Let’s get tapping

Grashok stared at the notification floating in front of him, the progress bar sitting stubbornly at 0%. His initial excitement over the remodelling quickly soured as reality set in.

Dungeon Entranceway Remodelling… Progress: 0%.

Time Remaining: 1 hours.

That wasn’t right. Should he just wait around for an hour? Something was off. His gaze darted around the small cave, unsure of what to do next. Then, just as he was about to give up and sit down, another pop-up flickered into view.

Manual Assistance Required: Tap resource to increase progress.

Reminder: Insufficient Skills and Tools detected.

Grashok groaned. Of course. Nothing was ever simple in this cursed life. He’d hoped the stone and ore would just magically transform the cave, but no—he had to do the work himself. And with no tools, no skills, and all the wrong attributes, he was in for a long, painful process.

Gritting his teeth, Grashok walked over to the uneven stone entrance and placed his hand on it. He gave it a tentative tap with his palm, half-expecting nothing to happen.

Remodelling Progress: 1%.

Warning: Building Penalty, Tool Penalty, Dexterity Penalty, Strength Penalty.

Time Remaining: 1 hours.

He cursed under his breath as a flood of red penalties flashed across his vision. His lack of proper tools, the abysmal dexterity, and low strength were all punishing him, dragging out the process. Even that tiny 1% boost had taken more out of him than he’d thought. With all those penalties, it wouldn’t take just an hour; it would take two.

But there was no turning back. He needed this. The dungeon was his only hope of carving out something more than the pathetic, meaningless existence he’d known up until now. He couldn’t just stop because it was hard.

He tapped the stone again, more forcefully this time.

Remodelling Progress: 2%.

Time Remaining: 1 hour 55 minutes (estimated).

Grashok sighed. He had to keep going.

For the next hour, he worked, tapping the entrance over and over, gritting his teeth through the pain and frustration. His hands ached from the repeated impact, his muscles screamed in protest, and the penalties kept flashing across his vision like some cruel joke.

Remodelling Progress: 50%.

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

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

It felt like he was making no progress at all, but every time he checked the notification, the number inched forward. Slowly. Painfully. But forward nonetheless.

He paused to catch his breath, his hand throbbing from the constant effort. His inventory showed no tools to make this process easier, and his lack of any real skills in construction made everything harder than it needed to be. Still, he couldn’t stop. If he didn’t finish this, the dungeon would remain the sad, exposed cave it had always been. And that thought was even more unbearable than the endless tapping.

After what felt like an eternity, a new message appeared:

Dungeon Entranceway Remodelling… Progress: 100%.

Dungeon Remodel Complete.

Grashok slumped against the wall, breathing hard. He’d done it. The notification vanished, and he turned to examine his handiwork. The once rough and uneven entrance was now a narrow stone corridor, sloping down into the mountain. The walls were smoother, more defined, though still crude, and there was now a slight darkness that beckoned him deeper inside.

It wasn’t much, but it was the first step.

His fingers brushed against the stone as he moved down the corridor. It was still small, but it was more than just a cave now. It felt like… something. A place he could defend. A place that, with enough work, could become a true dungeon.

But there wasn’t much time to admire his work. He checked his inventory—no stone, no ore. They had all been consumed in the process. He’d need more, and soon, if he was going to expand further.

Grashok stepped back outside. The mountain loomed overhead, the cold wind cutting across his skin. He shivered, already dreading the next task, but it had to be done. His dungeon needed stone and ore to grow, and that meant another climb.

He set off once more, following the winding path upwards. The forest thinned as he ascended, giving way to heather‑strewn slopes and then to bare ridges where the air grew sharper and colder. His boots scraped against loose rock, each step deliberate, his ears straining for any sound of pursuit. The climb was punishing, but he pressed on, driven by the knowledge that without resources his dungeon would remain nothing more than a hollow cave.

At last he reached the familiar outcroppings where the veins of stone and ore lay hidden. He crouched beside a jagged cluster, drawing his battered short sword. The blade was chipped and dull, but it was all he had. He raised it and tapped the rock.

A message flickered before his eyes:

Harvesting Stone (Skill Penalty, Tool Penalty, Dexterity Penalty)

Gathering Rate: 0.5 units/minute

Ore Drop Chance: 1 in 20

With a weary sigh, he began the process again. Tap. Tap. Tap. The same scraping sound, the same slow progress bar. Every few taps, a full unit of stone dropped into his inventory with a satisfying thunk. Rarely, the bar would flash brighter, and a piece of ore appeared instead—small victories that sent a thrill through him despite the grind.

Stone x 1 (Common)

Stone x 1 (Common)

Ore x 1 (Rare)

The rare flashes of ore still sent a small thrill through him, though the excitement was tempered by the knowledge of how much more he needed. Grashok could feel time slipping away again, but the penalties were slowing him down. He was scared to stay too long on the exposed mountainside, but he needed these resources.

Stone x 2 (Common)

Ore x 1 (Rare)

Harvesting Penalty: Increased Fatigue

He clenched his fists, trying to ignore the pain that was now creeping into his arms. Another few taps, another few chunks of stone. Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably much less, he checked his inventory. It was enough. He had what he needed to continue his work.

Grashok glanced around nervously, half-expecting some ambush at the worst possible moment, but thankfully, there was no one in sight. He gathered his things and hurried back down the mountain, eager to return to the relative safety of his cave.

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.