Chương 4: Version 0.1

1 Owen stared at the management interface, thinking through what to adjust next. The panel laid everything out in painstaking detail: terrain, guards, traps, loot, all neatly sorted into categories. Old Owen would have seen this interface and lit up. He'd have dived headfirst into it, guaranteed to be running it in a hidden browser tab at work. Unfortunately, he couldn't actually act on every wild idea bouncing around his head. Lack of energy was, right now, his single biggest problem.

"Don't rush, don't rush," he mumbled to himself.

"Got to spend carefully." The light inside the crystal flowed slowly. He focused his attention on the terrain tab. First thing to fix: the length of the map. It had taken Rayne's party barely an hour, fighting included, to walk the whole canyon end to end. Put something like that on a game storefront and the reviews would tear it apart: "not enough content, refund recommended." By the standards of a former gamer, this wasn't just "short." This was the dev team taking the players for fools.

He tried extending the canyon outward a little. Not by much, maybe by another quarter of its original length. [Estimated Cost: 65] Owen didn't hesitate too long. The expense was acceptable. But the moment he tried to add a couple of branching side paths, the projected cost was enough to snap him out of it.

"This'll do for now." His voice echoed dully through the Core Chamber. The rock walls grew outward from what had been the end of the canyon, the pale grey stone surface peeling open as if pushed by an unseen hand. Sand and dust were caught up by the newly born currents of air, tumbling along the freshly carved valley floor. Next came the guards. The twenty fallen Desiccated Corpses left a glaring gap. Per his earlier plan, he was only going to top up ten this time around.

That left some empty slots, which was perfect: he could use them for new guard designs to greet later visitors. [Restock Desiccated Corpses ×10: Soul Energy Cost 30] Ten withered humanoid figures climbed slowly out of the shadows along the rock walls, draped in tattered cloth, gripping rusted broken swords or daggers. Owen's will dragged each of them into their assigned position.

"Cheap appetizers." Owen nodded with satisfaction, even though he didn't have a head to nod with. For rookie adventurers, easy-to-handle Desiccated Corpses that dropped magic crystals were genuinely a welcome opener. But just an opener. Owen didn't plan on putting out any more of them for now. Rayne's party had already given him the answer. To anyone at High White Porcelain or above, these things weren't a real threat anymore.

Short of being careless, he couldn't picture any adventurer actually losing a member to one. Of course, if his energy reserves got more comfortable later on, he could maybe stock more of them as a freebie tier for newcomers. After all, generating their emotions was nearly as profitable as killing them outright. As for the stronger guards, Owen already had some ideas. He pulled up the guard design panel and started shaping something new. The general look would stay the same desiccated-corpse motif.

This was the whole theme of the map. If the front half was all corpses and a pair of slimes suddenly popped out in the back half, the immersion would be wrecked. To this new batch of corpses, he added a few new traits: limber joints, basic combat skills, and the most rudimentary dodge instincts. For the look, he gave them tattered leather armor and a range of weapons: spears, shortswords, daggers. [New Unit Designed: Desiccated Convict] [Cost per Unit: 15]"Hm." Owen weighed it up.

"Five times the price, but it looks decent. Rough estimate, I'd put these at around Black Iron level." He set two Desiccated Convicts against each other to spar. Unlike the earlier corpses, these didn't just swing blindly. They started waiting for openings, throwing in simple dodges. Distinctly harder to deal with. Then, on the same base, he made a variant, swapping the melee weapon for a battered crossbow. Old-fashioned single-shot crossbow.

The wooden stock was a maze of cracks, the string loose to the point of embarrassment. Effectively a weapon that would aim for the chest and end up landing at your feet. Which was exactly the effect Owen was going for. Picture this. You're in the middle of a heated fight, and an arrow comes whistling past your ear out of nowhere. Doesn't matter whether it hits or not. Your blood pressure spikes in that instant, and Owen pockets the emotional yield.

"Kahaha—" He cut himself off mid-laugh. No. That was too stupid. Also, he was starting to sound like a third-rate villain. He went ahead and spawned ten Desiccated Convicts in one batch. Most of them melee, only a handful as crossbow users. [Spawn Cost: 150 Soul Energy] These new corpses moved with noticeably more fluidity. The leather armor was still battered, but combined with their patrolling movements, they actually managed to look a bit menacing.

He tucked the crossbow units into concealed positions, weapons raised and ready to take potshots. Owen toured the canyon once more, thoroughly pleased. There was a bit of energy left over. Not much, but enough for a little more work. He'd have loved to put in a small side quest, but his energy budget really was too tight for that. It would have to wait. The last expenditure was going to go on the stretch leading up to Cassandre. The new Desiccated Convicts would handle the mid-section pressure.

