“Done and done!”

  What surrounded the node now was not elegant, and it certainly was not subtle. The pillar had been boxed in by a dense framework of chains. It was not a cocoon, despite the way the flesh pressed against the inner walls, and it was not a seal in the formal sense either. It was a cube with only a narrow opening near the bottom where the chains parted just enough to allow something small to slip through. Enochia stood back to admire it, clearly pleased with herself.

  She knew she was not especially clever. That had never been her strength, and she had made peace with that a long time ago. What she did have, however, was an unhealthy number of hours sunk into games, systems, and mechanics, and a deeply ingrained instinct for finding the edge of any rule set and leaning on it until it bent. If there was a way to turn something stupid into something profitable, she would find it.

  While she was finalizing the structure, the node obligingly produced two more imps, both of which barely managed to hit the floor before Cervain stepped in and erased them from existence. He moved without flair, without commentary, and without hesitation, returning to his post as if this was simply part of the environment now.

  A few seconds passed before the minimap flickered, and a red dot bloomed directly over the node.

  Enochia’s grin widened as she leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed on the opening she had left behind. “Alright,” she murmured, “Let’s see if you work.”

  The pillar shuddered, flesh compressing inward before forcing something new out into the world. The imp dropped onto the chain platform beneath the node with a wet slap, landing awkwardly on all fours. It froze there for a moment, head jerking around as if trying to process its surroundings, then lunged forward and bit down on the nearest chain wall with all the strength its freshly formed body could muster.

  [40 DMG Taken — Chain #1]

  Enochia laughed. “Good. That means you’re contained.”

  The imp recoiled, then scrambled along the interior perimeter, claws scraping uselessly against metal and chain as it searched for an exit that did not exist. Panic set in quickly, its movements becoming frantic, until it spotted the one imperfection in the structure, the narrow gap at the bottom. It rushed it immediately, forcing its arm through the opening with a feral screech.

  Enochia watched the attempt with calm interest, then straightened. “That settles that.”

  She turned slightly. “Cervain,” she added. “Be a dear and clean that up.”

  The knight responded instantly, stepping forward before drawing his sword. He positioned the blade precisely at the opening, waited for the imp to struggle forward just a little more, then struck. Three controlled slashes ended the creature before it could fully enter the world. The body dissolved where it hung, leaving nothing behind but ash.

  [+1,000 XP]

  The notification barely finished forming before another followed it.

  [LEVEL UP!]

  +2 Stat Points

  +10 Souls

  Enochia exhaled, satisfaction settling deep in her chest as she watched the interface fade. She leaned back on her heels, hands resting on her hips, and looked over her work with pride.

  She glanced at the pillar again, already considering ways to make the process faster. “Roo,” she added without looking away, “If I leave this running, and the node doesn’t overheat, how long before it destabilizes on its own.”

  [At current output levels, structural degradation is minimal. Production collapse is unlikely unless external variables change.]

  Her smile returned. “Perfect.”

  Enochia walked back toward her knight and, with a small flick of her wrist, let a shape condense into existence above her palm before dropping into her hand. It was a squat little metallic capsule. She handed them out one by one, thirteen in total, placing them into Cervain’s gauntleted hands.

  “These are known as Instafixes. I really have no clue how, or if they even work, but they will be more useful to you for now. If you can’t figure out how to get them to work, get me.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Cervain lowered his gaze to the capsules, then angled his helmet toward the chain framework surrounding the node. He paused there, posture stiffening just a fraction.

  “Right…. That doesn’t tell you much huh? Think of them as emergency patches. If the chains start bleeding integrity while I’m out, these keep the whole thing from faceplanting.”

  She stopped in front of him and tilted her head, watching as the pieces slid together in his mind. There it was, that tiny hitch before comprehension settled.

  “I’m taking a break,” she added. “Now’s the perfect time. The farm’s stable, the spawn rate’s predictable, and nothing here is strong enough to surprise you.” She gestured vaguely toward the node. “You keep killing whatever crawls out of that thing, keep the chains above a hundred HP, and don’t hesitate to use a fix if they dip.”

  The knight straightened. Whatever uncertainty had been there vanished, replaced by readiness.

  “Good,” Enochia murmured, satisfied.

