Watching Gu and the other gremlins has been simultaneously stressful and pleasant. The gremlins all follow Gu around like he's their parent, and they do whatever he says. The group is currently marching through a tunnel that's barely over a meter tall. Gu plucks roots from the ceiling and walls, snacking on them. The others follow his example.

  In the time since I introduced Gu to others of his species he has taught them many things. The first thing he taught them was clothing. They have yet to master the skills necessary to make their own clothing, but progress has been made. Each one of them is wearing something they made with their own hands.

  One--which I've been calling Helmet--found a particularly large mole and after smashing it with a rock he turned its hide into a hat. The other gremlins found this very impressive and fashionable. It was a bit gruesome for my taste, but he does look cute in the mole hat.

  Two of the female gremlins found themselves some large patches of roots. They made the things into clumsy woven textiles, and fashioned them into makeshift loincloths. I'm not sure what to call them. Maybe the twins? They aren't actually twins, but they're very close to one another.

  The other boy gremlin has been something of a rival to Helmet, and he chose to paint his body with mud rather than wear any actual clothing. I'm not sure how to feel about seeing the effectively naked gremlin running around amongst his at least partially outfitted brethren. At least he's trying?

  The third girl gremlin--the one that was first to take Gu's hand--has become something of a close friend to him. She's got what I would consider the most intricate clothing the gremlins have produced thus far. She's put together an appallingly large amount of fern fronds to make a crude dress. The leafy garment preserves as much modesty as Gu's dungeon-made clothes. She looks up to Gu quite a lot. I wonder if they'll become a couple later on? If so, I approve as Gu's mother.

  Oh, I just got a decent amount of mana.

  Not enough to mean someone died, but a strangely large influx.

  My attention leaves Gremlin Grotto behind. I look up into Green Valley, finding a familiar group of four fighting the last of the great hawks. They're stealing the eggs from the nests as they climb the cliffs with sets of climbing gear. The injuries on their bodies are likely the source of mana.

  I don't really know what to do about the nearly extinct state of my great hawks. I could just replenish their population by spawning in a new set, but if I have to do that every single time the adventurers clear them out it will get tedious.

  Why do they call themselves adventurers, anyway?

  They're not going anywhere but inside my dungeon!

  No, that isn't important right now. What is important is maintaining the populations of my monsters and animals within the dungeon. I don't want the whole species to die out, though maybe I can allow the humans to cull the population in Green Valley? They would surely regret their choice later down the line.

  I think what I need is to delegate. Doing everything in this place is only going to get harder, so I should get someone else to do some of the work for me.

  Hiring another person isn't an option. Creating someone to help me is.

  ~

  I've spent plenty of time planning things out for my first custodian. I need them to listen to me, as it would be a disaster if they behaved as uncontrollably as my monsters. They have to have some of my own abilities so they can help manage the dungeon's monsters and areas. Their space should be separate from my own for both security and privacy reasons.

  Thus, I am going to make a new region dedicated to this custodian.

  Introducing the Wildwood!

  I spread my arms out to highlight how impressive my tiny model is. Unfortunately, I'm alone, so this just feels a bit embarrassing. Hopefully my custodian will be just as enthused about my miniature models as I am. Or maybe they'll think I'm a dork!

  The Wildwood's model is far larger than Green Valley's was, as it's going to be a much more expansive region. The entire thing is roughly three kilometers across. That size is deceptive, though, as the adventurers will only be exploring about a kilometer of it. The other two kilometers of space are going to serve as the home territory of my largest monsters yet.

  For this project I'm not only going bigger but I am also going beyond size.

  Within the laboratory I've set up an experiment. Using the same technique in my dungeon's doors, I can create a bubble that can't be escaped. Once something is inside of it there is no way to leave. The edges of the bubble are linked up so that walking out of it will instead lead you to walk in from the opposite edge. I'm quite proud of the effect!

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  So, using this spatial looping effect, I can make the forest's edges appear infinite to the adventurers. The effect will be amplified once I have the hazards in place. No adventurer will have the time to notice the spatial anomaly if they're too busy trying to get back into the center of the region!

  Now I'm too excited to wait! Let's do this!

  First I carve the three kilometer cavern deep beneath the earth. It's vast, the height of the cavern reaching an apex of one hundred meters. I add a massive stone pillar to the space, situated on the very edge. I texture the pillar to resemble a natural rock face.

  The sky gets a coating of sky rock. The blue skies it mimics are obscured by a thick layer of clouds, yet sunlight shines through. Where the huge pillar of stone meets the ceiling it shows a towering plateau rising high up above the clouds.

