New Year's Eve arrived with distant fireworks echoing somewhere above Manhattan.
Down here, the mountain loomed.
And the garden had changed.
Phong had barely finished reinforcing the chili perimeter when footsteps crunched along the lower ridge path.
Not trolls.
Lighter.
More than one.
Rico froze mid-chew on a roasted Moletato. "If it's more goats, just let them eat me."
"It's not," Phong said, and only understood why a heartbeat later.
The Moletato network vibrated under his boots.
Not alarm.
Recognition.
Six figures crested the rise.
Dominic came first, shield strapped to his back, grin already loaded.
Behind him walked three members of his team, armored but loose in the shoulders, the way people looked when they trusted a route.
A woman kept pace beside Dominic, scarf wrapped tight against dungeon cold.
Alexandra followed close, eyes sweeping terrain out of habit.
Selena sprinted slightly ahead of everyone, hair tied back, breathing hard.
"The troll mountain got shifted next to you," she called, "and you didn't text that?"
"I was asleep," Phong said.
Selena skidded to a stop.
Then she froze.
Because the garden no longer looked like a garden.
Sweet potato vines had thickened. The once-soft creepers now rose from the soil in tense coiled arcs.
A pebble tumbled from the mountain face.
One vine snapped upright like a whip.
Roots beneath it bulged.
Then punched.
A knotted cluster of hardened roots shot upward and cracked the rock mid-air.
The fragment burst into dust.
Dominic blinked. "Did your vegetables just uppercut geology?"
Phong exhaled. "Bonktatoes."
Selena stared at him. "You named them."
"Yes."
Before she could say anything else, movement flickered on the slope.
A troll.
Testing again.
It charged.
The green chilies fired first.
The pods had grown thicker. They launched like mortars now.
Explosions landed deeper and heavier, chewing into moss in smoking chunks.
The troll staggered.
Then a Bonktato vine snapped forward.
The root cluster slammed into its jaw.
The impact sounded like a tree trunk splitting.
The troll went limp at once and collapsed face-first into soil.
Unconscious.
Dominic let out a low whistle. "That would drop most divers in one hit."
The troll's moss twitched, trying to knit back together.
The green chilies kept detonating until regeneration stuttered, then stalled.
Up on the ridge, other trolls watched.
None descended.
Selena's eyes shone with scientific hunger. "This is adaptive escalation," she said. "Your crops are responding to pressure."
Phong nodded slowly. "The Moletatoes too."
He could feel them. Threads under the soil. A network routing signals like roots that learned to think.
When the Bonktatoes struck, the Moletatoes shifted density around the impact zone.
When the chilies fired, vines cleared the blast radius.
No friendly fire.
No accident.
Coordination.
Only that unseen communication kept the garden from tearing itself apart while it escalated.
Alexandra stepped closer, her expression sharpening. "You've built a defensive ecosystem."
"I didn't plan it," Phong said.
Dominic grinned. "Doesn't matter. It works."
The woman beside him stepped forward.
"Hi," she said warmly, brushing snow from her coat. "I'm Janet."
She offered her hand.
Phong shook it.
Firm grip. Kind eyes. The posture of someone practical enough to survive.
"You've built something incredible," Janet said, and her tone stayed simple. No flattery, no performance.
"Thanks," Phong said.
Selena exhaled hard. "I left my family's New Year dinner for this. It better involve food."
That cracked the tension instantly.
---
They built a larger fire than usual.
Two burners. Thick steam rising into cold dungeon air.
The feast assembled itself like a ritual.
Thin slices of beef on a wooden board, marbled fat catching firelight.
Plates of chicken cut into bite-sized pieces.
Shrimp cleaned and butterflied.
Dominic's Floor Two runner, the steroid-chicken, portioned and ready.
Hot pot balls: fish, beef, shrimp, and a few stuffed with molten cheese that punished the unprepared.
Bundles of enoki mushrooms.
Napa cabbage, crisp and pale.
Tofu blocks, silky and delicate.
Fresh lime wedges from the first small fruits beginning to form on the single lime tree at the center of camp.
Chili oil shimmering red in small bowls.
The broth rolled at a steady boil: bone-deep savory, citrus bright, layered with heat that warmed without bullying.