  She turned away and spared the chains another glance, double-checking the balance she had struck. Only three of them were actually anchored to her, and that was exactly how she wanted it. Anything more than that would have been idiotic. Ten chains or more would have dragged at her movement, bled stamina, and turned every step into a cointoss.

  Three gave her freedom, enough slack to fight, move, and think without feeling like she was hauling the dungeon around on her spine. More importantly, it meant the structure would easily last, which meant fewer instafixes burned for maintenance. They had their uses, sure, but not right now. She knew she would get more useful items later, and she wanted to use what she had right now.

  She exhaled and rolled her shoulders, already feeling the faint pull as her body adjusted. She needed momentum again. Sitting still too long, even productively, always made her feel like she was slipping off pace.

  After a bit of walking, she was standing in front of a slightly open door. She had only taken a brief look earlier, just enough to confirm there were no immediate threats lurking in corners or clinging to the ceiling. That had been enough to convince her the room was safe enough, which, if she were being honest, was a little dumb. Clearing everything thoroughly first was the smart play.

  She hadn’t done the smart play.

  “…Still,” she muttered, squinting slightly, “That really looked like a kitchen.”

  The thought dug in instantly. If she tried to sleep now, it would sit there, scratching at the back of her mind until she gave up and went to look anyway. She knew herself well enough not to bother fighting it.

  With the spawn point contained, anything hostile would have to come through the same entrance she had used. And if that were to happen, she would beat the ever living snot out of it with her new friend.

  “It’s fine,” she told herself as she moved on. “Yeah, it’s dumb to set up a farm before checking every room. But to hell with it. I can’t wait anymore.”

  And besides, if there really was a kitchen down here, she wanted to know why.

  The moment she crossed into the room, she felt… wrongness of a different kind.

  It was clean.

  Enochia slowed, eyes moving across the space as she took it in. There was dust, sure, but it was light and uneven. The surfaces looked cared for. Not new, not pristine, but maintained and lived in.

  A large wooden table sat at the center with containers stacked nearby in something resembling order. Shelves lined the walls, holding pots, dishes, and other basic tools, arranged as if someone expected to use them again. Compared to the rest of the dungeon, it almost felt modern.

  Somewhat clean didn’t mean useful though, and as her eyes moved from shelf to shelf, from container to container, that truth became painfully obvious. There was nothing to eat.

  Not scraps, not preserved rations, not even the dried, questionable bread she had no problem with eating. No barrels. No sacks. No faint smell of something forgotten in a corner. Just tools, wood, pottery, and empty space.

  Her stomach chose that exact moment to remind her it existed.

  Enochia froze, then frowned. “…Wait.”

  She pressed a hand lightly to her abdomen, more out of disbelief than discomfort. Hunger. Actual unmistakable hunger. Thirst too...

  “What the hell,” she muttered. “Wasn’t I…?”

  She trailed off, jaw tightening as she replayed Roo’s earlier words in her head. Fuck…

  “So I still need food,” she said flatly, eyes flicking back to the empty shelves. “And water… How the fuck am I supposed to find water in Hell?”

  Her breath came out sharp through her nose. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  The frustration piled up fast after that, stacking on top of everything else she hadn’t had time to deal with yet.

  The thought of it flared, her jaw clenching as the anger finally found something solid to latch onto. “No,” she hissed. “No, that’s fucking BULLSHIT!”

  She stepped back from the table, her foot catching the edge as she turned, and the irritation snapped cleanly into rage. “Dammit!”

  She kicked the table hard.

  Wood shrieked as it slid, then slammed into the far wall with a heavy crack, the impact echoing louder than it had any right to. Enochia barely had time to register the sound before something behind the wall gave way with a splintering pop, and a wooden box burst apart.

  White powder erupted outward in a dense cloud, filling the room in a heartbeat, coating shelves, tools, the floor, the walls, and her, all at once. It hung in the air, drifting down in soft clumps like snowfall.

  Enochia coughed, then stood there, frozen, as flour settled into her hair, her shoulders, her lashes, clinging to her armor until she looked like she had been dropped into a winter storm mid-tantrum.

  She dragged a hand down her face, leaving streaks through the white, and stared at the ruined box, the scattered supplies, and the fine dust coating everything.

  “…Fuuuuuck.”