By the time Shriek returned, Gem had completed most of his tasks. He’d found more islands along his twisting avenue of paths, farmed more Birch saplings from his lone grown tree, built a tree-lined path to hide his Pylons, daisy-chained the Pylons down the path, and built another room where his Plantling could rest.

And somehow, he didn’t feel tired.

Something about being a Dungeon Core seemed to make it easier to process change. At least compared to Chesu. Perhaps even his old self, if he could remember who that person was.

Gem was sure there was some hidden philosophy in his newfound stamina, but he didn’t really have the luxury of being able to explore it.

One day, when the world isn’t ending quite so abruptly, he told himself.

It turned out that Pylons could cover a twenty-block radius outside of walls. Gem still had to build more Pylons than he wanted, making his stockpile of Mob Hearts dangerously low. He aimed to create more of them, which was taxing his mana regeneration.

That did mean he had a large number of unused Command Points available, which he could spend on summoning new mobs if necessary. He didn’t feel it was something he should worry about; the dungeon seemed to have a good difficulty for the mix of parties that were coming through.

Shriek made his way through the dungeon and stood at the bottom of Gem’s make-shift stairs. He then let out a shriek so loud and high pitched that Gem was surprised his Core didn’t shatter from the vibrations.

Chesu was still asleep when Gem resummoned Shriek upstairs, even after nearly a day and a half had passed. Gem didn't dare wake him. Instead, he showed Shriek to the identical room he’d made for Chesu on the other side of his Core Room.

The Plantling seemed happy to have a place to relax in, and so didn’t seem to mind that Chesu had all but stolen his original space.

Before the Plantling could speak, Gem realized there were adventurers in his Area of Influence. He was getting better at detecting their presence; it was like that moment before recognizing a piece of music. When all things started to unravel and you could almost know exactly what was going on.

But there wasn’t just one group.

Dozens stepped foot onto his bridge.

And there seemed to be plenty more behind them.

“I think I did a good job,” the Plantling said with a wry smile contorting his petals. “It turns out that adventures really think they’re safe in their towns. They’re also terrible at tracking flowers. Did you know they have entire blocks dedicated to cultivating flowers and plants, but no idea how to tell them apart? I barely even had to try to camouflage myself.” He scoffed. “Amateurs.”

Shriek’s grass-green eyes rolled on their stalks. “Yes, but only because there was no other way. I didn’t kill any, if that is your worry.”

Gem sent the Plantling a wicked grin. He could hear the adventurers arguing outside his entrance. Seemed there was a lot of debate over the order of entry.

Whatever exhaustion may have plagued the Plantling after his excursion was immediately gone. “You mean, I can fight?”

Gem thought.

“I do like the idea of leading the other Plantlings. While I was in town, the adventurers called me a Rare Mob. Apparently I’m supposed to drop better-than-average loot, and am quite a prize.” The Plantling seemed to be preaning, his vine-line hands puffing up his petals. But as quick as he started, his hands were back at his sides. “I am very tired, however. Running around took quite a bit out of me. Do you mind if I rest first?”

Gem thought.

And it really was.

While wisp and Plantling slept, party after party entered Gem’s dungeon. Many were full of inexperienced folk who were led by one who seemed to know what they were doing. They kept the others from making costly mistakes. Other groups were more like the few he’d seen so far: a pack of friends who worked well enough together, just having fun.

None attempted to fight Magi, however.

It was frustrating, but Gem knew why after a moment of listening to the crowd outside his door.

“The boss is dangerous!” Ata was saying as she perorated to a mob of adventurers. “It’s a giant bug! Three men tall! It almost killed our poor Druid. That guy!” She pointed behind her to Baldur. “The one with all the muscles, yeah! It was an epic fight to say the least. But you dare not face the buggy beast unless you are prepared! Tin Eight or higher only!”

Those around her seemed concerned, both for what Ata was saying and for the glowering, hulking presence of Baldur who loomed behind her like a shadow. His arms were crossed over his chest, showcasing the powerful muscles that danced along his shoulders.

“And our poor Enchanter! Ankle almost broken by the vicious and malicious undergrowth. Watch your step, folks! Don’t step off the beaten path unless you’re absolutely sure you need to!”

I think she’s trying to keep everyone from attempting the boss or finding the treasure rooms. Tsk.

###

When the crowd finally started to disperse, Ata stepped down from her makeshift podium and ran her hands along her pants. “Phew. Alright. That should keep our first time bonus safe.” She groaned in frustration. “Why’d that Rare Mob have to show up today of all days? We could have had it! Our victory was assured!”

“It’s fine, Ata,” Helgi said while placing a hand to her shoulder. “We’ve done all we can.”

“Not yet.” The Rogue grinned and rubbed her hands together. “I’m going to try to get us cuts.”

“Cuts?” Baldur glared at her. “You won’t be doing anything illicit, correct?”

Ata held up a hand, her first two fingers held close together and raised skyward. “Scout’s honor!”

“I somehow seriously doubt that.”

“She’s got her fingers crossed,” Helgi said with a disappointed tone. “Behind her back.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head.

“Nothing unsporting,” Baldur growled.

“Aww, you guys are no fun.” She held up her hands, both open palmed. “Fine. Nothing illegal.”

Gem wondered if her toes were crossed, instead.