again do what they did today. Belissar wouldn’t let them. He would stop them, or he would die trying. And if he had truly defiled the Tower with his deeds, he would let the gods judge him. Until they did, he would use everything at his disposal, without worrying about what laws he broke in the process.

At present, a Tower of the Gods obeyed his command. And he would use it, as best he could.

He looked at the two bees buzzing in the air.

“Let’s get moving. We have a lot of work to do.”

The two bees buzzed their salute and rushed off to begin building a new hive. Belissar nodded to himself as he watched them go. As they rushed to obey his command without complaint or hesitation, he who had gotten they and their sisters killed.

Belissar swore in his heart that day. The world had taken his mother. It had taken his father. It had taken the old beekeeper. It had taken his village, his home. It had tried to take his very life.

But from now on, whether they were man, beast, god, or Hunger...

They would not take his bees. Not without all the fight he could muster.