  To complete the illusion of the region being outdoors, I add the spatial looping to the edges of the space. Now it looks like there's one big vast stone plane. Of course, the pillar being visible due to a lack of tree cover ruins the illusion. That will be fixed in time.

  I cover the bare stone floor of the cavern with a three storey thick layer of soft rock and soil. This will provide plenty of earth for my trees to plant their roots in, as well as space for any burrowing animals to create their own dwellings.

  The terrain's exact shape will be left up to the weather, plants, and animals. I'll simply spread the seeds and let things grow to occupy the space I've provided. Speaking of seeds--I layer the entire region with grass and fern seeds, letting the small plants grow into a green carpet. Most of these plants will die in time, since I plan on creating huge trees with enough of a canopy to limit ground vegetation.

  Those tall trees are next on the order of things. I start with my gnarled oak as a base, and work from there. Instead of gnarled twisting trees I fashion them into towering behemoths. Their trunks will grow high into the sky, taller than any tower should be in this assumedly medieval era: Thirty storeys tall. I make their wood red for some unique flair. I'll call them highbark.

  I seed the highbark throughout the area in a very purposeful way. The outermost kilometer gets a very dense spread of the seeds, while the further toward the center I go the more sporadic they're arranged. This should lead to a denser forest on the edges of the Wildwood.

  Unfortunately, simply placing a bunch of seeds isn't enough to get the forest to stay in the rough shape I want. While this area is meant to be fairly natural it still needs to have some structure so it can be navigated. To accomplish this all I need is a little mana and a trick I learned from that fiasco with the bugs!

  Speaking of the bug incident, that obelisk has sunken halfway into the sand of Toad Lake's shore, and it's sitting at an angle. It almost looks like it was always there.

  Moving my attention back to the Wildwood, I start creating an obelisk in the very center. This one is much the same as the one in Green Valley when it comes to size and shape. The difference is in the carvings, which I etch with a very different purpose. My mana shapes into the stone monument as I imagine three distinct zones within Wildwood. The deep woods, which occupied the outermost kilometer of the forest--here plant life is abundant, and certain plants are encouraged to grow. The middle woods, a transitional space with some of the untamed life of the deep woods, yet easier to navigate. The central woods, an oasis characterized by fewer trees and a larger quantity of small plant life.

  Wildwood is filled with a sudden gust of wind, the rapidly growing flora swaying from the airflow. I watch in fascination as vines start to grow up from the base of the obelisk to embrace the structure. I didn't tell it to do that.

  Mana sure does work in mysterious ways...

  Anyway, with this I can continue work on the Wildwood. Next is one of two hazards meant to corral adventurers or any kind of visitor away from the edges of the Wildwood. An ivy that is much more dangerous than your average plant. Creeping bramble, a thick vicious looking thorn covered vine that spreads from plant to plant in an effort to slowly kill and consume anything it can. It can absorb the blood of dead animals just as well as the nutrients from dying plant matter it strangled beneath its coils.

  The creeping bramble is seeded all throughout the deep woods. The obelisk will handle keeping it from growing in the other two regions, to maintain some order in Wildwood's heart. I shudder at the sight of the huge spiked vines rapidly expanding with the influx of mana I feed it. Truly a monstrous plant!

  Moving on from the dangerous brambles, I create the other of two hazards that discourage exploration in the deep woods. This one is not a plant, but a true monster. I haven't made a model of it beforehand due to the sheer scale. Until now it has been nothing but an idea bouncing around in my head.

  I start with the skeleton. Bones several stories tall make up the towering beast's legs, with the upper portions of the skeleton compact in comparison. The flesh and blood flow like water to coat the bones appropriately, creating a monster with the legs of a moose stretched to the absurd in terms of length. The creature's body is about twenty meters long, with a body almost ten meters wide. The beast's resemblance to a moose ends with its legs and furred body. Instead of an antler adorned head, the thing has a long prehensile head that looks more like a furred tentacle than anything else. Countless large inky black eyes line both sides of the monstrosity's lengthy twisting head. At the end of its face is a jaw that opens much like that of a crocodile's. Rows of teeth as big as a person fill its mouth. Some are sharp, others flat, all meant for grinding up both plant and animal matter to fuel its oversized body.

  Both horrifying and eerily beautiful, they'll from now on be known as woodwalkers.

  Unfortunately for me, creating even just one woodwalker takes a lot out of me. I only manage to create a barely sufficient breeding population before having to take a break. The sounds they make as their bodies twitch to life are... haunting. They cry much like an elk, except so much louder and deeper. It is as if a whale call was produced by a great big deer straight out of someone's nightmares.

  For now I will wait for more mana to come in. But soon I'll have completed the Wildwood, and then I can create a custodian to look after not just the Wildwood, but all of my forested regions.