The instant Cyrus and the others left the dungeon, Owen shut the entrance.
[No challengers currently inside the dungeon.]
[Terrain alteration permitted.]
The moment the system notice popped up, Owen let out a string of unhinged chuckles.
This was what he had been waiting for.
Ever since he realized the confinement site could only be set to the Core Chamber, he had been holding this in. If those bastards had not loitered in the starting chamber for so long, he would have built the confinement room already.
“Good.”
Inside the Core Chamber, blue light flickered, as if struggling to suppress some pleasure on the verge of breaking loose.
“Now it’s finally my turn.”
Owen switched to the terrain editing interface almost instantly, his gaze sweeping straight toward the rock wall near the canyon entrance.
The starting chamber was a safe zone. He could not touch it.
The Core Chamber went without saying. He was not stupid enough to invite the people who wanted to tear down his home into his bedroom.
That left only one suitable spot.
Not far from the entrance.
Not blocking the normal adventurers’ route.
And perfectly placed where everyone entering or leaving would have to pass by.
Excellent.
Owen looked at that stretch of rock wall and gave a cold laugh.
“Watch me dig a few VIP rooms and give you all the hospitality you deserve!”
First, he dug out five stone rooms, each two meters in width, depth, and height.
Five small rooms sat side by side, neatly embedded in the rock wall. Owen studied them for a while, but the longer he looked, the more wrong it felt.
“…No.”
That seemed a little too few.
What if more people tried to exploit loopholes later?
After thinking it over, he added five more rooms on the opposite wall, creating perfect symmetry.
Two rows of stone cells, one on the left and one on the right, sat neatly embedded on both sides of the canyon entrance.
Owen looked at the scene, and the light of his core brightened despite himself.
“Heh heh. The most beautiful sight in a dungeon is symmetrical prison cells!”
The more he looked, the more satisfied he became.
“Hahaha. I really am a genius.”
[Please specify exit type.]
“I’m not using doors or iron bars. If they get broken by accident, I’ll have to repair them.”
After some thought, Owen decided to seal the exits with semi-transparent light screens.
People outside could see in, and people inside could see out.
As for getting out?
Not happening.
Those light screens could withstand attacks up to Peak Bronze-level strength. Unless a Silver-rank or higher adventurer personally intervened, anyone locked inside would have no choice but to stay there until the penalty ended.
The cost, however...
“What do you mean, one light screen that can block Peak Bronze-level attacks costs two hundred Soul Energy!?”
[Construct Light Screen ×10?]
[Soul Energy Cost: 2,000]
Owen nearly spat out a mouthful of gravel.
That was basically pouring every bit of profit he had just earned from Cyrus’s party right back into these light screens.
Two thousand.
That number made his entire core start giving off a threatening hiss.
Cancel?
Lower the specifications?
Switch to cheaper iron bars?
Owen's whole system crashed for two seconds.
Then he gave a cold laugh.
“Build them.”
He said it through gritted teeth.
“Build all of them.”
Inside the Core Chamber, the blue halo trembled slightly, like some resentful ghost-crystal painfully swiping its card.
“Even if I lose money on this, I’m going to watch what happens to them with my own eyes.”
Still, after looking at the stone cells sealed behind those light screens, Owen thought it over carefully.
Something was still missing.
So he opened several tiny ventilation holes near the corner of each stone room to ensure air could circulate.
Then he added a few small openings between neighboring cells.
The openings were not large. They only allowed prisoners to see the figures in the next cell and carry out simple conversation. No one could reach an arm through.
That would prevent them from passing things around and pulling tricks, while also keeping them from actually being locked up until they broke down mentally.
After all, he only wanted to teach them a lesson. He was not trying to break them.
Owen looked over his carefully designed work, and his core light swayed faintly.
“Hmph.”
He muttered under his breath.
“As expected, I’m a dungeon core with real restraint.”
[Please specify basic life-support conditions.]
Owen had been immersed in the restrained beauty of his design. When he saw the prompt, his entire core paused slightly.
“Basic life-support conditions?”
[Includes water, food, sanitation, lighting, and other conditions necessary to sustain life.]
The smugness he had just been feeling seemed to be lightly poked the instant he saw those options.
His first instinct had been to drag every condition down to the lowest setting.
After all, they had done something wrong. Besides, this was confinement.
It was not some five-star resort.
But when he was about to adjust the values, Owen hesitated.
Seven days.
That was seven whole days.
Not a few short hours.
