Phong stood in the middle of camp and slowly looked around.
Tents.
Reinforced ruin walls.
Layered crops.
Garlic mine grid.
Chili arcs.
Bonktato barricades.
It had held so far.
It had survived Troll King skirmishes.
Lizardman negotiations.
Treant migrations.
A Sky Emperor roar.
But floor bosses existed now.
The Phoenix had proven that.
The Sky Emperor had reminded everyone.
Tents were temporary.
Ruins were borrowed.
If Camp Stymphalian was going to endure, it needed real housing.
Not symbolic.
Structural.
Permanent.
He called a meeting.
Dominic leaned back in his chair.
"Stone walls?"
"Insulated," Janet added immediately.
"Proper drainage."
Jake raised a hand weakly.
"Windows that don't collapse?"
"Yes," Phong said.
The trolls could handle manpower.
They lived in caves. They understood digging, hauling, breaking stone.
Architecture, though, was not their strength.
The lizardmen were different.
They had cities beneath Lake Baratok. Structured homes. Layered defenses. Water channels. Stone and timber techniques.
So Phong approached them.
This time, he brought no crate of Bonktatoes.
The emissary, Thassir, listened to his proposal carefully.
Housing.
Stone foundations.
Reinforced beams.
Roofing.
Thermal insulation.
Phong expected negotiation.
Crop payments.
Labor exchange.
Instead, Thassir's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"We require something else."
"What?"
"The pond."
Phong kept his face still.
"Elaborate."
"Egg season approaches. Lake shores are contested by treants. We need a secondary protected site. Just to be safe."
They wanted to lay eggs inside Camp Stymphalian's pond.
Under Moletato surveillance.
Inside the chili perimeter.
Protected by the troll alliance.
Strategic.
And honest.
They were not asking for tribute.
They were asking for shared protection.
Phong thought it through.
Lizardman eggs inside camp meant deeper entanglement.
No longer honorary vassal on paper. Not until those eggs hatched.
It meant mutual defense.
It meant if someone attacked those eggs, there would be war.
He looked at Alex.
She said nothing.
She only watched him.
He looked at Dominic.
Dominic gave a small nod.
This was not expansion.
It was an alliance settling into something firmer.
Phong nodded once.
"Agreed."
The emissary inclined his head.
Construction began within two days.
Trolls dug deeper foundations.
Massive moss-covered arms moved boulders with frightening ease.
Lizardman architects directed placement with clipped, precise instructions.
Stone interlocking techniques.
Water-channel redirection.
Moisture-control layers.
They even worked angled roofing into the design to prevent debris from building up during aerial attacks.
Camp Stymphalian began to change.
Stone replaced tent cloth.
Wood beams reinforced load-bearing points.
Insulated walls lined interior chambers.
A central hearth was built properly.
Storage rooms were carved out.
Sleeping quarters were divided.
It began to resemble a small fortress village.
Not aggressive.
Defensive.
Rooted.
And in the middle of all that, the two French girls woke up.
---
The first opened her eyes slowly.
Stone ceiling above.
Not the vertical ruin.
Not the lakebank where she had blacked out.
She inhaled sharply and tried to sit up.
Pain shot through her ribs.
"Easy," Janet said calmly.
Sympathy Enoki had done its work.
Infection stopped.
Exhaustion lifting.
Recovery beginning.
The second girl stirred moments later.
They blinked.
Confusion.
Fear.
Then they stepped outside cautiously.
And reality split in half.
First, they saw Alexandra Vogel.
Standing near the pond.
Alive.
Not in Europe.
Not in memory.
Here.
The girl they had admired years ago during her summer visit.
The girl who had posed for photos near fountains and laughed in fluent German and French.
They had followed her diver career online.
Watched the clips.
Respected her.
Now she stood in front of them in casual farm clothes, sleeves rolled up, dirt on her hands.
One girl gasped softly.
"You're…"
Alex smiled gently.
"Yes."
The reunion came in waves.
