The town of Wellspring prospered. As word spread, merchants began frequenting the town as a part of their regular trade routes. The residents sold their produce, Genma’s glass sheets, and delicate magical tools and toys that the more advanced students made in school. More people immigrated, sometimes without even feeling the pull. The population grew, with its attendant friction and challenges, but overall, the town was peaceful.

The landscape around the town changed more and more, coming to life with animals and sparse, hardy bushes that popped up suddenly. Fertilized by mana and the waste products of the people and animals, the soil became richer, until they could start raising crops even outside the carefully controlled artificial environment of the dungeon. 

Genma was starting to relax at last, now that it had plenty of people roaming in and out of its dungeon space. Residents came in to tend the plants and animals, and sometimes just to relax in a place that was never too hot or too cold. Families wandered through the gardens and held picnics. Their smiles seemed to soothe Genma a great deal.

One day, as Grandma was harvesting eggs from the chicken coop, Genma swirled around Grandma and whispered, [I want to show you something.]

[All right, let me hand off these eggs first.] Grandma flagged down a young woman who was tending the crops nearby, and handed her the basket of eggs, with an apologetic smile.

Genma floated deeper into the dungeon. It had erected a barrier wall that divided the interior, keeping people and animals out of its depths. Genma dissolved a portion of the wall, mostly as a courtesy to Grandma, and drifted through.

The ground dropped away before them, the gentle grasslands giving way to rolling hills and strangely shaped spires of stone, striated in shades of rose, tan, and brown, as if carved by wind and the passage of time.

[Is this what your land looked like before?] Grandma gazed out over the maze of hills and valleys. [It’s beautiful.]

[Before, I had a city. Many more people than now. But they wanted more from me, always more. And when I refused, they took from me anyway. Until they destroyed everything.]

[If it’s too hard to share, it’s all right, but I’m here to listen if you’re willing to tell me.] Grandma settled down into a stable position and waited.

[I don’t actually know what they did to destroy everything.] Genma bobbed up and down, as if shrugging. [Just that it hurt, more than anything I’ve ever felt.]

Grandma nodded. That made a lot of sense, in retrospect. And really, it didn’t much matter who did what, or how. It had destroyed a part of the world, and caused untold suffering for a thousand years. [How’s your recovery going?]

[Better than before, now that Wellspring is thriving. Life begets mana, and mana supports life. The more living beings are here, the faster I grow, and the faster the land heals. Without life, there would be no mana. Without mana, it’s hard for life to take root. That’s why, even though I desperately wanted to hold on to the mana that you gave back, I let it spill out to nourish the land.]

Grandma had suspected as much. [And when the mana builds up, living beings consume it to do things, otherwise the mana creates strange phenomena on its own?] She gestured to the dungeon space around them. [Like spontaneously creating pocket dimensions, or growing vines that hop away?]

Genma drifted in a slow circle. [Yes. Mana’s role is to ease and support life. All life. It must be consumed and expended, or else it will start warping reality on its own. But even mana cannot create life from nothing.]

[So you’re saying all those giant beasts and brightly colored animals we encountered were just mutations from something else?] Grandma leaned back, letting her eyes wander over the horizon. She shared the memories of their battles over the past years, pouring the images into the mana cloud.

[When a dungeon is formed, sometimes animals wander in. Those who were naturally attuned to mana sometimes manage to slip in and out. As you’ve seen, a dungeon can be a very safe place to den and raise a brood. Over the generations, such animals would change and grow, using the mana to realize their own wishes.]

[What’s your role then, Genma?] Grandma asked, turning to look at the miasma. [If mana’s role is to support life, and you’re made of pure mana, what do you do?]

[I’m not sure,] it said slowly. [In the past, people entered my dungeon and worshiped me as a god for my power, even though I didn’t actually know much more than them. By the time the calamity came, I was ancient compared to the people, and being regarded as a god seemed more fitting. But still, they managed to hurt me and destroyed themselves using a method I don’t understand.]

[All right, that’s what other people want from you. But what do you want for yourself?] Grandma dipped a finger into the miasma and swirled it about, tickling Genma gently.

[I feel like I used to know, but I don’t remember anymore.] Genma drifted lower, until it was barely above the ground, and spread out like a translucent, misty pancake.

[Well, what do you enjoy now?] Grandma asked.

[I like making things. I feel happy when I see people happy. I like learning new things. Making glass out of sand is tiring, but I enjoy seeing the awe and delight on people’s faces. I like the rabbits, and their silly noses, and the way they dash about.]

[It’s all right to do more of the things you like,] Grandma said very softly, [and less of the things that don’t feel good. As long as you’re not hurting anyone, or yourself.]

Genma was quiet for a long time. [I enjoy creating landscapes that I remember from before,] it said quietly.

A tangential thought struck Grandma, and she blurted out, [Why do some dungeons have only one floor, and others have a bunch of floors?]

Genma shivered all over, as if shaking with laughter. [Just because we feel like it,] it said.

[Oh. Is that all.] Grandma felt oddly disappointed. Genma had explained so many things, that Grandma had been half expecting some grand reason behind it all, but no, it was simply whimsy.

[I’d like to share this landscape with you. The first four of you, and your miasmas.]

[Are you sure? The other miasmas won’t, er, crowd you?] Grandma tilted her head in question.

[I am much larger now than when you first revived me,] Genma said reassuringly. [I have plenty of room for them. It brings me joy to see them roaming about, and to hear their stories. They are so young!] Genma settled around Grandma’s hand, and Grandma could feel a touch of magic as the miasma scribed a spell onto her golem palm. [This will open the door if you ever want to get away.]

Grandma examined the spell. It was a simple mana signature, like a permission slip or a key. [May I duplicate this for the other three?]

[Yes.]

[Can you leave this dungeon? You know what the outside looked like, so you must have left it in the past.] Grandma flicked a pebble over the edge and listened to it clatter its way to the bottom of the ravine.

[With a vessel, yes. The people used to offer me their children to serve as vessels.] Genma shook all over. [Sometimes the children welcomed me, but most of them fought my presence. I never stayed long. I didn’t want to hurt the children.]

[Did you like going outside?]

[Yes,] Genma said, drooping. [But I didn’t like fighting with the children for control over their bodies.]

[What if it’s a rabbit?] Grandma suggested. [It wouldn’t be safe for you to stay out too long, or to stay in the rabbit too long either, but I could carry you around for a bit to see what it’s like now.]

[Oh!] Genma perked up, its cloud reforming and hovering around Grandma’s face. [That sounds interesting!]

This was how Grandma found herself on her hands and knees, gently scooping up the large bunny that Genma favored – and now resided in – and walking through the dungeon with it cuddled in her arms. Genma the bunny sniffed furiously, its ears flicking to and fro, as Grandma exited the dungeon and waded through a swarm of delighted children until she left the school building.

Genma stared, entranced, at the town of Wellspring that had grown up around her dungeon, where her ancient city had once stood. People called greetings to each other in the streets as they passed. Children raced in the open spaces, shrieking with joyous laughter as they played. Farther afield, residents toiled among the crops, or watched over their flocks as the animals picked their way over the sparse landscape. [It’s very different from before, but everyone looks much happier.]

[I hope they stay that way for a long, long time,] Grandma said.