Riven still wasn’t sure how he wanted to go about creating the second floor. He stood in the heart of his management chamber, staring at the glowing tablet in his hand, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities and half-formed plans.
Designing this floor was more than just arranging stone corridors and placing monsters—it was crafting an experience, something that would lure humans in, keep them guessing, keep them afraid, and, most importantly, keep them bleeding out precious mana into his dungeon.
The problem was, he didn’t even know how he wanted to structure the dungeon as a whole yet. There was a balance to maintain, a delicate art he had only begun to master. The first floor had been a success, true, but he couldn’t rely on the same tricks forever. He needed variety, a rhythm to the floors that would surprise and unsettle the adventurers. Something to keep them on their toes, guessing what horrors lay around each corner.
But he could at least try to envision it. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift through possibilities, testing different ideas. Obviously, he wouldn’t have a boss room on every floor. That was inefficient, especially with the meager mana reserves he had right now.
Bosses consumed an absurd amount of energy to maintain, and worse, they were a gamble—if too many adventurers managed to defeat them, his investment wouldn’t pay off. No, only established dungeons, like Sorvax’s, could afford to throw out a boss encounter on every floor.
Still, doing the same type of floor over and over again wouldn’t work either. Adventurers would grow bored, complacent. They’d figure out the patterns of his creatures, develop tactics to avoid the traps, and his dungeon would become a routine stop rather than a place of mystery and dread.
Riven scowled at the thought.
Routine was death to a dungeon. Humans might be dull, greedy creatures, but even they craved novelty. A monotonous dungeon would eventually lose its appeal, and without adventurers pouring in, his mana flow would dwindle to nothing.
“No, no… that won’t do at all,” he muttered, frowning as he paced across the cool stone floor of his chamber.
He could almost hear Sorvax’s voice in his head, the old dungeon master sneering at his hesitation. Sorvax would have had no patience for second-guessing or hand-wringing; he would have expected Riven to act swiftly, decisively.
Thinking back to his old mentor’s dungeon, Riven remembered the variety of floors that Sorvax had employed to keep adventurers guessing—and dying. Some were dense with vicious, mindless beasts that overwhelmed adventurers through sheer numbers.
Others were sparsely populated but held powerful, elite creatures, designed to weed out those who thought themselves skilled enough to survive the dungeon’s early stages. And then there were the mixed floors, teeming with both cannon fodder and elite killers, the weaker creatures luring adventurers into deadly ambushes laid by the stronger ones.
It had been a brilliant strategy, one that created an ebb and flow of tension and danger that even the most seasoned adventurers struggled to navigate.
But Sorvax’s true masterstroke, Riven remembered with admiration, was his use of boss rooms as a deadly filter. Those rooms acted as both a challenge and a gate, barring weaker adventurers from advancing too far into the dungeon. Sorvax’s thirteen bosses had been legendary, each one an insurmountable barrier to all but the most powerful humans.
Riven still remembered the rumors of adventurers who’d survived Sorvax’s floors only to meet their end at the hands of those merciless guardians. It was an effective system, one that filtered out the weak and filled Sorvax’s mana reserves with the terror and desperation of those who’d dared to face the bosses.
But Sorvax’s dungeon had also featured utility floors, and Riven was beginning to see their value. A well-designed dungeon couldn’t rely solely on brute force and constant combat. Some floors served a different purpose, offering respite or mental challenges that allowed adventurers to catch their breath, only to lull them into a false sense of security before the next ordeal.
He remembered the first time he’d seen a safe zone floor in Sorvax’s dungeon—a cavern lit by soft, phosphorescent moss, free of traps and monsters, where adventurers could rest without fear.
Riven had thought it absurd at first. Why give the humans a place to recover? But Sorvax had explained that a rested, confident adventurer was one who would linger longer, taking more risks and, ultimately, generating more mana for the dungeon.
“Ah… what a design,” Riven murmured, admiration softening his voice. He could see it clearly now: the careful balance, the rhythm of terror and relief, building his dungeon like a symphony of fear.