Recognition.
Relief.
Emotion.
Then they recognized Dominic from the vertical ruin fight.
The tank who had driven an elite mob back.
Jake.
Jack.
Joanne.
Names finally attached to faces.
Then the raccoon spoke.
"Hydration first," Rico announced importantly, though they could already tell he mostly wanted an excuse to ask for caffeinated soda.
The girls froze.
"…It talks."
"Yes," Nyx replied dryly from a nearby stone ledge.
"And so do I."
They turned.
Talking kitten.
Barbarian puppy flexing beside Dominic.
Little Fireball hopping after Phong's boots.
Then they looked farther out.
And saw trolls carrying carved stone slabs.
Lizardmen lining up structural beams with care.
High-level mobs cooperating.
Building.
Not fighting.
Not hunting.
Building houses.
For humans.
The girls stared.
One whispered faintly, "This isn't… real."
At the center of it all stood Phong.
Lean frame. Easy smile. Level 1. Farmer class.
They caught his status briefly when he walked over to check on them.
No EXP bar.
Single-digit stats.
Nothing remarkable.
And yet every troll gave him a friendly nod when they passed.
Lizardman emissaries waited for his input on pond depth.
No fear. No hatred. Only respect for a Level 1 farmer.
Dominic deferred to him on layout decisions.
Alex stood beside him naturally.
Not as subordinate.
Not as commander.
As equal.
The taller French girl swallowed slowly.
"You… built this?"
Phong shook his head lightly.
"We grew it."
They looked at the pond, where protected egg chambers were being reinforced along the banks.
They looked at the chili arcs covering the outer line.
At the hidden garlic mines.
At the repositioned Bonktatoes.
At the sunflowers stretching taller by the day.
It shattered their understanding of dungeon hierarchy.
High-level mobs were not supposed to cooperate.
They were not supposed to trade.
They were definitely not supposed to help humans build houses.
And yet here they were, alive because those same mobs had chosen to bring them here instead of eating them.
One girl looked at Alex carefully.
"You trust them?"
Alex answered honestly.
"Yes."
A beat.
"And no."
The girls understood that.
Trust did not mean blindness.
It meant choice.
They looked at Phong again.
Level 1.
No leveling.
No monster farming.
No guild banner.
No speech.
And yet a functioning ecosystem existed around him.
They had run from Floor Two.
Lost one of their own.
Barely survived.
Collapsed beside a lake that should have killed them.
Instead, they woke inside an alliance hub built by a farmer.
Something shifted in their heads.
The dungeon was not just a ladder to climb.
It could be cultivated.
Reshaped.
Negotiated with.
One of the girls exhaled slowly.
"…We thought diving was the only way to grow."
Phong looked at the stone being laid.
At the eggs being secured in protected chambers.
At the pond reflecting the sky.
"I thought so too. Once."
The trolls roared in satisfaction as a beam locked into place.
The lizardman architect nodded in approval.
And Camp Stymphalian began to turn from a temporary refuge into something that might last even when bosses roared.
Phong did not raise his voice.
He did not need to.
The two French girls stood near the newly reinforced stone wall, still trying to process the impossible ecosystem unfolding around them.
He spoke plainly.
"You should stay."
Relief flickered across one of their faces.
"…Until you recover," he continued. "And until I know the secrets of Camp Stymphalian stay inside the chili perimeter."
In a strange way, that threat seemed to settle them.
The Level 1 farmer stopped feeling mysterious.
They understood what he wanted.
Secrets stayed secret.
The air shifted slightly.
The girls straightened.
Dominic's posture changed, not aggressive, just present.
Janet stepped in smoothly before the tension thickened.
"Let's start with names," she said lightly, offering a hand.
Human de-escalation.
The taller one swallowed and nodded.
"Élise."
The second hesitated, then followed.
"Camille."
Their accents came soft but steady.
Janet smiled warmly.
"I'm Janet."
She gestured around with easy calm.
"You've already met Dominic. Jake. Jack. Joanne."
