An Entrance Hall

As he stepped inside the newly formed corridor, relief washed over him. He was back. Safe. And with the resources he needed to continue. The dungeon was far from complete, but it was a beginning. A fragile, uncertain beginning.

The relief quickly gave way to weariness. Grashok slumped against the stone wall, catching his breath. The simple corridor was complete, and though his body ached from the effort, he knew there was no rest yet. He needed more than just an entrance. A place to reset—to lay low if things went bad. Somewhere he could retreat to after the constant grinding, gathering, and the looming threat of adventurers.

He called up the menu once more, a flicker of nervous excitement in his chest. The next step had to be chosen carefully. After a few quick glances through his options, he saw it: Dungeon Entrance Hall.

Build Dungeon Entrance Hall?

Required Resources: 10 Stone, 1 Ore

Time Estimate: 2 hours (with penalties: 4 hours)

Warning: Insufficient Skills and Tools detected. Penalties applied.

Of course, more penalties. But Grashok had come to expect it by now. There was no point in hesitating, not when time was always working against him. He hit Accept, and the progress bar appeared, mocking him with its sluggishness.

0%.

Grashok pushed himself upright, forcing his weary body to stand. He steadied himself against the wall, drew in a deep breath, and began again. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The process was as gruelling as ever. His arms throbbed with every strike, his body screaming in protest at each small dent he made in the stone. The penalties flashed constantly in his vision, constantly driving home just how ill‑equipped he was for the task.

Building Penalty: 5% speed reduction due to low skill level.

Tool Penalty: 7% efficiency reduction due to improper equipment.

Dexterity Penalty: Increased fatigue.

Progress crept forward at a snail’s pace.

Progress: 5%

Time Remaining: 3 hours 50 minutes (estimated).

Grashok gritted his teeth, trying to block out the pain, the flashing red penalties, and the sluggish crawl of the progress bar. He tapped the stone again and again, refusing to let his body give in to exhaustion. The minutes stretched like hours, the tapping echoing endlessly inside the narrow corridor.

Progress: 50%.

Time Remaining: 2 hours 15 minutes (estimated).

Every few moments he checked his surroundings, listening for the slightest sound that might signal danger. He was still paranoid, always skittish. The memory of the adventurer’s ambush haunted him. The last thing he wanted was another party catching him in the middle of this—defenceless, unable to retreat.

Progress: 85%.

Time Remaining: 30 minutes (estimated).

His hand was trembling now. Each tap sent jolts of pain up his arm, his knuckles raw from the relentless work. But the bar was so close. So close. Just a little more…

Progress: 100%.

Dungeon Entrance Hall Completed.

He dropped to his knees, his body sagging with exhaustion. Before him stretched the new entrance hall, a chamber of stone far larger than the cramped cave it had once been. Its ceiling rose high above, the walls solid and defined, giving the space a sense of weight and permanence.

Along the walls, shallow recesses had formed—arched outlines cut into the stone, marking where future chambers might one day branch away. Between them, evenly spaced niches had been carved for sconces, their brackets empty and unlit, waiting for torches or lamps to bring warmth and light. The floor was level, the stonework plain but sturdy, and here and there simple decorative lines had been etched into the walls—basic motifs, nothing elaborate, but enough to lend the hall a sense of design rather than bare utility.

The air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of dust and stone. Shadows gathered in the recesses, hinting at possibilities yet unrealised. It was not grand, not yet, but it was a hall—a true beginning.

Grashok drew a long breath, surveying the newly expanded space. He still had much to do, but this was a step forward. A small victory. At least now he had a place to retreat to, a proper space that could be defended, however weakly.

For now, it was all he could manage. His arms shook with fatigue, his body screamed for rest, and outside the sky was darkening—the thick twilight of evening giving way to night. Adventurers would still be prowling, and though his dungeon was far from complete, it would have to suffice.

Grashok crawled to the back of the entrance hall, finding a dark corner where he could lie down. He leaned his back against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes. His thoughts drifted—to the fight earlier, to the endless notifications, to the grinding toil of shaping this dungeon.

But soon the exhaustion overwhelmed him, and sleep pulled him down into its dark embrace.