Dutch might have been retired, but he didn’t mind using his skills to help out around the village. It was filled to the brim with homey people who wanted nothing more than to farm the land in peace, or retire from a life of adventuring. One didn’t get to be both an adventurer and get to his age without either being incredibly competent, or high leveled.

The ones with high levels were too good to just let go, however, so Dutch had never aspired much farther than Gold-Tier. His skills might have allowed him to farm the reagents and items needed to boost his class into its evolved state and finally allow him to push into Platinum-Tier, but that was both a lot of work and not very profitable.

He’d instead opted to get a lot of money and retire in the middle of nowhere so the effort to conscript him would far outstrip the reward.

In his mind he’d succeeded, putting an entire mountain range between any sort of civilized part of the Kingdom there was and The Village. While Space-Aligned casters were rare, they did exist, and technically could cross the mountain range with ease if they really wanted to, as well as most Platinum-Tier adventurer’s typically had some kind of movement ability, as getting to that high of a level without one was practically suicide just waiting to happen.

His path took him past the forge, where Darran faithfully turned the metal from their somewhat local mine into usable materials for the farmers. A polite nod was given, and one was received in turn. Dutch’s primary use to the village was rare and far between, but when he did they were thankful to have him, but Darran helped virtually everyone at least once a month. With their lack of a proper leatherworker, he’d taken up that post too, making him fairly indispensable.

Passing the forge, he arrived at the home of and greeted the person who’d summoned him. “Morning Kurell. What’s the news for me?”

Kurell was a weathered, older man with balding, gray hair and relaxed, easygoing features. “Straight to business, eh? No time to sip some tea with an old friend, Dutch?”

He merely snorted. “While I might enjoy that, time isn’t exactly on our side. You know that. With things stirring up around here, we need to know as much as possible. The Village will survive, but I’d rather not lose anybody. Sindry’s boy is still missing.”

Kurell let out a deep sigh, his normally kindly features taking on a firm cast. “I suppose I cannot fault you for thinking that way. Besides the new manaflows near town, we’re going to have a slightly bigger issue - a pack of monstrous Timber Wolves is on their way towards us. I couldn’t divine where exactly they were going to show up at, but I got the intent well enough. They plan on ripping and tearing and consuming. Anything specific beyond that is lost in a haze.”

Dutch leaned against the porch of their village’s Elder. Sometimes having an Oracle type class on hand was both a boon and a curse. “I heard some howling very recently and very close by. A scout is probably around, but I haven’t heard it since the other night…”

“Ah, I was actually going to tell you about that. If it was here, I don’t think it lasted very long.”

He raised his eyebrows, prompting Kurell to continue. “I did have a vision of that, though an untargeted one, and I even got a reading off of it.” Dutch was surprised at that - normally untargeted visions didn’t have enough energy behind them to complete their task. Kurell’s specific class, [Oracle], was something of a strange variant of divination. It still allowed for long range scrying and viewing, not as precisely as others, perhaps, but it also, with enough energy behind it, could give a reading not unlike a [Fate-Peddler]’s card reading.

“Its goal was the same - to rend and rip and consume, but I saw it go into the graveyard. My physical vision stopped there, but I got the sense of strife, and the final closing reading was `The Tables Turned’.”

Dutch’s eyebrows rose even higher. “Which normally is pretty direct in its meaning - that the scout was eaten.”

Kurell smiled. “Torn apart, to be specific. And eaten.”

Dutch sighed. “Lovely. I’ll go check it out and see if I can find its remains, maybe. Get a hint at what else is lurking around.”

“Of course.” Kurell waved him off. “And take the Anderson boy with you! He needs the experience.”

“I’d rather not risk losing someone under my care for a mere scouting trip, old man.”

“And how in the world is he ever going to get experience in Home if you don’t take him? You’re the Iron Knight of Manheim, by the Gods, if anybody can protect him it's you.”

Dutch huffed in irritation. The boy did need the experience, but… Screams, pleas, and death knells rung through his head, reminding him of everyone he’d lost.