Then she added, almost offhand, "And Alexandra."
The emphasis was subtle.
Alex stepped forward calmly.
Élise's expression softened on instinct.
Admiration flickered there again.
Janet continued, still gentle.
"Just so we're clear, Alex is dating Phong."
No hostility.
Just information.
A line drawn cleanly.
"If any conflict comes up between you and camp," Janet added, "Alex stands with camp."
Camille blinked.
Élise nodded slowly.
"We understand."
Dominic folded his arms.
"And so do we."
Jake and Jack shifted slightly, but noticeably.
Joanne gave them an easy smile, though her mana hummed faintly beneath the surface.
Not intimidation.
Clarity.
Community first.
Phong nodded once.
"That's all."
No lecture.
No extra explanation.
Hot pot prep started soon after.
Because even in a dungeon, diplomacy and boundaries settled best over broth.
---
Phong moved with quiet efficiency.
Stockpot simmering.
Phở broth again.
Northern style. Clear. Clean.
Phong had heard that some hot pot places in Hà Nội ordered broth from local phở shops, so he was doing the same thing with his own kitchen.
He charred ginger and onion until the edges blackened and the sweetness lifted into the steam.
Measured fish sauce carefully.
Added roasted beef bones.
The aroma rose slowly, warming the half-finished stone structure.
Dominic volunteered for meat-slicing duty with unnecessary swagger.
Jake was steady now.
A full rest and Empathy Enoki had done their work. The last of the pallor had drained from his face.
Joanne, inspired by her time under Long, stepped forward with confidence.
"I'll handle the drinks."
She had smuggled in portable brewing tools.
Precision pour.
Robusta blend.
Even in a dungeon, presentation mattered.
Dominic boasted loudly about Floor Two while slicing beef paper-thin.
"You should've seen it. Elite lunged from the balcony. I caught it midair."
Jake coughed.
"You got rammed into a pillar right after."
Dominic waved him off.
"I also broke that thing in half. Minor detail."
The lizardmen set the final support beams before dusk.
The trolls stacked stone slabs into stable outer barriers.
When Phong invited them to stay for dinner, neither side hesitated.
Five trolls settled just beyond the chili perimeter, respecting the boundary but close enough to share the heat.
Three lizardman warriors took position near the pond and accepted bowls when offered.
Bonktatoes had already been allocated.
This was extra.
The hot pot bubbled.
Thin slices of beef dipped into broth and turned tender pink.
Crunchy gầu giòn went in next.
Vegetables followed. Carrots from the new rows, green onion, garlic leaves.
The mushrooms joined last. Wood ears were set aside because they cooked too quickly, but enoki, oyster, and shiitake went into the pot and released their sweet umami into the broth.
No one thought about buff duration.
No one thought about cooldowns.
No one worried about "wasting" effects.
At Camp Stymphalian, those mushrooms were food first.
Camille stared at the communal setup in disbelief.
"You eat with… them?"
"Better than being eaten by them," Phong said simply.
Rico climbed onto a stone block like a self-appointed cultural ambassador.
"Diplomacy requires seasoning."
Bruno sat loyally beside Dominic.
Nyx perched elegantly near Alex.
Little Fireball dozed by the hearth.
Joanne brewed coffee afterward with theatrical flair.
Steam rose in precise spirals.
Long's influence was obvious.
Even Élise could not help smiling.
"It smells like a café."
Dominic muttered, "Don't encourage her. We've heard her talk about retiring early to open a coffee shop more than once."
The mood softened.
Laughter came easier.
The girls slowly relaxed.
Jake recounted part of the escape from the vertical city, leaving out the ugliest details.
Jack described how Floor Two's geometry had started bending in unpredictable ways.
Alex listened more than she spoke.
When she did speak, she stayed calm. Measured. Supportive.
Finally, Élise asked the question that had been sitting behind her eyes the whole time.
"How is this possible?"
Phong looked around.
Stone housing rising.