He remembered his previous life, when work got so busy he had no time to eat. It did not even take half a day for his stomach to start growling like mad. Starving for seven days straight was on a whole other level.
Good god.
That was basically hell.
And without water, there was no need to even talk about it. A living environment that was too awful would also damage their health.
Owen stayed quiet for a while.
Then, as if he had taken a deep breath and let it out hard, he clicked his tongue.
“Fine! Fine! I get it!”
It sounded like he was talking to the system, and also to himself.
“I’m not some sicko dungeon.”
Owen set drinking water to a fixed daily supply, then added basic sanitation and minimum lighting.
To make the confinement setup work properly, he extended each cell inward by about one meter, raised the ceiling slightly, and added a small hidden corner inside each cell so the prisoners would at least have a bit of basic privacy.
The author's official page is the source of this chapter; this version was taken without permission, while the posted work supports its creator.
Owen was extremely satisfied with this design.
If a core could put its hands on its hips, he would have struck a dignified pose right then and there.
When it came to food, however, he hesitated again.
He could not feed them too well. How would that count as punishment?
These people had tried to kill him.
But making it too awful did not seem right either.
At the very least, it had to be edible.
Owen thought for a long time.
Finally, in a tone that made it sound as if he had made some tremendous concession, he said,
“White bread.”
Less than two seconds later.
“And a cup of milk.”
White bread and milk. The more he looked at those two options, the more he felt this treatment was already as bare-bones as it could get.
No meat. No soup. No dessert.
They should be grateful they had anything to eat at all.
“That’s it.”
Owen snorted coldly.
“The bare minimum of humane treatment. Not a bit more.”
[Basic life-support conditions have been set.]
[Daily Supply: White Bread ×3.]
[Daily Supply: Milk ×3.]
[Daily Sanitation: Once.]
[Minimum Lighting: Enabled.]
[Life Support: Enabled.]
Owen looked at the settings list, and his mood finally balanced out a little.
Good.
This way, even if he really died for good someday and ran into the souls of his old family and friends, he could say with a clear conscience that he had not abused prisoners in another world.
Though those bastards did not deserve this kind of treatment at all.
He just had principles.
Right.
Principles.
Definitely not softness.
Still, after setting all this up, Owen noticed something strange.
Why did these things feel like built-in functions of the dungeon system?
This was supposed to be a system for running a murder dungeon. Why did it have basic logic for imprisoning people?
He could not figure it out.
He really could not figure it out.
“Maybe it’s because I’m a mutated core.”
Owen gave two dry laughs and tossed the thought to the back of his mind.
That was how he always handled things he could not understand.
It saved him the headache. In the end, he was always the one who suffered otherwise.
However, after building the confinement rooms, Owen did not immediately relax.
He glanced toward the depths of the canyon, then toward the huge silent figure standing in the circular plaza.
Cassandre.
Last time, Cyrus and those bastards had almost overwhelmed Cassandre through sheer coordination.
Fortunately, Owen had reacted quickly enough and moved The Whisperer and Bonecrusher over to provide support in time. Otherwise, if Cassandre had been alone, Owen might already be sitting down for tea with his long-dead parents.
At that thought, the mood he had just barely calmed started to sour again.
“…No.”
If Cassandre could not hold them back, then all the energy he had just spent on the confinement rooms would be completely wasted.
Owen hurriedly opened the guard interface.
[Gatekeeper: Cassandre]
[Current Level: Upper Bronze]
[Enhancement Available]
The remaining Soul Energy and the cost required for enhancement nearly made him give up on the idea.
The light of his core visibly trembled.
“…You can’t get anything big done by pinching pennies! I’m going all in!”
He slammed all of his will onto the enhancement button.
[Consuming Soul Energy.]
[Gatekeeper: Cassandre, enhancement in progress.]
In the circular plaza, Cassandre’s towering body shuddered faintly. The dull runes across its armor lit from the pauldrons down to the chest. Gray-white lines of energy flowed through the gaps in the plate, as if a long-slumbering power was awakening once more.
The heavy sword in Cassandre’s hand rested against the ground.
Then Cassandre lifted its head.
Deep within those hollow eye slits, the ghostly glow had become heavier than before, and far more dangerous.
[Gatekeeper: Cassandre]
[Level Increased: Peak Bronze]
Owen had just been about to breathe a sigh of relief when a new prompt appeared.
[Core repair progress insufficient.]
[Guard creation level cap: Peak Bronze.]
