Silver Thread could be as sticky as spider silk and as strong as mana and psionic ore alloyed steel. It was the main building material she used in her castle because it had the flexibility stone couldn’t provide. When the dungeon rumbled, her Silver Thread flexed but didn’t break. Using it as mortar for stone blocks had been novel once. After crushing her own castle once and witnessing it fall again she had looked into solutions.

Architecture was what humans called designers for buildings and structures of all kinds. Engineers were the people who figured out how to make crazy designs possible. Builders did the grunt work of actually putting in the foundation. Isobel wanted to be all three. Every structure she had ever built was a point of pride, and this would be no different. She had hours to build a home fit for her mate and a few workers.

While yes it was important to build apartments for their populace, she was a firm believer in worrying about themselves first. Tents were nice when there was no other option, but with the amount of land they had access to and would have in the future, it was time to build their first home.

Clearly, Atom wouldn’t build a home until the stars aligned and he had enough virgin sacrifices to consecrate the land in the name of his ancestors. She was certain he would consider it his job to build their home by what she read from his tablet. Weston's cultural traditions imposed by law to ensure a productive society free of envious neighbors and wasted genetics were clear.

The man was the head of the family, champion of tradition and culture, and the primary breadwinner. He would have one woman to bear his offspring, and she had no say in when or how many. As monsters, they weren’t considered equals. Isobel was property along with every monster on the farm. Atom clearly didn’t want to treat them that way. He even gave them rights and responsibilities, delegating power like the Easton Emperor himself or a monster king.

Rank 8 monsters aside, Atom had to have a Weston wife to be taken seriously by society and to have human Weston children. Any children he had with her would be of her species with a single skill of his. The rarer and higher the level the skill, the more likely it was to be inherited. Their children would come out as dumb rabbits a little better than animals and try to rank up. Few rank 2 rabbits had her intelligence, though they would have a disposition to follow her path. By her estimation, it could take up to 3 months for a rabbit monster to rank up for a low rank 2 with little intelligence but high Agility.

“Lady Isobel, we have cleared the area for building. What is our next step?” Big Jon asked.

“I will use my telekinesis to lay the foundation.” Clearing land with her mind was something she had lots of practice in.

Her ears twitched at a slurping sound. She turned to Veronica, who was slurping the guts out of a downed Ferret monster. Despite herself, Isobel licked her lips as her mouth watered. She had the mind of a sapient species, and still, she craved to consume to raise her attributes to further her rank. Monsters grew from rank 2 to 3 massively and from rank 3 to 4 was more still. If she only focused on mental attributes, she would only need to consume the flesh of 33 rank 2 monsters. That was only if she didn’t care about her next rank itself.

Veronica was lucky she had already picked her next rank. She was already working toward it only waiting for Atom’s approval. It was a big jump and a complete species change, and Veronica knew it was worth it. Terror of Sky was not a monster that tamers added to their teams lightly. Intelligent, wise, willful, and charismatic. Veronica needed 150 in every mind category, 150 in every physical category, 5 wind, 5 lightning skills, and 5 cloud skills. Mastery wasn’t included but required in all three categories. She would become the backbone of any team. Tamers who trained a Terror of Sky use monsters to supplement the few areas the monster doesn’t cover. In the wild, they were able to fight some rank 4 monsters on even footing.

Obviously low bar to rank up wasn’t good enough, and she wanted Atom’s opinion. She wanted a form pleasing to the eyes that would also give her kittens better attribute growth than her own. Higher-rank monsters can pass down traits like sapience to their young. Immunity to tamer skills would be a trait she would like to pass down.

The only monster types truly immune to tamer skills were the fell, abyss, and demonic pure or duel-type monsters. Of those, she had the option of Black Hat Bunny, Hare of Darkness, Jackalope Imp, Succubun, and Angel Thumper. As a breed closest to rabbits, though she was more a chimera, rabbit genetics presented strongest. She was sure to have fox, spider, and crow in her ancestry. Leaning heavy into the rabbit side would make her ranks stable. At rank 3, anything with chimera in its name, according to the rank compendium, was insane. Whether that was due to tamer skills or other factors, she wanted no part of it.

Getting to rank 3 soon with an appropriate mid or high was the key. Monsters of the second rank were still only testing their defenses. It wouldn’t be long before a rank 3 or worse, a group of them came to investigate this pen of food. So far, Atom’s presence stopped them. Even rank 3 monsters knew to fear the monster. That wouldn’t last forever.

Rank 3 monsters were cautious, not cowards. A prize like Atom’s farm couldn’t be left to its own devices.

