Chapter 17: I Want Bigger Fish!

Chapter 17: I Want Bigger Fish! Ragnar Vhagar, Demon King of a two-story underground death trap, stared at the grand stone staircase that now led into the dark emptiness of his newly acquired second floor. The expansion had been free, which still made him deeply suspicious, but it had also doubled his potential for mayhem. His Domain Point cap was now a mighty 200, all thanks to the second hero-healing fountain he’d installed in the basement. "More points for traps is good," he said to the empty Throne Room. His voice, now naturally deeper and more commanding, echoed pleasingly. "But I have a traffic problem." His current setup was simple. The first floor was a carefully balanced farm, designed to bleed student-level heroes of their health and confidence before spitting them back out with a single, ugly sword as a consolation prize. It was a perfect system for generating a slow, steady trickle of experience. But now, with a whole new floor to play with, he wanted to attract bigger fish. The problem was, any high-level hero would just walk through his goblin-filled ’Playground’ like it was a minor inconvenience, getting bored before they even found the stairs. "I need to separate the customers," he mused, pacing back and forth. "I need a ’Normal Mode’ and a ’Hard Mode’." An idea, born from years of complaining about bad game design on internet forums, struck him. He pulled out his phone, the Demon King System glowing expectantly. He opened the [Domain] tab, navigated to the layout map, and found the icon for the new grand staircase. With a tap and a drag of his finger, he moved its location. A low, grinding groan echoed through the dungeon. The staircase at the back of the first floor dissolved into the stone, and a new one erupted from the ground right at the entrance, just past the ’Welcome Mat’ of fifty jiggly slimes. Now, any invader who walked in would face a choice: go straight into the Goblin Playground, or take the ominous, dark staircase down into the unknown depths. "Perfect," Ragnar grinned. "A clear difficulty selection." But a path was useless without a destination. He needed to stock the second floor with a real challenge, and he needed to advertise it. First, the challenge. He opened the [Creation ] menu. His C-Rank skill now gave him access to Orcs. He spent 25 CP. A pillar of foul green energy burst from the floor. When it faded, a seven-foot-tall mountain of muscle stood there, clutching a massive stone axe. It had tiny, pig-like eyes and a face that looked like it had lost a fight with a bag of hammers. It grunted, a low, rumbling sound. "I shall call you Smashy," Ragnar declared. Smashy grunted again, which Ragnar took as agreement. "Now, I need bait. This was a job for his B-Rank Alchemy. He walked to the dungeon’s storage room, which contained the spoils from his previous victories. He looked at the three assault rifles and tactical vests left by the soldiers from the first invasion. They were useless as weapons in this new world, but they were made of high-quality steel and polymer. "Time for a little recycling," he said with a wicked smile. He spent the next few hours in a makeshift forge he had his goblins carve out, melting down the tools of the old world to create a treasure for the new one. His B-Rank knowledge guided his hands, turning gun barrels and armor plates into a shimmering ingot of silver-colored metal. He hammered it, shaped it, and polished it until he held a magnificent C-Rank Silver Spear. It was perfectly balanced, with a wickedly sharp point and a shaft that hummed with latent magic. He placed the spear inside a new chest and set it in a large, empty chamber on the second floor, guarded by Smashy the Orc and his ten best kobolds, led by the ever-reliable Grunt. Now for the marketing. He logged onto the hero forums with his burner account, Adventurer77. Subject: SECRET LADDER in the Sector 7 Farm?! Post: Guys, you are not going to believe this. My party went back to the farm in Sector 7, and they’ve renovated! There’s a new staircase right at the start that leads DOWN. We were too scared to go, so we just did the usual goblin run. But the party that went in before us, some really tough-looking guys in matching armor, they went down there. We heard a huge fight. They came back up an hour later, all bloody. Two of them were being carried. But their leader, this huge dude with perfect hair, was holding a SPEAR made of pure silver that was glowing like a car headlight. A C-RANK SPEAR. This place isn’t just a farm anymore. It’s got a hardcore raid wing now! He hit post and leaned back on his throne, a smug expression on his face. The bait was set. It took less than a day. [Invaders have entered the Domain. Invader