The forest was an ancient, breathing thing. Moss-covered roots as thick as bridge pylons snaked across the floor, and the canopy was so dense that the afternoon sun only reached the ground in jagged, golden needles. I moved through the undergrowth with a newfound fluidity, my boots barely making a sound on the damp mulch. Every few minutes, my [Detection] skill pulsed, highlighting the skittering heat signatures of forest rodents and the distant, slow thrum of a grazing deer.
I wasn't looking for game, though. I was looking for a home.
After an hour of trekking deeper into the "forbidden" sector of the woods, I found it. A massive, hollowed-out tree—an oak so old it seemed to have been born when the world was still cooling. Its trunk was a gnarled fortress of grey bark, wide enough to house a carriage, and its roots plunged deep into a rocky outcrop.
"Perfect," I whispered. My voice sounded different here—sharper, with an edge of authority that made the nearby birds fall silent.
I stepped into the hollow of the tree. The air inside was cool and smelled of ancient earth and rot. I reached into the spiritual void of my inventory and pulled out the Dungeon Core. It appeared in my palms as a jagged, fist-sized violet crystal. The moment it felt the air, it began to glow with a rhythmic, heartbeat-like light.
I knelt and pressed the crystal into the dirt at the center of the hollow.
"Deploy."
The earth didn't just move; it groaned. The Core sank into the soil like a stone in a pond, and a shockwave of violet energy rippled outward. Before my eyes, the dirt transformed. Stone stairs, carved from dark, seamless obsidian, began to spiral downward into the darkness of the earth. The walls of the hollow tree reinforced themselves with smooth rock, and a heavy, iron-bound door manifested at the entrance.
A screen flickered into existence.
[Dungeon Heart: Established]
[Current DP: 100]
[Status: Level 1 - Infancy]
I looked at the meager 100 Dungeon Points. In this world, DP was the blood of my ambition. I could use it to build, to summon, and to trap. If I wanted to survive the first night, I had to be a cunning architect.
I spent 70 points immediately. I didn't want a simple room; I wanted a lure. I shaped a long, winding corridor that descended into a second, larger chamber. The walls were damp, lit by flickers of violet mana-light that cast long, dancing shadows. In the center of the second room, I manifested a treasure chest. It was a classic bait—made of polished oak and reinforced with brass, looking exactly like the kind of prize a low-level adventurer would risk their life for.
With the remaining 30 points, I accessed the [Summoning] menu.
[Summon: Slime (Common) - Cost: 10 DP]
I summoned three of them. They didn't appear in a flash of light; they oozed out of the cracks in the walls. They were pulsing, translucent blobs of acidic bile, glowing with a faint, sickly green hue. They were mindless, but they were loyal. I commanded them to cling to the ceiling of the corridor, hidden in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to drop.
[Mission Triggered: The First Intruder]
[Objective: Neutralize the intruder and harvest their essence.]
I didn't have to wait long. I retreated into the darkened corner of the throne room—the deepest part of the first floor—and activated [Stealth]. My body felt cold as I merged with the shadows, my presence vanishing from the physical world.
A small red dot appeared on my mental map. A Level 3 Adventurer had just crossed the threshold of the forest. I felt the Wife-Stealing Rod on my back throb. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a radar for the vulnerable. The intruder was close. I could hear the faint clank of cheap mail armor and the heavy, uncertain breathing of someone who knew they were somewhere they shouldn't be.
The hunt was on.