There wasn’t much else to do on the first floor of his new dungeon. Riven had done everything required of a fledgling dungeon master preparing their domain for the realm’s beasts and, inevitably, for the adventurers who would come seeking fame and fortune.
He’d staged traps with a mix of crude and clever placements, introduced horrific monsters into the dark corners of the corridors, and even gone so far as to raise the undead, giving them new purpose in the shadowed halls.
But as he surveyed his handiwork, a nagging doubt crept into his mind.
‘Would it be enough?’
He grimaced, eyes drifting over the lowly skeletons and goblins skulking in the shadows, ready to ambush intruders. They were hardly formidable—mostly weak, skeletal creatures and scrappy goblins with rusted weapons and wild eyes that gleamed with malicious intent, but little else.
In his heart, he knew these creatures wouldn’t stand a chance against any seasoned adventurers. “Hm. These low-level creatures are kind of weak,” he muttered, a hint of disappointment coloring his voice.
Of course, he knew that humans had a way to detect the strength of a dungeon before they entered it, using magic or some other strange sensing ability to gauge the danger level. It was one of the reasons stronger adventurers tended to avoid weaker dungeons—they wouldn’t waste their time or resources if there weren’t rewards worthy of their efforts. According to Rule 4 of the Dungeon Master’s Guidebook, Riven himself was strictly forbidden from interfering directly with humans outside his designated floor, which meant he was trapped in his management chamber, forced to rely on his carefully chosen minions and traps to deter any intruders. All he could do was wait on the top floor and act as a final line of defense, ensuring that no filthy human got close to the precious mana reserves stored within.
He shook his head in irritation. As a result of that rule, the dungeon generally attracted adventurers at or just below its overall strength level. Higher-level humans wouldn’t be drawn here until the dungeon grew stronger and more enticing; for now, the weaker adventurers would come in droves, eager to plunder what little treasure they could find. There just wasn’t enough reward here yet to satisfy the greedier, more powerful humans.
He sighed.
‘If only I had more mana’, he thought, glancing at the tablet clutched in his hand.
More mana would mean more floors, stronger creatures, better defenses—but for now, he’d have to work with what he had.
Having completed his setup for the first floor, Riven returned to the portal that led to his personal suite—the management floor where he could oversee and adjust his dungeon’s workings. Tapping the screen of the Dungeon Management Menu tablet, he watched as the symbols shifted to display the current statistics.
Dungeon Management Menu
[Dungeon: Riven’s Dungeon]
[Floors: 2]
[Daily Upkeep: 157 MP]
[Available Mana: 282 MP]
[Time Before Collapse: 1 Day, 19 Hours]
[Start Next Day]
‘Humans are dull creatures,’ he thought, his brow furrowing.
They were predictable in their greed, in their short-sighted drive to collect trinkets and treasure, no matter the cost. He hovered his finger over the [Start Next Day] button, mentally steeling himself for the onslaught of pests that would soon infest the first floor.
He could already imagine the footsteps, the voices echoing through his new floor, eager and careless, ignorant of the dangers lying in wait.
But just as he prepared to activate the dungeon for the day’s harvest, a thought hit him like a jolt of lightning.
“Greedy! I almost forgot their rewards!” he shouted, the realization filling him with frustration.
In his eagerness to set up defenses and traps, he’d neglected one of the most basic lures a dungeon could offer: treasure. Humans weren’t just driven by the thrill of danger—they needed rewards, something shiny or valuable to make them feel their risk was worth taking.
It was basic dungeon design, something Sorvax had always emphasized. Without treasure, the adventurers would lose interest fast, and they’d leave before his creatures even had a chance to sink their claws into them.
Riven cursed under his breath, realizing he’d almost missed a key component of dungeon design—a critical piece that Sorvax had hammered into him over and over. Balance. A dungeon wasn’t just a death trap. It was a carefully orchestrated ecosystem, one that drew humans in with the promise of reward, only to ensnare them in its deadly clutches. Without that balance, the entire structure would fail.
‘Gah! My memory is just so awful!’ he scolded himself, rubbing his temple in frustration.
This was the second time today he’d nearly forgotten one of Sorvax’s foundational lessons. As a dungeon master, it was his duty to maintain a flow—a give-and-take with the humans who entered his domain.
If he just took mana without giving anything back, the humans would lose interest. And, in their short-sighted greed, they’d ignore the dungeon altogether, depriving him of the mana he needed to survive.
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‘I’m not greedy myself!’ he thought defensively.
He had no desire to hoard every scrap of mana without offering a little something in return. He simply needed to redistribute some of the mana he gained from adventurers back to them in the form of rewards. It was only fair, really. They did, after all, serve a purpose—unwittingly, of course, but he could at least pretend to be a generous host. Besides, Sorvax had always said that well-placed rewards kept the humans coming back, eager for more.
“It wouldn’t be right just to take and take and take,” he muttered to himself, nodding in self-righteous agreement. “They deserve something for their… service.”
With renewed focus, Riven navigated through the Dungeon Management Menu on his tablet, flipping to the tab that displayed the dungeon’s floors. He selected the First Floor, where his skeletons and goblins were stationed, reviewing the setup with an appraising eye.
[Floor 1]
[Daily Upkeep: 155 MP]
[Rewards: 0/1,000,000 MP]
[Creatures]
→ [Level 1 Skeleton]
→ [Level 1 Goblin]
[Traps]
→ [Pitfall]
→ [Swinging Axe]
→ [Darts]
Riven’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction as he examined the menu, feeling a surge of pride in this new system he was beginning to master. The tablet was far more powerful than he’d ever been allowed to see as an apprentice.