Firming his resolve, he nodded resolutely at Kurell. “I’ll take the boy. Just let me get suited up. Could you have someone tell him to get ready as well?”

The village Elder nodded. “Of course, of course. Go on!” Kurell shooed him away, but before he could make his escape the recently troubled young lady, Katrina Desdemona. She sketched a polite bow to both him and the Elder before addressing them both in a soft voice.

“Pardon my intrusion, Elder, Iron Knight. Is there any word regarding the disappearance of my betrothed?” Dutch internally sighed. Hearing his old appellation was tiring in the extreme, but Katrina was a stickler of sorts for certain rules and manners.

“I’m afraid not, my dear.” Kurell addressed her. “Dutch here is going to address a monster scout that was seen near the graveyard, and he’ll keep an eye out just in case. It’s already dead, and my visions didn’t show it seeing anybody, so I wouldn’t worry too much. I’ll let you know the moment we find something out.”

Katrina’s expression remained flat and Dutch got the strong impression of indifference as she bowed again, thanking them for their time and departing. Whether it was the enhanced perception his high level granted him, or the long life and litany of experiences he’d had, Dutch was fairly confident Katrina wouldn’t be altogether sad if the lost Gargaren scion remained lost forever.

He said his goodbyes again to Kurell and departed for his home, and equipment. There was work to be done.

The Dungeon.

While it was hardly a large expenditure, being able to save that tiny bit extra by not using [Dungeon Manipulation] and relying on my [Skeletal Miners] was an absolute godsend. The delvers were absolute madmen with how fast they went. Though they still kept tapping rocks every once in a while with their hammers, and I had no idea why. Also, the utter lack of a need for sleep, sustenance, or breaks meant they carved out tunnels in record time.

Decorating with my power was definitely easier than trying to have a minion do it though. Not that I even had any materials with which they could build something, it all just kind of materialized from my manipulation skill so… Yeah, I’d have to do that no matter what.

But with my minor savings and some time passing, I was able to look into purchasing something new or upgrading one of my creatures. Upgrading, it looked like, cost on average more than the original unit cost. I only had one upgraded unit to compare to, but if the delvers vs. miners was anything like the combat potential was for digging potential, then it might still be worth it.

Instead I opted to add a [Ghoul] to each room, and I was saving up for a [Cursed Sword] to add to my swamp room. Assuming they didn’t just straight overpower the damn thing, dealing with a sword that didn’t need its feet to position itself in the muddy nightmare of that room would be… Annoying, to say the least. Deadly, at worst.

Which was kind of the idea.

My musings were interrupted by Box notifying me that the time had finally come to face my fears.

[Intrepid adventurers have entered your Dungeon!]

It also refused to say anything else, and unlike when the wolf scout entered my home it clearly indicated it would eat me (or whatever it was going to do) if it made it to my core. At least this didn’t explicitly state that. After all, I hadn’t even moved to my not yet done second floor yet!

My vision snapped to my entrance. It looks like I’m being visited by a grizzled veteran and his newbie counterpart. How lovely.

The first, and significantly larger man, had short chopped graying hair with a solid face and a nose that looked like it had been broken several times. He was wearing pitted and scarred iron armor that spoke of countless battles and vast experience. He bore a large shield and longsword as his primary weapon. If my ‘eyes’ were able to discern anything, I’d say they were enchanted as well.

The younger boy had aquiline features, tied back blond hair, and a goofy smile on his face. A single chestplate that he wore rather poorly was strapped to him, and he wielded a hand-and-a-half sword with a small buckler on the opposite arm. I pegged him as likely overconfident in his abilities, but I’d also literally never met anyone before this so… Who knows.

Regardless of the danger I was in, I was ecstatic to learn I could understand them perfectly! The elder one, which [Observe] labeled as Dutch and not much else, warned the younger man.

“Careful boy. Holes don’t just open up in graveyards for cookies and a fun time. Be on your guard!” They were standing on my stairs, and hadn’t yet reached the bottom. Which, as it happened, is where I’d left the dead body that had fallen into my austere self. Which meant they were about to walk straight to it.

