Before I start working on the basic mechanism I have in mind, I begin by excavating the tunnel which will connect my dungeon with the cave just outside the human’s mine. Luckily, with my freakishly precise proprioception, I’m able to clearly determine the exact heading and elevation I need in order ensure the tunnel ends up exactly where I want it to while remaining perfectly level and as straight as an arrow. To accommodate my plan; I dig the tunnel with a 2-meter-tall and 1-meter-wide rectangular cross-section.

…

At 1 km long, it took over 24 hours to finish carving the passage. I’ve breached the cave which the miners had likewise broken into and my new tunnel’s entrance is only 46 m away from their mine. My plan, which will become apparent later, calls for the establishment of a satellite leafcutter ant nest at the other end of the tunnel because I will have need of a crew of dungeon helpers who will remain stationed on the far side. 20 m away from the end and off to the side of the tunnel I excavate an 10x10x5 m room which should be large enough to sustainably provide food to 70 dungeon helpers along with their regular sized siblings. I then instruct a few dozen leafcutter ants to collect various plant species and spread them in the new room.

Fortunately, no nosy people are allowed in the cave until the “Caverknights” arrive, which should be in about 2 weeks’ time, plenty long enough for me to prepare everything for my business venture. Much like the rolling stone door I’d made early on, I make two rolling doors at the far entrance to the passage, though these ones are significantly larger. Each rhyolite wheel has a diameter of 3 m and a thickness of about 28 cm. From what I know about the density of igneous rock, (Again, thanks to my supernatural memory.) each door has a mass of approximately 6 metric tons.

The rolling doors fit in slots recessed into the walls, floor, and ceiling allowing them to completely seal off the entrance to the cave. They are spaced a generous 15 m apart, forming an airlock of sorts. While I can just barely move them with my telekinesis, thanks to the absurd ambient mana concentration in my dungeon, it should be impossible for humans. In fact, just as an extra precaution, I secure both sides of each wheel with giant fungiwood wheel chocks, I can telekinetically remove these when I wish to open my doors, but any humans will have no way of accessing them for removal.

I think it’s obvious why I overengineered this gateway; it’s an overt entrance to my dungeon. To misdirect anybody who might care to break through the gate, I etch the following sentence onto the outside face of the outermost door: “Property of Weston Lomarec, no trespassing.” Hehehe, I sure hope he won’t mind!

The interior of the “airlock” will be where I pile up my stone blocks. Whenever I wish for the humans to pick them up, I can just toggle the airlock’s state, maintaining the isolation of my dungeon.

With that taken care of, I set to work on designing the block transportation vehicle which will traverse the passage.

…

I’ve created a wagon with 6 wheels and no steering. Much like a train’s this vehicle has conical wheels which ride tracks. For rails, I’ve carved two parallel grooves down the full length of the tunnel, spaced 80 cm apart. The conical wheels will rest atop the lip of the grooves such that gravity allows for self-preventative derailing. The wagon is 75 cm wide and 2.2 m long, the reason for these dimensions is simple; it will be able to carry 10 of my regular wagons at a time, each of which will be loaded with CMUs.

In essence, each regular wagon, with their own payloads, will be loaded, via an elevated platform, perpendicularly onto the big wagon. The bed of the big wagon is roughly 1 regular wagon wide and 10 regular wagons long. It’s a gimmick, sure, but it’s a fun gimmick. Furthermore, it means I won’t have to manually unload the regular wagons twice, now they’ll only have to be unloaded at the collection point.

As entertaining as designing this novelty was, the real fun is in its propulsion mechanism. As I previously mentioned, what I’m planning is grossly impractical, but that’s not the point. Once more, I focus on the task at hand.

…

Gears have always mesmerized me. That it has taken so long for me to bring them to my dungeon is a crime of the highest order. On the side of the tunnel closest to the human mine, I’ve built a marvelous construct. From fungiwood I’ve constructed a two-stage linear spur gear train.

To clarify, a spur gear is a gear with ‘teeth’ (So not a cage gear.) which meshes horizontally with another gear. A pinion is the name given to a gear with a small number of teeth. Involute teeth are the style of teeth used most often in gear trains that increase torque, while cycloidal teeth are frequently used in trains which increase angular velocity. (Think of a clock’s going train.)

The driver pinion is connected to a large wheel via a vertical axle. The large wheel is arranged parallel with the plane of the floor and has 60 shafts pointing radially outwards along its edge. 60 dungeon helpers can each grip one shaft and push in a set direction to power the wheel, in a manner reminiscent of donkey-powered mechanisms. The driver is a 16-tooth involute pinion which engages a 71-tooth involute spur gear. The first driven spur gear is connected via an axle to another 16-tooth pinion which in turn drives an identical 71-tooth final spur gear. I’ve chosen a 71:16 ratio for each engagement because 71 is an indivisible prime number, which results in any wear being spread evenly across every meshed tooth.

The entire movement is firmly sandwiched between two thick fungiwood plates, which were themselves made by concatenating several planks horizontally along tongue and groove joints which were then merged. Likewise, the gears are wider than the thickest mushroom trunks, so they were created in a similar fashion.

