I instructed Gobkyu to have the workers dismantle the small wooden shack. However, since the work was already underway, we decided to repurpose the structure as a resting shack for the gatekeeper instead.
Next, we convened a strategic meeting. With Gobkyu accompanying me, we moved to the conference room often used for planning city affairs.
"Q-question… please? How do you plan to deal with the adorable fairy and her companions?" Ramiris's voice trembled slightly, her nervousness twisting her words. She kept glancing at me, clearly on edge.
"You don't need to overdo it with formalities," I said, voice calm yet commanding. "Besides, your words weren't exactly humble anyway. Just speak normally."
Her wings fluttered anxiously, but I allowed it. I had no intention of punishing her. If she accepted my plan, the earlier antics could be forgiven—though I needed to clarify a few things first.
"Gobkyu, I want to create an evacuation space beneath the colosseum. Is that feasible?"
"The area under the stage isn't very stable," Gobkyu responded immediately. "Even accounting for the strength of an executive, any breach risks collapsing the entire stage. But… with careful repositioning, it could work."
"I see. I also intend to place a gate within that basement area."
Gobkyu froze. "…A gate?"
"Yes. Reinforce the walls, pave them with stone, make the structure feel solid and secure."
"Will there also be evacuation space behind the gate?"
"No need. The gate is the key point. Right, Ramiris?"
Her wings flared in excitement. "R-Really? You mean… you want me to—?" She couldn't contain her joy, and I allowed a small, approving smile to show.
The proposal itself was simple. I wanted Ramiris to use her powers to construct and operate a dungeon—but rather than leaving the entrance in a crude shack, we could place it beneath something far more impressive: the colosseum.
The colosseum would serve multiple purposes: training amateur adventurers, hosting occasional contests, and providing nearby shops to sell potions and supplies. Adventurers would visit, complete their challenges, and stop by the shops on their way out. Both Eterna and Ramiris would benefit—she'd have a purpose, a place to live, and even a small income.
Her reaction was immediate. "Eh-EHEH! You mean… I can run this dungeon and have a real job?"
"Yes," I replied, my tone calm and measured. "Accept my plan, and that will be the case."
Her wings trembled violently. "Eh? So… I might… finally stop being a Jobless Broke Demon Lord?" Her voice cracked with disbelief, her excitement barely contained.
Treyni, tears welling in her eyes, whispered, "This is wonderful, Ramiris-sama." Beside her, Beretta's expression softened. That exhaustion he'd shown before—apparently, it was a façade. Now he seemed genuinely pleased. Perhaps he had hoped for this outcome too.
"I… I don't quite understand…" Ramiris said, gulping. "You… really mean I can get pocket money from this?"
"Indeed," I said. "The exact amount depends on the dungeon's performance. After covering expenses—promotion, maintenance—you'll receive two percent of the remaining profits."
"B-But how much would that be?"
"If a thousand adventurers visit daily, your share would be roughly two gold coins."
"GUU! I… I can earn that much?!" She squealed, wings trembling as she bounced slightly in place.
"Those are estimates," I added. "Success isn't guaranteed. Without adventurers, there's no show. But since you're already settling here, there's nothing to lose by trying."
She nodded vigorously. It was clear: she understood that I controlled the situation, and that accepting my terms was the smarter path. Her joy was infectious—she practically hugged my head, shouting in excitement.
With Ramiris convinced, Beretta and Treyni naturally fell in line.
"Uhehe… Finally, I can stop being looked down on! No more Jobless Broke Demon Lord nonsense!" Ramiris's enthusiasm radiated through the room.
I allowed myself a small chuckle. Even as she lost herself in her own excitement, the loyalty and competence of her two companions remained steadfast. Ramiris may have been chaotic and unpredictable, but her energy—focused properly—would be a powerful asset. It seemed there was no need to worry about her… at least for now.
By the way… what was with Ramiris's obsession with money?
Putting myself aside, I couldn't recall a single demon lord who seemed so enamored with gold and coins. More important than wealth, shouldn't the real issue be whether she even had a purpose, a job to occupy herself?
No one had visited Ramiris's labyrinth yet. Perhaps she had become idle, lonely, and restless. For both her sake and the stability of Eterna, adventurers had to start visiting. And if that was the goal, we needed a concrete plan.
I called Ramiris back from wherever her mind had wandered and began drafting the construction plan for the colosseum.
I explained my reasoning clearly.
"The plaza at the end of the west gate road will be expanded first. That space will serve as the base of operations for the colosseum. There's room for a stable for travelers' horses. Eventually, we'll add train tracks—royalty may ride them, and cargo can be transported efficiently. This infrastructure will help the city grow and ensure a constant flow of visitors."
Ramiris blinked at me, wings twitching. "But… why not build somewhere else?"
"Those empty lots are temporary residences for the beastmen. Building over them would disrupt them unnecessarily."
Ramiris's expression brightened suddenly, and she fluttered her wings. "Then why not move the beastmen into my labyrinth? We could relocate the entire area without conflict!"