Damn, I really should have done something for it! Now I just look like an uncaring asshole. Thinking quickly, I sprouted a wooden sign right next to the body and printed the words ‘May he who lays here rest in peace.’ Since, you know, I had no idea what his name was. Observe just told me it was a dead body. No shit, Sherlock.

The pair quietly (as they could) tromped down the stairs, emerging into my ‘entrance hall’. The dirt floors remained by the stairs, but slowly merged into smooth stone at the halfway point of the room, indicating where I considered myself to begin. I was just going to ignore the fact I owned their entire graveyard for as long as I could, as well as the fact I was a pure necromancer build at this point. Since, you know, Life Alignment turned out to have shit everything.

They reached the bottom, and the older man quickly scanned the room, eyes alighting on the body immediately. Once he ascertained nothing else was going to jump out (Timmy was flopped on his back in the core room right now) he quickly walked over and knelt by its side.

From when I’d tried to move it, I’d left the body lying face up, and he quickly identified it. “Damn, I was really hoping this wasn’t the case.” The man’s squire approached, looking a little sick. The body had been down there for a bit, what was I supposed to do about the bugs?

“Oh dear. I knew he hadn’t been seen for a while but this…” Dutch, as his status window said, simply nodded.

“We have bigger problems to look over than a single disappearance, lad. It looks like Home has grown itself a Dungeon.” While he said it with an air of gravitas, his young apprentice didn’t look as floored as I expected him to be. Not that I even really knew what I was, so I was thrilled to learn more.

“I’ve only heard stories from you and a couple others. What does that mean for us?” Yes! Ask all the great questions young squire!

“It can mean a lot of things. Dungeons are capricious and fickle things, boy, and you must always be careful with them. Young Dungeons are oftentimes more dangerous than older ones, only because they don’t know what they’re doing and live purely by instinct. As they get older and smarter, the dangerous ones that either enjoy killing humans or are simply greedy are destroyed. The best ones we form symbiotic relationships with, to some extent.”

The poor young apprentice seemed confused. “How does that work though? Don’t they try and kill you all the time? I mean, I’m sure you get some cool weapons and armor out of it, like Hershell’s Divine Thunderer! But what makes it worth it otherwise?”

Dutch snorted. “You would have heard about that even out here in the boonies, boy. What makes it worth it is just about everything the Dungeon provides. You see, even though your family mostly farms, you know what mana is and how to shape it to some extent for basic skills, right?”

The boy nodded. “Of course! Pops taught me several skills to help with farmwork.”

“Alright, so let’s say you want to become the best farmer you can be using those skills, and you want to level up so you can use them more, have more endurance, and so forth. How do you do that?”

The apprentice scratched his head, and I was curious as well. “Use them a whole bunch. Pops is decently leveled so I know it takes a long time and he’s nowhere near your level, but I heard something about reagents and some kind of material too?”

Dutch nodded. “That’s right. Your pops hit his level cap without getting a few things found in every Dungeon. Not only do Dungeon’s provide the fastest means available to level up and increase your skills, but they also are the gatekeepers for the resources to break through ceilings and reach the highest of highs available to levels and classes. Each Dungeon also usually focuses on one thing in particular, sometimes two or three, and outputs unique resources depending on that type. They also are a massive source of mana, as they spread their unique brand of control out to the lands surrounding them, they make mana-dense soil that slowly seeps into the world around it, enriching both the people and the environment.”

Honestly, while all this information was particularly fascinating, the biggest thing I learned is that I, in fact, CAN live in harmony with others! Praise be! I’m not completely doomed! Screw you Box.

Now I just need to see if they can understand my writing…

“I’m concerned, however, because if this was a young Dungeon, it wouldn’t know how to write or make such smooth walls yet. That’s something they learn as they grow, and begin designing new and more elaborate traps and things.”

It seemed they could! I think. The younger boy spoke next. “I mean, it says may he rest in peace. That’s a good thing right? Maybe it’s friendly.”

“Possibly, but the smarter a Dungeon is, the more capable it is of tricking you. While I sincerely hope that is the case, I cannot guarantee it. Let us go see what these other signs say.”

