Chapter 9: The Illusion of Time
Azrael considered his options carefully. He understood the delicate balance he needed to maintain. His dungeon needed to appear abandoned, neglected, yet not so derelict that it discouraged exploration. A crucial part of that illusion was the rate of regeneration.
He knew, thanks to the information gleaned from the Core, that unclaimed dungeons, those without a resident Demon Lord, possessed a natural regenerative capacity. This was a vital aspect of their existence, allowing them to slowly recover from damage, replenish resources, and even rebuild destroyed traps over time. However, this regeneration was significantly slower than that of a dungeon actively managed by a Demon Lord. A Demon Lord could channel mana to accelerate the process, healing their dungeon quickly and efficiently.
The Core's data indicated that the fastest natural regeneration rate for an unclaimed dungeon was approximately twelve hours. This was the benchmark he needed to mimic. If his dungeon regenerated too quickly, it would arouse suspicion. If it regenerated too slowly, it would appear truly abandoned, and potentially less enticing to adventurers.
He focused his will, manipulating the flow of mana within the Core. He carefully calibrated the regenerative processes, aiming for that twelve-hour sweet spot. He repaired the minor damage inflicted by the hunter, restoring the destroyed Slime and resetting the simple traps near the entrance. He ensured that the repairs were not too perfect, maintaining the air of age and neglect. A slightly cracked wall here, a barely functional trap there – subtle imperfections that reinforced the illusion.
He then turned his attention to the resources. He allowed a small amount of iron ore to reappear near the entrance, a tantalizing glimpse of potential riches. Again, he made sure it wasn't too obvious, too readily available. It was a lure, a subtle suggestion of hidden treasures, designed to pique the curiosity of adventurers.
From his vantage point within the Core, Azrael could perceive the subtle changes in the dungeon's energy. The flow of mana was smooth, controlled, mimicking the natural rhythm of an unclaimed dungeon. The regeneration process was underway, working at the optimal pace. He had created the illusion of time, the impression that his dungeon had been dormant for an extended period, slowly recovering from the ravages of time and neglect.
Meanwhile, in the village of Oakhaven, Valerius observed the dungeon from his newly constructed hut. He had chosen this location carefully, providing him with a clear view of the entrance and the surrounding area. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he trusted his instincts. Something about the dungeon felt… off.
He had informed the villagers of the abandoned dungeon, suggesting that it could be a valuable resource for them. He knew that slimes, even low-level ones, could be a source of income. Their slime was used in various alchemical concoctions and crafting processes. The Core itself, though dormant, was a curiosity, and who knew what other treasures might be hidden within the dungeon's depths?
However, Valerius had also issued a warning. He had stressed the importance of caution, reminding the villagers of the dangers that even abandoned dungeons could pose. He had also made it clear that he expected to be informed of any discoveries made within the dungeon. He wanted to keep a close eye on the situation, to ensure that no one stumbled upon anything… unexpected.
He didn't explicitly mention his suspicions about the dungeon's true nature. He didn't want to alarm the villagers unnecessarily. He simply wanted to keep them safe, and he knew that knowledge was power. The more he learned about the dungeon, the better equipped he would be to protect his village.
He also had another reason for building the hut near the entrance. He wanted to observe who entered the dungeon, to keep track of any adventurers who might come seeking their fortune. He would inform them that this dungeon was known to the village and request that they not damage the Core. It was a treasure trove for the villagers, and he didn't want it destroyed by some reckless adventurer. He knew that adventurers, while often greedy, were usually willing to cooperate if it benefited them. He would offer them a share of any valuable resources found within the dungeon, in exchange for their cooperation.
Valerius leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the dungeon entrance. He was playing a waiting game. He was waiting for the adventurers to arrive, waiting for the villagers to explore the dungeon, waiting for any sign that would reveal the truth about the Whispering Rocks. He was Valerius, the retired conqueror, and he would not rest until he had uncovered the secrets hidden within the abandoned dungeon.