Gobkyu and I exchanged incredulous looks.
"You mean… everything? Buildings, people… all into the labyrinth?" I asked, skeptical.
"Well… living people need permission," Ramiris replied proudly. "But objects without will? Anything can be moved inside!"
Her pride was well placed. This was no ordinary skill.
After careful questioning, she revealed the truth: her intrinsic ability was called Labyrinth Creation (Mini World).
As the name implied, it allowed her near-omnipotent control over the interior of the labyrinth. The affected area extended far enough that even objects and people near the entrance could fall under her influence. Weapons, armor, even items imbued with minor consciousness could be neutralized. Rarely, items with strong will or mana resistance might resist, but such cases were exceptions. Most challengers would face her labyrinth completely unarmed.
"How… impressive," I said, tone calm but carrying authority. "And here I thought you lacked combat ability."
"T-That's cruel! How dare you insult me, the strongest demon lord and terror of mankind!" Her wings bristled, and she stomped in mock indignation.
"Relax, Ramiris. That's not what I meant. Let's focus on your abilities. Tell me everything about Labyrinth Creation," I said firmly.
I began to ask detailed questions, methodically:
How many floors can Labyrinth Creation create underground?
How long does it take to construct them?
What happens to the monsters inside?
Can you alter the interior structure dynamically?
What happens if someone dies inside?
Ramiris's expression shifted to serious, and she answered each question in turn.
"There's no absolute restriction on the number of floors. Realistically, I can reach about a hundred underground levels," she explained.
I continued my inquiry into Ramiris's Labyrinth Creation (Mini World), determined to understand its full potential before committing to any plans.
"Second," Ramiris began, her tone serious, "it takes roughly one hour to create a single floor. Additional floors follow the same timing, so a hundred floors would take about one hundred hours. However, energy consumption rises exponentially as you go deeper. That explains why there's a practical limit."
I nodded, considering the implications. Atem-level control over a labyrinth of this scale was impressive, but even I had to respect the exponential energy curve. A full hundred-floor dungeon could drain her if managed recklessly
"Third," she continued, "the labyrinth isn't just for monsters. Insects, small creatures… even spirits can inhabit it. There used to be spirits here before, but their level was stored separately to isolate them from the outside world. They could still freely move in and out."
"So you're saying we can fill it with monsters and control their behavior?" I asked, stepping closer.
"Yes. Magicule concentration determines natural monster generation and even strength levels. Floors can be isolated from each other to control difficulty. This allows precise planning of challenges for adventurers."
I considered her words. This meant we could design layered, controlled encounters—perfect for testing adventurers' skills while maintaining safety. And, importantly, we could plan the influx of magicule to ensure proper monster growth once the labyrinth contents were ready.
"Fourth," Ramiris said, adjusting her stance, "the labyrinth's interior can be modified in about an hour. Once changed, the structure remains stable for twenty-four hours. There are conditions: you can't create life, so only walls or inorganic structures can be built. Also, this doesn't reconstruct the entire dungeon—just the interior layout. Floor swaps follow the same rule: one per twenty-four hours. Still, it's highly efficient for long-term operation."
I raised an eyebrow. Atem-style strategy demanded flexibility, and this level of efficiency gave us exactly that. We could rotate floors, adjust traps, or rearrange paths daily if needed. The dungeon could evolve dynamically.
"And fifth," Ramiris said, her tone lowering with weight, "what happens to someone who dies inside… can be dictated by my will. Provided I know the circumstances, I can even resurrect them."
I paused. This was a crucial point. Casual adventurers entering a dungeon would inevitably suffer injuries or worse. The ability to restore them—or, at minimum, control the aftermath—was critical for maintaining Eterna's safety and stability.
"Even monsters' corpses and unfortunate deaths of adventurers…" I murmured, thinking through logistics.
"Exactly," Ramiris nodded. "I've resurrected adventurers several times before. It depends on 'Permission of the target.' They must will themselves to enter the labyrinth. That's why you could enter before. Forcefully bringing someone in while unconscious triggers a repulsive effect—entry fails. Infants are exceptions; their will isn't formed yet, so they are treated as protected objects."
I studied her carefully. This skill wasn't just raw power—it required responsibility and judgment. Mismanagement could be catastrophic, yet controlled correctly, it could turn the labyrinth into an unassailable bastion and a source of endless strategic advantage.
"So," I said finally, voice firm, "this is your power, Ramiris. I now understand its strengths and limitations. With careful management, this labyrinth can become the backbone of our adventurer hub in Eterna. Every detail—monster placement, floor rotation, resurrection—must be planned strategically. Nothing left to chance."
Ramiris's wings fluttered nervously, yet her eyes shone with excitement. "I… I understand. I'll do everything you say!"
I allowed a small, approving nod. The seriousness of the situation demanded nothing less than full cooperation. The labyrinth was more than a playground—it was a tool to shape Eterna's future. And I would oversee every inch of it.