Bookbite grinned, all sharp teeth and mischief. “Then why don’t you? You’re the boss, aren’t you?”
I blinked. Right. I could change it.
Closing my eyes, I focused hard, picturing what I actually wanted—a clean, top-down 3D map, like the kind I used to obsess over in strategy games. Smooth, bright lines tracing the dungeon layout. Live markers. Terrain detail. The desk shifted to a future 3D battle hologram map as if I were playing a real-time strategy game.
“Yes,” I said with almost a giggle.
I continued to dig and create, using my control interface, aka my principal’s desk. I found comfort in the teal light that felt different here. It felt closer to the edge of my domain. With a thought, the light itself seemed to solidify, pushing back the formless void just beyond. It wasn't like digging with a shovel; it was more like sculpting with pure will. I focused my intent, envisioning the space expanding outwards, the walls firming up, the floor becoming smoothed out solid ground. It was slow work, and painstaking, but the act of creating something physical, something real from nothing, was incredibly satisfying. Bookbite scurried around my feet, occasionally pointing with a clawed finger or chittering sounds that were starting to make a strange kind of sense.
"Hey, Bookbite," I said, my voice echoing slightly. I paused my mental sculpting, letting the teal light hold its form. "You know about the outside world, right? Like, beyond… all this." I gestured vaguely at the shimmering edge of my domain. "What about the people who might come in? Who are they?"
He stopped poking at a particularly stubborn patch of light and tilted his head, his large eyes blinking slowly. He scratched his pointed ear, considering the question. Then, in his gravelly voice, he started talking. "People... many kinds," he rasped. "But likely, most will be with The Company."
"The Company?" I repeated, the name sounding vaguely corporate, even in this bizarre fantasy reality.
"Yes. The Company," he affirmed, nodding his head, which made his ears bounce. "Big group. Very big. They are almost like a nation, maybe. But inside the other nations, which can cause some problems. I know the old chief thought they were more powerful than kings. I would say, so. Their Guild Leader is equal to a king. Maybe more."
More powerful than kings? Just a guild leader? That sounded insane. "Okay, so they're powerful. Where did they come from?"
"Oh! Long ago," Bookbite said, looking up as if seeing ancient battles in the teal light. "Last Great War with Goddess against the Void. You see, the Void is run by some powerful, badass monster. The Goddess and The Blind One are rumoured to wage wars for all time. The Company was born in that war."
Goddess vs. Void. The Blind One. It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel, or... well, like this place. It fits the dramatic theme. "Okay, so they started in the war," I prompted. "What do they do now?"
"They... regulate," he explained, tapping a claw on the light table. "Dungeons. Loot from dungeons. Rules for dungeons. Who joins The Company? They... help their members. And they work closely with the Church. Church of Goddess and the Goddess of Reborn... I think her name is Violet."
Regulate dungeons? Loot? Rules? Help their members? Working with a church? It sounded incredibly organized and incredibly controlling. Like they owned everything to do with places like mine.
"So... they basically control everything to do with dungeons," I summarized, trying to wrap my head around it.
Bookbite nodded. "Much power. They know much."
"And that's all you know? For now?" I asked.
He gave a definitive nod, his small face serious. "For now. Yes. For now, that is all you need to know."
I processed the information, a strange mix of apprehension and... amusement swirling inside me. A massive, all-powerful organization that controlled the rules and access to places like mine? It felt weirdly familiar, like the way everything in the outside world was run by unseen forces, by people pulling strings you could never reach.
A thought, sharp and irreverent, popped into my head. "Huh. So they're like... a massive tech company that controls the world's software?"
Bookbite stared at me for a second, his expression blank. He didn't get the joke. Probably didn't even know what software was. Then, without a word, he flicked something small and green in my direction.
A booger. It landed harmlessly on the floor near my foot. My jaw dropped for a second, a startled laugh escaping before I could stop it. “The sheer audacity!” I giggled. After he'd just given me all that important, serious information! My hand shot out on pure reflex, fingers snapping forward. I flicked him right on his big, disproportionate nose.
He yelped, rubbing his face, looking indignant. But there was a glint in his eye that looked suspiciously like amusement. "Hey!" he squawked.
I grinned a genuine smile that felt good and new on my face. "Don't flick boogers, then!"
The moment of levity passed, but the tension had broken slightly. I looked back at the edge of the room I was shaping, then at the list of domains still waiting for me. The Company. People who would come here. They had rules, regulations, and power.
Good. Let them come. My domain will soon be waiting. And I had a lot of old scores to settle. Maybe not specifically with them, but like my old counsellor who talked to me about my cutting used to say, “Hurt people hurt people.” I turned my focus back to the building, the feeling of shaping the space returning, stronger now, fueled by the knowledge of who was coming.
I had to pause and wait for my mana to recharge, which was fine because it gave me time to brainstorm what I would make. Just then, Bookbite scratched behind his ear. “A what now?”
“I have started making the school lawn, or main entrance.” I grinned a little. “It’s like… the place where parents drop their kids off for school. Total chaos. Cars, buses, honking, yelling. Peak elementary school trauma.”