Dutch stood from where had knelt down, and together with his apprentice, or whoever he was, marched over to my offering table where the first of my signs lay. “Tips appreciated… Donations accepted here. Heh, it seems our new Dungeon has a sense of humor.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Both. If it actually understands humor, it's really old. I’ve never been in one old enough to understand, and the one I went into that tried made a Rule that said nobody was allowed to wear clothes. Everyone but a few yokels abstained from it until it changed the Rule, but the things a Dungeon might find funny are always going to be utterly random and likely completely inhuman. That one was more tame than some of the stories I’ve heard, actually.”

The young boy laughed. “I suppose I can see how that happens. Well, what do you think of the other signs then?”

He pointed at the two doors, respectively to ‘The Orchard’ and ‘Where Evil Dwells’. “That’s kind of ominous, right?”

Ah, he knows a big word! I’m so proud! I’m kinda getting a backwater hick vibe from the younger one, but Dutch seems to have been around the block a few times.

“Eh, it doesn’t necessarily mean much. Sometimes they mean something, sometimes they don’t. Based on the lucidity of this Dungeon’s signs otherwise, I’d say they’re probably accurate. Let’s investigate this ‘Orchard’ first. None of a Dungeon’s first rooms are going to be so dangerous I can’t protect you, but I’m not willing to go much farther than that with you. Things escalate very quickly.”

The apprentice looked disheartened but carried on regardless. “I understand, Dutch. Do you think it… killed the Gargaren’s son?”

Dutch pondered for a moment and shook his head. “No, I don’t believe so. The fool boy snapped his neck from falling in here, most likely, and when we showed up there were stairs. Dungeons, once they’ve established an Entrance, can’t really change it around. At least, its location, anyway, and the size of the barrier from ‘entrance’ to actual Dungeon is always the same size, roughly, so it didn’t trip him into it. My best guess is it was an accident of some sort. The sign, plus the stairs, doesn’t scream foul play to me, even by Dungeon standards. They’re all about killing you after they’ve played with you for some time inside, but never right off the bat. They don’t get enough for that to be worth it.”

The apprentice looked a little sick, but he remained strong.

Dutch stepped forward to make towards the left door, and his intention to enter a room triggered the rules.

He hummed as he likely read them, since they were a little long, and if you didn’t accept one then it simply went with the first option. I still can’t believe it lets me decrease the rewards for wanting to kill me… My final fuck you to anyone who dares!

“Most interesting. Boy, when the Rules appear, choose the third option. It seems the Dungeon has separated its difficulty into two areas for us. We will investigate the Orchard together, and I will go through the other door to see what I can find.”

The apprentice, being actually reasonably intelligent for a farmer turned squire (or whatever the hell he was) agreed quickly.

[Fair Trade Rule 2 Accepted by Dutch!]

[Fair Trade Rule 3 Accepted by John!]

The farmer’s name was John. I hadn’t observed him because it was more amusing to make up names in my head the entire time, but this was also pretty great.

They pushed open the door into The Orchard, and entered the small grassy plain. The room, in reality, really wasn’t that big. I was like, less than a week old, ok, give a Dungeon a chance to grow a little!

The [Budding Tree] shouldn’t get aggroed unless John was an idiot, and the 5 [Skeletons] plus [Lifedrinker] should give me a good idea of their base power level against a beginner human adventurer. I had the sinking suspicion that Dutch was going to absolutely wreck my poor undead friends when he marched through the other door, but maybe I’d be able to glean something from that too.

The [Lifedrinker] wasn’t particularly large, but it had a green hide, loaded down with quills, and was quadrupedal, reminiscent of a dog mixed with a particularly evil hedgehog. The plains effect on the room meant the grass was tall enough to mask its presence, but the [Skeletons] stuck out like a sore thumb.

Dutch took the boys arm and pointed into the room. “Basic group of skeletons, pretty standard. Keep one in between you and the one with the bow, otherwise attract their attention and get them out of the tall grass in case there’s another beasty hiding out. And stay away from the tree, otherwise stick to what I taught you.”