Count: 8.] Ragnar watched his system map. The eight blue dots belonged to a party calling themselves "The Alphas." Their leader, a famously arrogant hero named Zephariel Krevane, was known for his flashy swordsmanship and his tendency to post shirtless selfies on HeroGram after every victory. They were exactly the kind of arrogant peacocks he was targeting. They breezed through the slime corridor and immediately saw the two paths. "Ha! A coward’s path and a hero’s path," Zephariel’s voice boomed through the audio feed. "Alphas, to glory! We’re going down!" They descended the stairs into the dark, oppressive atmosphere of the second floor. They moved cautiously through the winding corridors Ragnar had designed until they reached the large central chamber. There, waiting for them, was Smashy the Orc and Grunt’s kobold squad. "An Orc!" one of the Alphas yelled. "First one I’ve ever seen!" "He’s big, but I’m bigger!" Zephariel roared, drawing his C-Rank sword. "Charge!" Smashy the Orc let out a guttural roar in response and charged to meet them. BOOM! The ground didn’t just tremble; the entire floor of the dungeon shook as the seven-foot-tall monster ran. The air itself shrieked and split around his massive form, creating a pressure wave that blasted dust and pebbles ahead of him. He raised his huge stone axe. Zephariel, to his credit, was no coward. He met the charge head-on, his own sword a blur of motion. CRACK! A sharp sonic boom exploded from Zephariel’s sword as it connected with Smashy’s axe. A visible shockwave of white energy, a perfect circle, blasted outwards from the point of impact. The force was immense. Zephariel was thrown back five steps, his arm vibrating violently, a look of shock on his perfect face. Smashy only took one step back, grunting in annoyance. The ten elite kobolds surged forward, moving as a single, disciplined unit. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Their ten clubs came down in near-perfect unison. Each impact created its own sonic boom and its own ripple of force. The Alphas’ tank, a burly man with a tower shield, took the first three hits. His shield dented, and the force ran through his bones, shattering his arm and sending him to the floor, his health bar flashing red. The fight was a brutal, chaotic storm of violence. The Alphas were strong, far stronger than the student parties, but Ragnar’s elite minions were fighting on their home turf. "Behind you!" one of the Alphas screamed. A rogue in Zephariel’s party tried to flank a kobold. But Grunt was a veteran. He anticipated the move. He spun, his club swinging low and fast. The wind howled as the heavy weapon moved, transforming into an unseeable blur. BOOM! The club connected with the rogue’s side. The impact wasn’t a simple hit; it was a detonation. A shockwave exploded outwards, and the sound of ribs turning to dust was audible even over the chaos. The rogue was launched across the room, hitting the wall with a final, wet smack. "Fall back! Defensive formation!" Zephariel screamed, his arrogance replaced with frantic desperation. They were losing. But they were high-level heroes for a reason. They rallied, their magic and steel finally finding their marks. They managed to take down Grunt and four other kobolds, and after a long, grueling battle, Zephariel landed the final blow on Smashy. The great Orc fell with a ground-shaking thud. The six surviving Alphas stood panting, surrounded by the bodies of their fallen comrades and Ragnar’s minions. They were battered, bloody, and exhausted. Then they saw it. At the back of the room, glowing with a soft, irresistible light, was the treasure chest. They limped over and threw open the lid. Inside, the C-Rank Silver Spear pulsed with power. A collective gasp went through the group. "It was worth it," Zephariel breathed, lifting the weapon. "The price was high, but glory is ours." They retreated from the dungeon, carrying their dead, but clutching their prize. Later that night, HeroGram exploded. A picture posted by @Zephariel_The_Alpha showed him, shirtless and artfully blood-spattered, holding the magnificent Silver Spear. The caption read: "Conquered the second floor of the Sector 7 Hellhole. The price of greatness is steep, but the rewards are divine. #VeniVidiVici #CRankLoot #NoPainNoGain." Ragnar watched the post get thousands of likes. His plan had worked perfectly. He had created two distinct products for two distinct markets. The first floor was his stable, reliable income stream. The second floor was his high-risk, high-reward venture for elite customers. His dungeon wasn’t just a deathtrap anymore. It was a business with a tiered pricing model. And business was very, very good. Read latest chapters at fr(e)ewebnovel.com Only