But there was still a massive gap between them and Cassandre. So Owen needed a pair of sub-bosses. Not to kill anyone. To convince them to turn around. He wanted them scared, not dead. Well. Not permanently dead. That distinction mattered. As for nerfing Cassandre? Owen couldn't bring himself to do it. Back when he was still playing games in his old life, he'd always guarded unique named units with his life. The second one of them died, he'd be reloading from the last save.

These two sub-bosses didn't have to be strong enough to actually kill adventurers. They just had to make the fight hard enough that, once it was over, the adventurers would make the sensible call to fall back and regroup. And as for the adventurers who would push on through anyway despite being clearly outmatched? Well, Owen would just have to graciously accept the energy they donated. For parties that genuinely had the strength to push all the way to the end, these two would serve as warm-up before Cassandre.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Owen got to designing. Both were desiccated forms a little over two meters tall, a head taller than the standard mooks, with thicker skeletal frames and skin pulled taut over reinforced sinew. Their gear would be more refined, but only relatively.

"Less ragged" was the level he was aiming for. Garrison Captain. Rusted longsword, an iron-bound round shield with chipped edges, and a suit of armor. Defense-oriented, designed to grind adventurers down until they ran out of patience. Dual-Blade Executioner. Quick, agile, low to the ground, moving almost flush with the floor. Designed to make life unpleasant for melee fighters.

[New Units Designed: Garrison Captain, Dual-Blade Executioner] [Cost per Unit: 105] [Soul Energy Cost: 210] Not quite Bronze-rank yet, but solidly in the High Black Iron range, with extra abilities on top. Definitely easier to deal with than Cassandre. Owen made a satisfied little noise, and then decided to dress up the area in front of the gate to Cassandre's boss room. A wooden encampment. Hammocks for resting. A tent with tables and chairs inside.

The Garrison Captain would roam the camp on patrol, while the Dual-Blade Executioner waited inside the tent for its moment. If any adventurer let their guard down at the campsite, well, they were going to regret it deeply. Pleased, Owen pulled his consciousness back to the Core Chamber and checked the balance. [Current Soul Energy: 225]"Hm." He went quiet for a moment.

"Leave it for now. Need to keep some aside for restocking and upkeep."

"But as a dungeon master —" The crystal flashed, giving off a strange, subtle light that mixed smugness with unease.

"— I'm pretty sure this iteration is going to be a banger." He ran through the whole plan one more time. No major issues.

"Much better difficulty curve. This time I guarantee them a properly tiered experience." The crystal paused.

"…Probably." [Adjustments Complete] [Upkeep Updated: 34 per Day] Owen stared at the upkeep figure for a long moment.

"Thirty-four per day…" He started doing the math under his breath.

"Going by Rayne's party as a baseline, one trial nets me six-hundred-plus. Subtract restock costs, that's a clean five hundred in profit —" The crystal lit up.

"— isn't that just free money?" The idiotic chuckle started up again in the Core Chamber. He couldn't quite get it to stop. Then he remembered something. Rayne's party might not be representative. Weaker parties would still net him steady income. Slightly stronger parties could probably still manage. But what about someone genuinely above this dungeon's pay grade? The Core Chamber gradually quieted. After a long while, a soft sigh drifted through it.

"For the love of god, considering I've got resurrection on tap here, don't come in and dismantle the place in one go." Would anyone else actually come? Owen was willing to bet that, once Rayne's party got back and told everyone about the resurrection feature, there would be an endless stream of adventurers showing up. More parties meant more revenue. Owen looked at it the way a starving man looked at a banquet. He was ready to feast.

"Come on, adventurers. It's getting a little lonely in here on my own." He closed the editing interface. The Core Chamber settled back into silence. Owen waited patiently. Like the owner of a freshly renovated shop, crouched behind the counter, waiting for the next customer to push the door open. Except behind his shop door were a cluster of Desiccated Corpses, two new sub-bosses, and one Cassandre, still un-nerfed. ◆ ◆ ◆ The sun over Blackstone Town had begun to lean west.

A slanting orange-gold light spilled across the rooftops, washing the whole town in a warm tint. Walking back from the hill, Rayne's party barely spoke. The physical discomfort was one thing. Harder still was what they'd just been through. The pain had been real. The dying had been real. And yet here they were, alive and walking. That alone wasn't something a person processed in an afternoon. Tyren, of all people, wasn't cracking jokes. He walked at the back with his empty quiver on his shoulder.

Serin kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, hurrying closer every time his step wobbled. Barton walked at the front, eyes fixed on the dry dirt road. Every so often his hand drifted to his hip and brushed the empty spot where his shield should have been, and a soundless sigh would escape him. Asar fell into step beside Rayne.

"How are you going to tell him?" Asar asked, his voice low. Rayne was quiet for a beat before clapping him gently on the back.

"Straight, as it happened."

"We're going to sound like we've lost our minds."

