***Lilith’s POV***

Lilith, among others, was ordered to return to the second floor. Apparently, the dungeon was going to open for visitors again. What would that be like, she wondered. She had once been a registered explorer in the traditional sense, even if her few remaining memories of it had been reduced to facts as impersonal as quotes from a textbook. She knew it was obvious to attack monsters that actively fought; combat experience was one of the main things to be gained by exploring a dungeon. Now, dungeons with intelligent monsters, monsters that didn’t want to fight… those probably existed, but Lilith didn’t know anything about them.

Since she would be on the second floor, and the giant and terrifying wolf monster, Theoria, would be protecting the first floor, hopefully Lilith wouldn’t find out what happened to intelligent monsters in a dungeon. She didn’t know how to begin to fight without using magic.

On her way to the second floor, Lilith noticed a short phrase carved over the exit: “No wind nor rain born of earth has ever escaped the sky, yet still I yearn for their freedom.” The words made her scowl. The arrogant dungeon was mocking her. She shuffled past the taunt and awkwardly scooted by a strange wooden puppet who was holding the puzzle door open for the other monsters. It tilted its faceless head at her and she shivered, quickly facing forward to avoid looking at the uncanny creature.

“That’s pretty rude,” some human-like girl monster chided Lilith, walking with her hands behind her head just a few paces behind. “I get that Minute is sorta creepy and hard to understand, but he’s like the nicest guy here, you know? And, for the record, you’re pretty uncanny yourself.”

“Excuse me?” Lilith furrowed her brow and turned to face the girl. Her natural blond drills bounced while she walked, and an unpleasant smirk formed on her face.

“What? You’re a mutilated copy of some dead chick who tried to kill us. Don’t act like you’re better than us.”

“You can be pretty rude too, Merina,” a huge purple slime ball bounced.

The blonde girl, Merina, clicked her tongue. “She started it.”

“I think we should give her a chance,” another human-like monster said.

Lilith glanced at him. It was the one who had waved at her before. Up close, he was actually really handsome. Sure, some of his features were off--he didn’t have horns, and his hair and skin were too dark--but his face was still pretty enough to make the blood rise to her cheeks.

The pretty monster smiled at her when he saw her looking. “I’m Alphio, but my friends call me Alphy. I hope we can get along.”

Lilith forced her eyes to the front and cleared her throat. “Did… you used to be a demon too?”

“Nope,” he replied, dashing Lilith’s vain hopes. “I guess we look a little similar, but I’m a mandrake, a kind of plant monster.”

Alphio pointed at a cute stem and leaves sprouting from the top of his head. Lilith shot a glance back at Merina and noticed a sprout on her head as well. When she felt the top of her own head, there was nothing. It still felt strange to reach up and not feel her horns.

Something tickled the back of Lilith’s mind; something from a long time ago. Right, she had learned about mandrakes back in school. It was strange. The memories seemed so clear until she tried to remember things specific to herself. The faces of her friends and teachers were a blur. She didn’t know which seat she had sat in or what kinds of grades she had gotten, yet she remembered all the intricacies about the demon education system as if she’d read them out of a manual. How had the dungeon erased her memories so perfectly? And why? It seemed unnecessary to Lilith. Whether she remembered her past or not, what could she do? The dungeon was in her head and it would know if she tried anything.

Shaking her head as if to shake away the depressing line of thought, Lilith traced her thoughts back to where she’d started down the rabbit hole.

“I’ve heard of mandrakes,” she said to Alphio. “They’re harvested for herbs, I think?”

The “herb” she was talking to looked a little uncomfortable at her statement.

“Um, I guess, that’s part of what we do here? Maybe.” he rubbed the back of his head, frowning.

Lilith felt Merina glaring at the back of her head. “S-so what else is there?” she asked quickly, wondering to herself how she was being socially intimidated by some monster brat and guilted by a monster hottie.

Alphio’s expression obviously improved with the change in topic. “We produce ether when we bathe in sunlight. Archy turns it into mana to build with.”

“Archy?”

“That’s the dungeon,” Alphio smiled.

“Papa’s name is actually Archimedes,” the slime wobbled. Lilith couldn’t understand how something like that had sentience.

