I have noticed something while watching the entrance into me.

The grass. My grass. When it absorbs a large amount of mana, it changes. With my original experiment on grass, I had been looking for growth rate. Had I looked closer I would have seen a more internal change. The stem thickens and the color darkens.

I have been noting the changes in the grass closets to my core. The closer in proximity the plant is, the fuller the stem and darker the green. I had figured the mana I released would work based on proximity, or more, density. This just proved that correct.

Aside from that, however, nothing else happened. Well, aside from my claiming a beetle. It was a small, half-finger-sized bug that had wandered in. And was promptly consumed. Shortly after, I placed about sixty or so beetles. They only cost about point four mana, so, it wasn't a major loss. Especially so now that my maximum was now about ninety. My mana regeneration was additionally about point one five.

It seems my maximum mana directly correlates to my mana regeneration. I will know for sure once I have reached one hundred and twenty mana. The total area of my dungeon seems to also correlate to my maximum. So I grow by growing.

Neat.

After learning that, Floppy got promptly sent to dig some paths about. I added deliberate conditions to dig in a way that can be expanded later. Planning of the layout is going to be key. I am not sure if I will be able to manipulate mana around adventurers, so, while unmolested I should make my early decisions with thought.

Specifically? A hub of sorts. While a long, linear path would do best purely for defense, that can be countered easily with brute force.

I would make a maze, an interconnected pathway of madness. And ideally, before those floors were mapped, I would have two more ready.

My initial area, however? It would be purely defensive. The rabbit did not attempt to assault me, but, I am sure many other creatures would. I know for sure adventures would. Funnily enough, I know that there are adventures. Harkening back to the words of chaos: "cheese."

Rabbits don't churn cheese.

This world had some sort of advanced sentient's. Be it humans, elves, or whatever else comes to mind, there were "something's". Something's thing could make cheese.

And that scared me. I know one of the inherent natures of men: greed. I don't doubt for a second that similar creatures would evolve in just the way men did. And seeing how mana worked to strengthen?

I was a gold mine. And the miners were likely jacked to all fuck.

So? I started to create fortifications. Of course, I made deliberate points for them to be natural. Stalagmites and stalactites began to dot the dungeon, adding natural blind zones. Pillars further obfuscated vision. I formed new dens for future species, using various sizes to cover any size range. They weren't just at the base, however. I dotted them upon the walls and a few even rested in the roof. Many had small natural walkways to reach them, some obviously visible, some not.

I additionally cut down on the grass. A floor of straight grass looks quite unnatural. Instead, I removed great swaths of grass and dirt and left only the grass bordering walls and stone formations. That left some natural stone paths to walk along.

That way Floppy won't smolder my grass.

Honestly? Once I was finished it looked great. Feature-wise, it was a bit cramped, but, that could be fixed later. I would be continually expanding it as Floppy dug. He is quite the efficient digger. About a third of my own speed and he just eats the stone and dirt. By the time he clears some space for me to do my work I just about am finished with whatever space he had cleared before.

So, in tandem with Floppy, I worked for a whole two days...

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My mana is up to one hundred and fifty. My mana regeneration has followed the same correlation as well.

But...

I have nearly doubled my dungeon's size. It seems whatever relation capacity of mana and size possesses has diminishing returns. I partially expected this, after noting the changes after my pond. This just confirms it, however.

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I guess that prevents me from just digging a huge square room with nothing in it to game the system. I wasn't really planning on that in the first place, but it was always an option. I guess whoever I was in my past life, I definitely had a creative spirit.

The layout itself was pretty basic. The entrance led to small room, roughly five by five by one meter in space. Of course, it wasn't just a square room. Grass bordered the edges, distancing itself from the stone pathways I erected around a central pillar. The pillar itself? I got a bit creative and carved thousands of worms crawling around it.

I mean, for a first-timer with carving, it was okay. I kind of enjoyed the primitive aspect of it. It had charm.

The old entrance to my pond was sealed, and nearby I placed a beetle's nest. The buggers were weak, herbivores, and very cooperative. I had experimented with feeding them mana, resulting only in bigger beetles with thicker chitin and bigger horns. Out of curiosity, I pitted one against a grotworm. After inflicting a small wound, it was promptly crushed and consumed. The result?