[Please increase core repair progress to unlock higher-level guard creation permissions.]
Owen stared blankly.
Then his entire core dimmed in silence.
“So what is this now?”
His voice rang out faintly.
“Even when my employee gets promoted, I have to renovate the boss’s office first?”
He glanced at the consumption record from earlier.
[This enhancement cost: 532 Soul Energy.]
More than five hundred.
A full five hundred plus.
That much energy was almost enough to make another one and a half Bonecrushers for fun!
Never in Owen’s life had he felt his core ache and spasm the way it did today.
Although he had no heart, no stomach, and no organs that could actually experience physical pain.
But still.
But still.
He was about to grow phantom limbs from the pain!
It hurt.
It hurt so damn much!
He checked the core repair requirement in the lower-right corner of the system again.
[Required Soul Energy for next stage of core repair: 15,000]
Owen started laughing dumbly.
Inside the Core Chamber, blue light flickered rapidly like a short-circuiting lamp.
“Fifteen thousand...”
He murmured the number, his voice hollow, as if his soul had already left his body.
“Why don’t you just dismantle me already?”
Two thousand for the confinement rooms.
Five hundred for Cassandre’s enhancement.
After that, there was expansion, maintenance, treasure chests, guards, traps, and a whole pile of other garbage that would sooner or later jump out and demand money from him.
When was this ever going to end?
Fifteen thousand.
That number erased more than half of the satisfaction he had gained from planning his revenge.
Cassandre’s current strength might be enough to stop Cyrus and the others.
But if his core repair progress did not go up, the level cap for his guards would remain stuck at Peak Bronze forever.
Today, it was only Cyrus.
What about next time?
What if, one day, a Silver-rank adventurer came?
Or someone even higher?
At that thought, Owen’s whole core started feeling sick.
“No.”
As if that string of numbers had finally forced a sense of crisis out of him, his voice slowly sank.
“I can’t survive on just this.”
If he could not repair his core, the level cap for his guards would not rise.
Then sooner or later, someone really would tear him apart.
He could not gamble everything on the adventurers outside cherishing the fact that they could come back to life.
◆ ◆ ◆
Inside the temporary wooden cabin, the atmosphere had already lost its earlier ease.
The urgent report had been sent half an hour ago.
Camilla had personally confirmed the direction in which the messenger hawk flew, and she had checked every mark that needed to be on the report. Not one was missing.
In other words, headquarters would need at least two days to receive the report.
From review to the issuing of preliminary measures, even if everything went smoothly, a formal reply would probably take another day or two.
As for reinforcements, there was no point hoping for any in the next few days.
Several hastily organized records lay spread across the wooden table.
Death and return.
Soul Damage, as well as signs that Finn was recovering day by day.
A boss capable of speech.
Prisoner’s Tokens and abnormal drops.
No obvious Soul Damage after Greer personally triggered a return.
And, finally, confirmation that the core hunter Cyrus had arrived in Blackstone Town, and that he was highly likely to take destructive action against the Blackstone Dungeon’s core before headquarters responded.
Greer sat before the table, his palm resting on the handle of his cane. He did not speak at once.
Inside the wooden cabin, the only sound was the faint rustle of papers stirred by the wind.
Camilla spoke quietly.
“Even if headquarters handles this immediately, the earliest an order can come down is four days from now.”
She paused, her voice sinking lower.
“As for reinforcements arriving... that will likely take at least a week.”
“What if they really go in again?” Camilla asked.
Greer’s eyelid moved slightly.
That question had weighed on all of them ever since the report was sent.
They had already warned Cyrus.
They had already sent word to headquarters as quickly as possible.
But before headquarters formally issued a control order, the Blackstone Dungeon was still only a dungeon for which the Blackstone branch had submitted an abnormality report.
And Cyrus was still a qualified Bronze-rank adventurer.
As long as he wished, he could enter the dungeon again.
The only thing Greer could do right now was wait.
The old man stayed silent for a long time.
At last, he gave a soft sigh.
“Then we can only hope Blackstone holds.”
Camilla pressed her lips together.
Just then, a commotion suddenly rose outside the wooden cabin.
At first, the sound was not loud, only a few suppressed cries of surprise. But soon, those cries turned into a tangle of voices, followed by hurried footsteps rushing past the front of the cabin.
Greer raised his head.
The next moment, the door was shoved open.
A Guild staff member rushed in, his face pale, nearly crashing into the room.
“Guildmaster!”
Greer did not ask what had happened.