Bookbite looked dubious. “Sounds… dangerous?”
“Exactly,” I said, heart pounding with a weird mix of dread and excitement. I started laying it out in my mind. The wide-open plaza, the winding bus loop, a tiny parking lot, and the dreaded drop-off lane. Sidewalks snaking toward the looming front door of the imaginary school.
I frowned, crossing my arms as I walked around the table. “Okay, so if we’re doing this… my first school needs a name. Something that fits.”
Bookbite perked up from where he was picking at a dried gum wad stuck under the student chair. “Ooh, ooh, I’ve got one! Murder Elementary.”
I made a face. “Seriously?”
He grinned, showing sharp little teeth. “What? It’s punchy.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I want it to sound real, like… something that actually could be a school. But still creepy.”
Bookbite scratched his armpit thoughtfully. “Hmm. Okay. Wrath Ridge Elementary? No. Bloodpine Public? Grudge Grove Academy?”
I sighed, walking over to the office door and tracing a finger on the glass. “All of that feels… too much. I’m thinking revenge, but subtle. Like the whole place is watching and waiting.”
Bookbite’s eyes lit up. “What about Ouchington High?”
I snorted despite myself. “You’re hopeless.”
Silence settled between us as I stared across my half-built blueprint. Then the word just… clicked. “Vendetta Heights Prep-Academy,” I said softly, a smile creeping in. “Yeah. That’s it.”
Bookbite clapped his grubby little hands. “Ooh, now that’s got teeth. Official?”
“Official.” I grinned, eyes gleaming. “Welcome to Vendetta Heights.”
“Not bad,” Bookbite admitted, arms crossed. “Now we should turn these plans into reality, but what’s your resource node? You get a few. You don’t want to waste it on, like, dirt or something dumb.”
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I scanned the space. “Trees. There have to be trees. Every school I have been to has those towering pines, lining the whole street.”
He perked up. “Now that I can work with. But if you want crafters to actually come here, it can’t just be a normal tree. We need to tweak it.”
“How?”
He rubbed his hands together like he was already scheming. “We twist it. Maybe it’s infused with mana, or has unique sap, or grows faster. Something weird but useful. Crafters love weird. What about… hmm… Silverpine? The needles could have alchemical uses, or the wood could be ultra-light but strong.”
I brightened. “Silverpine. I like that.”
“Good. Make it rare enough to draw attention, but not so rare it scares people off. Or destroys the local economy, which is bad. And once they start harvesting it, the mana they churn while working will feed back into your dungeon, refreshing the trees and—”
“—giving me experience,” I finished, smiling. “Win-win.”
Bookbite grinned, sharp teeth showing. “Now you’re thinking like a dungeon core.”
“Now, how do I make this start to take shape?”
“You should have a skill that works with your Ground Rules Skill,” Bookbite said. Then I focused, just like I did with the digging, but this time focused on bringing my blueprint to life. Letting the mana wash out of my core and into my creation.
System Notification: [New Skill Unlocked: Manifest Blueprint]. You have gained the ability to convert drafted blueprints and layouts into tangible dungeon structures using mana and available resources.
Skill: Manifest Blueprint (Tier E)
- Converts selected sections of your dungeon’s blueprint into reality.
- Mana Cost: Scales with complexity and size.
- Restrictions: Limited by current room count, available resource nodes, and tier access.
- Can’t make changes while non-dungeon creations are inside
He hopped up onto the filing cabinet, peering at the flickering hologram. “Oooh, fancy. Looks like you just got the real-deal maker skill, boss. Draw it, shape it, and—bam!—the dungeon does the heavy lifting. Well, your mana does, but close enough.” He jabbed a thumb at the shimmering blueprint above us. “Pick a spot to start. The system’s waiting.”
I smiled from ear to ear and poured all my mana into the first room over the next few hours.
“Finally!” I let out a breath and looked over the first room’s layout again. Drop-off zone. Sidewalks. Parking lot. Pine trees. No, Silverpines swaying in the breeze. It looked like an ordinary schoolyard. It was anything but.
“Alright,” I muttered, scanning my shiny new dungeon yard. “We’ve got the first room, we’ve got the trees… now we need a little spice.”
Bookbite perked up immediately. “Traps?”
I grinned. “Traps.”
I started with the woods around the Silverpines. “What if… okay, picture this: someone’s deep in there, picking herbs or chopping wood... then BAM! A beehive drops on their head.”
Bookbite’s eyes lit up. “Nasty! Classic. Bees are mean. And if the hive moves around, no one can just memorize where it is.”
I nodded, focusing. Two hives. Hidden high up, shifting spots daily. Perfect.
System Notification: [Trap Created: Shifting Beehive Swarm x2]. These hives relocate daily, dropping when disturbed. The swarm will relentlessly sting intruders, disrupting gathering efforts and causing minor damage over time. Cost: 2 Trap Points.
I stepped back (mentally). “Now we need something sneaky. What’s more annoying than—”
“—getting stung by bees?” Bookbite guessed.
“Nope. Falling flat on your face after getting stung.”
He cackled. “You are evil.”
“I wish I could see some more details.”
