Tasha was quite busy. The dungeon, with its newly emerging features, resembled a model aircraft just out of the box—there was still so much to learn.
After her first connection to the surface, a structure called the "Lookout Tower" unlocked. Tarsand could now build poles rising above ground level, freeing her vision from underground confinement. Her senses spread across the surface, though only within a hundred-meter radius around the tower. Taller towers offered greater visibility, but nearby trees were limited in height—anything taller risked detection.
More akin to a submarine's periscope than a traditional tower, this structure could be built slender as a utility pole. The Tower Sand consumed some plants and soil, analyzing their composition to simulate the local plains' vegetation. The lookout tower appeared entirely natural—an ordinary person standing beside it wouldn't notice anything amiss, and even slashing it with a knife wouldn't reveal its secret. Of course, if one were to cut them down directly, these severely damaged and magic-depleted contraptions would vanish into black smoke, just like any other dungeon creation.
"See how convenient!" Victor remarked as she crafted the trees. "One devouring, one permanent solution—no more irreversible losses."
Once a tree had been consumed, creating new ones required only mana—like infinite copy-paste in the real world. Victor's implication was clear: he was again urging her to target the werewolf girl or others, consuming them to build a cheap army. At this stage, a clone army was indeed an appealing idea, but Tashan saw things differently.
"That's precisely why destroying a dungeon is so effortless," Tasha explained. "Destroy the dungeon core, and all its creations vanish into thin air. A single decapitation strike can obliterate an entire city."
Perhaps that explained why the dungeon contained only a handful of skeletal remains. Tasha surmised the previous dungeon lord had likely been a traditionalist, crafting every employee from magical beings cloned after devouring creatures from the Material Plane. Once the dungeon core shut down and became scrap, everything returned to dust.
Tasha found this design utterly foolish, like a weakness tailor-made for a party of heroes. Think about it: a terrifyingly fortified city, an infinitely replenishable army of clones, a seemingly endless war... All it took was a few agile squads to slip through, infiltrate the core, and deliver a single sword strike to the stone to claim victory. Ridiculous, right? It was as absurd as flipping a switch to end a biohazard outbreak, or tossing a ring into a volcano to halt a world war.
"But you're a Broodmother!" Victor exclaimed, startled. "If anyone destroys the core, you're guaranteed to die. Why would you care about anyone else's fate?"
"At least it forces them to calculate the cost before launching a decapitation strike. The higher the cost they estimate, the lower my risk," Tasha replied. "Besides, if my death is inevitable, knowing my enemies will follow suit offers some small comfort."
Victor fell silent for a moment before chuckling softly. "I'm starting to like you," he said.
"No thanks," Tasha replied politely.
Tasha didn't want to die, nor did she wish to remain a city forever. She still longed for the taste of food, for fingers running through her pets' soft, fluffy fur, for a soft bed, for the feel of grass beneath her feet, for the breeze on her face, for the scent of flowers and plants. Tasha was intrigued by the new world. She wouldn't sacrifice everything she had now to become human again or return home. But equally, she wouldn't trade her current existence for being chained to a building, sharing the fate of a stone.
The new method of contracting instead of devouring offered Tasha a faint glimmer of hope. She wasn't sure exactly how to proceed yet, but she would find a way.
After nearly a hundred living souls moved in, the dungeon's magical reserves not only remained intact but actually grew. Slimes proved as easy to raise as slime molds. When fed, they rapidly divided and grew, producing far more magic stones than were needed to craft magical food—though strangely, the magical food itself couldn't be fed directly to the slimes, perhaps due to their shared origin? Tashan pondered this magical reality that defied the law of conservation of mass for a moment, then decided it wasn't worth wasting brain cells on unscientific phenomena.
Without external threats, cultivating primary plane creatures alone could sustain a dungeon, Tashan mused. She felt somewhat like ants raising aphids, the dungeon forming an intriguing primitive ecosystem.
Magic served as currency here—with it, everything else fell into place. Tasha placed numerous watchtowers at strategic points, maximizing the surface surveillance network. Knowing which areas above ground were accessible, the gnomes dug tunnels with far greater boldness. She now had ten gnomes (not counting Ah Huang). It wasn't that they were inefficient miners, but the dungeon's current size was vast. Moving miners from the far east to the far west was inconvenient; it was better to station some in each direction.
Earlier, one of the gnomes struck iron ore.
The dungeon unlocked the Forge Room the moment Tashan obtained its first iron ore, though it remained unusable for now. The Forge Room description read: Forge Room, a place to craft tools. Currently lacks a craftsman, unable to forge. Small print below: You think tossing iron ore into the room will magically produce weapons? Don't be silly—it's not magic.
...Does conjuring food out of thin air in the kitchen count as magic?!
Never mind. No point arguing with this nonsensical thing.
Speaking of which, the kitchen can actually hire a chef. The basic kitchen setup currently only produces white bread, roasted meat, and white melon. Guests are grateful now, but eating the same thing every day will eventually get old.
But it seems they won't be staying long enough to get tired of it.
