The Dungeon Core pulsed steadily, its light flickering in waves like a heartbeat syncing with Kael's own. For weeks, the elves, dwarves, humans, and beastmen had been shaping the dungeon's chambers into homes and sanctuaries. Now, the dungeon itself was ready to breathe its first true life.
A low hum rippled through the stone. The walls shimmered faintly, as though mana seeped into every vein of the rock. Then, like mist condensing into rain, figures began to form.
The upper forested layers stirred.Out of glowing motes, a pack of dire wolves coalesced in the underbrush—sleek bodies of dark fur, eyes glinting with primal hunger. Their howls shook the halls, echoing into chambers below.
In another corridor, hulking iron-tusk boars pawed the ground, tusks gleaming as if already forged from ore. In deeper pools, scale-backed river fish darted into existence, glowing faintly with stored mana.
It was not chaos. It was design.
For the Core had not acted alone.
Standing beneath the Dungeon Core, Kael had been given a choice.
A translucent panel shimmered before his eyes:
[Dungeon Master Directive: Select First Spawn]• Wolf-type Beasts (Predators; balanced for culling)• Boar-type Beasts (Resilient; high meat and hide yield)• Bear-type Beasts (Powerful solo predators; rare spawn)• Aquatic Beasts (Supplement ecosystem; food source)
Kael's lips curved into a thin smile. So this is how you want me to shape you…
He selected them all.Not in overwhelming numbers, but balanced across layers—wolves in roaming packs, boars in fertile groves, bears wandering the deeper forests, and fish in carefully designed pools fed by underground rivers.
The Core pulsed in affirmation, and the beasts began to manifest in accordance with his will.
But Kael was no fool. He knew that if left unchecked, even his own dungeon could spiral into chaos. Monsters were resources, but they were also potential threats.
So he imposed his first law.
Gathering the leaders—Sylra of the elves, Branik of the dwarves, Graknar of the goblins, and the human captains—Kael addressed them within the Core chamber. His voice resonated with authority, bolstered by his Sovereign Command.
"From this day forward, all who dwell here will treat these creatures as both sustenance and challenge. Wolves, boars, bears, and fish—hunt them as needed, but never waste what you kill. The meat will feed you. The fur and bones will clothe and arm you. The tusks and teeth will trade value. But above all—"
He raised his hand, and the Core glowed in response.
"Every magic core you harvest must be deposited into the Core vents. They are the lifeblood of this place. Without them, the dungeon weakens. With them, it grows."
A heavy silence followed, then respectful nods rippled through the gathered leaders.
Sylra placed her hand across her chest. "So the dungeon feeds us, and we feed it. Harmony."
Branik spat into his palm and slapped his hammer against his chest. "Then you'll have no shortage. My kin will see to it every shard of mana crystal finds its way here."
Even Graknar grinned, his jagged teeth gleaming. "My goblins will hunt the beasts and drag their cores back, Sovereign. None shall be wasted."
Kael inclined his head. "See that you do."
The days that followed were the first trials of the dungeon.
Elven hunters tested themselves against wolves, striking them down with arrows and singing prayers over their spirits. They began wearing wolf pelts as cloaks, blending elegance with resilience.
Human farmers and warriors discovered that the boars could be culled for meat while their hides made tough leather armor. But careless hunters learned quickly—the boars charged in herds, and one wrong move meant crushed bones.
Dwarves and beastmen sought out the rare bears, clashing with them in brutal contests of strength. The dwarves saw the bears as worthy quarry, while the beastmen treated the battles as sacred rites.
In underground pools, fishermen and treants coexisted, pulling mana-rich fish from rivers while treants purified the waters.
At the center of it all, the Dungeon Core drank in every magic core returned to it, pulsing brighter with each offering. Already, Kael could feel its range expanding, its walls growing thicker, its mana density deepening.
Kael often walked the dungeon in silence, observing. He saw children eating roasted boar for the first time. He saw dwarves proudly crafting armor from wolf-hide and boar tusks. He saw elves weaving bear fur into enchanted cloaks.
It was a cycle—life, death, renewal—and it was his to command.
Yet Kael did not feel pride. He felt responsibility.Because all of this—every wolf's howl, every hammer strike, every elf's song—rested upon his will.
And above it all, he whispered to the Dungeon Core itself:
"Grow stronger. For soon, we will need all of this. The surface world does not yet know you exist. But when they do… we must be ready."
The Core pulsed in reply, as though it understood.
