Hasil gathered everyone in front of the cave. Despite his wish, Stor refused to go anywhere near the cave, much less go with them. He was in the distance, watching them from afar. Hasil forced his agitation to stop, there was no reason to push the poor man so hard.

What they needed was for this cave to be a dungeon or ruin; some place of magic and power. They then needed to show that they were valuable for extraction of the dungeon’s wealth and resources. When the noble family that has claim over this land is notified of this dungeon, he will send their own people to examine and test it. He needed to prove that this village was valuable enough to keep.

That was the only way for the village to survive. If his plan went correctly, then this cave could be their wagon to salvation. He had no hope that they would stay here, if this was a dungeon he wanted to be as far away from it as possible. The connections brought by the trade of resources, however, would allow them to make allies and partners. Slowly, over years, they would find new homes and leave this place behind.

‘That was a sad thought,’ he thought to himself, hiding the slight moisture collecting in the corners of his eyes. This place was home to him, home that his blood and soul cried for during his time as an soldier. The idea that his descendants and family will soon leave and forget this place brought him no small amount of sorrow.

‘Young Hasil, remember this. Shit happens in life. Things will happen and things will change. Don’t try to fight it. You don’t have the strength or coins needed to fight change. Even with the godly luck you have, luck is a flighty mistress. Learn to read the situation and adapt.’

The words of one of his old instructors from the military echoed in his ears. The man was old at the time, rambling whenever he was drunk and he was always drunk. The only thing he could do well was use a spear or pike, no amount of booze or ale could rust the skills that man carved into his bones. Occasionally, he said some profound things like those words, but he guessed he shouldn’t be surprised that a few words from that old man’s ramblings became somewhat prophetic.

Hasil grimaced as his thoughts changed. Simply sending a letter with his subpar writing to the noble family was a good way to get himself executed. Moreover, dungeons were more or less an open secret. Knowing about dungeons wasn’t uncommon, telling a nobleman about a dungeon this random village in nowhere found sounded suspicious. A letter saying that a village found a dungeon, even if that claim turned out to be true, would not end well for them.

There was a benefit of being a rural and isolated village though, there were no expectations of intelligence or knowledge. He was the only one in this village that knew what dungeons were, at least what a few of them looked like. The rest only know them from stories, the fictitious castles buried by gods or tombs of ancient, evil wizards. None of them would think that a boring, dangerous cave like this was an actual dungeon.

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This branding as country bumpkins had caused a lot of headaches in the past, but now it was their biggest strength. Hopefully this was a strength. He was taking a big gamble, he hoped that he hadn’t spent the rest of his godly luck yet. His plan needed to work smoothly, if something big happened then he wouldn’t know what to do.

After today, could he live with himself? He didn’t know, this wouldn’t be the first time he had led men he trusted and loved to their deaths. This, however, was his village, his family. This would be the first time he killed people that he considered family. Could he sleep at night knowing what he did, and take it to the grave?

For the hundredth time that day, he tried thinking of a better path. Like every time before, there wasn’t anything. The village had no friendships and prospects. He was the only one with a strong connection, in fact most of the village’s clients went through him. He could probably save himself and his family, but there was no way he could save everyone else.

If they were lucky, they would be worked to the bone and given enough food to survive. Refugees rarely survived, something he saw first hand from the war. The replies back from friends hadn’t arrived yet, and they probably wouldn’t arrive for a long time. The village could take a chance, but the reason Hasil had godly luck was because he didn’t gamble.

That means that he had to assume the most probable situation. That meant that his horrible plan was the only plan. He breathed in then out. There were already a mountain of sins he carried around, so what was a few more.

“Get ready, we are going to explore this strange cave!” he shouted as he steeled his resolve.

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The bits of meat he had around the entrance was a strategy from the game. There was no straightforward or direct way to get insects into an ecosystem, at least the kind of insects he wanted. Hive insects like ants or bees or wasps were the sort of insects that any good dungeon needed; their hives were a great way to create and maintain structures.

Flies and the other insects had their uses, but he needed hives. He spent much more money than he liked dominating insects and scanning them to learn about their species. The dominating spell worked with only one casting, but a single casting cost one soul point. Spending a soul point to control an insect was a waste, he should’ve been able to dominate multiple insects for one soul point.

Another thing was mushrooms. Mushrooms were important, and plants. It was possible to create organisms from scratch, with an example being dungeon grass, but that came at the cost of price. Dungeon grass was only cheap because it was near useless. Upgrading it to do anything was pricey, far more pricey than modifying a normal plant.

In other words, creating a creature or organism from scratch was a last resort. The way to get plants from the game was either through plant creature hybrids or from seeds that adventurers brought with them. He used a glitch to get a lot of grain seeds and had fun experimenting, such a shame that glitch was impossible.

Mushrooms could be created from mold though that was expensive. He believed that mushrooms could grow on caracasses, right? Another way was creating a forest within the dungeon then placing dead trees close to the entrance. Or turning the topmost floor into a forest.

As he reminisced, his dungeon fairy appeared and warned him that people, humans, were gathering just outside of the dungeon entrance. He prepared to welcome his guests.