Beef turned from ruby to tender brown in seconds.
Shrimp curled and blushed pink.
Steroid-chicken soaked up flavor like it had something to prove.
Selena bit into a cheese-stuffed hot pot ball and nearly yelped when molten filling burst.
Dominic laughed loud enough to shake the tent poles.
Janet refilled bowls before anyone asked.
Alexandra avoided the larger chili fragments with quiet discipline, but she didn't complain.
The smell alone did work.
Savory.
Spicy.
Sweet from roasted Bonktato wedges, split open and caramelized at the edges.
Steam clung to scarves.
Laughter came easy.
Rico sat near the center and chewed a chunk of beef like a tiny judge.
He glanced at a Bonktato vine as it flexed idly in the firelight.
"I require backup," he muttered.
Selena scratched behind his ears. "You're not the apex predator anymore."
"Apex anything is overrated," Rico said. "I prefer caffeinated."
People laughed at Rico's blunt honesty, at least by human standards.
They ate until plates emptied.
Until warmth sank into bone.
Until the mountain felt less like a threat and more like weather.
Phong pulled up a fireworks stream on his phone.
Pixelated bursts bloomed and vanished on a cracked screen.
Dominic leaned closer while the others focused on the video.
"By the way," he murmured.
"What?"
"I saw you and Alexandra at Christmas."
Phong stiffened. "What?"
"Through a second-floor window," Dominic said, then smirked when Phong's confusion deepened.
Phong blinked. "What?"
Dominic nodded toward the mountain, then lowered his voice anyway. "The house. My wife bought it."
Phong stared at him.
Janet glanced over and smiled like she'd been carrying that truth for weeks.
"We were looking for a place closer to Queens," she said. "Good bones. Needed care. The garden was…" She paused, choosing respect over detail. "Important."
Dominic nodded. "I saw you two standing outside. Didn't interrupt."
Phong stared into the fire for a long moment.
The house.
His uncle's garden.
In hands he trusted.
Warmth spread through him in a way no chili ever managed.
"Take care of it," he said quietly.
Janet's voice carried across the fire, steady and clear. "We will."
Phong believed her.
The mountain loomed behind them.
Strange plants guarded the perimeter.
Trolls watched from higher ground and kept their distance.
Around the fire, there was food and trust and people who showed up.
Rico leaned against Phong's leg, belly full. "Acceptable tribe," he declared.
Phong looked around the circle.
Dominic.
Janet.
Alexandra.
Selena.
Dominic three teammates: a girl and 2 guys, probably in their late twenties, staying silent this whole time.
Steam rising between them.
His garden had grown.
So had his people.
And for the first time since everything broke, he felt anchored.
Not only by roots in dungeon soil.
By hands that chose to gather beside him.
---
Janet didn't waste time.
They still skimmed broth from the pot when she leaned forward, eyes sharp in a way that suggested she'd survived Floor Two dives and the Manhattan housing market.
"You could expand this," she said, gesturing around. "Turn the ruin into a safe hub. Adventurers would pay."
Dominic shot her a look. "Janet."
She frowned. "What? It's viable. Defensive ecosystem, stable terrain..."
Dominic leaned in and murmured something low into her ear.
Janet's expression shifted.
The business glint softened into caution.
Phong caught Dominic's glance.
A silent question.
Phong answered with a small nod.
Consent.
Janet breathed out once, then tried again.
"Okay," she said. "Revised."
She looked at Phong directly.
"We don't commercialize it."
Silence settled, comfortable.
"We keep it private," she continued. "Just us. Dominic's team. Alexandra. Selena if she wants. Emergency refuge. Rest point between dives. If someone can't reach the Gate, they come here."
Dominic nodded. "We keep it off the Association map."
"Plants included," Alexandra added.
Selena's eyes flicked to the chili rows. "Especially the plants."
Janet folded her hands. "You get paid. We get safety. No publicity. No sponsors. No expansion beyond trust."
Phong considered it.
He didn't want crowds trampling soil. He didn't want strangers yanking vines and calling it commerce.
But trusted faces?
People who had already risked themselves, or tried to?
He nodded once. "Okay."
Rico perked up. "We charge extra for raccoon security."
"No," Phong said automatically.
---
The next morning, work began.