He nodded, filled with grim determination, and began. The outer edges, closer to the door, didn’t have grass as tall as most of the rest of the room, so John smacked his sword into his shield and drew the [Skeletons] attention towards himself, before rapidly backing up towards the stone wall. My band of angry bone boys hissed and rattled their displeasure before marching towards him.

To my great dismay, long tangled grass didn’t work great with bony exposed toes and one of them tripped onto its face, and I groaned in embarrassment. Pick yourself up and have at them! You’re not going to win but c’mon! That was just sad.

The skeleton hopped back up and resumed the march, but the rest of the crew was quickly dismantled even by the novice that John clearly was. His swings had a practiced form, and though it was obviously untested and still quite green, his basic skill managed to best the approaching horde with relative ease. The [Skeletons] simply lacked the weight of numbers and mass to overwhelm even a beginner adventurer in such a small group.

The last skeleton archer also tried its best, but failed to do much. Its shots were inaccurate, at best, and when it did get close its shot was deflected by the buckler John wore. Was it bad that I was cheering for both sides? I had a strange sense of pleasure, watching people fighting and growing stronger inside of me.

It wasn’t like people had to suffer! We could all gain from this! Well, training can be its own form of suffering, but we can all be friends!

The strange euphoria quickly ebbed, but John still had one skeleton and the [Lifedrinker] to dispatch. He marched into the grass, intent on eliminating the skeleton, and must have been riding high on his possible first victory against monsters because he wasn’t prepared at all when the [Lifedrinker] pounced on him from his left.

Its sharp, serrated fangs dug into his unprotected arm and instead of trying to whip its head around to cause lacerations and internal bleeding, a strange green glow began to emanate and trickle from John to my creature. The young man gasped as it began and began to panic. His sword arm was pinned and possibly out of commission, but he could still go for the eyes!

Instead there was a significant amount of flailing, swearing, and laughter from Dutch. His mentor quickly dispatched the dog-like creature as well as the remaining skeleton with quick slashes of his blade before returning to John and pulling out a bandage of some sort. “Lifedrinkers are nasty little buggers, and get a lot scarier as the Dungeon grows in age. This one is just a babe, so we’re lucky. This room was fairly easy, all things considered. The Budding Tree is either going to trigger when we try and take a fruit, or possibly not unless attacked, so we’re relatively safe for now. Good work kid.”

“I still got taken down by a weak monster, Dutch. How am I supposed to defend the town when you pass away someday if I’m still this weak?”

Dutch laughed for a moment before responding. “I’ve still got many years of fight left in me, boy. And you're just inexperienced. Normally Dungeon delving is always dangerous, unless you can make a deal with the intelligence behind it, and even then you still have to be careful, but the Rules this place has almost guarantee some degree of safety. Rules cannot be broken, so the Lifedrinker would have released you if you weren’t able to fight it off and began to get seriously injured. Do you want experience and levels? This might be your chance, so be polite to the Dungeon if you want its help.”

Be polite? Well, I certainly wouldn’t complain if people were nice to me. John’s next question mirrored my thoughts.

“Be polite? What does that have to do with anything, Dutch? I mean, it’s not like I planned on being rude to the thing trying to kill me beyond returning the favor, but…”

“Boy, remember when I said Dungeons are smart? This one knows words. Which likely means it understands us. It's likely watching us, even now. You want to know the quickest way to get on a Dungeon’s shitlist? By pissing it off. Sure, it can’t break the rules, but it can make your trips either incredibly unrewarding by making its monsters go away, or taking its safety rule away when you enter. Trust me, Dungeons are capricious little beasties and should be treated with respect. Yes, they try to kill you, but it's not personal. If done right, you get something, the Dungeon gets something, and everyone gets to go home safe at the end of the night. Trusting one is a different story, but respect… That is easy to give. So I suggest you do.”

John looked dumbstruck by the idea I was watching him get owned by my cute little doggo that ate his life force even now.

“Ah, thank you very much for your generous rules, Dungeon! I appreciate them very much, you are very kind!”

