The warm morning sunlight streamed through the half-open window, spilling across the birchwood floor in a golden glow.
Like a gentle piano melody ushering in the day, it awakened the chirping birds outside—and the alarm clock signaling it was time to get up.
Ding-a-ling.
To a certain sleepyhead, that sound was like a witch’s hoarse croak. I rolled over, instinctively reaching for the alarm on the nightstand.
My hand brushed something soft, and my mind—flashing to a devilish petite figure—jolted me awake, sleepiness gone.
“Phew.”
Seeing it was just a fallen pillow, I sighed in relief.
Maybe I was overreacting, but after last night’s indescribable events, anyone would think this was normal.
“Damn that girl.”
Thinking of yesterday, I gritted my teeth, a flush of embarrassed annoyance coloring my cheeks.
Patting my face, I got up, slipped into casual home clothes, and, hoping she wouldn’t act up in front of Anrou and Yuyu, cautiously opened the door.
Surprisingly, the familiar twin-tailed figure wasn’t in the living room. Relieved but slightly puzzled, I wondered if she’d been abducted by yuri aliens or trapped as a heroine in a high-H galgame. But this is a wholesome story, so let’s skip the colorful speculation.
“Oh, Little Tong, you’re up? Come eat breakfast,” Anrou’s gentle voice interrupted my thoughts. She emerged from the kitchen, apron on, carrying breakfast.
“Where are they?” I asked, sitting at the table, referring to Yuyu and that girl, neither of whom had appeared since I woke.
“Yuyu’s out for her morning jog. She’ll be back soon,” Anrou said, serving me corn porridge. “Evin’s gone home. Someone picked her up earlier.”
That troublesome loli finally left…
I exhaled, but couldn’t help grumbling, “She didn’t even say goodbye.”
“Evin said you were sleeping so soundly, she didn’t want to wake you. She’s quite sweet,” Anrou smiled.
I scoffed. As the culprit who kept me up half the night, she didn’t deserve that praise.
“Oh, Evin left you a note,” Anrou added, handing me a slip of paper before heading back to the kitchen. “Yuyu’s probably almost back. I’ll fry her an egg.”
This note’s probably got something scary…
Sipping my porridge, I hesitantly opened it. My gut was right—terrifyingly so.
[Dear Anan, I’m heading home. I’ll miss you so much, but don’t worry, I took tons of pics of your cute sleeping face to tide me over. I don’t know when we’ll meet again, but we will meet! ♡~]
[P.S. Your sleeping face was too cute, so I couldn’t resist stealing a little taste. You don’t mind, right? Hehe~]
Snap.
Don’t misunderstand—that was just the sound of my rationality snapping from sheer embarrassment, manifesting as me choking on porridge and crumpling the note in a fit of gritted teeth.
“Cough… that… damn girl…”
“What’s wrong, Little Tong?” Anrou’s concerned voice came from the kitchen.
“Uh, nothing! Just choked a bit,” I yelped, scrambling for an excuse.
“Be careful, don’t rush.”
Anrou’s porridge was tasty, but my mood soured. I wolfed down my portion, called out to her, and retreated to my room. “I’m done, Anrou. Gonna play some games.”
“Finished your summer homework?”
“Uh, I’ve done some,” I lied, feeling guilty.
Delayed by that girl yesterday afternoon, I hadn’t logged into the virtual device in half a day.
Instead of jumping into the game, I browsed the Epoch forum, finding the Gruin section still buzzing about the [Bloodlust Frenzy of Eternal Night] event.
No surprise, Lilina—my in-game persona—was the hot topic. Whether players saw her as a waifu, little sister, or something else didn’t need spelling out. They were all hopeless loli fans.
“Huh, why so many credits?” I noticed my account balance—over 5,000—while exiting the forum.
Then it clicked: my strategy guide. “So many people bought my hidden guide?”
No wonder people in my past life loved posting guides. The price I casually set earned a tidy sum. Top-tier guides must’ve been cash cows.
“I’ll save it and buy Anrou and Yuyu gifts later.”
But my mind wandered elsewhere—
Based on the number of buyers, over a hundred players were frantically farming bat claws and venom sacs.
Or more.
Though the hidden quest tied to a big business opportunity, I doubted all hundred-plus buyers were solo players. Guild core members were likely among them, and for profit, they’d share with friends or classmates.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t checked the hidden quest rewards with Tris in a while.
“Probably a few hundred gold by now?”
With that, I left the forum.
But more pressing than checking gold was—
Creating a dungeon.
Logging into the game, I was greeted by Syl’s serene, napping face. Rare to catch her slacking, I got a mischievous urge and crept behind her.
But my prank failed before it began.
“Your Majesty’s quite childish,” Syl said.
“Hey, when did you wake up?”
“The moment you appeared, Your Majesty.”
I puffed my cheeks. “So you wanted to see me make a fool of myself.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Syl shook her head, deftly changing the subject. “I believe Your Majesty would most want to see this.”
Seeing the golden crystal she handed me, I took it excitedly. “The Heart of Hellentis is already Level 2?”
From logging off yesterday to now—about twenty hours—the Heart’s upgrade was expected, but I couldn’t help expressing my excitement.
Syl had more surprises.
“Reporting to Your Majesty, the Grand Library is also complete.”
“When did that happen?” I blinked. The library required the Heart at Level 2, and I wasn’t online then.
