Karl surveyed his burgeoning retail space, a dry hum of satisfaction vibrating through his bones. One stall, crafted from rough-hewn wood and polished stone, proudly displayed a selection of newly forged iron swords. Their blades, catching the faint light, hinted at the future: sleek daggers, balanced short swords, and intricately designed steel blades yet to be forged. Another stall showcased the artisan skeleton's meticulous handiwork: a collection of uncolored, but exquisitely detailed, space marine figurines.
Their dynamic poses, miniature weapons perfectly rendered, spoke of a hidden talent beyond mere bone and sinew. Empty displays in this same room awaited future leatherworks – the promise of finely crafted handbags, practical backpacks, sturdy belts, and sleek wallets, all awaiting their turn in the production queue.
The artisan's work is genuinely impressive, Karl thought, a dry, internal hum of approval. This room, though… it's far from complete. It still needs proper marketing displays, eye-catching signage to draw the eye, and a word-of-mouth buzz that travels faster than any courier. And, most importantly, a mountain of product stock, a constant flow of inventory to keep the trade flowing like a river of gold.
The inn, situated nearby, was structurally complete. Its common room felt spacious, if a little bare, and its guest chambers were empty shells. Only the tantalizing prospect of future alcohol, still in the development phase, was missing to truly complete the picture of hospitality.
The entire first floor… my vision for this place is a thriving mini-mall. Not just a dungeon, but a destination. A place where visitors can window shop, browse, and, more importantly, spend every last coin. A commercial hub, a beacon of undead enterprise, drawing in adventurers and merchants alike. But before I can open for true business, before I can invite the wider world, I need to fill up the damn Dungeon Core Mana.
He checked the Dungeon Core status: [ 49/500 ]. A paltry sum, barely enough to keep the basic lights on. The thought of his grand vision, currently powered by such a meager reserve, felt like trying to run a Fortune 500 company on a lemonade stand budget.
And of course, there's security. And exterior landscaping, to make the approach more inviting, less… dungeon-y. So much to do, so much to build, so much to micromanage. He felt a familiar, phantom ache of overwhelm, a ghost of his past corporate stress, a nagging sensation that even undeath couldn't fully banish. Wait…
A new idea sparked, a flicker of ambition in his empty eye sockets, igniting a cold, calculating fire. What if I could delegate? Use the Strategist as a Dungeon Manager? That would free up a significant portion of my mental bandwidth. Less micromanagement, more macro-planning, more time for strategic oversight, for truly expanding this enterprise.
He mentally queried the System for "Dungeon Manager." The response was immediate, a crisp, glowing text overlay.
[ Dungeon Manager ][ Requirements: ][ Dungeon Level 2 ][ Minion Level 10 ]
A low, guttural sigh escaped Karl's non-existent lungs, a dry, rasping sound of frustration. Ugh… Dungeon Level 2. What in the blazes do I need to do to make it Level 2 then? This System always holds back information. He mentally pushed the query to the System, a demand rather than a question, his patience thinning.
[ Refill Dungeon Mana to 1000 ]
Karl's brow furrowed, a skeletal gesture of profound confusion. But it just caps at 500. How can it possibly reach 1000? Is this a glitch? A new feature I missed? Is the System mocking me, showing me a goal I can't possibly reach?
[ The Mana Charge continuously refills the dungeon. ]
Karl simplified the thought, trying to grasp the abstract concept, a knot forming in his non-existent stomach. "So, the juice continues to refill the cup, even when it's already overflowing? Does that mean the numerical value goes up past the displayed cap? And if so, what happens to all that excess mana? Does it just… dissipate? That would be incredibly inefficient, a waste of precious magical energy."
[ Mana particles will appear and fuses with every mana particle in the void, compressing it to a point it will be visible to naked eye. ]
A shiver, not of cold, but of profound, bone-deep unease, ran through Karl's skeletal frame. Visible mana. That sounds… like a beacon. A giant, glowing signpost for every creature in the vicinity. A very strong feeling there's a significant catch to this 'visible mana' phenomenon. Something inherently dangerous, something that completely undermines the very secrecy and hidden nature of this location.
[ Yes, Rich Mana environment attracts monsters. ]
Karl's eye sockets widened, a chilling realization dawning, cold dread seeping into his very core. His jaw dropped, a silent, skeletal gasp.
Uhhh… isn't that, by definition, an incredibly bad thing for a fledgling enterprise? Monsters. Attracted. To my front door. This isn't just a base; it's a living, breathing monster trap. Shit. All those webnovels and mangas… I thought I knew about dungeons. I thought they were just cool bases. This isn't just a base; it's a living, breathing monster trap. A giant, glowing, 'come-and-get-us' sign for every creature within a hundred miles. I better plan this out with extreme caution. My current defenses are pathetic. And I can't even use the Dungeon Edit feature yet; it requires 500 mana, which I don't have. This is a complete game-changer. My entire business model just got a massive, toothy, and potentially deadly, update. The implications for security, for trade, for everything… they're enormous. This changes everything.