Dutch snorted at him. “Don’t overdo it, boy. Let me return you to the front entrance, I’ll see what the trigger conditions on this tree are, and we’ll go from there.”

John was unceremoniously shoved out of the room, and Dutch returned to the [Budding Tree] to snag a fruit. When nothing happened, and his cautious stance eased slightly, he took a moment to examine what he’d picked. “Mana-Rich, huh? And no drawbacks. Now that’s a surprise, right there. What’s going on with you, Dungeon? I’ve seen strange before, but not this kind of strange… At least Darran’s wife will be happy to have some excellent baking ingredients.”

He tossed a few more fruits into a small bag he carried, then left for the front entrance as well. John stood by the stairs, nursing his injured arm slightly, and eyeing the corpse with his nose twisted in a grimace. Yeah it probably didn’t smell so good after a day or so…

Well, I’m sure they’ll take it with them when they leave, thank the heavens. I certainly don’t want it, if only so I’m not tempted to use Necromancy on it. Yes, I want to be good, no, I will not sacrifice myself for no reason just to do so.

Dutch made sure everything was in order, then promptly entered ‘Where Evil Dwells’. I really wish I could say my creatures put up a good fight - not for a lack of trying, anyway. Dutch was an absolute monster, however. Each swing of his sword was capable of felling an entire pack of [Skeletons] or [Zombies] if they grouped up right, and naturally he would lead them to do just that. The [Ghosts] actually managed to get a hit in when the [Geist] mimed an arrow hurtling towards him, whistling noise included.

His blade must have been enchanted, however, because it just as easily cut through them when they returned for a second pass as the others before them. The one [Ghoul] that managed to get in a blow was unable to pierce through the armor or hit a weak point, so its paralytic venom was useless. The swampy mud did slow him down, albeit barely. I think it was more irritating because the ground had less purchase and made it harder to commit to a full swing of his weapon than anything else.

And with that he was in my core room. Thankfully I knew he wouldn’t kill me, so there was that at least! Or do anything bad to my core.

He seemed to be in a bit of shock at finding my core on the first level after only two rooms. I’m like a newborn dude, come on! I’m trying my best here! “Well this is unexpected. How did you already learn to write, I wonder, if you are brand new…”

Timmy barked at Dutch. I could vaguely tell Timmy what to do and he tended to listen, and I didn’t want him to participate in these fights, and luckily he complied with me. “Oh, and what are you, little one? Baby Bone Hydra, huh? That sounds right scary. Maybe we’ll have a proper battle someday, you and me. Though I don’t know what kind of name Timmy is…”

He reached out and patted Timmy’s oversized wolf head and whistled. “I guess that also explains what happened to that wolf. The tables were turned indeed… You should know, Dungeon, that the pack is approaching. Normally I’d worry about Home, but monsters have a much better sense for Dungeon mana than anything else, and will likely think of you as easy prey since you just have one floor.”

Timmy pulled away and barked at the tunnel leading down to what is going to be my second floor. “Yes, I see it Timmy, and I’m sure it’ll move its core down there before they get here, but still.”

Dutch sighed, and my memories of humans told me he looked incredibly tired. “Look, Dungeon… I’m not sure if you're anomalous, though I’ve never seen one myself, but if you are, and you can understand me already… Then help us out, and I promise we’ll pay you back in Experience and mana. The fruit from that Budding tree? Especially since it doesn’t all get wasted and destroyed by transforming and attacking? That alone is already an incredible resource. Home is dying, a slow, terrible death. With each breath it takes, we come a little closer to the edge every single day. Unless we get an influx of younger, higher level adventurers that can take up the roles needed to keep it going… It’s just not going to make another 50 years. I’ll pass on, and they might struggle to go on for a while, but eventually the Oracle will die too…”

He paused for a moment as bone-deep weariness oozed from him in a nauseating wave. It made sense, to an extent, from the conversations John and Dutch shared, it sounds like we’re out in the boonies, far from any other dungeon or anything else. How this town even got established to begin with sounds miraculous to me, but if it was with the effort of prior high level Dungeon divers then it makes sense that once those few passed on, they simply wouldn’t continue on anymore. As I’d learned, monster packs roaming the surface are a thing. Heck, I still had to deal with that as an upcoming threat.