Tasha watched the werewolf girl sneak back, darting furtively around the dungeon, meeting with guests and whispering plans for escape. Marion was incredibly cautious, skilled at evading notice, but she didn't realize the entire dungeon itself was Tarsha's limb and ear. How could one hide from the very structure? Tarsha merely raised an eyebrow, shifting a fraction more of her attention that way.
"Look, look," Victor drawled, "the ungrateful little dog is taking the chickens away."
His tone was particularly infuriating, as usual. The moment he saw Tarsha getting the short end of the stick, he'd start gesticulating wildly, trying to prove he was right.
"What made her change her tune? Oh, it must be the Treant. He's hiding somewhere underground, and you didn't even think to look for him. You should've digested him back then. Treants just get more stubborn with age." Victor shook his head disapprovingly, though it was a bit odd seeing a book make that gesture.
"Sorry, I have eyes and a brain," Tasha sighed. "Quiet. You're disturbing me."
Victor grumbled in protest, but Tasha pretended not to hear.
Marion had done well, but the people she'd saved were proving difficult to manage. They whispered and chattered among themselves, many clearly reluctant to leave—hard to believe how unwilling they'd been to come down in the first place. Some were terrified of the humans above, preferring to hide underground where they felt safe. Others had already decorated the bare rooms with flowers and little crafts woven from branches, like birds ready to build nests. When told it was time to leave, they dawdled, faces downcast, trying to take every little trinket in the room with them. Others tiptoed to the cafeteria, eating and grabbing food as if it were the most exquisite delicacy on earth, as if they'd never taste such things again...
"The longer we stay, the more dangerous it gets!" Marion pleaded. "The human army has only left temporarily. Once they return and surround this place, we won't be able to escape!"
"Can we take it? It's so cute!" someone exclaimed, dragging Ah Huang's leg inside. The creature had been left to roam the basement by Tasha and had recently become quite popular with the guests, who enjoyed playing with it.
Marion looked on the verge of tears.
"What's with these people? Italians?" Tasha muttered under her breath, though no one else caught the joke.
"Yedali? Never heard of that race," Victor remarked. "Judging by their size, they're probably mixed with gnomes, dwarves, or halflings. Their bloodline's thinner than a puppy's—basically just short people."
Dwarves, gnomes, halflings? Tasha frowned in confusion, thinking these were just different translations. Victor sensed her uncertainty and offered enthusiastically, "Just eat one! Then you'll know which race they are!"
What a crude, useless suggestion.
Meanwhile, Marion finally persuaded the others. They reluctantly abandoned most of their load, grabbed some food, dodged the scattered goblins, and headed toward the surface. Though the group was tense, the scene looked utterly comical from Tasha's perspective. She waited patiently for quite some time before they finally evacuated the dungeon.
"You just let them leave?" Victor snapped, exasperated. "Didn't you consider confidentiality? Releasing a bunch of weak fools who'd spill everything under interrogation instead of turning them into resources? And that little dog you bound to a contract—I told you..."
"I told you too," Tasha cut him off. "I brought my brain."
Soon after, a figure appeared at the entrance—Marion.
Her lips pressed together, her face stern, she descended back into the depths with the resolve of one facing death. The werewolf girl's steps were heavy yet steady. Tasha watched her advance, step by step, until she stood before the ghost.
The dungeon's gaze swept the entire subterranean space, yet the ghost's form remained utterly still, fixed upon the graveyard as if it hadn't moved since parting with Marion. Tasha stood rooted to the spot for a long while. Marion stood silently outside the graveyard, neither speaking nor leaving. After over ten minutes, the ghost turned its head and drifted wordlessly to Marion's side.
Marion's eyes fluttered rapidly—a habit that surfaced whenever she felt tense. She spoke first: "They've left. Thank you for your hospitality. You saved our lives."
"Is that so?" the ghost replied. "You should have told me beforehand."
"I'm sorry. It would have been too much trouble. We've already disturbed you enough. They've migrated to the big city and won't be returning. Thank you so much." Marion delivered the words stiffly, as if reciting a script. She took a small breath and continued in one breath: "But I'll stay. I'll stay here forever. I'm yours now. I'll work hard to repay your kindness, pay back their share too. I'll be very obedient... very obedient."
She finished with a forceful nod, as if to emphasize her words. The sentence came out stumbling and disjointed—probably her true level. Tasha watched her for a moment. Marion stood tall and straight, looking utterly unyielding, but a pair of furry ears lay flattened against her hair, as if ready to be struck.
"It's all right." " Tasha said, reaching out to pat her head. "You're my greatest prize."
Marion's flattened ears perked up. She stared blankly at Tasha, unsure how to react. Victor let out a pained groan in Tasha's ear. "You can't be serious!" he said. "She let a whole flock of chickens escape, and you call her your greatest prize?"
Tasha was dead serious. Everything unlocked by her contract with Marion had benefited her immensely, surpassing countless resources. Among the unlocked skills, she'd even found a potential path forward—though uncertain, it was something to hold onto for the future.
Besides...
Who said those people could just walk away?