The final spur gear is connected via an axle to a large drum, which will act as the spool for a kilometer-long rope, which I’ll need to order soon. The rope will be attached to the front of the big wagon. When the 60 ants work together to drive the push-wheel, the gear train will multiply the torque while reducing angular velocity. The gear train will allow just 60 ants to indirectly pull the big wagon carrying several metric tons of stone blocks. Once unloaded at the airlock, the big wagon with its empty regular wagon payload will be light enough to be easily returned by a contingent of dungeon helpers pushing it directly.

To further automate the process, I define a set of conditional commands for my helpers to follow. In a nutshell, they’re as follows: Once the big wagon is fully loaded, 60 of the 70 ants stationed at the satellite nest will drive the push-wheel until the wagon arrives at their end. The second condition is that once the wagon is fully unloaded (Still a manual process, but manageable over such a short distance.) the designated dungeon helpers will push it all the way back before returning to their post. Then the process may repeat itself.

I’m confident this’ll work, my subconscious has handled similar conditional commands in the past. Actually, it’s just given me an intriguing idea: Is it possible to hijack my subconscious by daisy-chaining conditions in order to compute information? Worth exploring later…

While I’m at a good stopping point, I send Weston a quick request for several km of durable rope, preferably continuous, and refocus on my dungeon. I’ll be needing lots of rope in the future.

…

I spent 4 days waiting for my domain to fully permeate the lush cavern as well as building a total of 30 regular wagons and defining the parameters which will allow my dungeon helpers to operate wagons.

Getting the helpers to steer the regular wagons was an exercise in patience, but in the end, they managed to reach a serviceable performance level. When I excavate, I will directly cut out the properly sized blocks and telekinetically place them onto a nearby wagon. When I notice it’s full enough, I can give the command and my dungeon helpers will automatically take it away and load it onto the big wagon.

I’m looking forward to receiving my rope in a couple days, with it, my system will be complete, and I’ll be able to mine fiendishly fast. I can already tell I’ll need to scale up soon, I highly doubt that just one large wagon will be enough to support the throughput I’m aiming for. To be honest, my perspective has been slightly skewed, the large wagon might be big compared to a dungeon helper, but it’s not that impressive.

At 1 km, the rope will sag in the middle, so I’m a bit worried about it wearing out from being dragged across the ground. Perhaps in the future I’ll build more massive transportation apparatuses with integrated power sources, be they animal powered or otherwise. Speaking of which, I still need to explore the capabilities of runes. At any rate, I went into this knowing it would be a temporary solution. The project achieved its goal of preserving my sanity; even I need entertainment from time to time.

I even improved my cutting and merging skills. It’s unusual how much of an effect unique practice has on their effectiveness.

I want to make a note here and state that I haven’t been neglecting my magic practice during this time; indeed, my mana manipulation ability has made good progress. That said, I do think it’s time to get back to studying my books. Earlier I resolved to focus on assimilating the cavern’s inhabitants to enhance my defense before concentrating on magic, however, it has taken a while for the larger animals to get added to memory, so I may as well get some research in while I wait.

…

After making it about halfway through “Principles of Runescript,” I’m met with the much-anticipated monotone voice of Mr. Normal.

That...that is a terrible name. I think I’ll continue to refer to them as cave centipedes. Sure, they do slightly resemble spiders with their short bodies, piercing mandibles, and outrageously long legs, but it’s a stretch, to say the least.

Shifting my point of view to the cavern, which is finally fully within my influence, I look around for the centipedes who are now “mine.”

It’s easy to find members of my dungeon at will, I seem to have an innate sense of their whereabouts, very handy indeed.

In the loamy soil underneath the towering mushrooms I count a staggering 200 comparatively minuscule pale, white centipede nymphs emerging from a clutch of eggs. With the adults being a meter long, I’m surprised to see the nymphs are only around 4 centimeters each. I suppose even at their immense size, the giant cave centipedes have remained an r-selected species; emphasizing rapid growth rates and high fecundity.

For lack of a better phrase, I wrap one in my sense and analyze its “genome,” which is misleading because I have a much more macroscopic perspective. While I’m not interested in changing them for now, I can use my species modification ability to better understand an organism’s physiology.

I find that, unlike normal centipedes, this species carries a purely paralytic venom within their mandibles. Actually, I shouldn’t call them mandibles, as they’re actually a pair of forcipules; modified forelegs which have evolved to pierce and inject venom.

That’s certainly curious, but not nearly so much as my latest discovery. Insect blood is known as hemolymph, as it doesn’t transport any oxygen, just nutrients. Its lack of oxygen carrying hemoglobin (and thus red blood cells) is the reason for its decidedly un-red, yellow color. These cave centipedes though? Their blood is red, suggesting that oxygen is being forcefully circulated throughout their bodies.

As for how they’re taking up atmospheric oxygen, I find the answer in an internal organ situated at the rear end of their bodies. It is connected to 8 axially arranged hollow tubes on their underside, which each emerge near the centipede’s anus. The tube’s function is apparent; they’re tracheas, and lining their walls is a repeating pattern of interlocking runescript.

I could see myself splicing red blood cells with an invertebrate, and the macroscopic runescript is very…unnatural looking as well.

Could it be? Is this an artificial species?