Dorian spent the rest of the day creating what the book referred to as the first floor. He aimed to keep it simple and welcoming.
So far, it was just a large cavernous room that branched into various paths, each leading to smaller chambers where he would place treasures to attract adventurers.
It was tedious work, but he needed to try something to keep the dungeon from being sealed.
He had to think like a greedy human, and start crafting numerous weapons and items that others would covet.
Organizing these in tiers based on the difficulty of the floor would be left for later. For now, he needed to make it a gold mine for the first visitors.
Creating cost mana, so he simply had to purify the mana in the air into his body and shape it into what he imagined.
It wasn't difficult now that he had gotten the hang of it. As he advanced in his creation magic, the long chants became shorter.
He also noticed that every time he purified the magic in his dungeon, his body absorbed and retained a small part of it.
It was forming a core where his heart should have been.
[I guess you can now feel your first core. It will increase your power and let you venture further away from your dungeon.
Right now, it's the size of a marble. Before you leave your dungeon to start looking for monsters, you should aim for a core the size of a baseball.
Oh, and don't worry, Master Gregory only gave you a stomach and lungs.
You don't really need the other parts of your body. The food you eat is sort of incinerated in your stomach, so you won't have to worry about waste.
Useful, huh?]
"What do you mean, I can…" He suddenly held on to his lower part.
He heaved a long sigh of relief; it seemed he still had his buddy down there.
[Did you think Master Gregory would forget that? Don't worry, he thought everything through.]
Dorian glared at the book as he continued to create another long passage.
All he had to do now was place his finger and imagine the wall being constructed at the end of his fingertip.
Everything was progressing rapidly.
Within hours, he felt the core grow to the size of a ping pong ball.
With only days to finish, he pressed on, creating more and more.
He longed to feel the fresh air outside, and even if his body was fake, he yearned to touch real grass and not something produced by his imagination.
"Well, I think that is the last of the passages. Now, to start producing items. What do you think would be good for people to find in this dungeon?" Dorian asked his book, the only other thing he could speak to.
[How about producing weapons, armor, and tools from your world? As for precious metals, you should only worry about gold and silver. Anything more, and you'll have to work tirelessly for years since you can only produce low-durable items.]
Dorian checked the book's contents.
It had short spells to produce metals and decent-quality swords, daggers, and other easily made weapons.
It would be like creating things from a stencil.
Unlike the wall, which was created purely from his imagination, this would be where the real challenge began.
These items needed to be tangible and usable outside his dungeon.
They weren't just extensions of his core, like the wall, but real, genuine objects.
He returned to his room and, with a mere thought, created a new floor dedicated to production.
This floor housed a furnace, anvils, and various other tools to aid in crafting.
Dorian didn't know how to use them, though.
These were mere items the book helped him create based on historical records.
They were also fake, imaginary objects that could only exist within his dungeon, meant to be used in the future.
He envisioned a future where many blacksmith dwarves would inhabit the production floor, crafting tools and items while he ventured out to explore the world.
With his growing power, there were no limits to what he could achieve.
Dorian laughed out loud, feeling the strain of his situation and the madness of being alone with only a book for company.
[You need to start working, Dorian.
You're wasting time on this room, and the timer is running.]
"Well, I just thought a room dedicated to making tools would help me get in the mood. Now then, let's start with daggers. They should be simple, right?" Dorian raised his hand over a large, sturdy metal table.
He began reading and studying the chant before reciting it to create a dagger. It needed to be short, sturdy, light, and beautiful.
[System: Creation \ Magic Type: Unique \ Class: Non-organic \ Sub-Class: Weapons Production \ Name: Damascus Dagger
"A blade hard to reveal, a dagger made of steel. A handle with a magical jewel, A sheath sturdy enough for any duel."]
"Well, it's not too bad, but won't I have to say this a few hundred times?" Dorian banged his hand on the table, not noticing the crack he produced with the force he was experiencing.
Three hours later, he finally finished crafting daggers, swords, and axes.
These were the typical weapons for the knights or adventurers who would invade his dungeon soon.
He began placing each item, along with precious metals in the form of coins with his face on them, into different chests.
Once he completed the tedious task, the book glowed, indicating a new entry on its pages.
[You now need to make traps. Don't worry about killing anyone just yet; just create simple ones that scare the weaklings while keeping the strong on their toes.]
"You know, I didn't ask for all this work. I just want to sleep... Even though I don't get tired, don't tell me this is what it means to be immortal..." Logan sighed as he got back to work.
Traps were like computer programs, where action A only activated after action B was triggered, producing action C.
It was exhausting to create switches and devise various traps.
He wasn't motivated to do this, but he knew that each task strengthened his core.
[It seems your core is ready to be reformed. Please head back to the pedestal of your soul. You will need to compress the energy so that it does not leak out when you exit the dungeon.]