I learned greater beetles cost about three mana. At least their horns were strong enough to etch very slightly away at the stone, so I allowed them to expand their nests. Within reason of course.

The rest of the entrance room was just a small entry point to the right of the entrance into a near-human-sized hallway, leading to the next room.

The next room itself was similar to the first in design, this time however being about ten by twenty with a meter and a half roof. Pillars and other stone formations settled about the edges, leaving a mostly straight and open room. Dotted about the grassy outskirts was another beetle's nest, more specifically, the primary beetle's nest. Additionally, several lone grotworms took smaller holes about the walls and floors. They were primarily solo hunters, aside from the occasional batch of breeding, so it fit them quite fine.

Hidden somewhere in the grass was also a small white flower bud, readying itself for bloom. It would not be surprising to see a small group of beetles pour out of one of their various entrances to feed off the grass, only to lose a lesser beetle to a worm or several to a grotworm. The beetles weren't always losers, however, winning the occasional bout and still maintaining their population.

It was an interesting dynamics; strength versus numbers. I most certainly looked forward to how it progressed.

Continuing on, through another entryway, led to another room. Smaller in size, it served more as a connector. Two paths connected to two separate areas. The rabbit grotto, and Floppy's lair. The rabbit grotto was a twenty by twenty-meter room, mirroring the roof height of the previous room. It had thick grass, many rocky formations, and several dens. Additionally, tens of flowers prepared themselves to bloom.

Turning into Floppy's demesne, there was an immediate contrast. Stone stakes jutted upwards in the direction of the entrance, creating a natural funnel. There were at least ten tunnel entrances that connected to one another for Floppy to duck into during combat. The ground was uneven, with many potholes and pits to limit movement further.

After Floppy's lair, there is only one path to my pond. A murder path. I specifically made it as difficult as possible. It's only about half a meter tall, with plenty of stone stakes and spears jutting out. Several grotworm nests reside here, and the second rooms beetle nest connect here. It would take a solid monster to push his way through here.

The pond room was also changed, being widened. Another clump of flowers resides around the pond, eagerly sucking up magic.

All in all? It was great progress. Now that I could defend myself somewhat I could focus more on experimentation...

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Grendigory smoked his pipe as he pathed through the forest. Stepping about roots and fallen branches, he trailed his path back to the city. Stopping for a moment, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and brushed his unkempt brown hair out of his green eyes. Fixing his backpack, his stocky fingers unconsciously checked for his jibberwockle on his waist, cautious in losing it once more. Touching the item brought it to the front of his mind, and of course, that brought the name with it.

"Fucking gnomes," he thought to himself, repeating the same words he thought every time he touched that Gnomish piece of trash. Grendigory was a cartographer, mapping the natural mana spikes in each area he traveled. After creating the maps he would promptly sell them to whatever mage college had the funds.

So of course, Gren was forced to carry one of the most important items of a cartographer. A jibberwockle.

And he loathed it. This piece of awfully named shit would attune itself to the natural mana levels of a region and spike whenever the levels of an area exceeded that set amount. Doing this would create a dainty ding from the fanciful bell attached to it.

Of course, it would also react to the magic of nearby mages too. A mage with enough power could trigger the bell by passing right by.

So it rang in cities too. A lot. So much so that his profession was unofficially referred to as "bellboy" rather than cartographer. The same profession which took several years of study in both school and magic, and then required further field experience as an apprentice. The same job that was undoubtedly one of the most important assistance jobs for any mage college or adventuring guild.

That same job? Ridiculed because of a goofy piece of shit known as a jibberwockle.

It was patented too. You had to get them custom-made to solve the whole bell bullshit. And it was expensive.

So, he pawed at his hated crutch, attempting to distract himself with his pipe.

"At least," he thought, "no one could laugh at me in the forest."

And so he continued on.

And then, as he was about to leave the forest?

His loathed treasure rung a dainty ring. And then he thought to himself:

"What the fuck?"