My Dungeon Daddy System: Raising Monsters and Waifus Underground-Chapter 99 - Bedrock And Breakfast

The sun hadn’t even bothered to rise yet. It was that distinct, hateful shade of grey that existed specifically to mock people who were awake before six in the morning.

Reed stood near the mouth of the dungeon cave, holding a mug of coffee that was rapidly losing its heat to the biting wind of the mountain peak. He wore his heavy black velvet coat, the collar turned up against the chill, but the cold seemed to seep through the fabric anyway. It was a reminder that while he was a Level 5 Dungeon Lord capable of warping reality and raising the dead, he was still, at his core, a guy from Ohio who really didn’t like freezing his ass off.

"You are squinting," a voice purred from his left. "It causes wrinkles, my Lord. You should moisturize."

Reed turned his head slowly. Beside him, defying all laws of thermodynamics and modesty, was Seraphine.

She looked... expensive.

After twenty-four hours in the Molting Chamber, the Lamia had emerged reborn. Gone were the dull, pitted scales scarred by the acid of the Garden. In their place was armor that looked like it had been carved from living gemstone. Her tail was a seamless river of iridescent emerald and obsidian, so polished that Reed could see his own tired reflection in the scales. Even her skin seemed to glow with a faint, healthy luster, and her golden eyes were sharp, bright, and brimming with vanity.

"I am not squinting," Reed mumbled, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee. "I am grimacing. There is a difference. And you... you’re blinding. Literally. I think you’re reflecting the moonlight."

Seraphine preened. She didn’t just stand; she posed. She coiled the upper length of her tail in a slow, hypnotic figure-eight, letting the scales whisper against each other like silk sheets.

"It is high-quality work," she said, running a hand down her own flank. "The heat. The steam. The exfoliation. I feel... aerodynamic. I feel like I could squeeze a bear to death without even straining a muscle." She slithered closer, wrapping the tip of her tail around Reed’s ankle and giving a possessive squeeze. "Do you like it? You paid a fortune for it."

"I like it," Reed admitted, looking down at the new scales. "You look dangerous, Seraphine. And shiny. Very shiny."

"Good," she hissed happily, resting her head on his shoulder. "Now, when the Inspector comes, I will dazzle him. Or strangle him. Whatever the budget allows."

"Please don’t strangle the Inspector," Maira said without looking up from her clipboard.

The Admin was standing to Reed’s right, illuminated by the floating light of a mana-wisp. She was dressed in her usual impeccable suit, her glasses reflecting the glow of the magical ledger hovering in front of her.

"The budget allows for dazzle," Maira continued, her pen scratching furiously against the paper. "It does not allow for murder. Not yet. The Guild contract explicitly states that the construction crew must be granted ’Safe Passage’ and ’Reasonable Hospitality.’ That means no eating the contractors, Seraphine."

Seraphine rolled her eyes. "Dwarves are gristly anyway. Too much iron in the diet."

"Literally." Maira said, still looking at her clipboard.

"They are late," Reed noted, checking the system clock in his vision. [TIME: 05:58 AM]. "Thrain said dawn. The sun is technically up."

"Give them a minute," Maira said, adjusting her glasses. "Guildmaster Thrain was remarkably enthusiastic when he signed the contract. He purchased the entire stock of your ’Green Potion’ for his crew. He called it... a productivity multiplier."

"I hope he didn’t give it to them all at once," Reed muttered.

Then, the ground shook.

It wasn’t the rumble of an earthquake or the shifting of tectonic plates. It was rhythmic. THOOM. THOOM. THOOM.

Birds in the nearby trees took flight in a panic. Dust danced on the surface of Reed’s coffee.

"What is that?" Seraphine hissed, her pupils narrowing into slits as she reared back, her hands drifting to her spear. "A siege engine?"

"No," Reed said, staring down the winding dirt path that led to the main road. "That’s the workforce."

They crested the hill a moment later. Ten Dwarves. They weren’t walking; they were power-marching with a speed that blurred their legs. They moved in a perfect, terrifying phalanx, their heavy boots hitting the ground with enough force to crack stone.

Thrain was in the lead. The Guildmaster’s beard was braided tightly against his chest, and his eyes were dilated so wide they looked like dinner plates. He was vibrating. He was physically vibrating at a frequency that made his outline fuzzy.

"MORNING!" Thrain bellowed. His voice didn’t just carry; it slapped Reed in the face.

The Dwarves didn’t stop. They didn’t slow down. They marched straight up to the cleared lot where the Spire was supposed to go, and Thrain slammed a massive shovel into the ground.

"WE ARE HERE," Thrain shouted, twitching slightly. "WE ARE READY. THE FUEL IS GOOD. THE EARTH IS SOFT. WE DIG NOW?"

Reed blinked. "Uh, Thrain. Good morning. Ideally, we need to level the peak to create a plateau about fifty feet above the current entrance. We need to preserve the cave mouth but flatten the summit for..."

