Riven stormed into the main chamber of the management floor, seething with frustration. Above his throne, a glowing display of numbers ticked down—the timer counting the remaining time until the end of the day’s “harvest.” His eyes locked onto the display.
[1 Hour, 22 Minutes, 42 Seconds]
“Gah! So close to the day ending, and some lucky humans managed to find the portal!” he snarled, clenching his fists. He’d nearly made it through his first full day without any intrusions on his floor, nearly achieved a flawless harvest. But no—those insufferable creatures had found a way to ruin everything at the last possible moment.
If they’d been just a little slower, he could have claimed this as his first successful day. But now he’d have to make fundamental changes to the dungeon’s structure, maybe even relocate the portal, if he didn’t have enough mana to construct a second, more fortified floor. The thought made him grind his teeth. Moving the portal was no simple task, and it would cost him valuable resources he barely had.
He paced over to the row of wooden crates in the corner, the ones that held the crystallized mana harvested by the dungeon’s traps, creatures, and environmental energy. He’d been hoping to find at least a decent stockpile there to soften the blow of today’s setbacks.
But as he looked down into each crate, his stomach twisted. Four of them remained depressingly empty, while the fifth—
“It’s almost empty!” Riven spat, his expression twisting into one of disgust. “What even is this? There are only, what… fourteen crystals left?” His stomach churned with anger and disappointment. “What a greedy, despicable species.”
He could hardly believe it. His last count had been twenty-three mana crystals—a small amount, but respectable enough for a single day’s operation on a single floor. By the time those vile thieves had barged in and bypassed him, he’d expected a bit more to have accumulated. But instead, they’d left him with a paltry handful, barely enough to sustain the dungeon, let alone fund a second floor.
The thought of his hard-earned mana being tainted by human hands made him feel almost ill. He looked down at the crystals in the crate, each one pulsing weakly, and his expression softened to something close to sorrow.
Is this even enough to form the second floor? he thought, despair creeping into his mind.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, and glanced back down at the tablet. The screen displayed the dungeon’s map, marking the remaining locations of the adventurers who still lingered on the first floor. The map looked much barer than it had at the start of the day, with loot points disappearing one by one as humans greedily stuffed their pockets and slipped out of the dungeon.
At least that’s to be expected, he thought, a bit sourly. The mana cost of creating loot was negligible compared to the mana he gained from adventurers, but seeing those red dots inching out of his dungeon with handfuls of his precious resources still stung.
What really caught his eye, though, was the location of a particular pair of red dots—two figures hovering near the path to the portal, following a path that led back toward the entrance. His blood ran cold.
‘They’ve mapped the path to the portal’, he thought, dread settling heavily in his gut. ‘Those clever, annoying creatures.’
They weren’t moving directly toward his floor anymore, which was a relief. But if they’d memorized the route to the portal, it meant one thing and one thing only: humans now knew the way to his floor. The knowledge would spread, as it always did, passed along in whispers among adventurers eager to gain an edge. It wouldn’t be long before more humans came in groups, armed with maps and intent on reaching him directly.
“I’m… failing…” he whispered, his voice barely audible, laced with an uncharacteristic sorrow.
He could almost feel Sorvax’s scowl from the afterlife. He imagined his teacher looming over him, arms crossed, his eyes filled with the same scorn he’d shown when Riven had bungled some task as an apprentice.
Sorvax hadn’t just been an intimidating presence—he’d been a towering figure of accomplishment, a dungeon master who had held his floor unbreached for decades. Riven could feel the weight of that legacy pressing down on him now, suffocating in its intensity.
“What do I do, Sorvax?” he asked, his voice small and desperate. “How did you do this? How did you keep those pesky creatures with their vile tricks from bypassing you?”
But the room remained silent. The dungeon around him felt still, almost disapproving, as if even the walls were judging his failure. He bit his lip, clenching his fists so tightly that his claws dug into his palms.
‘Still won’t respond’, he thought miserably, almost as if Sorvax’s spirit had any reason to answer him.
‘Maybe he’s disappointed in me’, he mused, a knot of shame twisting in his stomach.
