The eighth floor of the dungeon groaned under Barry's relentless industry. Mythril limbs, polished smooth by eons of tireless labor, cleaved through the earth with a rhythmic, thunderous clang. Though his status as the master's primary revenue stream had waned, Barry, the Mythril Golem, remained a paragon of dedication. A strange, burgeoning creativity, however, had begun to stir within his metallic core, manifesting in increasingly peculiar projects.

  His latest obsession: optimizing logistical efficiency. The lumbering Stone Golems, previously deemed useless for excavation, were now repurposed as tireless cargo carriers. Their crude, earthen forms, impervious to fatigue and devoid of complaint, formed the backbone of Barry's revolutionary delivery system. They would, he reasoned, work ceaselessly – a concept that, in Barry’s simplistic understanding, extended indefinitely beyond the standard seven-day week.

  This efficient workforce was crucial for navigating Barry's magnum opus: a labyrinthine maze, a chaotic tangle of tunnels that defied all conventional spatial logic. He considered it a masterpiece, a testament to his ingenuity. So intricate was his design, so bewildering its convolutions, that three Stone Golems remained permanently lost within its depths. Or, as Barry suspected, they had simply fallen prey to his elaborate network of traps.

  The maze was a dizzying tapestry of passages, a maddening dance of ascents and descents, forward thrusts and backward retreats, a chaotic sprawl that led everywhere and nowhere. Its sole entrance, a rough-hewn entrance on the third floor of the master's dungeon, stood as a defiant gateway to Barry's personal domain.

  The spatial anomaly that plagued Barry's thoughts centered on the peculiar relationship between his maze and the master's dungeon. Directly adjacent to his entrance, a circular void opened onto the master's corridor. Yet, when Barry peered through this portal, only a single, unremarkable corridor stretched into the distance. No evidence of his intricate tunnel network, no intersecting passages, no bewildering maze – just the simple, unadorned wall of the master's dungeon.

  Conversely, within his own domain, a bewildering array of tunnels, at least half a dozen, seemed to pierce directly through the space occupied by the master's dungeon. It was a paradox, a spatial impossibility that defied Barry's rudimentary understanding of geometry. His mythril brain, accustomed to the straightforward logic of excavation, struggled to reconcile these conflicting realities.

  Frustrated by the unsolvable puzzle, Barry resolved to focus on his expansion. Being a Golem, not a dungeon core, Barry's dungeon-building efforts were driven by instinct and observation, rather than any formal understanding of dungeon mechanics. He would occasionally venture through the magical portal to the master's home, absorbing inspiration and, on occasion, “borrowing” a few spare Golems. His master, he reasoned, possessed an inexhaustible supply of golems, and as long as he brought them back, she would surely not mind.

  And so, his dungeon grew, floor by floor, a testament to his tireless labor. Entrances to the maze now dotted multiple levels, a testament to his ambition. Unbeknownst to Barry, however, the System, the unseen architect of all dungeons, demanded a specific room count per floor. His ignorance of these requirements, however, had never hindered his progress.

  With a resounding clang, Barry carved a grand archway, the gateway to a newly excavated staircase. Step by laborious step, he descended, judging the distance to the theoretical ninth floor by the familiar rhythm of his labor. Upon reaching his perceived depth, he paused. He was certain he had surpassed his master’s deepest level, a fact that both pleased and frustrated him. He could not, after all, tunnel into her territory to confirm.

  “Break time,” he rumbled, the thought echoing through the stone corridors. The master had granted him unlimited rest, a privilege he frequently exercised in his favorite relaxation spot: the magma bath. With a metallic scrape, he slid through the archway, ascending towards the upper levels.

  Reaching the fourth floor, he turned down a familiar tunnel, leading to his private chamber. Inside, a single feature dominated the space: a pool of molten magma. The knowledge of his own effort, of the countless hours spent digging and building, magnified his sense of satisfaction as he stepped into the fiery embrace, his mythril form sinking into the comforting heat.

  As one family member takes a load off, another finds themselves pent up and pissed off.

  The air in the Pleasure Palace dungeon, usually thick with a charged, anticipatory hum, now vibrated with Veris's escalating tantrum. One moment, the room had been a tableau of languid release; the next, it was a chaotic whirlwind of flung objects and raw, unfiltered fury. The scent of stale sweat and exotic oils mingled with the sharp tang of overturned metal implements, a testament to Veris's frantic search.

  "Where the hell is my goddamn paddle?!" she roared, her voice a raw, jagged edge that scraped against the stone walls. The sound threatened to bleed through the magically reinforced barriers, a potential breach of the Palace's carefully cultivated mystique. "Did some spineless, sticky-fingered worm dare to touch it?"