The pulse of the Dungeon Core faded into a steady hum, no longer newborn but alive. Kael, with arms folded, stood at the heart of the chamber as life spread through his creation. But survival was only the foundation—now came discipline, structure, and weaponry.
The echo of snarling chants rose from the training floors.Down there, goblins—once the weakest of his summons—marched in crude but growing formations.
"Left, strike! Right, guard!"Graknar barked orders, his scarred frame moving among the ranks. Dozens of goblins obeyed, their crude spears snapping forward in unison, shields locking into a ragged but unmistakable wall.
Kael watched silently from a balcony above the training hall. They're learning. No longer feral scavengers, but soldiers.
Some goblins broke formation, tripping over each other. Others fumbled with bows, arrows clattering against stone walls. But for every mistake, Graknar's whip cracked—not with cruelty, but with harsh necessity.
"Hold line or die like rats!" Graknar roared.The goblins snarled in response, spirits burning.
Kael allowed himself a thin smile. "Good. Fear will sharpen them—but purpose will bind them."
Deeper below, where forges had been carved directly into molten veins of the rock, Branik and his kin were hard at work. Sparks rained as hammers clanged against anvils, melding wolf fangs into jagged daggers, boar tusks into reinforced spearheads, and bear bones into sturdy hafts.
What astonished Kael most was their precision. Branik wasn't merely forging weapons—he was embedding runes into them, delicate lines of power etched by steady hands.
Kael approached, his boots crunching over shards of discarded ore. He held up one of the finished blades, its edge glowing faintly with a dormant enchantment. "Enchantment and craftsmanship… seamless."
Branik smirked, his beard glistening with sweat. "Aye. My clan's skill doesn't stop at making 'em sharp. These blades can sing with fire, bite with frost, or bend the air itself if given the right fuel."
Kael's eyes gleamed with calculation. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Then tell me, Branik… what if you could also hide an explosive seal in them? A hidden enchantment, woven so deeply no mage could detect it until the weapon itself ignites?"
Branik froze, hammer hovering mid-swing. His brow furrowed, then slowly curved into a dangerous grin. "A curse dressed as a blessing, eh? Hah! I like it. A blade gifted in peace, but carrying a storm inside."
Kael nodded, his tone as cold as steel. "Exactly. Let other kingdoms arm themselves with such treasures. Let the prince of Armathia believe he's gathering strength. And when the time comes… let their own weapons betray them."
Branik slammed the hammer down, sparks exploding across the forge. "Then we'll craft such nightmares for you, Sovereign. But they'll need time, resources, and plenty of cores."
"You'll have all three," Kael promised, eyes narrowing. The world will think their rise unchallenged. But in truth, every step will draw them closer to my trap.
Above, the elves thrived. The treants walked their forests without command, aiding in planting orchards of glowing fruit. Humans tilled smaller fields near the elves' lands, testing irrigation drawn from underground streams. Already, Kael's dungeon was becoming more than a fortress—it was a hidden city, alive and self-sufficient.
The goblins, dwarves, elves, and humans no longer looked like scattered remnants of the surface. They looked like the foundation of a nation.
Far away from the Dungeon Core, one of Kael's planned exit routes stirred. A narrow cave mouth tucked within the hills outside the village, reinforced by mana stone archways, served as a hidden entry point for goblins to patrol the surrounding forests.
It should have been overlooked.It should have remained unseen.
But fate had other plans.
A group of five adventurers trudged through the rocky woods, their mismatched armor clanking, boots muddy. They bore the worn but proud insignia of E-rankers, those who took small contracts to survive.
"Hey, look at this!" the scout at the front called, crouching low. His torchlight flickered over the stone arch. "A cave… but the stonework's not natural. Someone carved this."
The swordsman behind him grinned. "Bandit hideout, maybe. Or smugglers. Easy coin if we clear it."
The mage adjusted her glasses, frowning. "Strange… I sense faint mana. But it feels… wrong."
The archer shrugged. "Mana means treasure. And treasure means drinks tonight."
Their laughter echoed into the cave as they stepped inside.
Far below, Kael's eyes snapped open as a notification flared across his vision.
[Alert: Unauthorized intruders detected]E-Rank Adventurer Party has entered through Auxiliary Gate (Cave Entrance).
Dungeon Trial Protocol Initiating…
Kael's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile."The first outsiders… Let's see if you survive my home."
The Dungeon Core pulsed, and the walls of the cave shifted as if the dungeon itself prepared to test the intruders.