It was ridiculous, of course. He’d done his best, hadn’t he? But no amount of effort seemed like enough to match Sorvax’s prowess, and Riven couldn’t shake the feeling that his teacher would be watching, scowling at him from wherever he was now.
With a heavy sigh, Riven looked back down at the tablet. Most of the remaining humans were slowly making their way out, trickling toward the entrance. The worst was over; no one else seemed to be heading for the portal, and he would likely have a reprieve once the dungeon closed for the day. But the fact that his first day had ended with adventurers breaching his defenses still gnawed at him.
“Gah! My first day is a failure!” he burst out, his voice echoing through the empty chamber.
He opened the Dungeon Management Menu and glanced at the day’s final mana tally, his fingers tapping the edge of the tablet nervously.
Dungeon Management Menu
[Dungeon: Riven’s Dungeon]
[Floors: 2]
[Daily Upkeep: 157 MP]
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[Available Mana: 1,305 MP]
[Time Before Collapse: 8 Days]
[Refill Loot Cost: 95 MP]
His available mana was a dismal 1,305 MP—barely a fraction of what he needed to create a fully functional second floor. It was technically enough to start laying the foundation, perhaps enough to set up some simple traps and summon a few creatures, but not nearly sufficient to build a floor that would stand as a true deterrent to those blasted adventurers.
“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself, feeling the weight of failure settle over him like a dark cloud.
He’d had grand plans, visions of a dungeon filled with deadly traps, high-level creatures, and a maze so complex that only the cleverest—and most lucky—humans would even come close to escaping.
Instead, he’d barely managed to scrape together enough resources to maintain a weak first floor for a week. He couldn’t even keep humans away from his personal chamber.
He took a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes. This wasn’t the end. He was still new to this, and his dungeon was barely a day old. Sorvax hadn’t built his legendary dungeon in a single day, either.
‘Step by step’, he told himself, forcing his mind to focus. He could salvage this… if he learned from today’s mistakes.
Riven huffed, crossing his arms with a mix of frustration and resignation.
‘Well… at least I have enough to bolster some security around here,’ he thought, trying to find a silver lining.
The day hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, but with 1,000 mana points left, he could still improve the dungeon’s defenses. It wouldn’t be anything spectacular, but it would at least diminish the chance of those pesky adventurers—the ones who’d now mapped the path to his floor—from finding their way back too easily. He’d make it just difficult enough that only the most stubborn would bother.
As the final seconds of the day’s countdown ticked away, he felt a faint tremor pass through the dungeon, a sign that the portal to the outside world was closing, destabilizing as it always did at the end of each day. Glancing at the tablet map, he confirmed that all the red dots—those irritating little symbols for humans—were gone, meaning that everyone had exited the dungeon safely.
He sighed, a bit disappointed. Not a single human died. He’d been hoping for at least one unfortunate soul to fall prey to a trap or creature, just enough to start a respectable mana pool and maybe leave a little warning for future adventurers. But his monsters on the first floor were simply too weak, barely more than nuisances for even the most inexperienced humans.
‘Yet… it isn’t exactly surprising,’ he admitted to himself.
After all, low-level monsters on the first floor served a different purpose. Weak creatures acted as bait, drawing humans in, making them feel confident, luring them deeper. It was a classic design philosophy—let the lower floors be simple and easy to navigate, then ramp up the difficulty as humans climbed higher.
The more exhausted and resource-drained they were when they reached the upper floors, the more likely they were to fall to the stronger creatures. Not only did it increase his harvest, but it also made escape much harder, forcing them to face his traps and monsters when they were already at their limits.
He thought about other dungeon structures he’d read about, the various configurations demonkind used to maximize efficiency. There was the “boss room in every chamber” model, for example—a brutal setup where each room contained a high-level creature or mini-boss. While that design could quickly rack up mana from adventurers who underestimated its difficulty, it wasn’t as mana-efficient over time.
Fewer humans were willing to risk dungeons like that, meaning fewer adventurers overall. Riven needed steady harvests to grow his dungeon, not just a handful of powerful intruders who would likely clean out all the resources in one go.
Besides, he thought, smirking slightly, I don’t exactly have the mana to set up boss rooms.
But he did have enough to hire some… security.