Monsters eating in peace.
Divers laughing.
A Level 1 farmer stirring broth.
"Honestly… just respect."
Respect the dungeon.
Respect the soil.
Respect the fauna, and stop treating them as mindless beasts or walking loot tables.
The trolls grunted in agreement.
The lizardmen nodded faintly.
No guild banner hung overhead.
No sponsorship.
No Forbes interview.
Only a perimeter of chili plants and a pond reflecting the evening sky.
Dominic raised his soda can.
"To not dying."
Jake added, "To resting when we need to."
Janet lifted her cup.
"To boundaries."
Joanne chimed in.
"To good coffee."
Rico declared, "To caffeine reform."
Nyx sighed.
Élise and Camille hesitated, then raised their bowls too.
"To… surviving differently."
Phong felt warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with broth.
Moments like this…
Half-finished stone walls.
Monsters cooperating.
Divers healing.
Laughter under dungeon sky.
These made tending soil worth it.
The world outside chased levels.
Chased bosses.
Chased headlines.
Here, they built.
A home.
Even if it stood between troll mountain, contested lake, and whatever horror the Sky Emperor represented.
The hot pot bubbled gently.
And for a while, the dungeon felt almost kind.
---
The meal was excellent.
Not perfect.
Not Michelin-star perfect.
A little underseasoned. No star anise. No cinnamon bark. No proper peppercorn blend.
But the best seasoning was never physical.
It was the people.
Shared laughter.
Shared moments.
Community.
It was not about what you ate.
It was about who you shared it with.
Warm broth tasting of bone and ginger and fire, eaten among friends and allies you trusted with your life, that was luxury.
Steam rose in fragrant waves.
Thin slices of beef curled gently in the pot.
Gầu giòn softened at the edges but kept its bite.
Oyster mushrooms soaked up flavor like willing conspirators.
Carrots sweetened the broth naturally.
The trolls slurped from oversized stone bowls with surprising care.
The lizardmen ate neatly, precise and efficient, wasting nothing.
The only real struggle was chopsticks.
No one but Phong truly knew how to use them properly.
Dominic tried once.
Failed.
Switched to a fork.
Jake attempted what could only be called the pinch-and-pray method.
Joanne gamely insisted she would master them eventually.
Alex handled them decently, though more for style than technique.
Eventually, everyone defaulted to ladles, spoons, and forks.
Dignity preserved.
Mid-meal, Alex leaned toward Élise and Camille.
"Your gate," she asked calmly. "Where does it open?"
"Lyon," Camille replied.
Old city.
Roman ruins under modern France.
The gate had opened near an industrial river district, they explained.
Local authorities secured it quickly.
Oversight was shared between the municipal government and private diver firms.
Phong raised an eyebrow.
"Already planning a vacation?"
Alex shot him a look.
"Field research."
Janet gasped theatrically.
"If intercontinental gate travel becomes viable, airlines are doomed."
Dominic snorted.
"Good. Ticket prices are robbery."
The mood stayed light.
Then Dominic leaned back, wiping his mouth with exaggerated satisfaction.
"Speaking of travel," he said, glancing at Élise and Camille, "you know how this whole thing started?"
They blinked.
"What?"
He pointed casually between Phong and Alex.
"Last Christmas. I saw them hugging through a second-floor window."
Alex groaned.
"You promised not to weaponize that."
"I never promised," Dominic said cheerfully.
Élise's eyes widened a little.
Camille smiled faintly.
"Oh," she said softly.
So that was how.
They set up the television afterward.
Movie night.
Camp-wide.
No news.
No interviews.
No Olen speeches.
No Josh fundraising campaigns.
No corporate optimism.
They chose carefully.
Godzilla Minus One.
As the screen lit up and the kaiju silhouette emerged against the dark sky, the irony tasted delicious.
A city-leveling apex predator on screen, while they sat inside a dungeon ecosystem that had recently been reminded of its own apex.
The memory of the Sky Emperor's roar still lingered.
