Making the Dungeon Great
Gular's explanation went like this. "We need to conceal the dungeon for the time being."
His words left me puzzled. Why? Was there really any need? Fighting was fun. Getting stronger felt great. But that didn't mean I wanted to deal with annoying hassles. Wanderers came sniffing around on their own anyway. Why not just keep hunting them one by one like now?
"Of course. If we keep this up, a subjugation force will show up before long."
An important fact I'd overlooked. Humans were social creatures who lived in massive communities. Mess with the wrong one, and they swarmed like an angry hive of bees—a fact too well-known to ignore. Considering what I'd been up to, it was obvious they wouldn't just leave me alone. Sure, Wanderers could respawn endlessly, but that didn't mean there were zero consequences.
"Judging by the caliber of the ones coming in here, they all seem like total newbies. Their overseers won't just sit idly by."
This place was a tutorial zone, training rookies to advance to the next stage. That explained the low-level monsters in the dungeon. The process was supposed to build skill and confidence in the Starting Village before setting off on real adventures. But now, a wildcard had disrupted the quiet: a unique entity hunting every Wanderer on sight. Thanks to me, newbie Wanderers were losing their growth opportunities and stalling out entirely—that was Gular's rundown.
So that's why we hide the dungeon for a bit?
"Clack?"
To that end, Gular proposed holding our breath and hunkering down during the renovations. A subjugation force would spell trouble, he explained. But I just gave him a sulky reaction.
Why not just kill them all? I was brimming with confidence right now. Who could possibly stand against me? I was a skeleton who'd inherited the Gluttony Star, after all!
"Once subjugation's greenlit, you'll probably get a flood of hero-grade Wanderers. Even you would find that a tough fight."
His follow-up made me flinch for a second. What? Actual heroes existed? The casual mention of something I'd only vaguely imagined deflated my sky-high ego a notch. Heroes were the real deal. Get cocky, and you could end up dead. My overinflated arrogance snapped right back to normal. No getting complacent. The world's rule was that disaster could strike anytime you got careless.
I accepted Gular's advice. We'd seal the dungeon entrance for now.
"Entrance. How?"
"Clack?"
Problem was, I had no clue how to seal it. Block it with a big boulder? Wanderers probably wouldn't give up that easily.
Surprisingly, the answer was simple.
"How about we hire a specialist?"
A specialist? Gular wore an enigmatic smile.
*
This world was packed with dungeons. Some were nameless low-tier ones like mine. Others were massive strongholds ruled by dangerous Lords. And they shared one key trait: each had its own specialist race managing it.
"Gnomes?"
"Clack?"
What the hell was that? First time hearing it. Some kind of monster?
"Yeah, gnomes are the ones who handle that job."
A special race gifted with dungeon maintenance and management skills. Hearing about them, I stroked my jaw in genuine wonder. The world was full of all sorts of wild shit. Specialized for dungeon upkeep? Pure admiration from me.
But did we even need repairs? I didn't have money or anything. Sure, there were unopened treasure vaults, but once something passed my lips, it was mine. No sharing! Unless it was something unappetizing like shadow bug heads—those I could spare.
"That won't be an issue. As long as you have dungeon points, you can hire gnomes no problem."
The energy leaking from a dungeon reshaped its surroundings. Among it was points—gnome food, basically. That's why he'd told me to farm points. Now it clicked. The bigger the dungeon grew, the more Wanderer souls it devoured, the more points piled up. Stronger dungeon meant benefits for the gnomes too. I didn't need the points anyway, so no skin off my back. Like an employment deal.
The catch: where to find these valuable gnomes? They wouldn't just stroll in.
Did I have to go scouting outside?
"I've got a way!"
Our alchemist had the answer again. His smug confidence wasn't the most appealing, but I nodded anyway. Couldn't help feeling reliable when he pulled this off. Must be nice knowing so much! Saved me the hassle.
Rummaging through his bag with a "leave it to me," Gular pulled out a peculiar rod.
"This is a special tool for summoning gnomes."
A rod emitting vibrations only gnomes could sense. They lived burrowed like moles, communicating via unique tremors over distances. This sent them a message. Gular jammed the red rod into the center of the room's floor and tapped it with his finger.
Woooong... woong.
The rhythmic hum was oddly addictive. After focusing like that for a while, Gular suddenly snapped his head up, staring into empty air.
"They're coming."
Already? Before I could question it—
Pababat—!
In the corner of the skeleton knight's room where we stood, the dirt wall crumbled with a roar, revealing a small hole. And out popped—
"Hm? Hello?"
Tiny, adorable creatures. What the hell were these pint-sized things? They barely reached my knee. Pitch-black skin like coal contrasted with glowing golden eyes.
"You the one who called us?"
They looked just like kids. The only odd bits: pointed ears like elves, and a few long white whiskers sprouting from their chubby cheeks. Dozens of them at least. They scanned the dungeon with shining golden eyes and let out soft gasps of awe.
"This dungeon's potential is huge, you know? We could build our dream gnome kingdom here!"
"……?"
I floated a question mark over my head as I listened. Their speech was weird. Every sentence rose questioningly, ending in "yo"—like preschoolers mangling polite speech.
"We'll call you Boss from now on, yo?"
Anyway, they loved my dungeon. Calling me Boss right away and proposing a contract.
No formal paperwork, of course. Even if there was, who'd enforce it?
"Got enough points, yo?"
Paying gnomes required points.
"Of course!"
"Clack!"
"Transfer the points, and we'll start right away, yo?"
But how did you transfer points? Hell, did I even have any? Never seen 'em.
I stood there blankly until Gular tossed in advice.
"Just hold the dungeon core and think about giving points."
Grabbing the core and peering close, I saw numbers floating over a rippling, liquid-like energy.
So this was my dungeon points. A bit disappointing after all that work. Screw it! Remodel the dungeon, and I'd rake in more!
Deciding to stay positive, I gripped the core like Gular said and focused. The energy slowly spread outward, thinning into lines that flowed into each gnome.
Done? Seeing it absorb safely, I checked the core again.
Drained clean. Definitely transferred.
"Alright, let's get to work, yo?"
"Everyone, fighting, yo!"
The gnomes scattered into the dungeon, grabbing tools and toddling off. The leader who'd spoken first turned to me.
"How do you want to remodel the dungeon, yo?"
I pondered his question. Reasons for the makeover: This was my home now, so spruce it up nice. But not just flashy—true to dungeon form, it needed ways to torment invaders.
How to design it for maximum Wanderer suffering? Seal the entrance first, let the pros handle the rest. As I moved to ask the veteran-looking leader for advice—
"……!!"
Sensing an unfamiliar aura, I shot to my feet. Instinct screamed: someone was approaching. From the pitch-black shadows beyond the lightless entrance strode a man with long, slitted eyes and a serpentine smirk. His perpetually narrowed eyes—slit-eyes, they called 'em—crinkled in a grin as he approached, bowing with exaggerated courtesy.
"I greet the Gluttony Star."
Raising his head, he fixed me with an inscrutable smile.
"Might this humble one have a moment of your time?"