But, “Archimedes,” huh? Lilith hadn’t known that the dungeon had a name until she was told so. If she thought about it objectively, none of this made sense. A young, two-floor dungeon shouldn’t have a name or intelligent monsters.

The featureless slime monster made Lilith uncomfortable, but it seemed to be the best combination of agreeable and put-together out of her present company. She turned and asked it, “What’s going on with this dungeon, anyway?”

The slime wobbled questioningly, “What do you mean?”

“New dungeons shouldn’t be able to do the things this one is doing,” Lilith gestured her hand to her present company. “I was taught that dungeons can barely think when they’re this small. Why is this one so different?”

“I don’t understand. Is there something strange about it?”

“We’ve never been to another dungeon,” Merina muttered. “How would we know if something about ours is strange?”

“Well it is strange,” Lilith insisted.

“Sure, sure,” the brat uncaringly waved off concerns. Lilith felt her blood pump and her face heat up, but she took a few deep breaths and forced her body to relax. The brat looked at her with some actual curiosity this time, even if the expression was still derisive. “What was that?”

“A calming exercise,” Lilith said curtly, turning her nose up and regretting it when she took the last step too hard and bit her teeth. She controlled her expression so nobody would notice and mock her. “It’s to keep my mana from exploding.”

“Mana can’t exist on the second floor, so I wouldn’t worry about it,” the slime jiggled.

Lilith snorted to herself. Now that she thought of it, she didn’t have mana anymore either, so those calming exercises probably had no point. Well, they might still be useful. Literally exploding was bad, but that wasn’t the only bad thing about being too angry.

The second floor looked vastly different than she remembered. Instead of a handful of zigzagging paths littered with deep pits, it had transformed into an open field. Many kinds of grasses grew between the handful of streams running the length of the room, and small animals were abundant. Sunlight shined down from the stone ceiling, so bright that Lilith could have been convinced there was a proper sky above her head unless she scrutinized it and saw the grey stone. In the center of the room was a small valley, and the dungeon core floated there quietly.

“Papa,” the slime called, sounding confused, “are there no puzzles down here?”

Lilith wasn’t sure why that was her concern, but she agreed that this floor didn’t look defensible at all.

“No,” the dungeon said. “There won’t be until I build the entrance to the third floor.”

“Not that I don’t like it being so comfortable here,” Merina muttered, “but what about defense?”

“To my understanding, there won’t be any incidents like before. The guild has assured me of that. However, they’ve already shown their incompetence before, and I don’t plan to depend on them. I’ve installed plenty of defenses upstairs. So with this,” a small seed materialized in the air in front of the core then dropped into the soil, “my safety is assured… I apologize to you all in advance.”

***Archimedes’ POV***

He, Minute, and Zemnes had crunched the numbers, and it turned out to be most efficient for the second floor to be purely devoted to resource production. And frankly, now that the first floor was in order, Archimedes had no reservations simplifying things down below. The first floor was now a veritable death trap designed exclusively to kill anyone who didn’t cooperate with the aim of his dungeon. Like the flip of a switch, every inch would swarm with poison, parasites, disease, spinning blades, and beasts. To be frank, he’d taken inspiration from the guild’s black list while designing it. But, since their only concern were lasting effects or permanent lethality, making those defenses the effect of a trap, and keeping them from leaving the dungeon by killing with a 100% mortality rate, meant he was technically in compliance with the rules. If the guild took offense to this and changed the rules, all Archimedes had to do was comply with the changes. Of course, by the time those changes passed through, he should have grown enough to not need such a tactic. That was one reason he was focusing on growth now.

But it was true that he couldn’t leave the second floor completely undefended. If his primary source of energy were to be significantly damaged, he would be dead in the water for a while. Rectifying that was actually quite simple, as long as he didn’t mind using something from his last life. Something that disturbed him beyond measure, but that he couldn’t help but admire for its effectiveness.

He had been working on its creation the whole time his monsters were questioning him, and before he’d even called them, and finally, it was ready. Archimedes dropped the innocent-looking seed into the soil and braced himself.

“I apologize in advance,” he told the monsters gathered before him.