But if training in a Dungeon allowed even everyday folk to progress their skills… Then I could help them out. I would get Experience and maybe level up! Then I could grow further and help out even more. I tried to grow a wooden sign in the room, but Box denied me.

[Dungeon Manipulation not usable once adventurers enter the Dungeon.]

… I swore I used it right as they were entering. Maybe it's like a 10 second window in which you can get your shit done. That would make sense, I suppose.

Well, that rules out my ability to actively communicate. Which would have, of course, been too convenient for the world. At least I can leave them messages, but playing a game of telephone over and over sounds difficult. Possible, but annoying.

I could leave a simple message after he leaves, maybe. I’ll see how it goes.

“With that said, there are many at Home who will oppose your existence. We all originally came from across the mountains, where Dungeons are prevalent and a major part of our culture. Of course, they are handled and managed by the government, which I imagine you wouldn’t like.” No, no I would not.

“That means many people have lost family and friends to Dungeons. Honestly, I blame a lot of that on their idiocy, nobody really listens when I go on about just how dangerous you can be. Of course, I’ve never seen one make a rule about doing their best not to kill the adventurer, so this is a bit more guaranteed.”

Heaving a sigh, Dutch stood from where he was petting Timmy, and summoned up a ball of light, bathing the room with far more light than my paltry torches did. “I’ll just check out your second level and let you get on with whatever you need, yeah? Think about what I said. I hope you can, at least.”

With that he walked down the tunnel. He methodically explored each room and briefly goggled at my skeletal work crew. When he first entered the room, they spun about to face him in surprise, before opting to ignore his existence. One even snapped off a rather sloppy salute, for some reason, before returning to annihilating dirt and an increasing amount of stone. In fact, one of the delvers pulled out his little hammer and tapped a wall, and instead of the blank stare I usually gave them whenever it happened, I got a rush of information instead.

Suddenly I could see something beyond my mana - several hundred feet away in fact. I was no geologist, but it looked suspiciously like a vein of ore, of some sort. My interest piqued, and the delvers all turned to face the hammer-wielding skeleton. They jabbered excitedly at each other, more hisses and clacks coming out rapid fire, before they all turned to focus on the direction of the suspected ore deposit.

“Found something interesting, eh? Hope it helps you out.” Oh, Dutch was still there watching them. Looks like he finished his exploration though, and verified I wasn’t secretly some super-ancient 1000 floor Dungeon, was happy to depart and report his findings. Which hopefully would lead me to Experience and mana?

Meh, time will tell.

Dutch departed, leaving a small offering of a few copper coins which I greedily consumed once they were gone, body taken with them. I also kept the sign, since it felt a little disrespectful to just… Remove the only thing that reminded me of my mistake. Sure, it's possible to twist it around and say ‘Oh, you were in some random corner of the graveyard, surely nobody would just accidentally fall in there, clearly it's their fault’ but I don’t want to do that. That's a copout, and a direct slight against my goal here. I might be some… murder machine designed to kill people, improve itself, lay out some bait, and repeat the cycle, but I could be more. Dungeons, according to Dutch, took a really long time to gain intelligence. That meant as they grew they were just kind of doing whatever felt right, not really planning things out.

Instincts were great survival tools, but not so much as long term planning. Which, by definition, a Dungeon was. It was a long term investment, it sounded like, if done well, paid dividends to those who could access it.

Well, I can pay those dividends, but I’d also like to not be micromanaged by some government agency. Which meant I needed to be strong enough to resist them, and have something else to provide experience to the locals for.

My Orchard was a great start, actually, but could use some improvement, as even John, who had some practice and was armed, struggled against just the room. I could add some scaling difficult halls, and then make sure my final defense hallway was a scaling difficulty so even it could be used while still retaining its defensive capability.

It would take some effort and mana at a later date, since I needed to focus on improving myself right now. I had a date with a wolf pack to prepare for, after all, and some decisions to make regarding my mana expenditure.