The bodies of Flora and her team lay still before me, their weapons scattered across the blood-streaked grass, broken and useless.
Their faces, once filled with hope and determination, were now pale, their eyes glassy with the finality of death.
I felt no remorse as I watched my golems collect their spoils.
This was the fate they had chosen the moment they stepped into my domain.
My plan had worked.
The stone golem I had sent against them was not like the others.
It was an experiment born from the countless hours I had spent fusing mana stones of various ranks—low and medium, mixed in precise quantities.
The core I had crafted wasn’t just a simple vessel of power; it was imbued with intelligence, a spark of thought.
It could learn, adapt, and evolve in battle.
The Philosopher's Gem had been a crucial component, though replacing it multiple times had been an exhausting process.
It was worth it, though.
Watching the golem in action, witnessing how it analyzed the hunters’ tactics and grew stronger with each passing moment, filled me with a deep sense of satisfaction.
It was no longer just a construct of stone—it was a weapon, a masterpiece of my creation.
---
I bent down to inspect Flora’s lifeless body.
Her bow lay beside her, the string snapped.
She had fought valiantly, more than most who had wandered into my dungeon.
But in the end, like all the others, she had failed.
As I reached for a badge on her chest, I couldn’t help but notice the lion emblazoned on it, engulfed in flames.
The emblem stirred something in my memory. I had seen it before, in the pages of a hunter’s diary I’d found long ago.
A large guild, if I recalled correctly.
One with influence and reach far beyond this dungeon. The thought gave me pause.
Flora and her friends were more skilled than the usual band of hunters that stumbled into my traps.
Their coordination, their strategy—it was clear they had been well-trained.
For a brief moment, I wondered about their lives.
---
Flora’s eyes, once full of life and pride, flashed in my mind.
Maybe she had family, someone waiting for her return.
Her brother—yes, she had mentioned him before the fight, hadn’t she?
A hunter, more skilled than she, possibly stronger than anyone I had faced so far.
If he were to come looking for her… that might prove interesting.
I rose, turning the badge over in my hand.
"The Lion’s Flame Guild," I murmured to myself.
I had heard rumors of their strength, though never cared much before.
Now, with one of their own fallen in my domain, they might take notice.
I let out a slow breath.
"More will come."
---
Krothe, my little stone golem, scurried around the bodies, collecting any valuable items from the fallen hunters—potions, weapons, and trinkets.
His small frame belied his efficiency.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The other golems helped him, dragging the heavy armor and gear to a pile at the center of the clearing.
As they worked, I studied the battlefield, the place where my theory had proven true.
Flora’s team had fought hard, too hard for their own good.
I could still hear echoes of their desperate battle—the tank’s pained grunts as he held off the stone golem’s attacks despite his injuries, the mage’s fiery resolve crumbling as she struggled to summon her spells with trembling hands.
They had believed they could win, even as exhaustion weighed on them, even as the golem outsmarted them at every turn.
They had underestimated the dungeon, underestimated me.
---
I thought back to the moment they first entered my domain.
They were so confident, so sure of themselves.
They had seen the fallen golems as nothing more than obstacles, challenges to be overcome.
I wonder what Flora had thought as she fired that first arrow—had she believed it would be as easy as the others?
Had she felt the weight of her responsibility to her team, to her brother?
Perhaps in those final moments, she had felt the sting of regret.
Not for the fight, but for the lives she had led into ruin. I would never know, and it didn’t matter.
The dead did not answer questions.
---
I turned away from the bodies and walked toward the throne where I had been sitting when they first arrived.
The air was still, thick with the aftermath of battle.
The forest loomed around us, its silence almost oppressive.
The golems continued their work without pause, oblivious to the gravity of what had just transpired.
I settled back into my seat, the badge still in my hand.
My mind raced with new possibilities.
The Lion’s Flame Guild—if they decided to send more hunters, it could prove problematic.
But at the same time, it could be an opportunity.
My golems had proven effective, but they could still be improved.
If stronger hunters came, it would only push me to create better defenses, stronger constructs.
I looked out over the clearing, at the trees swaying gently in the wind, at the bodies of Flora and her fallen team.
They had been formidable, yes, but they were only the beginning.
The next wave would come, and I would be ready.
The thrill of anticipation surged through me.
Let them come.
For every hunter that fell, my creations would grow stronger.
They would learn, adapt, just like the stone golem had.
And when the time came, when the world finally took notice of the power hidden in this dungeon, they would find me waiting, stronger than ever.
I crushed the badge in my hand, the metal bending under my fingers.
The Lion’s Flame would burn out, like all the others.
For the next few days, I returned to my meticulous process of creation, crafting and refining golems with a deeper purpose.
Every corner of the dungeon became my canvas. My focus shifted not only to the golems themselves but also to the environment around them.
I had begun transforming the forest into a labyrinthine maze—complex, filled with devious traps, each more intricate than the last.
Any hunter that dared venture here would find themselves lost long before they reached me.
The wood golems, once simple constructs of nature, were now equipped with crude weapons—bows fashioned from branches, arrows tipped with jagged stone.
They were no longer defenseless.
