I needed a face. A giant floating black rock doesn't exactly scream "trustworthy business partner." It screams "evil monolith."
I checked my [Avatar Creation] skill. It was a premium feature, usually costing 500 Mana to unlock. I couldn't afford that. But I had a "Free Trial" token from the initial system boot-up.
"Activate Trial," I thought. "Default setting: Executive Realness."
Particles of blue hard-light coalesced in front of my crystal body. They swirled and knitted together, forming a shape. I didn't go for the buff warrior look. I went for what I knew: a sharp, tailored suit (made of mana), a clean jawline, and a smile that said, I’m going to ruin your pension, but you’ll thank me for it.
The Avatar flickered into existence. I projected my consciousness into it. It felt weird—lighter than a real body, like wearing a wetsuit made of static electricity—but it worked.
I adjusted my tie and waited.
Seraphina marched into the Core Room. She stopped ten feet away. Her hand rested on the pommel of a longsword that looked expensive. Her eyes were grey, tired, and completely unimpressed.
She looked around the room, taking in the clean floors, the neatly stacked piles of goblin spears (labeled "Inventory"), and finally, me.
"Identify yourself," she said. Her voice was dry. Not aggressive, just... bureaucratic.
"Max," I said, flashing my best dazzling smile and extending a hand. "CEO and Founder of this establishment. Welcome to the Deep Earth Experience. How can I help you today?"
She didn't shake my hand. She pulled a scroll from her belt.
"I am Seraphina, Auditor First Class for the Ecclesiarchy. I’m detecting an unauthorized Dungeon Core signature in this sector. You don't have a permit."
"We’re in the soft-opening phase," I said smoothly. "The paperwork is currently in processing with the celestial back office. You know how slow the cloud can be."
Seraphina narrowed her eyes. A faint golden light shimmered around her pupils.
System Warning: Subject is using [Absolute Truth]. Lies will be detected and punished.
Great. She was a human polygraph. If I lied, she’d probably smite me. If I told the truth, she’d definitely smite me. I had to walk the razor’s edge. I had to use... Corporate Speak.
"You are a monster," she stated. It wasn't a question.
"I am a sentient mineral-based entity facilitating resource redistribution," I corrected.
The golden light in her eyes flickered, but didn't flare. Technical truth.
"You are harboring goblins," she said, gesturing to Gub, who was trembling behind a stack of crates. "Vermin."
"I am employing local talent," I said, stepping between her and Gub. "Before I arrived, these 'vermin' were starving, disorganized, and a threat to public safety. Now? They have structure. They have a purpose. Crime rates in the immediate vicinity have dropped 100% because I hired all the criminals."
Seraphina paused. She looked at Gub, who was wearing a crude nametag I’d made him out of bark. It read Associate.
"You’re paying them?" she asked, skeptical.
"In a manner of speaking. They receive room, board, and performance-based incentives." (I didn't mention the incentives were 'not dying').
"And the adventurers?" she asked, her hand tightening on her sword. "I saw blood at the entrance. You’re killing people."
The golden light in her eyes intensified. This was the kill shot. If I lied here, I was dead.
"We offer a high-stakes challenge environment," I said, speaking slowly. "Adventurers enter of their own free will. They sign a social contract the moment they step in. They seek glory and experience. I provide the service of... resistance. Occasionally, that resistance is fatal. It is an unfortunate but necessary part of the market cycle."
Her eye twitched. "You’re spinning murder as a service?"
"I’m spinning Training," I countered. "Look at the local economy, Seraphina. Can I call you Seraphina? Let’s look at the data."
I waved my hand. I used a minor illusion spell—costing 5 Mana—to project a chart in the air.
"Since I opened yesterday, the tavern in the nearby village has sold out of healing potions. The blacksmith has a backlog of sword repairs. Why? Because I am generating demand. Without dungeons, heroes have no jobs. I am the job creator."
Seraphina stared at the chart. She looked exhausted. The golden light in her eyes dimmed slightly. She let out a sigh that seemed to deflate her entire armor.
"Section 4, Paragraph C," she muttered to herself. "Economic impact can be considered a mitigating factor for non-human entities..."
She rubbed her temples. "Do you have any idea how much paperwork it is to exorcise a Core? I have to fill out a Form 99-Divine. In triplicate."
I saw the opening. She didn't want to fight. She wanted a reason not to.
"You look tired," I said, dropping the sales pitch voice for a softer, more empathetic tone. "Long week?"
"You have no idea," she grumbled. "The High Priest decided to audit the Resurrection Tax. I haven't slept in three days. I’m chasing unauthorized magic signatures in a swamp while he’s eating grapes on a velvet pillow."
"Management," I said, shaking my head. "Always disconnected from the ground level. I bet they don't even pay you overtime."
Her head snapped up. "Overtime is considered 'Spiritual Fulfillment.'"
"Wow," I whistled. "That is a toxic workplace culture. Listen, Seraphina. I can’t offer you salvation, but I can offer you a seat."
I snapped my fingers. Gub, bless his terrified little heart, scurried forward and pushed a smooth, flat stone behind her. It wasn't a chair, but it was better than standing.
She hesitated, then sat down. The armor clanked heavily.
"I can't let you live," she said, but the conviction was gone. "The System says you’re a anomaly. You have debt."
"I do," I admitted. "Massive debt. Which means I’m motivated. If you destroy me, the debt disappears into the void. The System loses potential interest. But if you let me operate... I pay taxes. I stimulate the economy. And maybe, just maybe, I keep the local murder-hobo population busy so they stop harassing the villagers."
I leaned in. "Think of me as an independent contractor. Keep me off the books for now. If I cause trouble? You come back and smash me. Easy."
Seraphina looked at me. Then she looked at the goblins, who were currently trying to clean up the mud she’d tracked in.
"You’re weird," she said. "Dungeon Cores usually just scream and shoot lasers."
"I believe in synergy," I said.
She sat there for a long moment, the silence stretching out. I could feel my Mana draining just maintaining the Avatar. 300... 299...
Finally, she stood up.
"I’m going to mark this location as 'Pending Investigation,'" she said, sheathing her sword. "It gives you a 30-day grace period. But listen to me carefully, Max."
She leaned in, her face inches from my hard-light nose.
"If you kill an innocent—a villager, a child, someone who didn't sign your 'social contract'—I will come back. And I won't bring a form. I’ll bring a hammer."
"Understood," I said. "Strictly professional engagement only."
She turned to leave. At the entrance of the tunnel, she paused.
"And fix your entrance trap," she called back. "The log was a split-second too slow. Rookie mistake."
Then she was gone.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.