The Dungeon Core glowed brighter than usual, its light no longer cold and eerie but vibrant, like a newborn sun within the hive-like expanse. The labyrinth of chambers pulsed faintly with mana, alive and waiting for purpose.
Kael stood before his gathered followers, his Sovereign aura blanketing the hall in calm authority. The rescued were no longer trembling refugees—they were the first citizens of his hidden world.
"From this day," Kael began, his voice carrying, "you will not be divided by chains, nor ruled by fear. Here, you will build, thrive, and stand as free people. But freedom without purpose is wasted. So today, we give shape to what we have created."
He raised his hand, and the Core flared. From its radiance, panels of light appeared, displaying names, levels, and skills. Those who had stood out—warriors with seasoned scars, mages with burning mana, artisans with skills nearing the legendary threshold—stepped forward.
Kael's gaze swept over them. "You are leaders now. Not because I will it, but because your strength and wisdom will guide the others. And I will not command every step you take—I will only give the soil for you to grow."
The first to bow was an elf, tall and graceful, with emerald eyes and silver hair woven with bark-like threads. Her name was Sylra Moonglade, a druid of high standing even in her broken state.
"Lord Kael," Sylra said, voice soft yet commanding, "the elves ask for land to call our own. If you grant it, we would shape forests and groves that can sustain your people, offering both food and mana."
Kael considered her words. A forest within a dungeon. A sanctuary that could feed and protect. His lips curved faintly. Yes… a living shield and garden both.
"You will take the upper layers," Kael declared. "The top one hundred floors will be yours. Build your jungles there. Shape them as you will."
Sylra's eyes glimmered with reverence. She bowed low, and the elves behind her echoed her with silent grace.
When Kael released the treants from his summon space, the entire chamber stirred. The towering wooden beings moved without orders, striding into the elven-designated layers. Without command, they began to plant seeds, weave roots into walls, and shape soil with their lumbering limbs.
The elves gasped, then laughed—a sound of pure relief, like spring rain after drought. They rushed to join the treants, their hands glowing green as they guided growth.
Kael watched, silent. They do not need me for this… elves and nature are not separate. They are part of the same current.
Fruit-bearing vines began to climb walls within moments. Trees sprouted with glowing berries, mushrooms shimmered in soft clusters, and fresh streams trickled where before there had been only stone.
The first true forest of the Dungeon was born.
Next, Kael turned to the humans. They were the most varied—warriors, farmers, craftsmen, and even a few scattered scholars. Unlike elves or dwarves, they had no natural domain.
"You will take the floors beneath the elves," Kael said. "You will farm, trade, and hold the center as the heart of this place. Between the roots above and the forges below, you will be the bridge."
The humans bowed, some visibly relieved at the clarity of their place. Already, Kael could see them planning: plots of farmland beneath the canopy, simple villages branching from the main chambers, defenses set along the connecting halls.
When the dwarves stepped forward, led by Branik Stoneforged, they carried themselves with certainty.
"Ye've given the elves their green, the humans their middle. We'll take the bottom," Branik said firmly, crossing his arms. "Stone suits us, an' we'll nae be bothered where the hammer rings loud."
Kael inclined his head. "Then the lowest levels are yours. No one will disturb you."
The dwarves cheered, their voices like rolling thunder. But Kael raised his hand once more. "I will give you more than stone."
With a gesture, he poured his gathered ores into the cavernous floors below. Veins of mithril, adamantite, star-iron, and other rarities cascaded down like rivers of light, embedding themselves in the walls and floors until the entire chamber glittered like a celestial forge.
The dwarves fell silent. Branik's jaw slackened, his legendary eyes wide as anvils. "By Moradin's bones… lad, ye've just poured more treasure than ten kingdoms could dream."
Kael's voice was steady. "Then use it. Forge weapons that can bring empires to their knees. And teach the beastmen under my command your craft. Let their hands learn steel as sharp as their claws."
The dwarves struck their fists to their chests in unison. "Aye, Sovereign. We'll forge ye a legacy of steel."
The dungeon, once an empty hive, now thrummed with life. Elves and treants sang the beginnings of forests. Humans laid down plots and marked paths. Dwarves descended into the deep, their forges already sparking.
Kael watched, his heart heavy with something he had not felt in years. Not just vengeance… but creation. This is what the Abyss dragon's heart was pointing me toward.
The Covenant Sigil pulsed faintly across his chest as all three races bent, not in chains, but in cooperation.
A hidden empire was beginning, one chamber at a time.
