The first floor was still that same great maze of narrow, interconnected tunnels. Some going left and some going right. Some going up and some leaning downwards, while others still looped around in such a way that they went over and under each other in ways that confused the mind. Also, the walls shifted on command. Which was something they probably wouldn't see coming.

The idea for this one was simple.

Have anyone who needed training bash themselves bloody on Sunflower Brutes and Rose Goblins and Tulip Lamias. So that they kept hardening themselves safter every battle with little in the way of danger.

In contrast, the second floor was still the very picture of a lush field. One that only got wider and more open as we kept ordering the sky-shroom variants to keep growing and the drones at their bases to keep chipping away at the solid bedrock around them. All while letting more and more Magic flow from the Dungeon Core itself into the walls to keep them expanding naturally.

We filled it with stronger, sturdier stocks of Sunflower Brutes, but we also peppered in other kinds of life.

Rippers made from vines and thorns instead of meat and bone and sinew.

Foxes with tails that ended in a collection of hissing, biting serpents.

Badgers that spat out streams of noxious fumes.

Sparrows that emitted deafening shrieks. So loud that they became a weapon all their own.

Barbed, thorny bushes that lashed out with lacerating tentacles whenever anything got too close. With roots that rose up from the ground to tangle up feet and bring warriors to the ground.

Simpler Green-Bean shooters reminiscent of those first ones we'd made on accident. Ones that skittered about on four insectile legs while taking aim. So that they could sustain their fire while scampering up walls and ceilings.

Giant ants that resembles our Drones. With thicker carapaces meant to endure blows and pincers meant for crushing rather than digging.

Gorillas and Bears with bodies made of vines and leaves and hardened bark. Just like those I'd first used in Alaska.

Groups of buzzing bees that swarmed out of hives stuck up high on the crowns of the sky-shrooms. With stingers full of the fungal concoction they carried.

Gargoyles like those found on the fourth floor of the Dunstonberry Dungeon. Along with giant toads that spat acid and scorpions that moved about in groups.

Ghouls that resembled shambling, desiccated corpses, while in actuality being empty sacks of skin filled with fungal spores and sacks of acid that would splash out if ruptured.

Centaurs that would run proudly up and down the grasslands while swinging slings and throwing makeshift spears.

And to top them all off, the two nastiest surprises to guard the entrance to the deeper levels.

A gigantic winged lion with the tail of a scorpion and a hundred serpents for a mane to act as the boss.

And something even worse besides.

Gnomes.

Hundreds of them. With Elsie's side of the Magic to enable them to read surface thoughts.

Bellow that, the third floor was another, much more expansive series of corridors. Only these ones were filled to bursting with puddles of corrosive bacteria and other, less wholesome surprises. A few of the interconnected chambers were also slightly more open.

Though these would be scant in number and a dozen meters across at most. Not to mention filled with man-sized spiders that started to reach the upper tiers of level 2. Despite all this, the greatest hazard was the muck that lay strewn across all the floors. Rotting offal so foul that it threatened to strangle the weaker units I had birthed there.

It was sticky too. Like hot wet glue just waiting for some unfortunate soul to step in it. Whomever did wouldn't be getting out anytime soon.

'Not to mention that the struggle will signal every spider in the near vicinity to come running along the ceiling.' We thought again. 'The swampy mixture of the third will not be anywhere near as lethal as the one on the fourth, but it will by no means be pleasant.'

The idea was that this would be the final barrier for anyone trying to kill monsters and train themselves up to get a good Core. To that end, we would employ fear and dread to ward off most attackers.

Even the bravest people we knew would second guess a tunnel filled to bursting with spiders after all. Not to mention one that was also cramped and wet and devoid of any and all sources of light. Add in a couple million skittering Burrower Roaches into the mix and only the desperate or truly insane would dare advance.

Even to us, the mere idea of trudging through darkness, within walls so tightly packed that we'd have to walk sideways in some areas, while also having to fight off thousands of spiders as they crawled all over our faces and down our backs, while also dealing with roaches as big as thumbs digging beneath our muscles and into our tendons....

Yeah....

The message would be loud and clear.

Get out.

Or else.

Beyond that was the no-man's land of the fourth floor. The space where our strongest units were currently being made. Fittingly, we had designed the space to resemble a muddy field. One littered with trenches and Napalmlings that dwelled just beneath the surface. Ready to explode upon contact with any interloper.

Each trench would have firing positions that granted advantageous vantage points from which to shoot at the intruders. All while the larger Devastators rained biomass on top of the would-be attackers and Harpies swooped down from above to carry off unsuspecting prey.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

It was meant to be a close approximation to what we had managed against the classes back when Pool Cecil had taken control. So that whomever sought to get past the defenses would have to fight tooth and nail for every single inch of ground, while being bled and shot at from all sides.

The mud was a danger all on its own as well. Being very close to the samples on the third in terms of how thick and viscous it was, while also having loads more sucking power with which to drag entire horses and tanks into the muck.

'Not to mention all the little critters that make their home in there.' We mused. 'It seems singularly cruel, even for us.'

But there was nothing for it. The smaller side tunnels that our drones were digging out at this very moment would all be connected to the fourth floor. From there, the Saboteurs and Queens would be able to escape to the surface. Both to grow more food away from the city where their production wouldn't be linked to the Dungeon and to also act as reconnaissance units far from where we were.

They would be our eyes and ears while we lay in waiting. Digging and growing and birthing new horrors to keep Casper away.

'We need to know what is happening. We need to know if and when help is coming. We need to know if Casper has been caught. Or if he is still at large.'