  Her gaze, usually a predatory gleam, was now clouded with a desperate, almost childlike panic. It landed on Sweet C, the newly anointed Assassin, who leaned against a wall, attempting to appear nonchalant despite the tremor running through her. "You! C! You were the last one, weren't you? Don't even try to deny it!"

  Sweet C, her usually sharp eyes narrowed in amusement, pushed back with a lazy drawl. "I borrowed it, yes. Yesterday. But you, my dear Veris, were the one who put it to... Extensive use afterwards, if my memory serves." A smirk played on her lips, a dangerous curve that hinted at the pleasure she took in Veris's distress.

  Veris's response was a symphony of destruction. A heavy, leather-bound tome slammed against the wall, its pages fluttering like wounded birds. A collection of delicate, silver chains, usually used for more pleasurable restraints, crashed to the floor, their melodic jingle now a dissonant clatter. "Damn it all to the Shadowlands! What did I do with it? The Boss will flay me alive! She practically carved that thing with a sigh, and she hated it!"

  Her voice cracked, and a sheen of tears threatened to spill over her meticulously applied makeup. The raw fear that emanated from her was palpable, a stark contrast to her usual persona of ruthless dominatrix. "I swear on the Core," she hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and despair, "whoever has my paddle... They'll know the true meaning of pain."

  "Oh, will they get the paddle?" C purred, her eyes glittering with mischievous delight as she slid down the wall to sit on the cold stone floor. She crossed her legs, a picture of casual cruelty. "Or perhaps something... Else?"

  A, B, and D, the seasoned veterans of the dungeon's chaotic ecosystem, exchanged weary glances. They knew this routine well. With synchronized sighs, they resigned themselves to their fate, their shoulders slumping as they began the tedious task of searching the dungeon's shadowed corners and hidden alcoves. The hunt for Veris's missing paddle was on, a grim task made all the more urgent by the oppressive, suffocating pressure that suddenly descended upon them all, a silent, unseen weight that forced them to their knees, a clear indication of the Boss's displeasure at the disturbance.

  Dungeon Stories Volume 2

  After Me disappeared to enjoy some of Ali's tasty food, Lucky Bastard, I set off to do what dungeons do best. Upgrade. Well, I'm not sure about other Cores, but I'm pretty sure my dungeon is rocking it on the upgrade front.

  Saying that, my good mood has just soured because of all the places I could have teleported to, I find myself back at the Hay Bale.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Why?

  I don't know. Frustration begets frustration if you need a reason. Anyway, after forking over the required DP, alongside a few choice words for The System, the annoyingly-useless feature actually starts to grows!

  Unless my eyes are playing tricks on me and that might be the case. A brief flash from the light of creation was all the feature got before it stopped expanding. Worse yet, that was all that happened. There was no morphing, altering, additions, or anything else worth noting.

  As usual, the excitement that gets crushed after every attempt returns with a vengeance. Only this time it's tenfold because something was actually happening.

  I cant help but sigh in relief as I pull up its status.

  Finally.

  Finally!

  The description has finally decided to start playing ball, but, as always it's ridiculously stupid in its own right.

  See?

  Ridiculous.

  Don't even get me started on how the Hay Bale is now Immortal. I don't understand how that even works?

  I mean, yeah. What a kick-ass skill.

  Obviously.

  However, It would be much better if it was owned by one of my family members and not an inanimate object.

  Even without Immorality, the Hay Bale's description is a plethora of buffs. So why is it that I feel so annoyed?

  Where the fuck have these upgrades been and why have they taken so long to finally show up? Who the hell is the Lord of the Hay? Why can't I assign anyone to this stupid feature? And what the hell is an Infinite Bale?

  Endless fucking questions and unpredictable fucking features!

  What was I thinking when I said I was rocking these upgrades?

  The only thing rocking round here is my sanity still.

  How is this stupid feature so good, but so infuriating at the same time? How is that even possible? It would be like Ali making the best-looking dessert ever, but it tasting like Lobe shit. Not that I know what Lobe shit tastes like, but it just wouldn't happen. So how has this?

  I know I say it all the time, and that I shouldn't be complaining over the extremely-sweet buffs it provides, but isn't that what life is meant to be about? Or is the pursuit of knowledge just how humans live? Learn, grow, teach, record. Being a Dungeon Core is more of an exacerbating existence if anything. Since I don't play like normal dungeons do, there's no precedent for what I'm doing so everything is confusing as hell.

  There are that many buffs on the Bale of Fortune, I can only assume they're from previous upgrades that I'm only just now receiving. For reasons beyond my level of comprehension, The System has decided to finally let my frustrating feature undergo a change. Not that it shouldn't have already done so long ago, if the standards of my city are anything to go by.

  Upgrading and evolution go hand-in-hand and this pile of, what I'm now starting to hope isn't useless, hay has been a stubborn bastard. The Bale of Fortune better be damn well worth its cost.

