The dungeon had leveled up, meaning that it had gone from having only one layer to now having two. This came with higher costs, both to feed the dungeon core and repair any damage done to it.

  He brought up his status screen to see what had changed.

  His health, both maximum and current, had doubled to a hundred and eighty-four respectively. His infamy and dread score had changed from null to values barely higher than nothing. The thing that had drawn his attention the most was his now bulky bank account.

  Six high tier magic beasts would give him slightly over a hundred soul points, meaning that the extra two hundred came from the boss alone. That was the power of a king-level monster, though even then it was a bit absurd. While the soul points gained from a creature was somewhat random, a king-level monster giving this grand of an amount was something he had only seen on the internet.

  Combined with the three hundred soul points he had gained from the quest, he had gained over six hundred soul points. It was enough to almost make him want to cry.

  His eyes returned to the sixteen missing health points on the core. The pain was still there; he had tried his best to distract himself by working and focusing on the dungeon. It would cost thirty-two points to repair it back to full health. He stared hungrily at the number, but forced him to stop. He would only heal if he had soul points left over.

  He had the power to create the second layer—it didn’t cost him anything to gain it—but he needed to focus on the first layer before he could handle a second.

  He needed to set up a species and basic ecosystem before he thought about anything. A species was different from the other animals he made, even the ants didn’t qualify as a species to the dungeon system.

  Species had the benefit of having much more complex collective physiologies and psychologies. For example, the descendent mechanic he used for the queen ant, where there was a chance for the children to inherit two of the mother’s core characteristics, were a simplistic version of this.

  Ants capable of performing different tasks, from mining to fighting to rearing, needed to be differentiated. Some ants needed much more valuable characteristics, and others needed to be easy cannon fodder for adventurers to kill. Ant communication and interacting collaboration were also needed to not create an enormous mess.

  It was also cost effective, reducing characteristics worth over a thousand soul points to only being a few hundred. {Scarlet Teeth} were a species that he had already created, though they had long served their use.

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  Water, food, adventurer rewards, self-sustainability; he would need to manage all of these things.

  First things first, he needed to think about the adventurers. Sentient species, when killed, would generate over a hundred soul points with only one death. In order to draw them in, he needed to have something that they wanted, that they were willing to risk death for.

  Large amounts of gold or magic artifacts were the stereotypical option, but they were too hard for him to get at this stage. They were hard to manufacture sustainably too.

  Instead, what if there was a special mushroom or herb that had healing properties? What if the heart of a terrifying monster could reverse aging a few decades? What if the bones of the animals within the deeper layers were superior magical ingredients or materials?

  This was what he needed to provide to draw attention to the dungeon. The problem was what could the ants provide? Should their exoskeletons be valuable, or some other organ? Should it be something the ants have or should it be something they make?

  Generally, it was better to start out with simple resources that were useful but not too useful. He didn’t want the ants hunted to extinction. It was a balance that was hard to reach during this early stage until he could develop a resilient ecosystem that could withstand exploitation.

  Hmmm, people have always been kinda dumb. The ants could have an organ that resurrected someone but nobody would care because it would be hidden within the ant. In order to attract as many people as possible, the valuable resource needs to be flashy and easy to identify as valuable.

  That left the exoskeleton. He recalled in his past life that there were bugs with pretty exoskeletons; he was just going to copy that. The exoskeletons needed to be more than pretty though, they needed to have uses outside of appearances to really draw attention to his dungeon.

  Insect exoskeleton, from his memories of RPG’s, were commonly used to craft armor. Depending on the class of bug that it came from, the chitin could enhance strength, reduce mana cost, or simply be a strong piece of material.

  Now that he had identified the value the ants will provide, it was time for him to figure out how these ants would get food, water, and other necessities. Time went by as slowly molded and planned out the dungeon’s first true denizens.

  Stor rubbed his face with his hands as the shouting and arguing around him clawed his ears. He was almost miserable enough to stab himself with his knife. Normally he would drink himself to sleep, but the village had been rationing the ale for a week.

  “We should wait for adventurers to come and sort this out! What makes you think you're better than skilled trackers and cunning folk?”

  “You think all those vagrants at the adventurer’s guild are professionals? I have seen urchins get one of those fucking bits of paper. We know this forest better than anyone else! When all the villages come together, we wouldn’t need to waste our hard earned money for those phonies!”

  “Know this forest?! The druid has looked through hundreds of years of records, not once has anything like this happened. What, did the forest just empty itself of those monstrous beasts for a laugh?”

  “SHUT IT!” said the village chief as his fist slammed so hard on the table it left a dent. Stor looked at him and a slight smirk grew on his lips. At least he wasn’t suffering the most in this room.

  Despite the command, one of the best hunters of the village continued, “We have no idea when these adventurers will come.” The hunter’s face was red as he took a massive gulp of the severely watered-down grog.

  He turned to the chief and demanded, “What should we do? Wait for these outsiders to come here when it is convenient for them? While our children, wives, and ourselves starve? Where is our pride, our dignity?”

  He spat at the table and got up. “Disgraceful, the lot of you. I, and my father, and his father and the fathers before that, have bled and died learning this cursed forest. I don't know about you, but I won’t disgrace them by acting like little children because it has gone silent. Even if I die, I will die with honor for my family.”

  The hunter got up and left the village hall. Stor knew this man, knew that he hated outsiders more than most in this isolated village. He knew, from gossip, that the man was going to investigate the village himself, and that he had the influence to bring several others with him.

  Despite his better judgement, Stor knew that he was going to be one of these men.