​The red crystal sat on the stone table in the Core Chamber, pulsing with a dull, rhythmic light. It looked less like a magical artifact and more like a dying heart.

​Reed stared at it, then at the holographic map floating above the table. The numbers didn't add up.

​"So," he said, rubbing his temples. "Let's recap."

​He pointed to the red crystal. "Exhibit A: Malakor the Necromancer knows we exist. He has deployed a battalion of Siegebreakers, Level 15 heavy infantry, to crush us. They are five miles out and sprinting.

​He pointed to the entrance tunnel on the map. "Exhibit B: We have forty-two mana. Our front door is a pile of loose rocks. And our primary tank, Terra, is currently acting as a trash compactor on Floor 3."

​"And Exhibit C," Riva chirped from Reed's shoulder, wiping glitter-glue from her beak. "Bird is hungry."

​"Bird is always hungry," Reed sighed, absentmindedly handing her a slice of pepperoni from his pocket stash. "But the point stands. We are outgunned."

​The mood in the room was heavy. Even Grika, usually vibrating with destructive optimism, was running calculations on a slate and erasing them furiously.

​"The math is bad, Boss," Grika muttered, her goggles reflecting the map's blue light. "Even if Terra holds the door, the sheer volume of skeletons will swarm us. We need a nuke. Or a miracle."

​"I do not like miracles," Seraphine hissed, coiling tighter around the dais. Her armor clinked softly. "They usually involve praying to gods who want to kill us."

​PING.

​The sound wasn't a physical bell. It was the distinct, headache-inducing chime of the System receiving an external administrative priority message. It vibrated in Reed's teeth.

​The air above the table shimmered. A scroll materialized out of thin air. It wasn't parchment; it was woven from stiff, official blue light and sealed with the heavy, iron stamp of a portcullis.

​The Dungeon Authority.

​"Bureaucracy," Maira whispered, her face paling slightly. "That is an Enforcement Seal."

​Reed reached out and touched the seal. The scroll snapped open with a sound like a cracking whip.

​[OFFICIAL NOTICE OF AUDIT]

​To: Dungeon Core [Designation: UNBOUND-404]

From: The Dungeon Authority, Western Region

Auditor: High Inquisitor Kaelen

Subject: Immediate Compliance Inspection

​Message: "Avatar Reed. Your dungeon has been flagged for:

​Anomalous Mana Spikes (Class 4).

​Unsanctioned Monster Evolution (Siren/Magma Variant).

​Suspected Interaction with Illegal Necrotic Forces.

​I am currently ten miles south. I will arrive at 08:00 Hours tomorrow. Prepare your ledgers, secure your monsters, and present your Core for structural analysis.

​Warning: Any resistance will result in Immediate Liquidations."

Reed read it twice. The words Immediate Liquidations seemed to burn on the screen.

​"Ten miles," he whispered. He looked at the Necromancer's crystal. "Five miles."

​He looked at the clock. It was 6:00 PM.

​"It's a race," Reed realized, the blood draining from his face. "Malakor isn't just attacking. He's timing it. He wants to breach us around 2:00 AM, kill us, loot the Core, and vanish before the Authority arrives at 8:00 AM."

​"The Authority will purge us if they find us fighting a war," Maira stated, her tail flicking with agitation. "Possession of a Necrotic Rival is a code violation. They will deem you 'Unstable' and decommission the Core. They will shatter you, Master."

​"And if we hide?" Luma asked, rippling nervously in her bodysuit.

​"The army breaks in and kills us," Reed said.

​He paced the room. Two enemies. One wanted to eat his soul. One wanted to shut down his business and arrest him.

​He clenched his fists. He felt… small.

​He was a Dungeon Lord, but he had no high-tier spells. He had no army. He had a family of misfits and a pizza oven. Against a Necromancer and an Inquisitor, he was just a guy standing in a cave.

​I need more power, he thought bitterly. I need to be something they fear.

​But he wasn't. Not yet.

​"Master," Maira said, stepping forward. She adjusted her glasses, the light glinting off them. "If Kaelen is coming, we cannot look like a chaotic harem of monsters. We must look… controlled."

​"Controlled?" Seraphine scoffed, sharpening her spear. "I am a Guardian. I do not 'submit'."

​"You will," Maira said coolly. "Or Kaelen will bind you in stasis chains and ship you to a research lab. She is an Inquisitor, Seraphine. She uses Law Magic. She can command you to stop breathing, and your lungs will obey."

​Seraphine's eyes widened. She looked at Reed. "Is this true, my Lord?"

​Reed checked his System knowledge base.

Inquisitor Class: Specializes in binding and banishing Aberrants.

​"Yeah," Reed said. "She's the police, Seraphine. And we are very illegal."

​"So we fight," Grika said, grabbing her wrench. "We fight the skeletons, then we fight the cop."

​"We can't fight both," Reed said. He stopped pacing. He looked at the map.

​A desperate, insane idea began to form.

​"We don't fight the Inquisitor," Reed said slowly. "We use her."

​The room went silent.

​"Malakor wants to crush us before she gets here," Reed explained. "So, we don't let him. We stall. We use every trap, every wall, and every trick Grika has to hold that door until dawn."

​He pointed at the time: 08:00 AM.

​"And when the Inquisitor arrives… we open the door. We invite her in. And we let her see exactly who is attacking us."

​"You want to trap a High Inquisitor in a room with a Zombie Army?" Grika asked, a slow grin spreading across her face.

​"I want to file a complaint," Reed corrected. "About a trespassing Necromancer. Paladins are obligated to purge Undead on sight, right?"

​"It is their primary directive," Maira confirmed. "But Master… for this to work, she must not kill us first."

​Reed looked around the room. He looked at the velvet cushions, the pizza oven, the hot spring entrance, and Riva's pile of shiny loot.

​"If she walks in here and sees a resort," Reed said, "she'll burn us for heresy. We need to look like victims. We need to look like a struggling, pathetic, C-Tier dungeon that is barely hanging on."

​He turned to Grika.

​"Grika. Hide the pizza oven. Build a wall over it."

​"But the sourdough!" Grika wailed.

​"Hide it! Vent the smell!" Reed barked. He turned to Luma.

​"Luma. The pool. It's too clean. Make it dirty. Put mud in it."

​Luma gasped. "Mud? In my water?"

​"Do it. We need to look gross."

​He turned to Seraphine.

​"And you… put some clothes on. Something rusty. You're not a Queen tonight. You're a feral survivor."

​Seraphine looked down at her polished magma armor. "Indignity," she hissed.

​"Survival," Reed corrected.

​He looked at his hands. They were shaking slightly. He wasn't an Overlord. He was a con artist. And this was going to be the biggest con of his life.

​"Operation Ugly is a go," Reed declared, grabbing a bucket of grey paint. "Let's ruin the property value."

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