• Preparation (Rewrite)

Yamino stood before the floating gem in the center of the throne room, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in thought. The room was silent, save for the faint humming of energy resonating from the pillar. He clenched his jaw.

"Alright… time to prepare."

He had 900 souls left. Enough to upgrade the dungeon to level 4, barely. But what would that even mean in the long run?

He remembered the future memories. That other Yamino—his other self—who dragged himself through years of meaningless struggle, upgrading this very dungeon to level 9. Nine. And even then, all he could summon were those pathetic worker ghosts. No warriors. No generals. No weapons. Nothing that could fight, protect, or inspire.

Just labor.

And then… destruction.

Yamino sat on the cold steps before the throne and rested his elbows on his knees. He pressed his palms against his face, breathing slowly. "So this place… is useless?"

Even if he reached level 10… would it change anything?

He pulled his hands away and stared at his palms. "This place failed before. But I'm still the dungeon master now. I can't exactly leave."

The knowledge buzzed in his mind. The limitations. The layout. The abyss itself. Everything made sense now thanks to the memory gem.

Two options.

"Option one," he muttered aloud, "survive the Game of Wars."

He sighed.

"Option two... upgrade this dungeon to level 10, hope it unlocks something new, and pray that I'm not walking the same dead path."

Hope. That was a strange feeling. It wasn't solid. It wasn't dependable. But it stirred inside him anyway. Something felt different this time.

"This me is different," he whispered. "I know more than I should. I have time the other me didn't. Ten days."

He stood up, walking slowly toward the gem. His footsteps echoed faintly across the chamber.

He touched the gem gently. "Let's begin preparations."

Step One: Upgrade the dungeon to level 3.

With a focused thought, he poured 300 souls into the core. The green gem pulsed violently, and a wave of energy rippled out. A new message blinked into existence.

> Dungeon upgraded to Level 3.

Summoning: Worker Ghosts — Limit 10

Passive Function Unlocked: Mana Infusion Veins — Dormant

"Mana Infusion Veins?" Yamino muttered. "Didn't see that in the memories…"

That was new.

He smirked slightly. "Maybe it won't be so useless after all."

He kept moving.

Step Two: Sacrifice souls to summon worker ghosts.

He raised his hand. "Summon ten."

The gem spun, and the air grew cold. Wails, low and guttural, began to rise from the floor. One by one, the workers emerged — translucent figures with blank faces, clawed hands, and ethereal picks strapped to their backs.

They knelt before him.

"Your orders?" a raspy voice asked.

Yamino looked around. The memory said these things were useless. But now, he had knowledge. The right knowledge. "Start mining. The deepest veins. Prioritize anything that shines unnaturally."

They vanished into the cave walls like mist.

Step Three: Craft a weapon in ten days.

That one... was the hardest.

"Ten days," he whispered to himself. "I need something absurdly powerful... but I don't even know if I'll find the right minerals. The future me didn't."

The images flooded back. His other self took five years just to reach a point where he could mine. And when he finally did… a neighboring dungeon master came. Wiped everything out. Forced him to evolve the dungeon during battle, from 5 to 9… and it still wasn't enough.

And then?

Summoned again. Another game. He was relieved, foolishly hopeful. Then—

Dead.

Instantly.

"A pathetic end," Yamino said flatly, then chuckled under his breath.

"But he never gave up, huh? Even with all that failure… he sent me the time mail. Spent every last drop of his strength just to make sure I got this head start."

He ran his hand through his hair and let out a long, exhausted breath.

"Haaa... what a headache."

He turned back to the gem, staring deep into its shifting surface.

"And I am that itself…"

.

.

.

After all the workers left into the mine tunnels, Yamino sat back on the throne, staring at the flickering dungeon core. The hum of energy felt different now—more responsive, almost alive.

But a thought suddenly struck him.

"Wait… why did I only summon ten?" he muttered.

His brow furrowed. "Am I just blindly following what my future self did?"

The silence answered back like a mocking echo.

"No," he shook his head. "No. I'm not that idiot anymore. I have his memories, but I'm not repeating his path like some puppet."

He stood up, eyes narrowing at the dungeon core.

"Sacrifice all remaining 490 souls," he commanded.

The core pulsed in acknowledgment. Bright green light radiated as the souls burned away, and then—

One by one, batches of ten workers materialized, kneeling before him in eerie silence. Their empty white eyes glowed dimly.

"Send them to the deepest veins," Yamino ordered. "Don't return unless your hands can't carry any more."

Groups of ghostly miners vanished into the walls like spirits passing through a veil. Then another ten appeared. Again, and again. Over the next hour, nearly five hundred soul-forged laborers were dispatched into the dungeon's depths.

And so the mining began.

---

Five Days Later

The once-barren throne room was now a mountain of glowing stones and mineral chunks, stacked to the ceiling like metallic rubble. Colors shimmered—purple, red, dark blue, even obsidian-black streaked with gold veins. The workers silently continued placing them without complaint.

Yamino stood at the center, arms folded.

"Alright…" he muttered, surveying the mountain of raw potential. "Let's move to the next step."

He turned toward the dungeon pillar.

"Add rooms to the dungeon."

With that command, the stones levitated from the floor, drawn into the central core. As each piece touched the pillar, it vanished into light. A panel appeared in front of Yamino—numbers ticking upward as the resource counter calculated value.

> Dungeon Material Value: 12,470

Expansion Slots Unlocked: 3

Available Room Types: [Forge], [Storage], [Library], [Barracks], [Altar]...

Yamino scanned the options.

"First thing I need is a smith," he said, eyes locked onto the glowing screen. "Create a smith room. Attach it to this chamber."

The pillar pulsed, and a distant rumble shook the walls. A doorway emerged at the far end of the hall, its arch inscribed with glowing runes. Heat radiated from the other side.

He walked toward it slowly.

The room beyond was large, furnace-lit, filled with spectral forges and glowing tools resting in midair.

"This'll do," he muttered with a smirk. "Now I can forge my own weapon. The ores are here…"

He paused, clenching his fist.

"I just need the right metals." His eyes darkened. "The kind that won't shatter when the world does."