Sorvax had never used bodyguards or specialized creatures to guard his floor. His teacher had always insisted that the best protection was his own power, along with the layered, deadly labyrinth he’d built over decades. Sorvax had known his domain so well, he could simply eliminate anyone who came too close.
But Riven knew he was no Sorvax. He lacked his master’s strength, experience, and lethal reputation. He didn’t even have a complex maze of lower floors to weed out the weaklings.
So, he scrolled through the Creatures tab on the tablet, navigating to a subsection that held specialized units—creatures bred not just for mindless killing, but for specific tasks like guarding, patrolling, and keeping intruders at bay.
He stopped at an option labeled Darnel the Kobold.
The description was sparse, but promising. 200 MP, a reasonable price, and he came with decent stats—good enough to handle most low-level adventurers without breaking a sweat. Kobolds were notorious for their loyalty, their viciousness in battle, and their preference for lurking in shadows. Darnel would be perfect to station between his management chamber and the portal, a silent, deadly sentry ready to tear apart anything that dared encroach on his floor.
“Excellent,” he muttered to himself, pressing the button to summon Darnel.
As soon as he selected the creature, the air in front of him began to shimmer, tiny sparks coalescing in midair, gradually forming the outline of a figure. The creature materialized from the ground up, scales appearing first, followed by sinewy limbs, crooked claws, and a snarl fixed on its sharp, toothy face.
The kobold looked… well, Riven found himself momentarily speechless.
“Ah! You’re ugly!” he blurted out, before he could stop himself.
Darnel, who now stood fully formed, cocked his head at his new master, clearly unfazed by the insult. The creature’s skin was a mottled, sickly green, covered in patches of rough, scaly hide. He had a hunched, wiry frame, with beady yellow eyes that glinted with intelligence—or maybe malice.
His snout was long and rat-like, twitching slightly as he sniffed the air, and his claws were chipped and uneven, the remnants of countless skirmishes etched into his knobby, scarred hands. If a drowned rat had somehow bred with a miniature dragon, the resulting creature would probably look like Darnel.
Riven fought back a grimace, forcing himself to remain composed.
‘He’s the best option I can afford’, he reminded himself, swallowing his disgust. ‘It’s not like I’m hiring him for his looks.’
He would, however, have to look at this creature fairly often. The thought made him shiver involuntarily.
‘Maybe I’ll get used to him’, he thought, though he had his doubts.
The kobold stared up at him, unblinking, clearly awaiting instructions.
Riven cleared his throat, trying to sound commanding. He pointed at the hallway that led from the management chamber to the portal.
“Uh… go stand over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Be sure to stay in the shadowy part of the hall, just in case I need to… uh… move through ther-I mean I want you to be… unseen! For tactical reasons.”
Darnel blinked, his beady eyes narrowing with what looked like suspicion, but he eventually nodded, turning and scurrying to the indicated hallway.
He huddled into a shadowed corner, his hunched form blending into the dimness with surprising ease, his eyes now glowing faintly as he watched the empty corridor with silent focus.
Riven allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
‘Smooth’, he thought, giving himself a mental pat on the back for that explanation.
In truth, he just didn’t want to have to look at the creature more than necessary, but “tactical reasons” sounded much better, and he’d managed to say it with a straight face!
As Darnel settled into his post, Riven felt a small sense of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was something—an added layer of protection that would make it just a bit harder for adventurers to invade his space. And maybe, just maybe, the kobold’s fierce demeanor would be enough to scare off any particularly weak or cowardly intruders.
Satisfied with his preparations, Riven stepped back, looking at the tablet one last time as he reviewed his dwindling mana reserves. He didn’t have much left after summoning Darnel, but it was enough to maintain the dungeon for the next several days. And with the new defenses in place, he felt a little more secure.
“Alright,” he muttered to himself, straightening up. “Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, I’ll be ready for them.”
He cast one last glance at Darnel, who was now practically invisible in the shadows, a silent guardian poised to strike. With that, Riven turned and strode back to his throne, feeling just a little more confident. He might have had a rocky start, but he was learning, adapting.
And soon, he’d make sure no human dared set foot on his floor again.