Reed woke up in a predicament that defied physics, biology, and personal space.

He couldn't see the ceiling. He saw feathers. Specifically, a tawny wing was draped over his face like a sleep mask.

He tried to move his legs. Impossible. They were encased in a heavy, warm, muscular coil of emerald scales. Seraphine had claimed the bottom half of the bed—and the bottom half of Reed—as her territory.

He tried to shift his torso. Squish. Luma was puddle-sleeping on his chest, her gelatinous form rising and falling with his breathing.

And somewhere near his left hip, a small, hard knee was digging into him. Grika.

"System," Reed whispered into the feathers. "Status report."

[STATUS: HAREM CRITICAL]

Airflow: Restricted.

Temperature: Tropical.

Dignity: Non-existent.

Mana: 42.5 (Overflowing).

Reed groaned. The "debriefing" Maira had scheduled last night had devolved into what could only be described as a competitive snuggle-pile. Seraphine had insisted on "guarding" him while he slept. Riva had insisted that he was the best perch. Luma just wanted to be involved.

And Maira…

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of heels on stone cut through the morning grogginess.

"Wake up, vermin," Maira's voice rang out, sharp as a whip crack. "It is 0600 hours. The Master requires oxygen, and the dungeon requires running."

Riva squawked, flapping her wings and hitting Reed in the nose. Seraphine hissed, tightening her coil possessively before reluctantly loosening her grip. Luma just bubbled and rolled off the side of the bed with a wet thud.

Reed sat up, gasping for air and picking a feather out of his mouth.

Maira stood at the foot of the bed, clipboard in hand, looking impeccably pressed and terrifyingly awake.

"Good morning, Master," she said, adjusting her glasses. "I trust your… maintenance… was satisfactory?"

Reed looked at his team: a yawning goblin in oversized t-shirt (Maira's attempt at modesty), a stretching harpy, a grumpy snake-knight, and a re-forming slime.

"It was… crowded," Reed said.

"Efficiency," Maira noted. "Combining rest with bonding. Now, get dressed. We have a staff meeting."

The Core Chamber

An hour later, they were assembled.

Reed had used a chunk of his new Mana wealth to expand the Core Chamber slightly, creating a raised dais for the Core and a semi-circle of stone seats for his "officers."

He stood in front of the crystal, looking at them.

Grika sat on the edge of her seat, spinning her wrench. Luma was wobbling happily on a custom slime-cushion. Seraphine was coiled regally, looking like a queen in exile. Riva was perched on top of Seraphine's head (to the knight's immense irritation). Maira stood at Reed's right hand, ready to take minutes.

"Okay," Reed started. "First off: yesterday was a win. A big win."

He pointed to the Mana counter floating in the air.

[DM: 42.5]

[Core XP: 85 / 100]

"We dominated a D-rank party," Reed said. "We terrified them, we beat them, and we sent them home crying. And we did it without killing a single one of them."

Seraphine puffed out her chest. "They were soft. But they broke well."

"Because of that," Reed continued, "we are now on the map. The Guild knows us. The town knows us. And soon, stronger people are going to come looking for the 'Teasing Tomb.'"

Grika snorted. "I still hate that name."

"It sells," Reed argued. "But if we're going to survive the next wave—and the wave after that—we need rules. Real rules. Not just Maira's cleaning schedule."

Maira's eye twitched. "Hygiene is the foundation of civilization."

"Agreed," Reed said quickly. "But I'm talking about survival philosophy."

He paced back and forth, feeling the hum of the dungeon beneath his boots.

"Rule Number One: We Are Farmers, Not Butchers."

He looked at Seraphine.

"Most dungeons kill intruders to eat their XP. One-time meal. We? We shear the sheep. We let them live, let them level up, and let them come back with better gear and more mana. We want repeat customers. Dead adventurers don't pay rent."

Seraphine crossed her arms, her tail twitching. "So we must always hold back?"

"No," Reed said. "We push them to the breaking point. If they die by accident, fine. If they try to destroy the Core, you kill them without hesitation. But the goal is dominance, not death. Fear tastes better than blood."

Seraphine smiled slowly. "I can work with that."

"Rule Number Two: No One Gets Left Behind."

Reed looked at Luma and Grika.

"You aren't minions. You aren't disposable mobs. You're my team. My family. If a party hurts one of you permanently? The rules change. If they kill one of you? They don't leave."

The room went quiet.

Dungeons didn't usually care about their monsters. Monsters were ammo. To hear the Core Avatar say the word family…

Luma sniffled, leaking blue tears. "Reed…"

Grika looked away, pulling her goggles down to hide her eyes. "Don't get sappy, Boss. You'll make me rust."

Riva hung upside down from Seraphine's horns to look Reed in the eye. "Family means you preen me first, right?"