…

Quest

Romulus Augustulus

Abstract: Time and a lack of enemies have caused the culture of the empire to fray until hedonism has consumed the once hardworking and innovative spirit of the Kitsunite Race. After striking down those who once rode your people into battle and slaying the great cock of the east, no more mountains were left to climb. Even the great Rong Da has been turned to the empire’s ends, birthing dumb Ancient Iron Tarantulas to become tools of war and luxury. A test was decided to determine if the empire could pool what nationalist pride and hardworking people remained and expand once more. A calamity has come to your lands, wielding the weapons of your ancient enemies. Block and this flail will crush your bones, deflect, and your rot will do you in. Only by overcoming this powerful foe will the empire earn its right to survive.

Reward:

Portal to Floor 2 or the outer world.

Akane read the abstract a second time to fully let the situation sink in. She had only picked the flesh from her father’s bones, so to speak, a year ago and still hadn’t finished stabilizing her rule. Generals were replaced, weapons of war scrapped, and the military budget slashed to make way for programs to better the lives of her people. Health care, schools, and new roads were her way of standing out from earlier emperors. Her father’s Shogun Ryota had cautioned her against decreasing her military power in favor of civilian programs. In her defense, her father had ruled for 8 decades, handling only small uprisings from their client states, such as Rabilim and the renamed Battle Chicken territory of Aomori. Until she received the message, she prepared herself to rule through one meeting at a time, slowly making their client states more Kitsunite than the generations before.

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Roads were the secret; she knew it and felt it in each of her long, fluffy tails. Three was a good number for her age and training. Akane’s father had 5 before he died, and former Shogun Ryota had 5. Tails meant power beyond war gear and drug enhancement. With only three, she would be considered a weak ruler by her people for some time. This crisis wasn’t doing her any favors.

One of her handmaidens knocked on the door of her private room. She hoped there wasn’t a riot; that was the last thing she needed.

“Empress, Minister Farnsworth is here to see you.” She said.

The one-tailed kitsune looked away as Akane’s three tails flicked back and forth as she struggled to keep her cool. Military spending wouldn’t help them, no matter what any advisors told her. They didn’t have time to build factories for war gear against an enemy already at their gates.

“Let the bird inside,” Akane said.

A tall white feathered bird with a bright red waddle strode in on bright orange legs. “My lady, it's terrible the Shogun has gone rogue. The 23rd fighter squadron and the 44th Death Walkers have left their base toward the old kingdom of Rabilim. Are the bunnies rebelling again?” Farnsworth said.

The kitsune stood to her full height of 9 feet, towering over even the battle chicken. A cold wind blew around her as her tails flicked. She wanted to be a just and wise ruler. Peacetime would have allowed so many changes. It was unfortunate.

“Call a meeting of my ministers; we need to discuss the future of our nation.

…

My quiver had many arrows, and speed was the one I most enjoyed. The wall collapsed under my feet as I launched myself at incredible speeds. Lightening my body and then launching myself allowed me to accelerate quickly, though I was less aerodynamic than a brick. Planes flew up above at low altitude, unprepared for an enemy like me.

I landed on the first plane and stabbed the pilot and copilot. Blood drained from their wounds into my blood temple. The imaginary temple of sacrifice could store blood in an imaginary shadow avatar. Like a mana pool, though tied to a life force instead of the mind, my physical attributes, particularly Endurance, Constitution, and Vitality, decided how much my blood temple could store. Since the skill could level, that number would increase with time. The planes could only fire in front of them and were slow to maneuver.

400 planes were minutes of work to destroy. I stood atop the last one smile stretched across my face in the blistering wind as it carried me into the nearest fortress-mounted spiders. I jumped off right before my plane blasted through a window. Two Fell Slashes took me into the interior of a carrier. There, I met a massive fox man with three tails wearing a military uniform straight out of the Weston warring states period. I sensed the fell energy in the monster’s body and knew how they might have an advantage over other monsters.

A blood spear appeared from within an imaginary temple and fired as if from a crossbow. The fox’s tails raised, stretched, and hardened like steel. Blood hardened like iron scraped, cracked, and flew in multiple pieces. A tail speared through an afterimage as my chainsword found its home in the fox’s chest. Blood drained from the corpse, leaving a petrified sac of flesh behind.

I raised a hand, and small drops of blood appeared, slowly circling one another. Blood Temple was strange; it was the source of my Blood Manipulation. Blood skills required blood to be used and burned blood when in use.

My next move was slow and meticulous. I swept through every room and killed every enemy combatant. Minds were easy to sense even if I couldn’t destroy them at a distance. Fell was the problem, and the only solution I could think of was learning more psychic skills. Rounding out my skills and then fusing them together was probably best.

I cleared the other two spiderwalkers with no trouble. The foxes had firearms and, more surprisingly, thumbs to hold the rifles and fingers to pull triggers with tiny clawed tips, but I always knew where they were, and I was faster than them.

“It's not that they’re weak; you are so much stronger than them. We are also in an enclosed space where you know exactly where they are. Then there is your blood trick.” Fu said.

“It's worth the expense. Guns become useless at rank 4. The disparity of rank makes firearms obsolete.” I said.