Chapter 10: The Growth of Deception
The days that followed were a delicate dance of observation and manipulation. Azrael, through the ever-watchful Dungeon Eye, kept a close watch on Oakhaven and its inhabitants. He noted the patterns of their daily lives, the rhythms of their work, the subtle shifts in their conversations. He observed as Valerius, the retired conqueror, maintained his vigil near the dungeon entrance, his presence a constant reminder of the watchful eyes upon his carefully crafted illusion.
True to his word, Valerius entered the dungeon periodically, his keen gaze sweeping over every detail. He noted the regeneration rate, the subtle imperfections in the repairs, the gradual reappearance of resources. He recognized the signs of a growth-type dungeon, one that slowly expanded and regenerated over time, offering a steady supply of resources. This further solidified his belief that the dungeon was indeed abandoned. After all, what Demon Lord would willingly limit their dungeon's growth, hindering its potential?
Azrael, of course, had deliberately orchestrated this slow and steady growth. He knew that a sudden surge in size or resources would be a dead giveaway, a clear sign of an active dungeon master. He needed to maintain the facade, to lull Valerius and the villagers into a false sense of security.
He had also deliberately chosen not to absorb the resource points that periodically appeared within the dungeon. Instead, he allowed them to remain, further reinforcing the illusion of an unclaimed dungeon. He knew that abandoned dungeons often had exposed resource veins, a tempting lure for adventurers and villagers alike. By leaving these resources untouched, he was playing on their expectations, strengthening his deception.
He did, however, increase the number of Slimes within the dungeon. They were, after all, the hallmark of an abandoned, low-level dungeon. Their presence was expected, even reassuring in its predictability. And, of course, their periodic destruction by Valerius and the occasional curious villager provided him with a steady, albeit modest, stream of resources thanks to his Retaliation talent.
He used these resources carefully, strategically expanding the dungeon's size, adding new chambers and corridors, but always maintaining the slow and steady growth pattern of an abandoned dungeon. He was playing a long game, a game of patience and deception.
Meanwhile, the villagers of Oakhaven had embraced the opportunity presented by the abandoned dungeon. They ventured into its depths cautiously, armed with simple tools and a healthy dose of fear. They harvested the slime from the Slimes, collected the iron ore, and explored the newly opened chambers, always wary of potential dangers.
Valerius kept a close eye on their activities, offering advice and guidance. He taught them how to safely extract the slime, how to identify valuable resources, and how to avoid potential traps. He was, in a way, their protector, their guide in this new and unfamiliar territory.
The villagers, grateful for his wisdom and experience, followed his instructions carefully. They worked together, sharing the resources they gathered, and pooling their knowledge. They were a community, united by their shared endeavor, their cautious exploration of the abandoned dungeon.
They were, of course, unaware of the silent observer watching their every move. Azrael, through the Dungeon Eye, monitored their progress, analyzing their behavior, learning their strengths and weaknesses. He was gathering information, building a detailed profile of the village and its inhabitants. He was learning their patterns, their motivations, their fears. He was learning how to manipulate them.
He was also learning how to play the role of an abandoned dungeon. He was learning how to mimic the natural rhythms of growth and decay, how to create the illusion of time and neglect. He was becoming a master of deception, a silent puppeteer pulling the strings of his unsuspecting victims.
The merchants from Riverfall arrived every few weeks, bringing news and supplies to the remote village. The villagers eagerly awaited their arrival, hoping to trade their hard-earned resources for much-needed goods. They had accumulated a substantial stockpile of slime and iron ore, and they were eager to reap the rewards of their labor.
Azrael watched through the Dungeon Eye as the merchants set up their stalls in the village square. He observed the villagers bartering and trading, their faces alight with excitement. He listened to their conversations, gleaning valuable information about the economy, the politics, and the social dynamics of the region.
He was learning, adapting, evolving. He was becoming more than just a Demon Lord, more than just a dungeon master. He was becoming a silent observer, a manipulator, a master of deception. He was Azrael, and he was playing a dangerous game, a game of patience and cunning, a game of survival and domination. And he was winning.