Zoli actually had quite a good life. True, that life was spent on a not-so-important planet in a hidden, not-too-significant solar system, the kind of planet that at the start of any self-respecting five-part trilogy should be destroyed to make room for a space highway. He was a citizen of a not-very-important country on the planet, belonging to a not-very-important but mostly harmless species.
Although Homo Sapiens Sapiens - the former species of Zoli - was found in many places in all the Multiverses, their significance did not even make it into the Top 100. Truth be told, they were in the bottom third of the almost endless list (just above Goblins, Kobolds, Ratlings, certain Viruses, and Lawyers), no matter how much people everywhere believed they were the crown of creation. Dragons, for example, could at least pretend to be, they were sitting safely in the double digits on that list.
Despite his disability of originating from and living in a boring little country in the ass-end of one of the most boring little Galaxies in all the multiverses, he did manage to have a comfortable and well-off life. Many called him evil, backstabbing, opportunistic, and prone to bullshitting his way through life, but these were the prerequisites for making a successful career – in his case becoming the HR manager for the local branch of a multinational company at the age of 35.
He worked hard: all the coffee breaks, networking, attending meetings to discuss the next meeting's topics, and making his lowly wage slaves make colorful charts were indeed back-breaking; he was often close to sweating blood. Collecting discriminating data on the average wage slaves of the company, so if some of his manager-buddies wanted to fire someone (just to make room for their current bed-warmer or one of their idiotic relatives) the company was on the safe side and could prove how bad a slave it was, was just icing on the cake.
He even had to attend "trainings" (i.e. drinking sessions with other managers) in high-class hotels with all expenses covered!
He didn't exactly understand, why others had such a negative opinion of him and looked down on him, despite him being a dedicated manager, who worked himself to the bones for the betterment of the company. He even gave money to a charity and helped out in the foundation of one of his buddies once a year! Of course, not in the fieldwork, but in directing other volunteers.
Everything counted, he had a nice and good life. If he believed in one of the prevalent religions, he would have been on the right track to one version of Heaven, or so he thought. As it was, he probably had a guaranteed position on the management floor in Afterlife Corp.
Well, he had quite a good life – until he died young, in his best years.
No, he was not killed by a truck, trying to save some random passerby. He wasn't stabbed, shot, or exploded in some attacks. No airplane crashed onto his head, there was no train wreck and he didn't even drown in a yachting accident. Nothing so pedestrian. His death was a bit more embarrassing: he suffered a heart attack while getting head from his secretary in the manager's toilet, and while falling down, he cracked his skull on the porcelain throne.
His last memory of Earth was his secretary, who tried to clean her dress frantically of the previous activities' remains. Oh yeah, she was married…
He didn't know, what to expect from the afterlife, but a nice executive office with large windows showing a planet was somehow right in his expectations – dedicated managers surely deserved something like this. The alien in a Hawaii shirt and slacks sitting behind a huge desk was somehow unexpected, but a true multinational company had all kinds of foreigners – and it was grounds for termination if someone commented on the background of others. Zoli carefully schooled his expressions. The alien was at least vaguely Human-looking, with cream-colored skin, short, green hair, pointy ears, and small, sharp teeth.
“Ah, welcome, welcome! Dear Human, take a seat!" He (while it was also grounds for termination to make assumptions about another's gender, Zoli was almost sure, the alien was a he) waved a hand towards a small table and comfortable-looking leather armchairs. "Let me introduce myself, my name is Xdconfdsgnasdg, I'm the Administrator of this world, and I have a proposition for you. You could say, it's a job offer."
Let me guess, Zoli thought, a young and dynamic team, diverse and creative work, competitive salary, a pleasant atmosphere, and non-salary benefits. Dude, the HR department is working for me! Of course, the company is all of that!
However, he didn't voice his agreement, just nodded. Managers in higher positions don't like if lower managers contribute to the background noise. The alien (or precisely, Mr. Xdconfdsgnasdg) was clearly very high on the corporate ladder, so the noise was superfluous.
“You see, I have a bit of a problem. I want to have the biggest and grandest dungeon in all the multiverses, so I asked the daughter of a friend to help me out. See, little Sandy is working for the Afterlife Administration Bureau, and although she is very enthusiastic, her competence is… let’s say, not on the same level.”