Kaiju fiction felt less fictional now.
Dominic was fully invested.
Jake leaned forward, fascinated.
Joanne whispered commentary every so often.
The trolls watched quietly, intrigued by the scale of destruction.
The lizardmen observed with unreadable faces.
Rico gasped dramatically at key moments.
Bruno barked at explosions.
Nyx stayed unimpressed, but attentive.
Phong found himself more absorbed than usual.
Godzilla was not just destruction.
It was inevitability.
A force beyond human control.
A system correction.
An apex reminding the ecosystem of its place.
Very familiar.
Halfway through the film, Élise and Camille exchanged a look.
Long. Silent. Heavy.
When the credits rolled, the fire crackled softly.
The air felt warm.
Safe.
Then Élise cleared her throat.
"There is something," she said carefully.
Dominic did not joke this time.
Alex gave them her full attention.
Camille continued.
"If this leaks, and it's traced back to us, we would be tried for treason in France."
Silence dropped hard.
That word carried weight.
Not dungeon weight.
Political weight.
Janet's expression sharpened.
"Then why tell us?"
Élise met Phong's eyes.
"Because if I leak the existence of Camp Stymphalian, you can leak this."
Mutual assured discretion.
Not a threat.
Insurance.
Camille nodded.
"Balance."
Phong did not react emotionally.
He only gestured gently.
"Tell us."
They drew in slow breaths.
"We saw another floor boss."
Jake stiffened.
Dominic's jaw locked.
Alex did not blink.
"In Floor Two," Camille clarified. "Weeks before the Phoenix incident."
The air thickened.
"Sleeping," Élise added quickly. "It was dormant."
They described it carefully.
No rush.
No exaggeration.
A bull.
Not a minotaur.
Not humanoid.
A true bull.
The size of a mountain.
Its back was not just flesh.
It carried a biome.
Forest.
Streams.
Rock formations.
Whole ecosystems growing across its spine.
Its horns…
Camille's voice lowered.
"The size of the Eiffel Tower."
Diamond.
Faceted.
Catching dungeon light like fractured stars.
It slept.
Breathing slow.
Each inhale rolled like distant thunder.
Each exhale bent the wind across the biome.
They had stumbled onto it while escaping.
They were not hunting.
They were not searching.
Just a wrong turn.
They froze.
It did not wake.
They did not fight.
They left immediately.
Quietly.
"We reported it only to the French authorities," Camille said. "They demanded silence, but funded our next dives."
The French, apparently, wanted to monopolize the information.
Élise swallowed.
"We named it."
She spoke softly.
"Les Cornes de la Terre."
Horns of the Earth.
The words hung in the air.
For the first time that evening, Camp Stymphalian felt very small.
Phoenix on Floor Two.
Sky Emperor somewhere unseen.
And beneath all that, a sleeping mountain-bull carrying ecosystems across its back.
Dominic let out a slow breath.
"…How many floor bosses are we dealing with?"
Alex's gaze drifted toward the horizon beyond the lake.
"More than we thought."
Phong sat quietly.
Not afraid.
Calculating.
The dungeon was not just vertical progression.
It was not a ladder.
It was layered ecosystems.
Apex stacked on apex.
Some visible.
Some sleeping.
Some correcting imbalance.
And somewhere out there, a mountain-sized bull slept with diamond horns piercing the sky.
The credits for Godzilla Minus One finished rolling.
No one moved to start another movie.
For the first time that night, the silence was not comfortable.
It was contemplative.
Phong finally spoke, softly.
"You were right to leave."
Élise nodded.
"We're not heroes."
"Good," Dominic muttered. "Heroes die first."
The fire crackled.
Outside, the lime-oak rustled faintly.
Trolls shifted on stone.
Lizardmen's eyes gleamed in reflected light.
Camp Stymphalian had grown.
But the dungeon?
The dungeon was still incomprehensibly vast.
And somewhere beneath their feet, Les Cornes de la Terre slept.
For now.