The ground rumbled--which was an odd thing inside a dungeon. Few things had the potency of force necessary to shake his foundation. His monsters looked worried and confused, struggling to keep their balance. Only Archimedes knew what was currently happening to cause such tremors.

The roots were spreading.

Throughout the fertile soil, around every rock and grassroot and riverbed, they dug into every inch they could find without killing the other plants. Like the limbs of a parasite or coils of a fungus, thin shoots broke off from the roots and wrapped around said plants. Clear tendrils poked up from the bottom of one stream after another, practically disolving into the water. The roots reached everywhere and were especially voluminous just beneath the surface. Finally, as the shaking stopped, at the place where the seed had been planted, a single pink flower bloomed. It was about the size and shape of a cabbage, and with just as many petals and layers, but it was pathetically small compared to the root system below.

The monsters stared at the blossom for a minute in stunned silence, then Merina cried out:

“Ew ew ew! What the heck?! Get off!!!” She performed a strange dance, hopping from one foot to the other, and the perceptive ones noticed thin roots trying to dig into her bare feet every time she touched the ground.

It seemed Alphio was experiencing the same phenomenon, but he just stood in place, trembling and tearing up at the strange feeling. Curiously, the rest of them didn’t seem to have any problems.

Surely because they aren’t plants, Archimedes reasoned.

“Those two aren’t your toys. Leave them alone.” At the dungeon’s order, the roots stopped trying to dig into the two mandrakes, and they both breathed sighs of relief.

“What is that thing?!” Merina demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at the innocent-looking blossom.

“That is a nymph,” Archimedes sighed. “Nymph, show yourself.”

Like a ghost, the slightly transparent image of a beautiful geometric shape phased into being. She appeared to be growing out of the blossom, but quickly showed that she could move out and away from the flower. Of course, a geometric shape was only what Archimedes saw. The mandrakes surely saw a beautiful mandrake woman; Thesia surely saw a beautiful slime, and Minute… possibly also some kind of geometric shape. All of the creatures present saw a beautiful female (where applicable) of their own species.

“This nymph will be the main defender of the second floor,” Archimedes stated. “The spiritual body you see isn’t real, but it’s how she can communicate with us. Nymph, I’m naming you Deorsa.”

“Thank you, my lord.” The lovely geometric shape rotated countless fractals about its axis in a polite and refined pattern. How refreshing it was to receive thanks in his native language, even if that was only a translation magically born of his own mind.

Normal nymphs were nature spirits. They would inhabit plants or mountains or rivers and watch over them. When necessary, they could use the essence of nature to attack in self-defense. But this nymph, born in a fertile cave biome (with a particularly rich concentration of ether), was different. She could inhabit all aspects of nature and, going a step above, parasitize them. In the same way Archimedes could change his surroundings to his liking, Deorsa could change the soil, plants, and water with barely an effort. Essentially, she could bring the ceiling down on unsavory explorers like Archimedes once had, and it wouldn’t trigger any penalty. She was a powerful force unlike any other monster he had at his disposal.

And he found her absolutely revolting. She felt like pond scum with teeth, enveloping everything, taking what was his for herself, devouring it all greedily. To some extent, she usurped his absolute control. He admired her power the way a human might admire a natural disaster or a virile disease.

Because she was so dangerous, Archimedes didn’t hesitate to personally recraft her mental structure when he made her, making her perfectly obedient and docile. It was something he only did with monsters that could threaten him. There was a time he had done it with every monster, but he had found the lack of variables boring, and it had actually had a negative impact on overall productivity.

That said, even just having a mutated nymph in his dungeon was distressing, no matter if she was his most obedient and capable creation. But, well, that wasn’t exactly her fault, either. This wasn’t like in his last life where he had accidentally spawned such a creature. Archimedes had made Deorsa knowing this was her nature. This time, he would willingly allot her half of his domain.

“Deorsa,” Archimedes said softly, “it should be that the invaders who come here are my guests, so I want you to be polite with them. However, if there’s an exception, you are to do everything possible first to defend my core and second to eliminate the threat. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” the illusory shape spun and twisted, “I will do everything in my power to abide by your will.”

“Good.”