I divided the forest into regions, assigning groups of golems to patrol and defend.
Each region was fortified, guarded by sentinels like silent wardens of the deep woods.
Krothe and the little stone golem were my most trusted.
Together, they coordinated the others, ensuring every corner of the forest was under watchful eyes.
But one day, in the midst of this routine, a disturbance shattered the calm.
---
"Invaders!! Attack!!"
I turned at the familiar sound of the little stone golem's voice, his tiny body rushing toward me, panic etched into his movements.
"Invaders!! Attack!!"
He was frantic, waving his arms wildly, his stone feet clattering against the ground.
I straightened, my interest piqued. "Hunters? Are hunters finally coming?"
But he shook his head vigorously, his round stone eyes wide with urgency.
"Invaders!! Attack!!" he repeated, his voice more insistent.
I frowned, trying to decipher his meaning.
His limited vocabulary made it hard to fully grasp the situation, but his gestures were unmistakable.
Something had invaded—something different.
"Are you trying to take me somewhere?" I asked, watching him closely.
He nodded fervently.
"Alright. Lead the way."
---
He led me deep into the forest, to a region near one of the newer traps I had laid.
The moment we arrived, I could sense something was wrong.
Krothe and a group of my golems stood in a semi-circle, their posture defensive, watching something in the distance.
And then I saw them.
Creatures, about the size of large wolves, with dark, leathery skin and large claws.
They had horns—two jagged, curved horns on each side of their heads—and their faces resembled that of moles, noses twitching as they dug into the earth, their burrows littering the ground.
Horned moles.
"Kaw! You’re here!" Krothe flapped his wings, flying over to me with an air of excitement.
"What’s happening?" I asked, my eyes narrowing at the creatures. "And who are they?"
"They’re horned moles. They came here to offer themselves to you," Krothe said, his voice fluttering with eagerness. "They want you to take them under your command."
I studied the creatures carefully.
They weren’t like hunters—there was no malice in their eyes, no greed or hunger for power.
Instead, there was something else, a deep instinct for survival.
The leader of the horned moles—a larger one with jagged scars running down its back—stepped forward, its gaze meeting mine.
"Kraa," it muttered in a language I couldn’t understand.
I looked to Krothe. "What’s it saying?"
Krothe flapped closer, listening intently. "Kaw! He says they’ve lost their home… to ants."
I frowned. "Ants?"
Krothe nodded. "Ants invaded their land, forcing them to flee. They’ve been digging for days, searching for a new home, and they came across your dungeon. They want protection."
I looked at the moles again, understanding their desperation now.
The scars, the ragged fur—it all made sense. They had been driven out, not by choice but by survival.
"Is it possible for creatures to cross into dungeons?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Krothe flapped his wings thoughtfully.
"No… at least, not usually. But there are some cases—rare ones. I don’t know the specifics, but there are instances where creatures from one domain can slip into another."
I mulled over the idea, glancing back at the horned moles.
They were watching me closely, waiting for an answer.
Their leader—bigger and more battle-worn than the others—lowered its head slightly, a gesture of respect, perhaps even submission.
These creatures were not hunters.
They had no interest in power or wealth.
They wanted survival, a place where they could thrive, away from the devastation of their homeland.
I could sense their potential—their powerful claws and innate connection to the earth.
They could burrow and tunnel through even the hardest ground, much like my golems.
Their strength, combined with my creations, could turn this dungeon into an unbreakable fortress.
---
I crouched down to meet the creature’s gaze more closely.
It snorted softly, its nose twitching, and then it scraped its claws across the ground, carving a small trench in the earth.
They were burrowers, masters of the underground.
Krothe flapped closer, hovering beside me.
"They know the earth like no other creatures. They can tunnel through almost anything and create underground pathways. They can hide from enemies and launch attacks from below. They could be valuable allies."
I stood, my mind racing with possibilities.
The forest maze was already becoming an impenetrable fortress, but with these creatures, I could take it to another level.
Underground tunnels could provide hidden routes for ambushes, pathways for golems to strike from below, or even escape routes in case of emergencies.
The leader of the horned moles lowered its head slightly, an offering of allegiance.
I could feel its potential, the raw power of its claws, the deep intelligence hidden behind its primal nature.
These creatures were more than beasts—they were survivors, and they recognized the strength of my dominion.
I made my decision.
"I accept your offer," I said, my voice echoing through the forest.
"Serve me, and in return, you will be protected. Together, we will make this dungeon stronger than ever before."
The horned mole grunted in acknowledgment, and the rest of its kin began to dig furiously, burrowing into the earth with startling speed.
The ground shook slightly as they vanished beneath the surface, leaving behind nothing but freshly dug tunnels.
Krothe flapped beside me, his feathers ruffling in the breeze. "This will change everything, won’t it?"
I nodded slowly. "Yes. We’re building more than a dungeon, Krothe. We’re building a kingdom."
As the horned moles disappeared into the earth, I could already see the future unfolding before me—hunters lost not only in the forest above but also trapped in the labyrinth beneath, never knowing where the next strike would come from.
My power was growing, and soon, it would be unstoppable.