And then there were puzzle floors, an altogether different kind of test. These floors didn’t kill adventurers outright, but they slowed them down, forced them to use their wits. Riven knew that humans often overestimated their intelligence; they’d barrel into a puzzle room with misplaced confidence, only to end up stumped, frustrated, or, in rare cases, dead.
Puzzle floors might seem benign compared to monster-infested chambers, but they served a purpose, sifting out the particularly reckless and dim-witted. Those types were dangerous, Riven knew—more prone to getting themselves killed too quickly, which would discourage other adventurers from venturing into his dungeon.
“All humans are stupid by demon standards…” he muttered, a smirk twisting his lips. “But the truly dull ones are a menace.” He’d seen it firsthand, under Sorvax’s tutelage, watching adventurers stumble through puzzle rooms only to meet their end in the simplest ways—falling into hidden pits, drinking from poison-filled vials, triggering obvious traps. As amusing as it was, he couldn’t afford too many early deaths. If the humans stopped coming, his dungeon would wither.
Still, the memory brought a bemused smile to his face. “Morons,” he muttered, shaking his head.
But an idea was taking shape in his mind now, growing clearer with each passing moment. He remembered how close the adventurers had come to reaching his quarters on the first day, how they’d blundered through his first floor and nearly breached his defenses.
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That was unacceptable. The thought of humans stumbling upon his management chamber sent a chill down his spine. The first floor had been too simple, too open. He’d need to create a stronger barrier between himself and the entrance.
Yes. That would be the purpose of the second floor. Another gauntlet of monsters, more powerful than the ones on the first floor. He’d make this floor denser, more challenging, to discourage any casual adventurers from pushing too far. It wouldn’t be as brutal as a boss room, but it would wear them down, drain their stamina and resources, making it harder to advance. With each step they took, they’d feel the dungeon pressing down on them, testing them, reminding them of the dangers that lurked below.
A grin spread across his face as the plan solidified. He’d populate this floor with creatures a touch stronger than the ones above, a progression that would keep adventurers on edge, unsure of what awaited them with each step. Maybe he’d add some larger creatures—brutes that would require teamwork to bring down. Or he could scatter stealthy predators that would ambush unwary travelers, forcing them to stay alert, to waste precious energy on constant vigilance.
“Yes… that should do nicely,” he murmured, already envisioning the new layout.
This floor would be a test of strength, a gauntlet that would weed out the careless and unprepared. And those who survived it? Well, they’d be just a bit more likely to rest on a safe zone floor, confident in their progress—just as Sorvax had designed.
It was only natural, Riven thought, that he should place another floor teeming with monsters between himself and the dungeon’s entrance. He’d let those meddling humans get too close before—close enough to make him uneasy, even with Darnel standing guard.
The thought of anyone breaching his inner sanctum, stumbling into his management floor, was unacceptable, especially now. His dungeon wasn’t meant to be a leisurely stroll through a cave; it was supposed to be a deadly gauntlet, a place of growing dread that would wear down even the most persistent intruders.
‘Yes, a second floor was precisely what he needed,’ He thought, ‘Something a bit tougher than the first, with monsters more capable of putting up a fight.’
Adventurers who’d found their way through the first floor would need to think twice before pressing on—especially once they realized they weren’t dealing with the same level of threats.
Riven opened the Dungeon Management Menu and navigated to the floor view. The greyed-out icon for the second floor waited there, ready to be unlocked. He selected it and studied the cost:
[Unlock: 1750 MP]
[Upkeep: +200 MP]
He felt a pang of hesitation. Unlocking this floor would cut into his mana reserves considerably, and the added upkeep would be an ongoing expense. But the thought of more distance, more obstacles between himself and those nosy adventurers, pushed him onward.
A worthwhile investment, he assured himself.
He clicked the unlock button, and the entire dungeon gave a faint tremor. The stone beneath his feet shuddered as a brand-new, empty floor forced itself into existence between the management floor and the first level.
Riven already felt safer.
This second floor meant that adventurers, even if they managed to map out the first floor, would take longer to reach the next portal. Time and energy would be on his side; with each additional step they took, they’d be that much closer to exhaustion, that much less capable of breaching his defenses. And the stronger creatures he intended to place on this floor would ensure that only the worthy—or the exceptionally lucky—could advance.
