The dungeon was quiet, save for the gentle, synchronized snoring of three adventurers and one goblin scout. The air, still faintly smelling of lavender and chamomile, was the picture of tranquility. It was, I decided, a masterpiece of non-violent conflict resolution.
FaeLina floated silently beside my core for a full minute, her expression a complex mixture of horror and awe. The panic had finally subsided, replaced by a grudging, analytical curiosity.
"Okay," she said, her voice unusually calm. "Explain your thought process. Now."
It was simple, I projected. He was expecting a fight. He was prepared for spikes, arrows, and monsters. He was not, under any circumstances, prepared for a dramatic talking doll that wanted to hug him.
"It was a strategy of pure, baffling absurdity," FaeLina conceded. She tapped a finger on her chin. "It violated at least seventeen sections of the Dungeon Core Handbook for Tactical Engagement, but... the intruder was neutralized with zero structural damage and a net profit of over one hundred DP. The efficiency is… infuriatingly high."
This was high praise, coming from her.
A new problem presented itself: what to do with the unconscious goblin scout, Griznak?
"Standard procedure is to absorb the neutralized intruder," FaeLina stated, sounding like she was quoting from one of her handbooks. "It provides a small amount of biomass and a few extra points. It's tidy."
Tidy? It sounds like murder, I countered. Besides, he's sleeping. It feels rude to absorb someone while they're sleeping.
FaeLina sighed, a long-suffering sound. "Of course. The 'polite' dungeon lord. What do you propose we do then? Let him wake up and run back to the Blood Pit?"
An idea occurred to me. A dungeon core's abilities weren't limited to just building things. I focused my energy on the sleeping goblin, not with the intent to harm, but to simply… inspect.
A new window appeared in my vision.
[Inspect Target: Griznak the Scout.]
[Target is carrying: 1x Rusty Jagged Dagger, 3x Moldy Biscuits, 1x Scrawled Map of the Local Area.]
My attention locked onto the map. Intelligence. That was far more valuable than a few extra points.
Can I just… take the map? I asked the system.
[Acquire Item: Scrawled Map? Cost: 1 DP.]
It was practically free. Confirm.
A faint shimmer of light appeared over the goblin. A folded, grimy piece of parchment materialized from his pocket and floated gently to the floor before vanishing into my dungeon's inventory. The dagger dissolved into raw materials. I left him the moldy biscuits. I wasn't a monster.
At that moment, the adventurers began to stir.
Zazu the elf was the first to wake, stretching with a groan of pure contentment. "I have not slept that well in fifty years," he declared.
Gilda and Pip sat up a moment later, looking similarly refreshed and slightly dazed. Then, their eyes fell on the fourth sleeping figure on the moss.
Pip yelped and scrambled backwards. "A goblin! See! I told you it was a trap!"
Gilda instinctively reached for her axe, her muscles tensing. "How did it get in here?" she growled, though her voice lacked its usual sharp edge, softened by her long rest.
Zazu merely blinked. "Well, it seems even goblins appreciate a quality napping spot. You can't blame him."
"A heroic salute to you, noble slumberers!" boomed Sir Crumplebuns from his cushion, which only served to confuse the three adventurers even more.
Before they could decide what to do, Griznak himself began to wake up. He sat bolt upright, his cruel eyes wide with terror as he saw three adventurers staring down at him. He shrieked, scrambled for the dagger that was no longer there, and then bolted for the exit like his life depended on it.
He was gone in a flash of flailing limbs and terrified squeals.
The adventurers were too relaxed and bewildered to even think of giving chase.
"Well," said Gilda, after a moment of stunned silence. "That was strange."
Zazu yawned. "Indeed. I believe I require another cup of tea to process this."
They ended up staying for another twenty minutes, sipping tea and discussing the bizarre events. As they paid their copper coins to the ever-wobbling Sloosh, Gilda turned her thoughtful gaze towards me.
"You know," she said, "a place this restful… it's incredibly rare. Our guild, the 'Iron Gryphons,' would pay good money for a guaranteed safe resting point in this territory."
With that, they departed, leaving me with a new business proposition, a healthy balance of DP, and a very valuable map.
In my mind's eye, I unfurled the grimy parchment. It showed my dungeon's location, a few landmarks, and, about a league to the north, a crudely drawn skull with spikes coming out of it, labeled 'The Blood Pit'.
FaeLina floated over, peering at the mental image of the map.
"So, what's the plan now, O Plushy Tactician?" she asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice. "Are you going to build an army of stuffed animals and challenge them to a pillow fight?"
I considered the map, the threat from my rival, and the potential for new business. My path forward was clear.
I'm going to need more pillows.