Reborn as the 68th Demon Lord

For a long, silent moment, his consciousness was completely paralyzed. The blinking red dot on the mental map was a predator's eye, and its gaze was fixed solely on him. Every instinct he didn't know he had screamed at him to flee, to hide, to become one with the cold stone floor. But there was nowhere to run. His entire existence was this small, pathetic cave, and his very soul was tethered to the pulsing Core in the back room. Fleeing wasn't an option; it was just a slower way to die.

He forced the primal terror down, compressing it into a tight, cold knot. Panic was a luxury he couldn't afford. He was a manager, a problem-solver. This… this was just the ultimate hostile variable. A deadly obstacle in the project of his own survival.

Analyze, the voice of his old self commanded. Break it down. Find a solution.

He focused his will on the blinking red icon, willing the System to give him more. Data scrolled into view, each line another testament to his own inadequacy.

> Crystal-Backed Cavern Crawler

> Description: A territorial, silicon-based lifeform. Its crystalline carapace is highly resistant to physical damage. Possesses powerful mandibles capable of crushing rock and a neurotoxic sting.

> Note: Hunts via seismic vibrations.

Resistant to damage. Crushes rock. Neurotoxin. Every word was a death sentence. He, a soft, gelatinous slime, was the antithesis of everything this creature was. A direct confrontation was unthinkable. He would be torn apart, his amorphous body presenting no defense against its sharp, powerful jaws.

He frantically scoured the System for a weapon, a tool, anything. Under the [Domain] tab, he found a sub-menu he hadn't noticed before. It was labeled [Construction]. Hope flared for a microsecond before being extinguished. All the options—[Spike Trap], [Reinforced Wall], [Basic Palisade]—were grayed out. They all required more DP than he possessed.

He was defenseless. His dungeon was just a cave. His body was just a puddle. He had only one asset left.

His will flickered to the [Resources] tab. One hundred Dungeon Points. That was it. His entire net worth. It was nothing, but it was also everything. There had to be something he could do with it. His consciousness raced back to the [Domain] tab, his search now frantic as the vibrations from the outer cavern grew stronger, more pronounced.

And then he saw it. A single, glowing option that wasn't grayed out. [Summoning Ritual].

He focused on it, and a new window opened, stark and simple.

[Summoning Ritual]

Cost: 100 DP

Initiate a ritual to call forth a loyal servant from the Void.

His entire fortune for a single roll of the dice. He felt a phantom chill, the ghost of a cold sweat. This was it. This was the one and only action he could afford to take. He poured his focus into the command, and the window changed, presenting him with the most important choice of his new life.

Select Summoning Type:

1. Summon Mob:

> Description: Diffuse the ritual's energy to summon a group of low-tier servants (5-10 entities).

> Note: Provides multiple bodies for labor and defense. Individual strength is negligible.

2. Summon Familiar:

> Description: Focus the ritual's energy into a single, semi-sentient being.

> Note: Creates a powerful, personal servant. Its specific attributes and combat potential are highly variable.

He stared at the two options, the rhythmic tremors of the approaching Crawler serving as a monstrous ticking clock. His mind, trained in risk assessment and resource management, went into overdrive.

Option one, the Mob. The safe bet. The low-risk, low-reward investment. Ten weak bodies were infinitely better than his one, useless form. They could swarm the Crawler, distract it, buy him time. But the System was clear: their strength was "negligible." What if they were too weak? What if the Crawler tore through them in seconds? He would have wasted his only chance, leaving him with nothing but a few mangled corpses and his own impending doom.

Option two, the Familiar. The high-risk, high-reward gamble. The startup with unicorn potential. He could summon a creature powerful enough to crush the Crawler with ease, solving his problem instantly. Or… he could summon something completely useless for this situation. A creature specializing in alchemy, or a flying scout for a dungeon with no sky. The System's use of the word "variable" was a terrifyingly sterile euphemism for "random." He could waste his only shot on a creature that couldn't fight at all.

The vibrations were closer now. He could feel them through the floor of his Core room. The red dot on his map had entered the narrow tunnel connecting the two caverns. It would be here in less than a minute.

There was no more time for analysis. The spreadsheet in his mind dissolved into pure, desperate instinct. The safe option might not be enough. In a situation this dire, playing it safe was just a slower way to lose. He had to bet everything on a single, decisive outcome.

With a surge of pure, unadulterated will, he made his choice.

His consciousness slammed into the second option. [Summon Familiar].

He confirmed the command, a silent, final prayer echoing in the void of his mind.

Instantly, the [Resources] tab flashed. DP: 100 -> 0. In the center of the Core room, the pulsing, heart-like crystal flared with an intense, blinding light. Mana, raw and untamed, was pulled from the very stone of the dungeon, converging on a single point on the floor before the Core. Lines of purple energy blazed across the ground, forming an intricate, circular pattern of runes he had never seen before.

The air, which had no temperature, suddenly felt charged, heavy with ozone and potential. The light from the summoning circle intensified, casting strange, dancing shadows on the cavern walls.

It was the first light he had ever truly perceived in this world. And from its radiant, violent heart, something was beginning to emerge.