He navigated through the shadowed halls of his management floor, passing by Darnel, who gave him a curious glance as he moved toward the portal. Ignoring the kobold, Riven stepped through the portal and entered the newly created second floor. The air here was stale and empty, a blank slate waiting to be filled with death and danger.
Opening the Dungeon Management Menu again, he examined the details for the new floor.
[Floor 2]
[Daily Upkeep: 200 MP]
[Rewards: 0/1,000,000 MP]
A small smile crept onto his face. Now, it was time to populate this barren floor, to introduce a few creatures to their new home.
He checked his remaining mana balance—882 MP. It wasn’t much, especially considering all he wanted to accomplish here. Got to work with what you have, he thought, feeling a flicker of disappointment. It would be a sparse beginning, but he could build on it over time. Right now, he just needed enough to discourage the average adventurer, to make them hesitate before pushing further.
He selected creatures from the shop tab, choosing the same basic monsters he’d used on the first floor: skeletons and goblins. They were simple, yes, but they had served him well so far. He watched as the monsters materialized in the dim air around him, one after another, a small army taking shape before his eyes. Skeletal warriors, their bones creaking with newfound life, stood next to goblins who glanced around eagerly, awaiting orders. They all turned to look at him, eyes—or, in the skeletons’ case, empty sockets—fixed on him expectantly.
Riven spent 350 MP to upgrade them all to Level 2. Immediately, he saw the changes take hold. The skeletons’ bones grew denser, thicker, their forms more stable and resilient. The goblins, meanwhile, straightened up, their muscles taut with new strength, their eyes sharper and more alert. They would be faster, deadlier, more troublesome for anyone who dared to set foot on this floor.
“Excellent,” Riven murmured, pleased with the transformation. He looked over his assembled minions with satisfaction. “Yes! You guys are great! Go—fill the dungeon.”
At his command, the creatures turned and shuffled off, disappearing down the winding stone corridors, spreading out to take their positions. Soon, they’d be hiding in the nooks and crannies of the floor, ready to ambush any adventurers who dared to come their way.
Just as he was about to turn back, something struck him—a moment of alarm. Rewards! he realized. He’d almost forgotten to set out loot, the very bait that would lure humans deeper into his domain. Without rewards, they’d have no reason to push forward, and his dungeon’s reputation would suffer. It was a delicate balance: the rewards had to be tempting, but not so rich that adventurers felt they could turn a profit too easily.
He checked his mana reserves again. With only 532 MP left, he’d have to be careful. There was barely enough for anything elaborate, and he still needed to save some mana as a buffer for emergencies—a lesson he’d learned after his last near-disastrous encounter. Or in case more humans try to steal from me, he thought, a sour expression flickering across his face. The memory of those two adventurers robbing him of his hard-earned mana still grated at him.
“But that won’t happen again,” he muttered under his breath, trying to reassure himself. “I’ve done everything right this time.”
Traps would have to wait for now. He had to prioritize his resources. The Level 2 monsters would be a sufficient deterrent on their own, at least for any ordinary adventurers. A band of low-level barbarians wouldn’t stand a chance against these upgraded skeletons and goblins. He allowed himself a small grin, feeling a flicker of pride. Yes, this floor was shaping up nicely.
He allocated 300 MP to the loot on this floor, selecting a few mana crystals and low-tier enchanted items that would be just enticing enough to keep adventurers pushing forward, yet not so valuable that they’d waltz off with a fortune. The crystals and trinkets would act as breadcrumbs, luring them deeper and deeper until they found themselves entangled in his web.
Satisfied, he turned back toward the portal, retracing his steps through the empty halls. The air felt colder, charged with a faint, prickling energy that hadn’t been there before. The second floor was no longer an empty stone shell—it was becoming a true part of his dungeon, infused with his intent, his malice. Riven felt safer knowing this new layer of protection lay between him and the outside world.
Back on his management floor, Riven opened the Dungeon Management Menu once more, his finger hovering over the screen. He had one final task to complete. Taking a deep breath, he selected the Start Next Floor button.