Karl took a deep, non-existent breath, forcing himself to regain composure. He pressed his bony fingers against his temples, as if to physically push away the rising panic.
Alright, Karl. Deep breaths. Panicking won't solve anything. Let's calm down a bit. For now, the focus must be on managing the immediate threats and opportunities. Constant worry will only lead to unproductive decisions. Adapt. Overcome. Optimize. That's the corporate mantra, even in undeath.
Later that morning, the sounds of the dungeon were punctuated by the soft thud of bows and the rustle of leaves. Karl stood at the dungeon entrance, the pale morning light illuminating his skeletal form. He handed out newly crafted wooden bows and quivers filled with fletched arrows to the new employees. Orkesh stood beside him, a reassuring, if still slightly nervous, presence. The kobolds' eyes, though still wary, showed a flicker of anticipation, almost excitement, as they grasped the smooth wood of the bows and the fletched arrows. Their small hands, accustomed to traps and crude spears, seemed to adapt quickly, their fingers already testing the bowstrings.
Their skills are in hunting and scouting, Karl thought, observing their eager reactions. Let's put them to good use immediately. More resources, more food, and critically, more mana from their activities. Every little bit helps. And their scouting will be invaluable for early warning, for detecting those monsters the Dungeon Core is so keen on attracting.
His mind then shifted to their living conditions. The guest room, while sheltered from the elements, was still just a bare stone chamber, cold and unwelcoming. Karl ordered the builders to construct beds for the guest room, specifically bunk beds to maximize space within the limited confines.
They need proper rest, he reasoned, the corporate logic still strong within him, a pragmatic concern for his new "employees." Happy employees, even if they're not technically on the payroll yet, lead to happy customers. And a well-rested workforce is an efficient workforce. Besides, a comfortable guest is a returning guest, and a returning guest means more mana generated from their presence. It's all about the long-term investment.
Karl also tasked the builders with constructing sturdy wooden doors on all doorways leading into and out of the first floor, as well as at the main dungeon entrance.
Security is paramount. Absolutely essential. I can't have monsters just wandering in, especially with the mana situation now attracting them like moths to a flame. We need controlled access, choke points, and a clear line of defense. These doors are the first line, a basic but crucial layer of protection, a physical barrier against the inevitable. He paused, a practical thought occurring to him. Though…
He specifically excluded the Metallurgy room from getting a door, a dry, internal chuckle escaping him. Who knows where all that industrial smoke and magical byproduct has been venting? Better to let it flow freely for now, dissipate into the open air. Don't want to accidentally build a gas chamber instead of a forge, or accumulate some noxious magical fumes that could cause… unforeseen side effects, perhaps even mutate my minions. Better safe than sorry, even for a Lich who deals in death.
Karl was overseeing the builders, watching the early stages of a new door frame being erected, when a sudden, sharp clench of his skeletal fist brought him up short. A wave of self-reproach, cold and immediate, washed over him, a sensation akin to a human's sudden, mortifying realization of a glaring oversight.
Water. Ayayay, for fuck sake, water! The thought hammered at him, echoing in the hollows of his skull. I'm so accustomed to being an undead, completely self-sufficient, requiring no sustenance, no drink, that I completely forgot the most basic requirement for living beings. My living guests. The kobolds. They need water. This isn't just a convenience; it's a fundamental necessity, a critical oversight that could undermine everything I'm building here. How could I have been so blind?
He immediately accessed the System, his mental commands urgent, and bought a blueprint for a Water Well.
Can't have them drinking from puddles or relying on some questionable underground seepage. That's unsanitary, inefficient, and frankly, unprofessional for a burgeoning Necro Corp. A proper well is non-negotiable. Clean, reliable water is essential for health, for cooking, for… every aspect of their lives within the dungeon.
He tasked the builders to construct it on the deepest level, near the core's original location, where he suspected a suitable underground water source might be.
It needs to be accessible, but also secure, protected from external threats. Deepest level makes sense for a consistent supply, less prone to external contamination or disruption. Plus, it keeps the vital infrastructure hidden.
He also tasked the artisan to make a series of sturdy wooden barrels for water storage and distribution.
Barrels for storage, easy distribution to the Canteen and guest rooms. This isn't just about providing for them; it's about establishing a proper, self-sustaining ecosystem within the dungeon. A closed loop, efficient and controlled, where every resource is accounted for. For profit, of course. A healthy workforce is a productive workforce, after all. And a well-hydrated customer is a happy customer, more likely to spend their coin and spread positive word-of-mouth. Every detail contributes to the bottom line. The oversight, once a source of embarrassment, was quickly reframed into another opportunity for optimization and control, a testament to Karl's unyielding corporate mindset.