My Dungeon Life: Rise of the Slave Harem

A dungeon was a magnet for lore. It didn’t just suck in lore that happened to be floating by, but it also took the lore that was being actively created inside it at any given time. In that way, it was like an imager, capable of recording anything that was happening and then being able to replay it. Mathew didn’t immediately replay the scene for me, but after some coercing, he finally lifted his hand, and a scene began to appear in the room.

I watched as the door to the boss room burst open. Matty was sitting there on his throne like a miniature king, and his maid was also there, standing protectively in front of him. The man who stepped out had a large beard and a lion’s mane of hair. He appeared only about middle-aged and seemed to be shockingly fit. I had been told that King Roth was nearing death, but this man appeared to be at the peak of his vitality.

“This better be the final floor.” He growled in a low voice. “Your puzzles aren’t amusing.”

“Wh-what do you want?” Matty demanded, trying to look confident despite the fact he was shaking. “I’ll have you know that I am part of the dungeon master council. If they know that a high-level dungeon is bullying a weaker dungeon, they won’t be pleased!

“King Roth is a dungeon master!” I cried out in surprise.

“Hmph… why would I ever care about some measly council of dungeons.” He snorted. “Besides, it’s not your connection to the council that interests me.”

“Wh-what does that mean?”

“I can feel you have a faint connection with an entity to the east. Would that, by chance, be a certain Lord of Chalm?”

“H-how could that be? I’m a dungeon? What relationship would I have with some kind of lord?” Mathew tried to lie.

“It’s well known all countries have made agreements and negotiations with dungeons. The dungeons are allowed to remain on our territory, and we may call upon them for strength when the time is needed.” He responded, sounding almost bored. “I am no exception to this rule.”

“We-well, I don’t care about any of that!” Matty shot back. “I just want to live here in peace.”

“Peace?” He raised an eyebrow. “Heh… for something to live, something else must die. That is the nature of our existence. Your dungeon feeds on this world like a disease, seeping away at life. For what? You had a pitiable story and a pitiable existence. You pretend you want to change your story, to turn a sad story into a happy one, but that’s just a lie you tell yourselves.”

“What are you talking about?” Matty frowned.

“Unless someone else intervenes and forces you into a corner, you’re happy to continue to be a burden on this world for all time. Dungeons don’t want an ending. You had an ending. You just weren’t satisfied with the result. So, you act like children, trying to keep the lore going at all cost, consuming the world for your selfish desires. What you seek is immortality, and to achieve it you’ll sacrifice little by little. The lore gets distorted. A character here, a plot point there… eventually, nothing makes sense, and the story you claimed to have cared for so much is meaningless, all because you couldn’t accept your end.”

Matty truly did look confused, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. Just who are you?”

King Roth smiled. “I am the end.”