“Well, you should now have a trap page on your HUD,” Bookbite yawned. Sure enough, he was right! I select it and get a notification.
System Notification:[New Trap Created: Stinging Surprise Hive]
Trap Type: Ambush
Location: Randomized within forested or overgrown areas of the dungeon.
Description:
A hidden beehive perched above unsuspecting intruders. If disturbed: whether by direct contact, nearby noise, or mana fluctuations, the hive crashes down, unleashing a swarm of angry, aggressive bees.
Effect:
- Initial Impact:
- 20–30 physical damage from hive fall.
- Bee Swarm Attack:
- 10 damage per second for 10 seconds (piercing-type damage).
- Bees prioritize soft tissue and exposed skin, swarming relentlessly.
Status Effect:
- Poisoned Sting
- 5 damage per second for 20 seconds.
- Poison stacks up to 2x if the victim remains in the swarm too long.
- Movement speed is reduced by 10% while poisoned.
Mana Cost: [1 Trap Point] [15 mana to deploy/reset each hive].
Special Feature: [Hive positions refresh daily to avoid easy prediction by returning adventurers].
“Messy, mean, and hilarious. Nothing like a face full of bees to keep ‘em on their toes—er, face. What is next, Core girl.”
“A classic.” I set three pitfall traps across the parking lot and walkways, right where adventurers would least expect it—between the painted lines of the drop-off lane, or near the doors.
System Notification: [Trap Created: Pitfall Trap x3]. Classic pitfalls open beneath unsuspecting feet. Locations change daily to keep intruders guessing. Cost: 3 Trap Points. [1 Point Each].
I rubbed my hands together. “That’s… actually pretty satisfying.”
Bookbite gave me a thumbs-up. “You’re a natural. Cheap, annoying traps? Adventurers hate that. But they’ll keep coming back for the loot.”
I smiled to myself. Bees, pitfalls, and pine trees. My little dungeon schoolyard was shaping up to be a real nightmare playground. I chewed my lip, staring at the quiet parking lot and bus loop. “Okay… we’ve got traps. But this place still feels too empty.”
Bookbite snorted. “Empty’s fine. Until someone lives through your traps. You need teeth, boss.”
I tilted my head, and a shiver ran through me as a memory flickered back. Back to those clawed, perfectly polished nails, the wild look in my mom’s eyes as she fought another mom at the drop-off lane. That rage. That twisted, gnawing anger.
“How about with claws,” I whispered. “I want something mean. Something fast. Like a… Windigo-Mom.”
Bookbite blinked. “A what now?”
I crossed my arms just under my new chest, while I started to create a drawing of the monster using the specialized desk I had made. I was eyeing the monster blueprint, all those art classes were paying off. As I worked, I talked. “Okay, so… a windigo is this thing from Native folklore. It’s like... a spirit or creature that shows up when someone gets way too greedy or desperate. The big thing is hunger. It’s always starving, no matter how much it eats.”
Bookbite wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”
“Exactly,” I said, tapping the hologram. “It’s basically a walking metaphor for never being satisfied. Eats people, gets twisted up inside, and keeps going. Super creepy.”
He scratched behind his ear with a grimace. “And you’re mashing that with a soccer mom?”
I shrugged. “Tell me that’s not perfect.” I laughed a little nervously. “Think, like, a monster mixed between this myth. Think of a really skinny, always hungry, and… well, an angry, entitled mom who thinks the world owes her. The kind that bites.”
Bookbite’s eyes widened, and he started bouncing in place. “Oh damn, that’s good. What’s the plan?”
I focused hard, pulling the image together. Tall, stick-thin but unnervingly strong. Designer clothes torn at the edges, heels snapped off but still clicking across the pavement. Mouths too big for their faces, eyes wild with hunger and spite. Claws shaped as shattered acrylics.
As I summoned them my HUD flashed.
System Notification:[Skill Unlocked: Summon Monster].
Description: Allows the dungeon core to channel mana into summoning monsters based on unlocked patterns. Monsters act as defensive units and can patrol, ambush, or lie in wait according to dungeon settings.
- Mana Cost: 25 per summon (adjusted by monster tier)
- Cooldown: None (limited only by available mana and monster point cap)
- Cann’t summon monsters while non-dungeon creations are inside.
- Current Available Patterns: Windigo-Mom (Tier E)
- [No other patterns unlocked]
- Additional Notes:
? Monsters persist until defeated or dismissed.
? Dismissing monsters recycles 50% of their original mana cost.
? Future research may unlock advanced monster traits or evolutions
I hid five of them. Some crouched between the trees, others lurking inside the abandoned cars, waiting for prey.
System Notification: [Monster Created: Windigo-Mom x5].
A terrifying fusion of hunger and entitlement. These monsters are lightning-fast, using their long claws and shrieking rage to hunt intruders. When they spot prey, they chase relentlessly, aiming to claw and devour anything that steps into their zone.
Bookbite let out a low whistle. “Oof. Adventurers are gonna hate this dungeon. And I thought goblins were scary.”
“Good,” I said, arms crossed, eyeing my eerie new yard. “That’s exactly the vibe.”