"We'll negotiate the preening order," Reed said.

"Rule Number Three: We Grow Weird."

He gestured to the group.

"Look at us. A tech-goblin, a medic-slime, a knight-snake, a neat-freak demon, and a kleptomaniac bird. We don't fit the standard molds. And we're going to lean into that."

He grinned.

"We're going to build things no other dungeon has. Hot springs. Casinos. Rollercoasters made of minecarts. We're going to be the dungeon that people want to dive into, even if it means getting stepped on by a lamia."

"Especially if it means that," Grika muttered.

"We act like a business," Reed finished. "A dangerous, sexy, terrifying business. Are we clear?"

Maira stepped forward. She looked at Reed with a new intensity—not just professional respect, but something deeper. Acknowledgment of authority.

"Clear, Master," she said. "I will update the operational protocols."

"Clear!" Riva chirped.

"Understood, my Lord," Seraphine bowed.

"Let's build some crazy stuff," Grika grinned.

"I love you guys!" Luma cheered, expanding into a puddle of joy.

Reed nodded. He turned back to the Core. He felt… ready.

The System chimed.

[ACT 1 COMPLETE]

Core Status: Stabilized.

Philosophy: Locked (Sustainable Harvesting).

Party: Established.

Reward:

– System Update v2.0 (Downloading…)

– World Map Access (Regional)

"System update?" Reed muttered.

Before he could check it, a new window popped up. It wasn't blue. It was red.

[WARNING]

External Scry Detected.

Source: High-Level.

Location: The Capital.

Reed froze. "Maira. We're being watched."

The Dungeon Authority – Regional Headquarters

Hundreds of miles away, in a tower of black obsidian that pierced the clouds, a quill scratched across parchment.

The room was circular, lined with thousands of glowing crystals. Each crystal represented a dungeon in the kingdom. Most were dull red (feral) or dormant gray (inactive).

One crystal on the outer rim—near the frontier town of Stonebridge—was pulsing.

It wasn't red. It wasn't gray.

It was pink.

Director Vane stared at the crystal. He was a man who looked like he had been carved out of marble and resentment. He wore the high-collared robes of the Authority.

"Report," he said.

An aide scrambled forward, holding a stack of papers.

"Dungeon D-0731, Director. It's… anomalous."

Vane picked up the file.

Subject: Unnamed Dungeon.

Activity: High.

Casualties: Zero.

Reports: "Spanked by traps," "Cuddled by floor," "Boss monster accepted surrender."

Vane frowned. He hated anomalies. Anomalies meant chaos. Dungeons were supposed to be simple: they grew, they killed, they were farmed, and eventually, they were culled.

A dungeon that didn't kill? A dungeon that negotiated?

"It's a Benevolent Aberrant," the aide suggested. "Rare, sir. But usually harmless."

Vane tapped the pink crystal. It pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat.

"Harmless things don't grow this fast," Vane murmured. "Look at the mana density. It's tripling every week. It's feeding on something other than death."

He dropped the file.

"Flag it," Vane ordered.

"Sir?"

"Flag it for Inspection," Vane said coldly. "Send an Auditor. A real one. Send… Inquisitor Kaelen."

The aide paled. "Sir, Kaelen hates dungeons. She'll dismantle it if she finds a single code violation."

"Exactly," Vane smiled thinly. "If it's truly benevolent, it will survive her. If it's a trick… she will crack it open and show us what's rotting inside."

He turned back to the window, looking north toward the frontier.

"A dungeon that plays with its food," he mused. "Disgusting."

Back Underground

Reed sneezed.

"Okay," he said, rubbing his nose. "Someone is definitely talking about me. And it feels like management."

"Let them come," Seraphine hissed, slithering up beside him. She wrapped an arm around his waist, her tail forming a protective barrier behind him. "We are ready."

"We're getting there," Reed corrected.

He looked at the map. He looked at the vast, empty space beneath Floor 1, waiting to be carved.

He had 42 Mana.

"Grika," Reed said. "You wanted to build something big?"

Grika's ears perked up. "How big?"

"Floor 2," Reed said. "I'm thinking… water level. Luma's domain. Hot springs. Slippery tiles."

Luma gasped. "A pool? A giant pool?"

"A giant pool," Reed confirmed. "With tentacles."

Maira adjusted her glasses. "For… massage therapy, Master?"

Reed grinned. It was the grin of a man who had accepted his fate as a degenerate dungeon lord.

"Sure, Maira. Let's call it that."

He placed his hand on the Core.

"End of tutorial," Reed whispered. "Let's start the real game."

The crystal flared blindingly bright.

[LOADING ACT 2…]

[Theme: Wet & Wild]

[New Rivals Detected]

[New Waifus Available]

[END OF ACT 1]

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.