“After the Heart upgraded yesterday. Please forgive my unauthorized use of energy and blueprints.”
Now that I thought about it, I had given Syl proxy rights over the Heart.
“What’s to forgive? You did great~” I patted her shoulder in praise. With such a thoughtful maid, what was there to complain about?
The library took about two hours to build, so Syl’s move saved me time. More importantly—
I couldn’t wait to see the Heart’s Level 2 abilities.
The Grand Library, built southeast of the Demon King’s castle, matched its medieval Gothic style—flying buttresses and pointed arches supporting a grand gray dome, exuding majesty.
The interior was ornate but felt barren in one way—like a certain someone’s chest, an epic-level disaster.
The grand library had not a single book.
“This library’s a bit of a misnomer…” I muttered, eyeing the empty shelves.
“It’s just been built. Your Majesty needs to catalog books,” Syl explained.
“Catalog? Like, read them one by one?” I gulped. Even skimming one page per book would take ages to fill these shelves.
“No need for that. Activating the cataloging skill automatically records books within a certain range, but only regular ones. Special books require Your Majesty’s review.”
“Phew,” I relaxed. Reading seriously online would be torture.
Syl brushed a dark pillar etched with mysterious patterns, nostalgic. “Over fifty years ago, Hellentis’s Grand Library held millions of books, rivaling the Light faction’s ‘World Library.’ I wonder if we can restore that glory.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll try…” I felt the pressure but shifted topics. “So, Syl, how do I create a dungeon module? Do I need the library?”
The Heart’s Level 2 upgrade unlocked dungeon creation, but clicking it earlier showed I lacked a dungeon module, hence the library visit.
“To be precise, it involves Lady Alice’s gift,” Syl said, turning her gaze.
“This Book of Ten Thousand Pages?” I struggled to pull the hefty book—mentally and physically a murder weapon—from my inventory.
As soon as I did, it slipped from my grasp, dissolving into golden light, leaving me stunned. “It’s gone?!”
“The Book has merged with the Grand Library. Your Majesty need only think its name.”
Following Syl’s words like a lifeline, I focused, and sure enough, the Book reappeared in a golden glow.
“Before creating the module, Your Majesty must decide the dungeon’s location, surroundings, level, and type—large, medium, or small.”
“Let’s set it at the forest ruins,” I said. When we’d explored that map, we marked a large abandoned altar—perfect for a dungeon. “Level 8.”
In Epoch, dungeons opened at Level 10 minimum. For players averaging Levels 6-7, a Level 8 dungeon would spark a first-clear frenzy.
Regular players aside, for guilds, clearing high-difficulty dungeons was a badge of honor and a measure of elite strength. Ranking on the clear leaderboard, even indirectly, showcased a guild’s power.
Ordinary dungeons were like this, so my dungeon—the first in Epoch—would ignite fierce competition.
As for size, since it was my first try with little experience, I went with the standard medium dungeon (20 players).
“Now, Your Majesty can start the first step: choosing the base terrain.”
I mentally summoned the Book, and it flipped open, landing on a page listing countless terrains—lush forests, serene canyons, scorching deserts, plains, basins, caves, polar regions, volcanoes, even ruined cities.
Per Syl, the terrain had to match the dungeon’s surroundings. For the forest ruins, forests, mountains, or canyons were fitting.
There was no limit to terrain types, as long as they connected logically.
“What’s this element infusion?” I noticed a special function in the top-left corner, but clicking it showed I lacked permission.
“It adds negative status effects to players in the terrain, like [Blind] or [Poison] with darkness elements. Specific effects and ratios are detailed inside,” Syl explained. “But it unlocks at Heart Level 3 and Library Level 2, so Your Majesty needn’t worry yet.”
After glancing at the Heart’s Level 3 requirements, I promptly ignored it but recalled something, pulling a trophy from the skeleton mine conquest: the [Shadow Marsh] special terrain blueprint.
“What’s a special terrain, Syl?”
Syl seemed surprised I’d acquired such a blueprint so soon but answered, “As the name suggests, it’s a unique terrain with inherent negative effects that stack with base terrain effects, plus special properties.”
“For this one, it boosts fire damage and has a chance to trigger explosions—indiscriminate damage. Your Majesty could leverage this.”
“Sounds fun~” My eyes lit up. Syl’s suggestion made things more interesting.
But terrain took a backseat. Medium dungeons were large, and base terrain couldn’t be set all at once. The first step was just for familiarity.
“No biggie, let me try,” I said, grabbing Syl’s hand playfully.
“Maximum range: 1200×1200 yards.”
“…What’s step two?”
Trap placement came next.
Dungeons weren’t just about monster threats—hidden traps were equally dangerous, requiring skilled rogue players to scout and disarm.
This was why rogues, less tanky than warriors or knights and less damaging than mages, archers, or warlocks, remained in demand.
But seeing the Book’s trap list, I doubted a rogue’s frail frame could handle such onslaughts.
From pits, rolling boulders, frost, and flying arrows to meteors, chain lightning, firestorms, and death arrow rains—the latter were catastrophic, triggering team wipes.
“What the heck…”
Seeing the complex synthesis paths for those super traps, I abandoned any dreams of becoming a trap master.
As for monsters and bosses, I didn’t fuss much—just used my existing monsters and elite bosses.
My focus shifted to the final, most critical part, per Syl—
The dungeon storyline.