Bonktatoes had grown dense under troll pressure, vines packed tight.
With Phong's guidance, palm pressed to soil, intention flowing down into the network, the Moletatoes loosened select sections of ground.
Rows shifted outward.
Spacing widened.
Chili lines restructured into layered rings instead of a single clustered wall.
Bonktato vines obeyed his adjustments, retracting and redistributing root clusters to maintain coverage without choking themselves.
Selena crouched near the perimeter and scribbled notes like her pen might catch fire.
"You're influencing spatial cohesion," she murmured.
Janet raised an eyebrow. "English?"
Selena pointed around the basin. "Shifting moved the surrounding terrain. Biomes swapped. Elevation changed." She pointed to the ridge. "But this ruin and the garden perimeter haven't shifted."
Dominic frowned. "Meaning?"
Selena looked at Phong. "It's anchored."
The word landed hard in cold air.
"Anchored to Floor One," she continued. "Like a fixed node."
Phong felt the soil under his boots.
Steady.
Unmoved.
Even when mountains arrived.
Even when trolls descended.
His cultivation hadn't just adapted to the dungeon.
It had stabilized a piece of it.
Janet straightened slowly. "So this isn't just a farm."
"It's a foothold," Dominic said, and his grin faded into something more serious.
Phong didn't answer.
He didn't disagree either.
They tried moving the lime tree.
Moletatoes loosened soil.
Bonktato vines retracted.
Chilies shifted to cover gaps.
But the lime tree refused.
Its roots gripped the center of camp like a decision.
When they tried to lift it, the soil hardened around its base.
The trunk trembled.
Citrus scent intensified, sharp and warning.
Selena backed away first. "It doesn't want to move."
Phong pressed his palm to the trunk.
Warmth pulsed back, steady as a heartbeat.
"It stays," he said.
Janet nodded. "Centerpiece."
She started planning out loud anyway. "Insulation panels along the ruin walls. Real beds instead of cots. Storage. Medical cabinet. Backup power."
Dominic grinned. "Fortress farm."
"No," Janet corrected. "Home."
The word hung there.
Home.
By dusk, the clearing looked different.
Open space in the center.
Defensive plants spaced with intention.
The lime tree standing at the heart.
Ruin walls reinforced with salvaged stone and temporary insulation.
Steam rose from cups.
Divers didn't drink alcohol inside the dungeon. Reaction time mattered.
So sodas cracked open instead.
Pepsi for Dominic.
Cola for Selena.
Hot cocoa for Alexandra.
Sparkling water for Janet.
Rico got diluted coffee under strict supervision and complained anyway.
They sat on folding chairs under the lime tree.
Mountain looming behind.
Chilies swaying.
Bonktato vines coiling lazy but alert.
Alexandra leaned back and smiled slightly.
"Homeowner should make a speech," she said.
Phong looked up. "I didn't plan one."
"Improvise," Dominic said. "You farm. You can talk."
Selena nodded. "We require ceremonial words."
Rico raised a paw. "I support dramatic declarations."
Phong stood slowly.
Snow drifted lightly from above the dungeon ceiling, a phenomenon nobody could explain and everyone had stopped trying.
He looked at them.
Dominic, loud and loyal.
Janet, practical and sharp.
Alexandra, steady and fierce.
Selena, curious and brilliant.
Rico, dramatic.
Dominic three other teammates: half invisible.
He cleared his throat.
"A year ago," he began quietly, "I didn't have this."
He gestured around.
"No land. No direction. No…" He paused. "People."
No one interrupted.
"I still don't have justice," he continued. "I won't pretend I'm over it."
A few nods answered him.
"But I have this." He set his hand on the lime tree trunk. "A place that doesn't shift. A place that fights back. A place we can come back to."
His voice steadied.
"So to a new year."
He lifted his soda.
"To warm hot pot and cold sodas."
They raised their drinks.
"To hot pot!"
"To anchoring!"
"To punching vegetables!" Dominic added.
Rico clinked his tiny cup against Phong's can. "Acceptable tribe."
They drank.
The mountain stayed silent.
The garden pulsed softly.
And for the first time, Phong wasn't just surviving the dungeon.
He was shaping it.
With roots.
With trust.
With people who chose to sit in the cold and build something steady beside him.