Sharath had barely ended his congratulating himself on christening his region Unnatirajya — a name that felt both regal and one that needed to go on the side of an expensive bottle of ghee — when his priorities came into sharp focus.
"Political stability, economic growth, and infrastructural development all start with one thing," Sharath declared at breakfast.
"Strategic diplomacy?" Lord Darsha hazarded, taking a sip of tea."Trade treaties," suggested Lord Bassana, already working out profit percentages in his mind."War preparedness?" Lady Ishvari ventured.
Sharath placed his spoon on the table, allowing the theatrical silence to permeate the room."Farming slime sludge."
The stunned silence that followed was palpable. Even the princess, with half-a-slice of bread still bare of butter, was immobilized.
Thermo the cat, lounging shamelessly on the table, lapping fish oil off his paw, meowed in what Sharath elected to see as "He's right, you know."
Sharath's New Dungeon Plan: Logistics Overkill
His parents' initial response was outrage ("You're going back into that death trap already?!"), but Sharath, unmoved, rolled out a plan so complicated it might have been a military campaign or a pyramid scheme.
The issue the last time was trash — barrels' worth, inventory's worth, and irreplaceable slime slush left behind. This time? Loot left behind, never.
The fix:
Four logistics groups: one with him, two traveling loot back and forth from within the dungeon, and one waiting outside to load into Unnatirajya's warehouse.
Special load-carrying tricycles: because nothing shouts "heroic dungeon conqueror" like pedaling by monsters with a cargo rack full of goo.
Thermo's new title: formally appointed Morale Officer. (Informally: chaos gremlin.)
Barrels, barrels, and still more barrels: enough to open a brewery if they ever tired of the job.
Lord Darsha gazed at the map, then at his son. "You desire… loot runners.""Yes," Sharath replied soberly. "The cornerstone of any contemporary dungeon economy."Lord Bassana grunted in approval, "Boy knows supply chains."
The Great Slime Convoy
Three days after, the caravan rolled out of Unnatirajya resembling the medieval-fantasy equivalent of a circus procession.
Eight tricycles groaned under the load of barrels. Two carried no more than spare barrels. Thermo rode in the front basket of Sharath's trike, buckled into a harness that made him resemble a small furry commanding general surveying his army.
The princess rode alongside Sharath, bow on her back and an expression that was half admiration, half this is insane but I'm here for it.
🐧NeuroBoop, in Sharath's head, couldn't resist."You've basically recreated the Oregon Trail, except your oxen are tricycles, your supplies are slime goo, and your cat is wearing tactical gear. Bold move."
Floor 1 – Slime Slaughter
The dungeon gate creaked open to reveal the familiar horde of wobbling, acid-spitting slimes. They wobbled menacingly, spat sizzling lines of acid — and Sharath cut them down like weeds.
Sitting on the tricycle's back platform like a pirate captain, he blazed away with the M416. BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!
Slimes burst into sludge and broke apart into shattered cores. The soldiers didn't even blink anymore — they merely shoveled the goo into barrels like grape gatherers working in the fields.
Thermo swatted one slime core off across the floor, pursued it halfway up a wall, then lugged it back in his mouth like a trophy. The princess, not to be outdone, picked off slimes from thirty paces with her water-shot ability, drilling cores with unsettling precision.
By the time they reached the first-floor boss, ten barrels were already filled and marked. The boss slime attempted to begin its grand entrance — only for Sharath to cancel it with a burst of gunfire.
The loot chest also provided additional slime acid, sludge, and a slime-core necklace which, in 🐧NeuroBoop's words, "has all the magical power of a soggy potato chip". Sharath gave it to Thermo anyway, who immediately wore it like royal attire.
Floor 2 – Cold Reception
The air became crisp and icy as they descended. The ground was shrouded in mist, and the initial ice boars came charging through frosted stalagmites, their breath misty. Red slimes, which spat fire, trailed behind them, flowing forward like lavas.
"Remember," Sharath shouted out, "the red ones blow up if you kill them improperly!"
An explosion shook the cavern instantaneously."…Who shot it in the improper place?""Thermo," grumbled a soldier. And there sat the cat complacently next to a steaming slime body, tail lashing in complacent defiance.
The battle was messy but efficient. Sharath swapped between cutting down slimes and accurate-shooting boars with rounds infused with mana. The boar bodies went onto sleds roped onto trike frames, their cold hides preserving them like natural freezers.
Second-floor boss — an icicle-tusked oversized ice boar — went down to a good shot. The chest released ice-proof gloves, which the princess snatched up immediately, wiggling her fingers as if just proclaimed queen.
Descent to Floor 3
The convoy was now a bubbling, icy wreckage of barrels and corpses. They rolled down the third set of stairs, morale boosted.
"This is going too well," Sharath said.That's the precise sentence protagonists say before they get consumed," 🐧NeuroBoop responded.
The temperature leveled out once more, and the tunnel expanded into a cave lit by luminescent moss. That's when the growling began.
Out of the darkness padded wolfish beasts, scrawny but muscular, eyes yellow glows. They spread out in a half-circle, tails hung low, teeth exposed.
Behind them came Floor 1 slimes and Floor 2 ice boars shuffled into sight — as if the dungeon had chosen to hold a "Greatest Hits" monster reunion.
A soldier breathed, "Uh… is that normal?""No," replied Sharath, taking up his guns. "This is new."
Thermo growled at the wolves, arched his back, then immediately deserted his basket seat to spring onto the princess's shoulder, tail puffed.
Sharath grinned. "Okay boys… let's make this our floor."
The third-floor bedlam was going to start.