Because the instant he saw the man’s expression, he already knew the answer.
The old man’s fingers slowly tightened around his cane.
“They’re here again?”
The staff member clenched his teeth and nodded.
“Cyrus’s party is heading toward the portal.”
The wooden cabin fell silent for an instant.
Camilla’s face changed as well.
Greer slowly stood. His cane struck the floor heavily, making a dull thud.
“Keep an eye on the cabin.”
He walked toward the door, his voice low and almost without warmth.
“I’ll take a look.”
By the time Greer stepped out of the wooden cabin, the camp had already erupted into chaos.
Adventurers stood on both sides of the road. No one dared truly step forward to stop them. They could only watch as the Bronze-rank party that had only recently left walked once more toward the portal leading to the Blackstone Dungeon.
Rayne’s party was among the crowd.
Their wounds had already been cleaned and treated by clerics, but their expressions were still frighteningly dark. Rayne’s jaw was clenched tight, Tyren was gritting his teeth, and even Serin, who was usually calm, had a slight frown on her face.
Rayne stood at the front of the crowd, his hand resting on the hilt of his longsword, his gaze heavy as he watched Cyrus’s group.
Tyren took half a step forward, but Serin reached out and stopped him.
“Don’t be reckless,” she said quietly.
Tyren clenched his teeth. In the end, he stopped.
Asar stood behind them, his gaze sweeping over the reequipped Bronze-rank party. His expression darkened bit by bit.
Darm now held a heavy replacement greatshield. Its surface was rough, and fresh hammer marks still lined the edges. It did not look like the kind of gear adventurers usually carried. Instead, it looked more like a heavy shield hastily pulled from a blacksmith’s shop or the Guild warehouse.
A coil of thick steel cable hung at Sanna’s waist, alongside several iron hooks and stakes. Jessup’s potion pouch was visibly fuller. The necks of several potion bottles poked out from its opening, while a few oil flasks and paper packets had been stuffed along the side. A sharp alchemical smell drifted from them.
Blake had clearly replaced the armor over his chest. The new piece was much cruder in style, and the sword in his hand had been replaced by a crude spare sword. His face was so dark he looked ready to hack the entire dungeon to pieces.
Asar cursed under his breath.
“They gathered every damn thing they could get their hands on.”
Rayne did not answer.
Because he could see it too.
This was not thorough preparation.
It was closer to a desperate gamble.
Cyrus walked at the very front.
His pace was not fast, but there was no hesitation in it.
The adventurers on both sides of the road murmured among themselves. Some were angry, some uneasy, and some instinctively took a step back.
“They’re really going in again?”
“Didn’t the guildmaster warn them?”
“What good is a warning? They didn’t break any rules.”
“But they’re core hunters...”
Those voices were like tiny thorns, pricking one by one into Greer’s ears.
The old man stood before the cabin door and watched the party walk step by step toward the portal, his chest heavy as if a stone were pressing down on it.
He saw every expression on the faces of the young adventurers along the road.
Anger.
Unease.
And a kind of hope that had only just been lit, yet could be crushed underfoot at any moment.
That was why he did not want Cyrus to succeed.
The Blackstone Dungeon was not merely an abnormal dungeon.
It might be the first dungeon Greer had ever seen that could let anyone grow stronger and come back alive.
But Greer did not step forward to stop them.
Because he knew Cyrus would not stop.
Sure enough, when only a few steps remained between him and the portal, Cyrus seemed to sense Greer’s gaze. His footsteps paused slightly.
He turned back and glanced at Greer.
Then he smiled.
The smile was faint.
But it carried undisguised provocation.
Greer’s fingers tightened sharply around his cane.
The next moment, Cyrus turned back and stepped into the portal without hesitation.
White light flared.
Darm, Sanna, Jessup, and Blake followed one after another.
One by one, the five figures were swallowed by the light.
◆ ◆ ◆
Meanwhile, inside the Core Chamber.
Owen was still staring at the repair requirement in despair when a system prompt suddenly appeared.
[Warning: Marked targets have entered the dungeon.]
The blue light inside the Core Chamber went still for an instant.
Owen slowly lifted his gaze and looked toward the monitoring image, where the starting chamber had lit up once more.
“So eager...”
His gaze swept across the newly built confinement rooms on both sides of the canyon entrance, then landed on Cassandre, standing silently in the circular plaza.
A moment later, his low voice sounded inside the Core Chamber.
“Then come on.”
“This time, don’t think you’ll get to go back so easily.”