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Zoli didn't really understand, why someone wanted the biggest and grandest prison in existence, but hey, every CEO had his hobbies. Collecting cars, having a large yacht, or doing other, not-so-legal stuff. Having a really big prison when you have a whole planet was just run-of-the-mill.
“See, I had this idea about an open-air dungeon in its own pocket dimension, so I asked her for the soul of an environmental engineer. The little shit I received was an engineer, yes – a communication engineer, whatever that is – but an environmental activist.”
Zoli was a bit confused. An open-air prison was another name for a prison camp, and why would someone need an environmental engineer for it, and not, say construction or a security one? But yes, getting an activist was never good. You had to dig deep and collect a lot of discriminating evidence to fire one, they gave bad press when fired.
“I spared no expense! Gave her cheat powers, unlimited access to all of my monster species, even resurrected some extinct ones, bought a few others, and what did she do with all those?"
Zoli still didn't understand. And was understanding less with every new sentence. Why would a prison camp need monsters? As guards, maybe? But if the camp was in its own dimension, why need guards in the first place? Something was fishy, or the honored CEO was batshit crazy. However, as long the job was well paid, the honored CEO was not crazy, but eccentric.
“SHE MADE MY DUNGEON INTO A WILDLIFE PRESERVE!!!" The honored planet-CEO was shouting at this point.
Yes, that was bad. Delivering a wildlife preserve instead of a prison camp was really bad. One could green-wash a lot of things, but that was only after the original contract was fulfilled, and after the press started making waves because of… reasons. Zoli wouldn't need to make his underlings dig anymore, such a flagrant breach of contract would warrant immediate termination. That's why you never hire activists, Zoli nodded.
“See? Even you agree! She even made a visitors center with slogans about protecting the environment, educational boards for the different species, and an endless propaganda speech from the loudspeaker telling how bad is to kill animals and plants!"
“With THAT I would have no real problem, disinformation in a dungeon is a good thing. The guided tours were questionable but maybe could have worked. BUT! The bitch made every monster unkillable, and even if one picked a pretty flower, the whole dungeon, including the guides, descended onto the perpetrator with extreme prejudice. No loot, certain death, and complete unfairness is not a way, how a dungeon works!"
Zoli started to question, the alien was talking about a prison. Obviously, it wasn't a problem that the chick built a park, but that it wasn't fair and killed folks too fast? If Zoli had even a little bit of RPG- or gaming experience, he would have realized it earlier: the dungeon in question was not the variety with small cells and an over-abundance of chains and torture, but the getting rich fast in exchange for mortal danger one.
But Zoli had no such experience.
“She refused to open it to the general public! What good is a dungeon, even her shitty, worthless one, if it's not open! She talked about the rights of animals and trees and pretty flowers! Refused to work according to the rules! Talked about how cruel and unsafe it would be! Refused to at least give out loot! Said, it would encourage animal abuse! That was the point, I created a Hell for my world, and put her into it as sole occupant!”
“So, I have now a not-working dungeon I have spared no expense to create and no one to run said dungeon. This is where you come in, dear mortal Human."
Alarm bells were going off inside Zoli's head. Would he be hired to recondition a wildlife preserve-prison camp into a fair killing ground and then run it?
“I posted a new application to Sandy and the AAB for someone with the ruthlessness and the knowledge to run my dungeon, and make it into the biggest and grandest dungeon in all the multiverses! You were the first applicant I got. According to your file, you made the life of a lot of people a living hell, terminated a lot of others yourself, and been a committed, medium-ranked slave-driver for your overlords! That's perfect!"
Zoli would have used more politically correct terms, but the file was obviously correct. He was a medium-ranked manager in the company, and kept the interests of said company as his priority, even if the wage slaves couldn't see the bigger picture and just complained. And yes, he had fired a lot of people for not working diligently enough and making mistakes that cost the company money, that could have been spent on further benefits for managers and the CEO.
“See this offer as a potential for a very long lasting, but easy and fulfilling job. You could meet a lot of people, albeit briefly, and could use all your talents from your last life! By long term I mean as long you don't retire or are fired – potentially HUNDREDS of years! THOUSANDS! That is what I call job security! Wouldn't you agree?"
“Or fired” was a flag for someone, who made a living of firing people. He needed to see the contract before he agreed to anything. And find out, what the job would include. But, if the pay was good, he could probably bullshit his way through, as he did previously.
“Honored Stockholder, Sir, could you please elaborate on the contract, the job description, and the benefits?"