Reborn as the 68th Demon Lord

The slow, methodical rhythm of the grub farm became the new pulse of Valerius's existence. Under his remote direction, Stonetooth worked with the tireless diligence of a factory automaton. A lure, a kill, a drag of the corpse to the synthesis pile. It was a monotonous, grim, yet profoundly satisfying loop. With each kill, his Dungeon Point total crept upwards. 5… 10… 15… He was no longer bleeding, no longer just surviving. He was accumulating capital.

After several hours, he called a halt. The nest needed time to replenish, and more importantly, he needed to think. He now possessed 165 DP. For the first time, he had a surplus. He had money to invest. The question that consumed his consciousness was the same one that had defined his entire professional life: what was the most efficient allocation of capital for maximum growth?

He laid out his options like a business proposal in his mind.

Option A: Hoard resources for a high-risk venture. He could save up another 35 DP and perform another [Summon Familiar] ritual. The potential payoff was immense. A single, powerful combat familiar could elevate his security and his grub-farming efficiency tenfold. But the risk was just as great. His last gamble had paid off through sheer luck and desperate ingenuity. Another non-combatant, however useful, wouldn't solve his core problem, which was a lack of manpower. To risk everything on a single roll of the dice again felt less like a bold strategy and more like a gambling addiction.

Option B: Invest in infrastructure. He could spend his DP on the [Construction] menu, building traps or reinforcing more walls. This would increase his passive defense and the security of his Core, but it was a static improvement. It was putting money into insurance and security systems instead of production. It was safe, but it wouldn't accelerate his growth.

Option C: Invest in his workforce. The [Summon Mob] option. He had rejected it before as a low-reward defensive measure. But he wasn't just thinking about defense anymore. He was thinking about production. Stonetooth was a single, efficient worker, but he was still a bottleneck. To increase the rate of DP generation, he needed more "employees" to manage the nest, harvest the remains, and patrol the dungeon. A mob of five to ten weak creatures was no longer just a meat shield; it was a potential workforce. The risk was lower, the outcome more predictable. It was the sensible, scalable business decision.

His human past screamed at him to choose Option C. Diversify your assets. Grow your workforce. Scale your operations. It was the safe, logical path to stable growth.

He made his decision. This was not a desperate gamble born from fear. This was his first calculated investment.

He focused his will, pulling up the [Summoning Ritual] command. The familiar interface appeared, and he selected [Summon Mob] without hesitation. The 100 DP vanished from his reserves.

The Dungeon Core pulsed, but the light it emitted this time was different. It wasn't the single, intense, focused beam of the Familiar summon. It was a softer, more diffuse glow, a gentle wave of energy that filled the entire Core room. The summoning circle on the floor lit up with the same purple runes, but they shimmered gently instead of blazing. The air grew thick with the scent of ozone and damp, night-blooming flowers.

When the light faded, it revealed not a group of goblins, or kobolds, or any kind of humanoid creature. Floating silently in the air where the circle had been were five insects. They were moths, each the size of his old hand, with delicate, intricate wings that looked like they were spun from silver thread and stained glass. A soft, pale blue light emanated from their bodies, a gentle, hypnotic bioluminescence that pulsed in time with the thrum of the Dungeon Core.

[Mob Summoned: Glimmer Moths (x5)]

> Description: A passive, non-combatant insect species native to the Mana-rich caverns of the Demon Realm.

> Traits: [Bioluminescence], [Silent Flight], [Mana Sense]

> Combat Potential: None.

Valerius's consciousness went still. He had made the sensible choice. The safe investment. The logical business decision to expand his workforce. And he had summoned… lightbulbs. Pretty, flying, utterly useless lightbulbs. They couldn't fight. They couldn't mine. They couldn't build. They just… glowed.

A wave of cold, bitter frustration washed over him. He had been so smart, so logical, and the random, chaotic nature of this world had slapped him across the face for his trouble. He had spent his hard-won capital on decorative insects.

Then, one of the Glimmer Moths, as if sensing his despair, drifted silently from the Core room out into the main cavern.

Through his link with Stonetooth, who was still standing guard by the grub nest, Valerius's perception of the world fundamentally changed. The cavern, which he had only ever perceived through the Kobold's limited, pressure-based senses as a map of textures and vibrations in the dark, was suddenly illuminated. The soft, ethereal blue light of the moth cast gentle shadows, revealing the true shape and scale of his domain. He could see the jagged edges of the rubble pile, the glint of moisture on the far walls, the subtle variations in the stone floor. The darkness, the constant, oppressive blindness that had defined his existence, was banished.

His mind reeled, a paradigm shifting. These moths weren't a failed investment in labor. They were a revolutionary upgrade to his entire infrastructure.

With a surge of newfound excitement, he issued a series of commands. One moth was sent to hover directly over the grub nest, bathing it in a clear, steady light that made Stonetooth's work immeasurably easier and safer. Two more were sent to the far corners of the main cavern, acting as silent, living watchtowers. The fourth was tasked with circling the entrance tunnel, a mobile early-warning system. The last he kept in the Core room with him, its gentle glow a profound comfort.

He could see. For the first time, he could truly see his entire domain. The Glimmer Moths were not a workforce; they were a surveillance network. They were infrastructure. They were a utility.

He looked at his illuminated cave, at the strategically placed points of light, at his loyal Kobold working diligently under a clear blue glow. The frustration had vanished, replaced by the electric thrill of a manager who had just discovered a new technology that would revolutionize his entire operation. His tiny, one-cave dungeon was no longer a dark, terrifying prison.

It had lights. It had surveillance. It was a headquarters.