"FLAT TOP!" Thrain yelled, turning to his crew. "BOYS! THE LORD WANTS A PLATFORM! CUT THE PEAK! OPERATION: BEDROCK BLITZKRIEG! GO! GO! GO!"

What followed was not construction. It was an assault on nature.

The ten dwarves scattered like buckshot. One of them, a redhead with biceps thicker than Reed’s head, ran toward a massive oak tree that was in the center of the build site. He didn’t use an axe. He lowered his shoulder and hit the trunk with a scream of pure, caffeinated rage.

CRACK.

The tree didn’t just fall; it surrendered. It tipped over, roots and all, as the dwarf lifted the entire trunk and tossed it aside like a toothpick.

Another dwarf was using a pickaxe with such speed that the metal head was glowing red hot. He was carving a trench through the frozen soil, leaving a trail of steam in his wake.

"By the System..." Maira whispered, clutching her clipboard to her chest. "Look at the efficiency ratings. They are at four hundred percent. This... this is beautiful."

"It is chaos," Seraphine muttered, looking disturbed. "They move like ants on fire."

"Hey!" a joyful voice shrieked. Grika shot out of the dungeon entrance, riding on top of a floating drone. She was wearing welding goggles and holding a bundle of dynamite that looked suspiciously like a bouquet of flowers. "Are those the digging buddies? They look fast!"

Grika zoomed over to the dwarf who was currently punching a boulder into gravel. She hovered next to him, watching as he pulverized the stone.

"Nice kinetic transfer!" Grika shouted over the noise. "But have you tried directional blasting? I have some C-4 that tastes like cherries!"

The dwarf paused, his beard twitching. He looked at the goblin, then at the dynamite. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of dried, rock-hard beef jerky.

"Trade?" the dwarf grunted, his voice sounding like a rock crusher.

"Deal!" Grika squealed. She tossed him the explosive. He tossed her the jerky.

"Grika, no!" Reed shouted, stepping forward. "Do not give the hyper-active dwarves high explosives!"

It was too late. The dwarf bit the fuse off the dynamite, lit it with the friction of his own beard, and threw it into the hole he had just dug.

WHUMP.

A controlled implosion sucked the dirt downward, creating a perfect, cylindrical pier hole. The dwarf nodded in satisfaction, burped a cloud of smoke, and immediately started digging the next one.

Reed rubbed his temples. "Maira."

"Yes, Master?" Maira answered, her eyes glued to the scene with a look of administrative lust.

"Make sure they drink water. If their hearts explode on my property, the paperwork will be a nightmare."

By 10:00 AM, the work was done.

Well, the "rough work" was done. In three hours the mountain peak was unrecognizable. Thrain’s crew had shaved the jagged summit down to a smooth, obsidian-flat plateau that sat like a crown above the original cave entrance. A wide, curving ramp had been carved into the rock, connecting the old "Dungeon Mouth" to the new "High Ground."

The "Pizza Forge" was currently operating at critical capacity. Reed had repurposed the forge room on Floor 1.5 into a makeshift cafeteria. The heat of the magma vents was perfect for flash-baking pizzas, and the smell of pepperoni, melting mozzarella, and garlic filled the air.

Reed sat at a table with Thrain. The Guildmaster had finally stopped vibrating, though his leg was still bouncing rhythmically under the table. He was currently demolishing his fourth "Meat-Lover’s Void Pizza."

"Good crust," Thrain said, spraying crumbs. "Little bit of sulfur. Nice kick. So, Lord Reed. You’re building up."

"That’s the plan," Reed said, nursing his third coffee. He felt exhausted just watching them eat. "We need the space. And the Surface License cost me a kidney, so I might as well use it."

Thrain wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "It’s bold. Stupid, but bold. You know what happens when you build a tower this high in the Whisperwood?"

"I get a nice view?" Reed guessed.

"You get pests," Thrain grunted. "Big ones. Wyverns love high peaks. Griffins love to nest on gargoyles. And the drakes... well, if you put a big shiny rock on top of a mountain, a drake is gonna come try to sit on it. It’s biology."

Reed glanced over at the corner of the room where Riva, the harpy, was currently arm-wrestling one of the dwarves (and losing).

"I’m not worried about the birds," Reed said. "Riva needs the target practice. And if a drake shows up... well, Seraphine has been complaining that she needs a new sparring partner."

Thrain chuckled darkly. "Aye. The Snake-Lady. I saw her scales. That’s good molting. Expensive." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "But it ain’t the monsters you gotta worry about, Lad. It’s the neighbors. You raise a spire here, you light a beacon. Everyone is gonna see it. The Guild. The Church. The other Dungeons."

Reed felt the Shard in his chest give a cold throb. He knew Thrain was right. Building the Twilight Spire wasn’t just construction; it was a declaration of existence.

"Let them look," Reed said softly, his voice dropping into that tired, dangerous register that made the room feel colder. "We’re open for business, Thrain. If they have coin, they get a room. If they have a sword... they get a plot."

Thrain grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "That’s the spirit. Now, pass me the garlic knots. The fuel is wearing off and I’m gonna crash hard in about twenty minutes."