"Ha. I'm half convinced I have." Asar nodded but didn't say anything else. By the time they reached the town gate, the sky had picked up its first hint of shadow. The wooden gate stood half open, and the guard on duty recognized Rayne and gave him a nod, waving the party through without bothering with any questions. He noticed they weren't in great shape, but he didn't press. He went back to waving the latecomers through. They were getting close to closing time on the gate.

The Adventurers' Guild's branch office sat just off the central square, a two-story building of mixed wood and stone, with a wind-faded signboard standing by the door. The moment he pushed the door open, the noise hit them. The Guild hall was packed, as usual, with every imaginable kind of person: parties just back from settling their contracts, loudly bragging about their hauls; a knot of veteran adventurers drinking around a table; rookies staring blankly at the contract listings on the noticeboard.

The air was a mix of sweat, alcohol, and the metal-and-earth smell that no Guild hall ever managed to shake. As Rayne stepped in, a few of the familiar parties called out toward him.

"Oho, Greyhound. Back early today."

"What's the new dungeon like? Don't tell me you've cleared it already?"

"Hey, Tyren-kid, why so quiet today? Did Serin take you down a peg again, ha?" Any other time, Tyren would have charged straight in to fire back, Serin would have rapped him on the head, and the whole hall would have gotten louder for it. Today, Tyren only waved a hand and managed a thin smile.

"Wiped out today, guys, ha. Catch up another time." The familiar faces traded glances, but didn't press. They went back to drinking and shouting, pretending nothing was off. Rayne returned their greetings with a small nod and went straight for the counter. Behind it sat a young brown-haired clerk named Lily. She looked up at Rayne and started to smile, then froze the moment she got a proper look at his face.

"Mr. Greyhound…?" Rayne braced both hands on the counter and dropped his voice.

"Lily. Is the Guildmaster upstairs?" She blinked.

"Yes. You want to see him?"

"It's urgent," Rayne said.

"It's about that dungeon. If anyone comes looking for him later, head them off for me. I'll explain afterward."

"I — understood." Rayne gave her a small, grateful smile and waved her off, then headed for the stairs with the rest of the party in tow. The Guildmaster's office was at the far end of the second floor. Passing the staff lounging at the top of the stairs, the five of them drew a few curious stares. Greyhound was a known name around town, but the version most people interacted with was someone who stayed down on the floor with the rank-and-file.

"When was the last time Greyhound went upstairs to see the Guildmaster?"

"The dungeon outbreak near Timmel Village?"

"Something big must've happened." Rayne and the others ignored the whispers and made it to the Guildmaster's office. There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in." Inside sat a man in his fifties, his grey-white beard trimmed with care, wearing a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing an old scar that ran from one wrist all the way up to the inside of his elbow. A wooden cane with a brass-capped head rested against the side of his desk, the rounded brass burnished to a shine. Greer Holloway. Branch Guildmaster of Blackstone Town.

A former Gold-rank adventurer who had lost everything below his right knee in the Demonic Tide War twenty years ago, and had retired from the field ever since. He looked up at the five who'd just walked in, an eyebrow lifting slightly.

"Well, if it isn't Greyhound," he said.

"Something big happen?" Rayne paused for a beat.

"Guildmaster, you really are uncannily perceptive." Greer set down the quill in his hand.

"Sit. Anything that drags you all the way up here in person can't be simple." Rayne took about twenty minutes to lay it all out. When he was done, he set the small linen sack on the desk.

"This came out of the safe zone with us." Greer didn't reach for it right away. He just stared at the sack for a long time.

"Resurrection…" he said quietly.

"…Hard to believe." He pushed himself up from his chair and took two limping steps behind the desk. The wooden prosthetic struck the floorboards with a dull, heavy sound.

"If a dungeon can return the dead, then it shouldn't be called a calamity at all." Rayne didn't answer. Greer raised his eyes and let his gaze pass over all five of them.

"But I believe you." The line landed heavier in the room than the previous one.

"Which is why this conversation ends tonight, in this room." Rayne frowned.

"Guildmaster?"

"Meaning, not a word of this to anyone outside the people currently in this room." Greer's voice was low.

"If word gets out tonight, by morning there'll be a mob of idiots with sticks running off to get themselves killed." He gestured at Rayne and the others.

"Go see a healer. Get yourselves checked. Then go home and rest. Tomorrow morning, you bring me that sack of crystals and you come see me again." He paused.

"And then we're all going to go take a look at this dungeon together." Greer paused, then added, "One more thing. Tell Lily to pull the remaining dungeon contracts from the board. Quietly, if possible." Rayne was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

"Understood." After Rayne and the others had left, Greer stood at the window and watched the rooftops of Blackstone Town, all turned dim gold by the setting sun. It was a long time before he said, softly:"If this turns out to be real… the world's about to change."