Archimedes felt thoughts of discomfort. It seemed the mandrakes were uncomfortable with Deorsa’s presence--he fully understood why they would be--and Lilith was moping too.

“Dissatisfied?” he asked her.

The former demon huffed and turned her head to the side. “No,” she grumbled, “I was just threatened and snapped at the moment I was made. Not that I’m allowed to know why.” She folded her arms and glared halfheartedly at the core. “Can’t you at least tell me why?”

“Because I can’t trust you.”

“Trust? Are you kidding?”

“The rest of the monsters,” Archimedes touched on each of their consciousnesses, “have been my creations from their first moments. You have not. You have emotional attachments to a life of freedom and independence that they don’t have. You may be tempted to do something stupid trying to go back to that. Until in your heart this is your home and I am your creator, I cannot trust you.”

“Then why don’t you just erase those attachments like you did my memories?” Lilith challenged him, raising a slim brown eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be fine?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not!”

“Because I want to look through them sometimes, those feelings of freedom.”

Lilith visibly bristled and spoke through her teeth. “You’re cold to me because of my attachments. You won’t erase my attachments because you’re selfish. So really, you’re cold to me because you’re selfish. I did nothing wrong!”

Merina frowned and started, “You--”

“I did nothing wrong!” Lilith shouted at her. “Like you said yourself, I’m just a clone of that person, and I don’t even know what she did!” She turned her glare back to the core, “This is wrong. It’s wrong, it’s unfair, and, and!”

The former demon stopped her rant to take a series of deep breaths and forcefully relaxed her body. Getting too angry was never helpful; the moment she realized how heated she was getting, she made herself cool down.

“Treat me like a person,” she demanded.

“I would expect you to contribute to the dungeon—”

“I’ll contribute! I never said I wouldn’t.”

“… Hm.”

Now this was a puzzle Archimedes would have liked to include in his dungeon. Is the fault of wrongdoings kept in the soul or in the mind? Is a clone responsible for the actions of its mould? If one doesn’t remember their crimes, can they still be held accountable for them?

To a person with a good moral compass, these weren’t very difficult questions. But dungeons didn’t rationalize things in terms of morality. The arguments Lilith made about the unfairness of her situation, they struck no cords in Archimedes. However, he did acknowledge her will to be a good dungeon native in exchange for better treatment.

She clearly still very much had the mentality of an outsider, trying to bargain with the dungeon as though they were equals, as though she had any rights.

That was precisely what Archimedes wanted from her, as much as he hated to see it.

I may have made her, but she was based on someone from the outside. It should be possible for her to think in ways that are impossible for me.

Archimedes’ main goal hadn’t changed since he had arrived in this world: he wanted to understand Vow’s motives for sending him here. He had been focusing on making intelligent dungeon creatures for that purpose, but he had never really believed that something made from him could exceed him.

For a creature that knows “free will,” they will always produce better results when they decide on their course of action themselves.

Lilith’s decision here was a good sign. Archimedes wished she would take longer, argue more, give him some reason to continue acting on the feelings of hatred he still bore toward her, but pursuing his goals would always come before indulging in his emotions.

“I see,” Archimedes said aloud. “If you’re going to cooperate, then I can no longer justify taking out my anger on you. I’ll keep my feelings to myself from now on.”

“What’s with that? Just who says shit like that? An apology would be greatly appreciated, you know?”

An apology would be hypocritical. Archimedes neither felt guilty for what he’d done nor wanted to make Lilith feel better. They would be completely empty words. … But telling her so wouldn’t be keeping his feelings to himself, now would it?

“I apologize. I was too harsh on you. Would you still like to know the foul act your base committed? I don’t mind telling you about it.”

The dungeon native hesitated, then shook her head. “It has nothing to do with me. I’m not her.”

“Correct.” The dungeon core mentally nodded his head. “Now, you said you would contribute to the dungeon. Will you need anything from me to begin?”

Lilith lowered her chin, holding it absently between her forefinger and thumb. “I need a place to stay,” she said. “My own room—someplace comfortable.”

Again, Archimedes nodded. “Then picture such a place in your mind. I will create it.”

For a dungeon core, her request couldn’t have been easier to fulfill.