  Fingers crossed.

  Inside the stable, I summon one of the Infinite Bales into a horse pen. The animal is startled until it realises that it was only food that disturbed its rest. With every bite, however, the small bundle of hay never changes. When the horse pulls away, the location it ate from fills in as though it was never missing in the first place.

  Infinite Bale. Fair enough. Does exactly what it says on the Hay.

  There's a first for everything.

  Summoning another 99, I place one in each pen and the rest around the Bale of Fortune. The awkward feature has been solitary for far too long and even though there's no need for the extra bales, the semi-circle stack they form around it pleases me immensely.

  It's about damn time it's changed!

  Don't ruin, Me.

  Please. I need this.

  In fact, how can you see what I'm doing?

  Oh, and that's supposed to make sense how?

  Whatever, that's a you thing and I could do without right now.

  Even though it isn't a categorising egotist, or a maniacal dungeon-absorbing elf, it's still a heavy weight lifted off my shoulders. I remember when Katrina laughed at the small yet-expensive feature and I made that stupid vow that it would be the best piece of Hay she'd even seen. Well, wait till I see her later.

  Smug as fuck can't even describe how I'm going to act.

  Giggling to myself, I realise everything seems to be going right for me. Not that I want to jinx it, or set off any flags, but shit is good right now!

  The self-sufficiency of my city is near enough at 100%. Other than a bit more gold that I'm yet to drop in our treasury everything is controlled by the people. As soon as I've finished donating the amount Deputy Mayor Sacha requested, commerce will commence properly in Varona. Right now, most things are free and people give whatever they can as a gesture of goodwill. It's also good for Soul Guide as a steady stream of greens populating the streets mean they're all living well and reflects a happy life.

  I'm pretty sure the city council already pays wages to the working citizens. And they can buy specialised goods here and there with their money, so I'm not sure why we haven't already started. Sacha seem to know her stuff and her shit is that together, she could probably run this place on her own.

  We're lucky to have her.

  Mayor Kana benefitting the most.

  With what's left of today's DP, I'll use it to finish off her requests as well as a few of our less-than competent Mayor's. Small purchases barely make a dent in my daily pool anymore so requests like benches and greenery can be bought on unoccupied land and transported to where it needs to go. Upgrades on the other hand take much longer due to the restrictive nature of Divinity's Creation.

  "I wish that skill would level up! I've had it for who knows how long now and it's still level one. Level One! What's a Core gotta do to get some help around here?" Answering my question, the Bale of Fortune glows yellow.

  Oh... My... Shit!

  Is today my birthday? Seriously!

  There's got to be a limit to how much luck one Core can have in a day, right?

  As if on cue, the presence of Domination enters the boundaries of my city. Not complete domination, or even a mild version of the act, but just the feeling. It's not the unfledged apprentice that's still with Katrina either. This time, a second, fully-qualified Categoriser, has come knocking.

  Fortunately, the strength of his will is nothing compared to Elric's. Or it could be due to being a higher level than I was when that insane bastard attacked Katrina, but I don't want to put too much faith in myself yet. My family, however, have all my trust and after a quick message, Prince Sillybollocks appears far to quickly as he hasn't even taken the time to get dressed.

  "What the hell, Light? Clothes!" Embarrassed, and also slightly envious of Sophie after seeing the Assassin's abs, a quick shout at the lady killer is all it takes for clothing to appear on his body.

  "If it was that easy, then next time don't arrive half naked!" I can't help but chastise him, "That's not the point though. See that guy?" I point at the man dressed all in white. Categorisers could easily pass as priests if people were ignorant to their profession. The Assassin nods and a jeweled dagger appears in his hand. It's my first time seeing Light's weapon since he advanced in tier. As per, I'm wibbly-wobbly jelly.

  The blade is slightly curved and there's an ominous-green tint to the metal. Maybe a poison attribute? The handle and grip are embedded in that many jewels that it looks hard to hold, but the weapon seems to fit perfectly into his hand. Light notices me staring and a smile spreads across his face.

  "What do you think, Master? This will be the first time I've used it?" I can't deny the quality of his weapon, even if it is smaller than everyone else's. No puns intended, but that's not what I called him for.

  I should really update those rules soon.

  "Have you been following Noir around lately? Did I say I wanted him dead? No. What is with you lot assuming that I want everyone dead all the time? Unless it's Ali, there's usually a weapon being thrown about," I sigh. "Yes. Your dagger is beautiful, Light. Now put it away. The first thing I want you to do is talk to him." I know that sounds like a repeat of the last time a Categoriser turned up, but Light was only a low level Vagabond back then. Now that I'm decked out in Assassin's this should go completely different.

  If not, I'll Divinity's Presence the shit out of him.