At level 5, the man might as well have been invincible for the likes of us. A bloody monster to dwarf the most horrific nightmares we could conjure into existence.

'And yet, it will not always be that way.' The part of Pool Cecil purred within us.

'We are in the greatest Pool we have ever built. Getting fed directly from the Dungeon Core. We will be unstoppable soon.'

'Soon.' We agreed.

Turning our minds to other things.

One of Pool Cecil's greatest mistakes, back when he was alone, had been Hubris. The idea that he alone was above all others and that he had nothing to gain by fraternizing with his lessers.

We knew better.

Part of the Saboteurs and the Queen's mission would be to grow food with the Magic we imparted in ways that could not be traced to the Dungeon.

While it was important, that was but one objective. Another, equally important task was to [Heal] people above.

Indiscriminately.

If Magic, not paltry magic tricks but actual, real Magic was going to get out, then it only made sense to get ahead of the discourse. People in general would hesitate to condemn or blindly persecute something when their old grandpa got straight back up after an illness or when their grandmother fought against the Alzheimer's and remembered their faces.

And that would only serve as the beginning.

The Magic food could do most of that already, if the rumors could be believed. Regrowing legs or arms or mending bones or nerves were a whole different subject.

'Gratitude and awe will breed fascination and trust.' We thought to ourselves.

'Those we heal will sooner die than let Magic be suppressed. Especially when it puts food in their bellies and gives them new powers.'

That was another aspect of the Saboteur's mission.

Transformed into humans, they were to go up and down the state. Telling all who would listen that they got their Magic by fighting monsters. That it was the best way to get Magic and that all other methods were nonsense.

It wasn't strictly true, as hard work would help, but it would likely boost the average Core stage a few points up.

The local police and the army might try to stem the tide of people coming to the Dungeon, but we had plans for them as well.

'Speaking of which, here they come now.'

The people descending through the entrance were coming in two waves. The forefront was made up of individuals in army camo gear. All kinds of greens and browns splattered over a full suit of heavy armor. Itself being worn over a thick uniform.

We cringed.

Wearing armor was not a bad idea in and of itself. In fact, most everyone back in town wore some sort of armor. But it usually wasn't that heavy, as mobility was always considered to be a key aspect in fighting. Moreover, these guys weren't even level 1. Meaning they'd be sweating bullets the whole way down on top of being overburdened by the weight of all that gear.

'Can't really blame them because they don't know what they're getting into, but it still isn't going to be ideal. Although... come to think of it. The weight will mean they are constantly struggling while moving around areas of thick ambient magic. That might be a blessing in disguise. Maybe we should make it easier for them?'

We sent Magic into [Terraform] and [Dungeoneer]. Lowering the temperatures in the first floor to match the cool weather outside.

The first group noticed after a few minutes. Their own eyes widening as their breaths now became mist in the darkened air.

A few stopped dead in their tracks to pay closer attention to the walls and floors and faintly bioluminescent ceiling. But only for a few seconds.

They marched on after that. Flashlights cutting through the still somewhat dark passages.

Behind them, the second group were slowly making their way forwards.

Only half of these guys were military, as far as I could tell. The other half were an odd mix of SWAT police troopers, regularly dressed police officers and paramedics.

Seeing the police down here was, not unthinkable, but not the smartest thing they could have done either. Not by a long shot. In our opinion, their efforts would have been better spent managing the crowds that were still forming up on the surface even now. Seeing the paramedics however... That was odd.

Mostly because the army guys had their own medics on hand and because those medics were at the very least, armed and armored. The paramedics that were coming down either had no experience shooting guns, or they only had experience with small handguns at shooting ranges.

We searched through their minds and quickly found the reason for them being here.

'Fools.' We thought at once. 'That woman wasn't the man's mother. She was a senior member in their operation. She's looking to see what became of the guys she had here stealing cars and if the money they had was still on hand.'

Those were questions we couldn't have answered in any case.

Casper had been the one to ferry the group of would-be robbers back to town.

Supposedly.

They were supposed to have been dropped off at town and then put in the jail for the night. So that a judge could get to their case in the morning and figure out whether we'd send them back with some incriminating evidence or otherwise welcome them into our little secret community.

All of them could be in Cancun for all we knew.

Yet even if that wasn't the case, coming down here with the information these guys had on hand was really, really stupid. Given how large and durable we'd made the Distraction out to be, this place could have been filled with nothing but human-piranha hybrids for all they knew. Sending a bunch of unarmed civilians down here was just mean. And a poor use of resources to boot.

'Although, hmn. Human-piranha hybrids. Hmn. There might be something there. Let's work on those and place them around the third floor. Also, let's flood some of the tunnels to make sure they can't be traversed easily and fill the flooded areas will stinging jellyfish to make things more interesting.'

We watched as some of the men in the back group started squabbling with each other. Not loudly, but loud enough that the sounds echoed briefly off the walls before dissipating into nothingness.

We watched both groups descend further and further. Walking roughly the length of one mall as the tunnels took them left and right and left again, before spinning them around a circular staircase leading downwards into an open chamber some 20 meters across.

That was when we decided to spring the trap.

No sooner had the second group finished entering, than the door sealed shut behind them. A massive slab of solid stone falling from the ceiling like a hammer from the heavens. Trapping them all in the cubic chamber.

The soldiers cursed. The one police man cursed even louder.

Then they were trying to break through. Pulling shovels out of their packs and trying to make dents in the stone or perhaps trying to find a gap where the rock was loose and soft.

We watched them and... for a moment, felt a twinge of pity.

But only for a moment.

Then the other side of the room opened up and the sunflower brutes started streaming in.