It hadn't been long since the last major overhaul of the Sein Dungeon.
Wade never imagined that so soon afterward, he'd already be preparing for another massive renovation—this time for an entirely different dungeon. The thought made him both excited and a little drained.
No one could stay in a constant state of infinite inspiration, after all.
He spread a map across his desk—an approximate map of the Yanor Kingdom—and located Bedford City and Val City.
Traveling day and night by carriage, the journey between the two took nearly two full days. For regular people, that was far. But for dungeons? It was far too close—close enough that Sein and Val would inevitably compete for foot traffic.
This issue was unavoidable. Some adventurers originally heading to Sein would definitely wander over to Val.
The good news was that both dungeons belonged to Wade now. So no matter which they chose, all their Mana ultimately ended up in his pocket.
But if Val followed the same design philosophy as Sein, the overlap in visitors would be huge. He'd just be harvesting the same crowd endlessly. Even if popularity was booming now, one day the number of visitors would plateau.
Therefore, Val had to change. It must not resemble Sein.
"Basically… I need to expand my audience," Wade muttered.
Val Dungeon needed differentiation—features Sein didn't have—to attract players who weren't interested in Sein at all. Only then could he grow the player base and earn even more Mana.
A solid idea—but execution was the tricky part.
"One thing must be clear: the design must not stray from my original intention."
And his original intention was simple:
To kill people and harvest Mana.
"Under that grand premise, Val needs elements that Sein doesn't."
In any field—games, novels, communities—if you want to expand your audience, there's one thing you absolutely must not do:
Abandon your old fans.
…Unless you never had any to begin with.
Take Elden Ring, for example. It added many features previous Souls games didn't have—an open world, ashes, spirit summons, countless weapons and spells. Many old Souls players said it was easier, less 'Souls-like,' that Miyazaki had grown soft.
And yet it became the highest-selling game in the series. Even Sekiro, which took Game of the Year, didn't come close.
Why?
Aside from excellent quality, the lowered difficulty and new features drew in a massive wave of new players. With spirit summons and magic, even newbies could enjoy the game.
Just stand there and sling pebbles like a mage—the boss HP evaporates.
Lower difficulty brought expansion, while old Souls players still formed the core. Together, they made Elden Ring a phenomenon.
Many games failed at expanding—there was no shortage of cautionary tales.
So no matter what Val Dungeon added, it had to stay faithful to the "Sein lineage."
Wade felt that Val and future dungeons could form a unified identity:
The Sein-series Dungeons.
They might fail someday, but they could never lose their essence.
Then the question was:
How should Val differ from Sein?
That was when the treasure left by his predecessors came to mind.
Because of Kirich, Val Dungeon could never close. Wade had no authority to revoke that.
So...
Why not turn it into a life-oriented dungeon?
If people could actually live inside, he'd get a constant supply of Mana. A comfortable life, sustained by long-term residents.
"Alright. It's decided."
With the direction settled, Wade thought for a bit and chose to reuse Sein's original structure: a classic multi-floor dungeon where players continuously progressed downward.
If he wanted long-term residents, post-opening redesigns must be minimal. Any future expansions could simply add new floors.
Each floor would contain multiple habitable areas. The first-floor safe zone would be unlocked immediately, but later safe zones would require clearing conditions—exterminating monsters, solving puzzles, etc.
However, even safe zones couldn't be eternally safe. Residents shouldn't enjoy permanent peace without effort, so he planned periodic monster raids. But unlike 7 Days to Die, the waves wouldn't endlessly scale.
"Monster raids should exist purely for stimulation, so…"
Wade decided each safe zone would have attacks tied to its lore—and these attacks could be prevented with proper preparations.
Like how Dying Light required UV lights at night.
Val's safe zones might need torches lit, or a light spell cast regularly. As long as adventurers followed the rules, they'd be fine. But if they forgot…
They'd have a nice little brawl waiting for them.
A life-oriented dungeon must always put "dungeon" first—not "life."
His goal wasn't letting adventurers settle down and raise families.
If they wanted domestic life, why not live outside where it was actually safe?
Maybe one day, if demons overran the world, the dungeon might become a refuge. But that was far in the future.
With safe zones laid out, the next challenge surfaced:
How to kill people here?
If players lived permanently inside, static traps would only work once—the classic "first-time kill" problem.
So Wade had to rely on monsters instead.
For residents to feel immersed, the dungeon needed a believable ecosystem—monsters that made sense within their environments.
"Skeletons that rely on traps won't cut it. Elite monsters are better."
"Monsters will be divided into ecological monsters and story monsters."
Ecological monsters drive exploration. Story monsters provide lore through fragmented worldbuilding and unique drops.
Each floor could have its own mini-story—great for immersion.
"And… most monsters can't be too strong. They also shouldn't be too expensive."
If every monster was a Rajang, Lagiacrus, or Deviljho, even Silver-ranked adventurers would flee.
If residents were going to live here, monsters couldn't one-shot them. There had to be room to escape.
So Wade settled on monsters like Rune Bears, Blue Bears, and Great Bird-types. Each floor would have one or two Deviljho-tier predators patrolling for population control.
"Choosing monsters will be a massive headache…"
He jotted it down in his notebook.
Designing each floor's environment would also take huge effort. Because floors were isolated, environmental differences could be dramatic.
"Maybe I should check what adventurers are interested in lately," he thought. "Design the floors around current trends."
Was there anyone in Bedford City recently who could inspire a whole floor?
Wade massaged his temples. Just thinking about all this made him tired.
Safe zones, monster selections, environment design…
And one more issue:
How to make adventurers willingly stay four to fourteen days?
Aside from good resources, he could add items requiring long waits—like those novels where protagonists camp seven days waiting for a fruit tree to ripen. Or mechanics where certain states only unlock after multiple days of residency.
Hmm… maybe he could even include a multi-day dream event?
One thing was certain: Val Dungeon would be a slow-burn project. Its daily Mana output would inevitably be lower than Sein's.
To reduce costs, resources couldn't be too expensive.
"Even something like a farm plot that doubles crop yield would attract people."
Wade slumped over the divine pedestal and sighed. His brain felt overloaded.
Serious dungeon design required thinking through countless details, and his mind simply couldn't keep up.
If only someone could share this burden…
He stroked the memory crystal Kid left behind and muttered:
"If only you could manifest some kind of consciousness… something like an AI, like the Red Queen. At least someone I could talk to."
The crystal remained silent.
At his current pace, outlining the Val Dungeon would take two weeks—considered extremely fast.
But in two weeks, he'd be fighting the Hive Dungeon in a life-or-death duel. He couldn't pour Mana into design work until after that battle.
He needed to stockpile Mana instead.
"How much do I even have now?"
He opened the Dungeon Master interface—
—and froze.
His Mana had skyrocketed.
He glanced at the crystal ball and immediately understood.
Inside the Farron Keep, an old man in loose robes was cutting down everything in sight.
Sword Saint Gapar.
Yharnam really was coming soon—but he didn't mean rebuilding the entire dungeon into Yharnam!