Sorvax had always been possessive of it, shielding its functions from Riven’s curious gaze. Any time Riven had managed to sneak a peek, Sorvax would appear over his shoulder, glaring down at him with a mixture of suspicion and annoyance.
The old demon had made it clear that Riven was not to touch the tablet unless supervised.
“You’ll break something, boy,” Sorvax would say, his voice dripping with disdain. “Or worse, you’ll mismanage the mana and bring this whole place down on our heads.”
He’d hover close, casting protective spells over the device as if even a single errant glance from Riven would unravel all his carefully laid plans.
Riven snorted, feeling a mix of irritation and nostalgia.
‘Bah. He was just being himself,’ he thought dismissively, shrugging. ‘He had reason to be defensive of what he built, after all.’
Even so, it felt oddly freeing to finally have control over the tablet, to explore its options without Sorvax’s looming presence. This dungeon was his now, and he would run it his own way.
He selected the remaining mana he had available after the day’s upkeep and allocated it as rewards for the first floor, depositing 125 MP—Mana Points—into the Rewards section.
“That should be enough to satiate their grubby hands,” he muttered with a smirk.
The tablet’s display flickered for a moment, and he felt the faintest hum of magic ripple through the floor as the mana dispersed.
In the shadows and crevices of the floor, the mana would naturally coalesce into simple rewards—low-tier equipment, dull mana crystals, and crude trinkets. They’d appear in random areas, tucked behind fallen stones, hidden in crevices, or even guarded by his skeletons and goblins. Nothing particularly valuable, of course, but enough to keep the humans intrigued and pressing forward.
He watched as small, faintly glowing icons appeared on the map of the first floor, indicating where the mana was forming into treasures. A minor healing potion here, a few scattered copper coins there, and the occasional low-grade mana crystal—the sort of things that would catch a human’s eye without causing too much damage to his mana reserves.
Of course, compared to Sorvax’s dungeon, these rewards were meager. He remembered wandering the halls of his master’s domain, marveling at the enchanted weapons, shining mana crystals, and ancient artifacts that lined the floors, tempting adventurers to risk their lives for a single scrap of treasure. Sorvax’s dungeon had been a complex operation, a fully developed dungeon with an upkeep of over 100,000 MP per day. His mana reserves were so vast that he could afford to scatter powerful items across multiple floors, luring the humans deeper and deeper into the abyss.
Riven, by comparison, was running a shoestring operation. His little dungeon, humble and new, only required about 150 MP per day. A far cry from the vast reserves his master had commanded. He could barely afford to create a few weak creatures and a handful of cheap trinkets. It was a small beginning, but it was his beginning.
He stood back, gazing at the dimly lit corridors of the first floor through the tablet’s display, feeling a surge of pride despite the dungeon’s modesty.
This place, sparse as it was, was the foundation of what he hoped would one day rival even Sorvax’s great achievements. And if he played his cards right, if he lured in enough adventurers, he could start amassing the mana needed to expand—to grow the dungeon floor by floor, trap by trap, creature by creature.
“Yes… this will do for now.” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
The mana he’d allocated was enough for now. Not much, true, but enough to give the adventurers a taste of what they craved. And if he managed to entice them with a little glimmer here and there, they’d keep coming back, eager to see what lay just out of reach. The trick was in giving them hope, just enough to keep them climbing, keep them risking their lives in pursuit of the next reward.
As he reviewed the screen, satisfied with his preparations, a memory of Sorvax’s voice echoed in his mind: “A dungeon is like a net, Riven. A well-crafted dungeon will let most get away… so they’ll tell others. But if you make it too easy, they’ll see through the illusion.”
Riven nodded to himself, feeling a swell of determination. Sorvax might be gone, but his teachings lived on. His legacy would be honored—and, if Riven had anything to say about it, lived up to.
With one last look at the stats on the tablet, he moved his finger back over the [Start Next Day] button, ready to activate his dungeon for the first official day of adventurers. He felt a thrill of anticipation, his heart pounding as he braced himself for the inevitable chaos.
Let them come, he thought. His traps were ready, his creatures were waiting, and now, at last, there was treasure to be found. He’d made the dungeon inviting, just enticing enough to lure them in, to give them that glimmer of hope before he shattered it.
And if he was lucky, they’d be bringing him plenty of mana in return.
With a final, resolute tap, Riven pressed the [Start Next Day] button. The tablet emitted a faint hum, the symbols glowing brighter for a moment before the screen settled, displaying the dungeon's status as "Active." He took a step back, feeling a ripple of energy pulse through the stone around him, like the entire dungeon was taking a deep, eager breath, waiting for its first prey.
Within moments, tiny red dots began to appear on the screen—each one marking the arrival of an intruder, a human, stepping into his dungeon. The sight of them filled him with a mixture of anticipation and disgust.
"Barbarians..." he muttered, wrinkling his nose as he watched the dots cluster near the entrance, each one flickering with a faint pulse.
"I mean... humans!" he corrected himself with a sneer, though he couldn’t entirely keep the surprise at his outburst from his tone.
The tablet displayed a rough layout of the first floor, with red dots representing each of the humans as they entered and began to spread out, exploring the dim corridors and shadowy chambers. Riven could almost picture them—their primitive wide eyes taking in the eerie darkness, their weak hands gripping weapons just a bit too tightly, their loud steps hesitant but driven by greed and curiosity.