My eyes flickered open, but instead of the familiar sight of my classroom, oppressive darkness swallowed me whole. I blinked, trying to adjust, but the gloom clung stubbornly. A cold dread snaked its way into my gut. I tried to shift, to push myself up, but my limbs were unresponsive. Panic clawed at my throat. I couldn't feel my legs. I couldn't feel anything below my neck.

"What… what is this?" I muttered, my voice a dry rasp in the suffocating silence. I strained my ears, but there was only a disconcerting emptiness. I tried to remember what had happened, but my mind was a blank slate. Disoriented and afraid, I thrashed, a useless struggle against an unseen constraint. My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the stillness.

Then, the chilling realization dawned slowly. I wasn't in a room. I was the room. The darkness wasn't just around me; it was me. The stillness wasn't just an absence of sound; it was my own lack of sensation. I had no legs because I was the floor. I had no arms because I was the walls. I was a prison of my own being, a ten-foot square of silent, suffocating existence. The panic intensified, a tidal wave of terror threatening to consume me. I was trapped, utterly and irrevocably, inside myself.

I’m not… me. The thought resonated, alien yet familiar. I'm a Dungeon Core. The words echoed in the emptiness, cold and stark. Then came the command, raw and visceral: Revenge. Against whom? Why? I don't know. But the urge is there now, burning in my core, a primal scream for vengeance I can't ignore. I, Yamada, the Dungeon Core, will have my due.

Suddenly, a notification appeared before me, shimmering in the darkness:

|Name: No.89xxxx52

|Dungeon Point: 100

|Dungeon Lv: 1

|Dungeon points exchange for catalog items.

|10 minutes until your dungeon opens to the world.

The Dungeon Catalog shimmered, a cold, blue light in this damp, earthy chamber—my reality. Level 1. A Dungeon Core. Me. A pulsating heart of magic, the seed of this… pathetic excuse for a dungeon. 100 points. That’s all I’d started with. And honestly, I had no clue how to get more. The Catalog was full of tantalizing options, but it was like a menu I couldn’t afford.

"Ten minutes?" I whispered, the sound barely audible. "Ten minutes until… what? What lurks out there?" A shiver, not of fear but of pure, unadulterated panic, ran through my core. I needed to make preparations, and fast, but my options were severely limited. I didn't even understand how this point system worked!

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My “grand” dungeon consisted of one room. One. Claustrophobic doesn’t even begin to describe it. I needed space. A buffer. Something between me and… everything. The Catalog mocked me with its possibilities: sprawling chambers, monstrous minions, ingenious traps, glittering treasure. All just out of reach. How did other Dungeon Cores do it? Where did they get all those points? Was there some sort of… dungeon income I hadn’t discovered yet?

"Think, Yamada, think!" I muttered to myself, the words echoing in the confined space. "What do I need? What can I afford?" With a sigh that echoed in the emptiness, I spent 50 of my precious points. "Space first," I decided. A notification flashed: "Room Expansion Successful!" A tremor, faint but real, shook the chamber as another room materialized. Small, rectangular, and utterly unimpressive, but it was something. A buffer. A chance. But a chance to what? I still only had 50 points!

"Okay, minions," I mumbled, scrolling through the Catalog. "Goblins? Too weak. Slimes? Ugh. Spiders… spiders are versatile." I spent 4 points on two goblins, picturing them now, scrawny and snarling, already bickering over some imagined scrap of food. "And one slightly bigger… a mini-boss, perhaps?" Another 2 points gone. "And one giant spider. Eight eyes, hairy legs… ugh. But it's my best bet." Eight legs, eight eyes, eight chances to spot an intruder. My last 2 points. And still no clue how to get more!

"42 points," I calculated. "Not enough. Traps… traps are essential." 10 points each. A pit trap. Simple, effective. Hopefully. A tripwire. Linked to… what? Nothing yet. But it was a start. Hopefully, they’d slow down any intruders. Give my pathetic little army a chance to… do something. 20 points spent. 22 left.

"Desperate times," I whispered, scrolling through the Catalog again. "Bribery. I need a deterrent. Something to make them think twice. Something to make them choose not to kill me." The “Treasure” section. Nothing extravagant, of course. A small chest, tarnished and dented. Trinkets, dull and worthless. Fool’s gold. Shiny, but ultimately useless. I almost clicked “Purchase” when something caught my eye. Amidst the glittering pyrite and cheap necklaces, a single item stood out. A golden ring. Small, yes, and probably more ceremonial than practical, but it was real gold.

A glint of genuine value in a sea of fakes. It was more than I could afford, but… I had a feeling. A gut feeling. Or maybe it was just the desperation talking. This ring, this single piece of genuine treasure, was my best chance at survival.

"Twenty points," I muttered, my fingers hovering over the "Purchase" button. "It's all I have left. But… this ring… it's my only hope." With trembling fingers, I selected the chest containing the ring. 20 points. My last. This wasn't just treasure. It was a bargaining chip. A reason for an adventurer to leave me alive. A promise of more riches to come, perhaps. If only I knew how to get more riches!

The Catalog faded, leaving me in the dim silence. I could feel them now, my pathetic little army. The goblins, squabbling in the new room. The spider, lurking in the shadows, its eight eyes gleaming. Their simple minds linked to mine. My first line of defense. My only hope.

"Nine minutes," I whispered, the countdown echoing in my mind. "Eight minutes. Seven…" The silence was deafening. The darkness, oppressive. And I, the mighty Dungeon Core, was left with two points, a handful of mismatched minions, and a prayer. But… I had the ring.

A single piece of genuine treasure. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to make a difference. The world was about to find out just how pathetic a Level 1 dungeon could be. And I was terrified. And utterly confused about this whole point thing. "How do other Dungeon Cores do this?" I muttered to myself. "Seriously, how?"