That wasn’t the whole truth. Firearm skills were too expensive for anyone without Rank 4 resources. It wasn’t that I couldn’t get damaged by bullets; this dungeon didn’t support firearms with skills. Some marksmen are incredibly powerful, even in the higher ranks. Dungeons with skills to support them were rare. An archer was vastly less expensive to train than a marksman because all firearm skills started at uncommon. The military had first pick and rarely left anything for civilians. Psy Bolt bordered on Psy Bullet, a skill that can either create bullets of psychic energy or give bullets the ability to deal psychic damage. I might never see Psy Bullet in my lifetime.

For the price of one marksman, 1000 archers can be trained. With range and power alone, a fully trained marksman was worth 2000 archers.

Fu gathered skill shards for me the whole time while we trudged through the structures. After clearing out the last one, I made my decision. I found a bolt action rifle with a scope and spotted Tony.

“Fu, I want you to convince one of the giant spiders to leave with us if you can,” I said.

“What are you doing?” Fu asked.

I liked that she could ask me questions without fear.

“I’ve decided to eat my cake. Having it will only let it rot until it's not good anymore.” I said.

“What,” Fu asked.

I found Tony hiding behind a boulder through the scope. I saw he had fallen off Hank and was alone. Confronting him was tempting. Gun ranges were all the rage in big cities and small towns. Most monsters had bones thick enough to shrug off the rounds sold to civilians or could heal from the injury itself. There were exceptions. Fu could be killed by a rifle easily enough. If she was in a position to be picked off like that, then something had gone horribly wrong anyway. I squeezed the trigger slowly to a loud bang.

Tony’s head shot to the side, and pink mist appeared in my scope. A sport had given me the tools I needed to take my revenge, and it felt like I checked off a chore.

That was the worst part about it, I hated Tony, but he was dead the moment he entered the dungeon. He could have lived if only he had left to report the dungeon. All he would have had to do was his job.

“How do you feel?” Fu asked.

I tossed the murder weapon on the ground and blasted it repeatedly with Psy Bolts. Only a mangled hunk of slag remained when I was through.

What was the Weston thing I could say? The answer hit me then. “I feel like I need a woman,” I said.

Fu chuckled. “You’ll be fine then; maybe ask Veronica when we get back. I’m sure she’ll be all over you.”

I sat in the captain’s seat of the fortification and stared at the city in the distance. Killing so many would be difficult. There could be millions there, and I was expected to scatter them to the four winds. I checked through the skill shards for anything interesting. There were a few changes to the first-floor line up I could see. We found well over 50 skill shards and a single attribute fruit from nearly 2000 deaths. My dungeon melancholy hadn’t subsided. I needed weeks to recover, and I had a day.

What could I do to completely take my mind off my problems and blank out? I went through the fortification and found the living quarters. A poster of a fox with three tails standing tall and regal in her coronation was impressive. Despite being a fox, she had human hair and stood with human poise. The writings were translated by the dungeon, but there was a lot of information.

I found maps of roads, diaries, and, best of all, propaganda. After my investigation, I had a good idea of the capitol’s layout. Getting into the royal palace wouldn’t be hard. The aqueducts under the city let out into the blood lake. If I entered through there and fought my way through the alligator monsters. There was an entrance near an alleyway adjacent to the palace. From there, I could investigate further and see if there was anything I could do to further my goals.

How do you eat a dragon? One bite at a time. Before I could begin scattering the Kitsunite people, I had to get into their city.

I picked out the skills I wanted.

Ping!

Fell Blitz lvl1

Fell Manipulation lvl1

Psy Lance lvl1

Fell Lance lvl1

Wind Lance lvl1

Blood Lance lvl1

Lightning Strike lvl1

Avatar lvl1

Ride lvl1

Affection lvl1

Obedience lvl1

Leadership lvl1

Skill Sight lvl1

Behind the Curtain (R) lvl1

Moving forward, I needed to be more than a single warrior, and if skills could help me get where I needed to be faster, then all the better. My head throbbed from all the new skills and the memories that came with them. I could feel my sanity tear at the edges of my mind and knew what I needed to do to compensate.

I took the experience I gained from selling eggs and spent it on my level.

Ping!

Farmer lvl50

The burning sensation was gone, and in its place, I could feel every cell in my body alight with its own miniature star chamber within. My skin toughened up to a level I could barely comprehend, and I felt the beginnings of an unending amount of energy move through me. My agitation melted under a new high, a better high than melancholy. It felt like winning after taking losses for so long.

Stress melted, leaving me with a warm soup of happiness. Then, the skills hit me, and I knew I was in for a fun time. A shadow of my former feelings returned, and I knew this would be the final time in this dungeon for the full 100-day month of summer, if not until spring. A full 400-day year without going into the dungeon felt completely reasonable to me.