The Dungeon Core pulsed rhythmically, like a heart beating in the depths of the abyss, its mana feeding into every wall, chamber, and corridor. Where once there had been cold stone and hollow silence, now there was life.
And life wasted no time in spreading.
On the upper layers, the elves worked with a purpose that seemed almost instinctual. Guided by Sylra Moonglade, they planted enchanted seeds that responded to their mana with startling speed. Saplings became towering trees in mere hours, roots carved smooth arches across the halls, and glowing flowers bloomed like lanterns in the dim.
The treants, massive and patient, lumbered through the corridors. Where their roots pressed, fertile soil spilled over the once-sterile stone. Where their hands brushed, vines surged upward, weaving themselves into natural walls and canopies.
Within days, the dungeon's upper hundred floors were no longer lifeless caves. They had transformed into verdant sanctuaries—layered forests of glowing mushrooms, fruit-bearing trees, medicinal herbs, and trickling brooks. The elves sang softly as they worked, their voices blending with the rustle of leaves, weaving magic into the growth.
Kael walked through one of the chambers and plucked a glowing peach-like fruit from a branch. Sweet, fragrant juice burst across his tongue. It was not only edible but rich in mana. He let out a rare chuckle. They've created a self-sustaining paradise.
Far below, the dwarves had already carved massive halls from the stone, their pickaxes and chisels ringing day and night. Branik Stoneforged oversaw the construction of the Great Forge, a central anvil surrounded by ten furnaces fueled by molten rivers Kael had redirected with his mana.
The veins of rare ore Kael had given them were being extracted, smelted, and hammered into raw ingots that glowed like captured starlight. Already, weapons of shimmering steel and enchanted armor were stacked in neat rows.
But the dwarves were not selfish. They honored Kael's command, taking in the beastmen artisans—the wolfkin, lionkin, and boarfolk who had shown interest. Gruff hands guided clawed ones, teaching the rhythm of the hammer, the patience of the grindstone, the precision of engraving runes.
The first beastmen apprentices bowed low before Kael when they presented their crude but serviceable swords. "We'll learn, Sovereign," one of them growled with pride. "We'll forge weapons that howl with our spirit."
The dwarves chuckled at the rough edges of the blades, but there was respect in their eyes. A new generation of smiths was already taking root.
Between the elves' forests and dwarves' forges, the humans settled into the middle layers.
They built villages out of stone and wood, simple but sturdy. Farmers tilled soil transplanted from Kael's inventory, planting grains, vegetables, and herbs. Hunters set up patrols, using goblin-forged bows to stalk the dungeon's corridors for game Kael released from his summon space—giant boars, deer, and fowl that thrived in the controlled ecosystem.
Merchants and crafters soon followed, creating markets where dwarven tools, elven herbs, and beastmen crafts could be exchanged. Children's laughter echoed in the halls, a sound Kael had not heard in years.
He walked among them unseen, cloaked in shadow, watching. His heart tightened. This… this is what they took from me ten years ago. A chance for peace.
Kael's summons, too, began adapting to their new roles within the dungeon.
Graknar, the Goblin Chieftain, and his clans patrolled the human territories, acting as both guards and trainers. The goblins, once wild and savage, now drilled like soldiers under Graknar's iron discipline. They even began integrating with human militias, sharing battle chants and forming mixed units.
The Elemental Sovereigns—Pyraflame, Aquara, Umbra, Luminara, Terraxis, Galeheart, and Voltaris—remained near the Dungeon Core, their presence both symbolic and practical. Each radiated power that seeped into the dungeon itself, stabilizing mana flows and ensuring balance. Their mere existence was a deterrent against any who might one day discover this place.
The kobolds, particularly the Miner class, became invaluable, expanding tunnels and chambers with efficiency. They carved side halls, storage chambers, and even a budding network of underground transit shafts.
The treants, though aligned with the elves, occasionally wandered into human floors, bringing with them seedlings or mending soil where needed. They were guardians as much as they were cultivators.
From the highest chamber, Kael stood beneath the Dungeon Core, arms folded, watching the symphony of creation. His shadow extended across the chamber, his Sovereign aura humming quietly.
In two weeks, what had been an empty husk of stone had become a living fortress. Forests above, forges below, villages between. An empire hidden beneath the earth, born in silence, fed by vengeance, but flourishing with life.
This is only the beginning, Kael thought, eyes narrowing as his mind returned to Arlen, the prince, and the corrupted court above. They play with power they do not understand. I will show them what true power creates.
The Core pulsed again, responding to his resolve. The dungeon was not just his refuge. It was his throne.
And soon, the world would know it.