Reborn as the 68th Demon Lord

The discovery of the Mana Caps was a paradigm shift. For the first time, Valerius possessed a resource that wasn't directly tied to the grim calculus of violence and defense. The grub farm was a necessity, a brutal engine that turned death into Dungeon Points. But the Fungal Forest… this was different. This was agriculture. This was cultivation. It was a higher form of resource management, and it required a higher form of labor.

He sent Stonetooth down to attempt a harvest. The Kobold, ever diligent, approached a cluster of the glowing blue mushrooms and, with his usual straightforward logic, swung his hammer. The result was a puff of blue spores and a smear of mangled mycelium on the cavern floor. The Mana Cap was destroyed, its stored energy dissipating uselessly into the damp air.

Valerius felt a phantom headache bloom in his consciousness. It was the familiar, frustrating pain of assigning the wrong employee to the wrong task. Stonetooth was a miner, a builder, a demolitions expert. Asking him to perform delicate botanical work was like asking a construction worker to perform brain surgery. It was inefficient, wasteful, and ultimately, counterproductive.

He needed a specialist.

The thought was a revelation. His previous summons had been acts of desperation or general investment. This was the first time he was approaching the ritual with a specific, targeted need. He didn't just need more bodies; he needed a specific skillset.

He spent the next cycle having Stonetooth focus entirely on the grub farm, pushing his DP reserves back up past the 100-point mark. Every point felt precious, a seed for his next great investment. He once again initiated the [Summoning Ritual], and once again, he was faced with the familiar choice. The temptation of the [Summon Familiar] option was a siren's call, promising a single, powerful solution. But his managerial instincts held firm. A single specialist was still a single point of failure. He needed a team. He needed a department.

He selected [Summon Mob].

The gentle, diffuse light filled the Core room. The runes shimmered. He watched, his entire consciousness focused, hoping the inherent nature of his new Fungal Forest biome would influence the outcome of the summon. He needed farmers, not fighters. He needed tenders, not terrors.

When the light faded, he saw that his hopes had been answered, and in a way more perfect than he could have imagined. Standing in a small, silent cluster were six new figures. They were short, barely two feet tall, with stout, vaguely humanoid bodies made of what looked like pale, fibrous mushroom stalk. Their heads were smooth, rounded mushroom caps, and they had no discernible eyes or mouths. They were, in essence, walking, sentient fungi.

[Mob Summoned: Myconid Sprout (x6)]

> Description: A peaceful, communal fungus-folk native to subterranean forests. They possess a deep, instinctual connection to all forms of mycelia.

> Traits: [Mycelial Harmony], [Spore Communication], [Gentle Touch]

> Combat Potential: None.

Valerius felt a wave of profound satisfaction wash over him. They were perfect.

He issued a gentle, exploratory command, sending the group down the glowing staircase into the Fungal Forest. The moment their fibrous feet touched the mossy ground of the second floor, something incredible happened. The entire forest seemed to… awaken. The faint, ambient bioluminescence of the giant mushrooms brightened in welcome. The Myconids themselves began to glow softly, their caps pulsing in a slow, rhythmic beat that synchronized with the energy of the forest around them. They were not invaders or workers here. They were home.

One of the Myconid Sprouts approached the very same cluster of Mana Caps that Stonetooth had mangled. It didn't use a tool. It simply reached out with its soft, root-like fingers and gently cupped the glowing blue mushroom. There was a soft, puffing sound as it released a cloud of barely-visible spores. The Mana Cap detached from its root system cleanly, without any damage, its glow remaining bright and stable. The Myconid then turned and presented the harvested mushroom, holding it up as if for his approval.

This was it. This was the specialized workforce he needed. He had his miners and his farmers. He had two functioning, efficient production lines.

He spent the next several hours organizing his new society. Stonetooth was officially promoted to Foreman of Floor 1, tasked with managing the grub nest and overseeing all stone-related construction. The Myconids became the Gardeners of Floor 2, their silent, spore-based communication creating a perfectly coordinated team that harvested Mana Caps with the gentle reverence of priests tending a sacred grove.

As he watched his small, diverse population work, a new thought began to form. These were not just assets on a spreadsheet. Stonetooth wasn't just a tool. The moths weren't just surveillance drones. The Myconids weren't just laborers. They were living, breathing entities, completely loyal to him, dependent on him for their very existence.

He was their leader. Their provider. Their god.

The weight of that responsibility settled on him, heavier than the fear of death had ever been. He was building more than a fortress, more than an economic engine. He was building a community. A society.

He focused his attention on the Myconid Sprout that had performed the first successful harvest. It was working diligently, its cap pulsing with a calm, steady rhythm. It needed a name. Not just a designation, but a real name. A name acknowledges personhood.

He thought for a moment, recalling the damp, earthy smell of the new floor and the silent, diligent nature of the creature.

Spore, he decided, projecting the name directly to the Myconid.

The creature stopped its work. Its cap glowed a little brighter, and it turned its featureless face towards the ceiling, towards the place where it sensed his consciousness resided. It gave a slow, deep bow. It was a gesture of acceptance. Of recognition.

He was no longer just Demon Lord #68, the manager of a failing subterranean enterprise. He was Valerius, the Lord of a growing domain. And this small, sentient mushroom was his first true citizen.