My Dungeon Daddy System: Raising Monsters and Waifus Underground-Chapter 77 – Diplomacy Was Never An Option

"Other dungeons before me?" Reed stated confused and surprised. "Am I not the first avatar of this dungeon core?"

The Dryad ignored his question. She inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring.

"You smell delicious," she purred. "Like cold fire. And you..."

She looked past Reed, locking her black eyes on Grika.

"You smell like lightning. Crunchy. Spicy."

Grika made a small, growling sound and raised her wrench. "Stop smelling me, salad-lady!"

"State your business," Reed commanded, his voice hardening. "Why have you breached the seal?"

"The Mother sent me," the Dryad curtsied, a mockery of polite society. "She demands... tribute. The soil is dry. The roots are thirsty. We require fertilizer."

Reed narrowed his eyes. "Fertilizer?"

"Yes," the Dryad smiled wider. "Nitrogen. Phosphorus. Calcium. The usual."

Reed considered this. He had a literal ton of waste from the Orc latrines and the kitchen compost. If the plant-lady just wanted manure, he could arrange a trade deal.

"We have waste," Reed said cautiously. "Biological waste. Compost. If you want a shipment, we can arrange a chute—"

The Dryad laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. It sounded like dry leaves skittering on pavement.

"Oh, silly thing," she cooed, taking another step. The concrete beneath her feet cracked, small vines shooting up through the stone. "We don’t want your leavings. We want you."

She pointed a long, green finger at Reed’s chest.

"We want the Source. The cold sun in your ribs. And we want the little spark-plug behind you."

The air in the room changed instantly. The sweetness vanished, replaced by the sharp, metallic tang of predatory intent.

She is lying, Elara whispered in Reed’s mind. She is not a diplomat. She is a mouth.

"Negotiation over," Reed said flatly.

"Grika," he warned without turning his head. "Get to the elevator."

"But—"

"Go!"

The Dryad hissed. Her human façade cracked.

Her jaw unhinged, splitting open like a Venus flytrap. Her arms elongated, the skin tearing to reveal ropy, muscular vines underneath.

"FEED!" she shrieked.

She didn’t attack Reed. She lunged for the snack.

She shot past Reed with terrifying speed, her arm extending twenty feet in a blur of green motion. Her fingers turned into barbed whips, aiming straight for Grika.

"Explosion!" Grika yelled, panic overriding her training.

She pulled a stick of dynamite from her belt and threw it.

BOOM.

The explosion hit the Dryad square in the chest.

Smoke filled the air. Debris scattered.

"Got her!" Grika cheered.

But as the smoke cleared, the Dryad was still standing. Her chest was blown open, revealing a hollow cavity filled with pulsating nectar and seeds... but the wound was already closing. The vines were knitting together, stitching the hole shut in seconds.

She absorbed the blast. She ate the kinetic energy, just like the vine before..

"Spicy!" the Dryad gurgled, her voice distorted and wet. "More!"

She lashed out again. This time, a vine wrapped around Grika’s ankle.

"Ah!" Grika screamed as she was yanked off her feet. She was dragged across the concrete, her fingernails scraping sparks against the floor.

"NO," Reed roared.

He didn’t run. He didn’t cast a fireball.

He snapped.

[SKILL: VOID STEP]

Reed vanished into a cloud of violet smoke and reappeared directly between Grika and the Dryad.

He stomped his boot down on the vine dragging the goblin.

CRUNCH.

He didn’t just step on it. He channeled the Void through his boot. The entropy of his mana hit the vitality of the plant.

The vine turned grey. Then black. Then it disintegrated into ash.

The Dryad screamed, recoiling and clutching her severed limb. The regeneration didn’t work. The Void didn’t just damage the tissue; it erased the concept of growth in the localized area.

"You..." the Dryad hissed, her black eyes wide with genuine fear. "You are... anti-life."

Reed stood over Grika, his velvet coat billowing in the magical wind. His eyes were burning with a cold, amethyst fire. The shadows in the room stretched toward him, hungry and obedient.

"I am the Dungeon Lord," Reed said, his voice distorted by the [Overlord] filter. "And my staff is not on the menu."

He raised his hand. He pointed his palm at the Dryad.

He didn’t use a spell. He just opened the floodgates of the Void Shard. He projected raw, unfiltered Rejection.

[SKILL: VOID REPULSION]

A shockwave of pure, purple force blasted out from his hand. It wasn’t kinetic. It was a wave of existential dread.

It hit the Dryad like a physical wall.

"SCREEEEE!"

She flew backward, her petal-dress disintegrating, her skin turning grey where the Void touched her. She slammed into the obsidian wall with a wet thud.

She scrambled up, looking at her withered arm, then at Reed. The hunger in her eyes was gone, replaced by the primal terror of prey recognizing a predator.

"The Mother..." she hissed, backing into the crack. "The Mother will not like this. She hates the cold. She hates the dark."

"Tell her to get a sweater," Reed spat. "And stay off my floor."

The Dryad let out one last, ear-piercing shriek and slithered backward into the fissure, vanishing into the gloom of Floor 4.

Silence returned to the Iron Works.

But it wasn’t the silence of peace. It was the silence of a trench before the whistle blows.

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.

The sound came from the floor.

Reed looked down.

Around the base of the obsidian seal, the concrete was buckling. Massive, thick roots were pushing up from beneath the foundation. They weren’t attacking. They were entrenching.

They burst through the floor, shattering the stone, and wove themselves together to form a barricade. A wall of thorns and wood rose up, blocking the crack, but also claiming the back half of the factory.

The Garden wasn’t retreating. It was fortifying.

"Boss," Grika whispered from the floor, clutching her ankle. "The floor... it’s moving."

Reed helped her up. She was shaking. The violet circuitry on her skin was dim, her mana drained by fear.

"We have a problem," Reed said, watching the roots spread. "They aren’t just invading. They’re terraforming. If we don’t stop them, Floor 3 will be a jungle by tomorrow morning. And Floor 1 will be a salad bar by the weekend."

He looked at Grika.

"Can you walk?"

"I... I think so," Grika stammered, testing her weight. "My ankle is just bruised."

"Good," Reed said. "Because I need you in the lab. Now."

He turned and looked at the wall of thorns. The smell of perfume was getting stronger again, fighting against the smell of ozone.

"Diplomacy failed," Reed stated. "War is declared."

He activated his comms crystal.

"Maira."

"Sir?" Maira’s voice came through, crisp and professional. "Status of the perimeter?"

"Perimeter breached," Reed said grimly. "We are in a state of hostile biological takeover. Lock down the elevators to Floor 3. No one comes down here. Not even the skeletons."

"Understood. And the guest? The Casino is booming tonight."

"Let them have fun," Reed said. "They should be leaving soon. Just keep watch for any roots coming up."

He looked at the pink sap smeared on his boot.

"Grika," Reed said, turning to the goblin. "How is the weapon coming along? Do you have the schematic down yet?"

Grika nodded, her engineering brain finally overriding her panic. She pulled her goggles down, staring at the ash where the vine used to be. She pulled out her schematic of the weed whacker.

"It needs to be cauterized," Grika muttered. "We need to un-make it. We need a weapon that channels your mana, Boss. A conduit."

"Exactly," Reed said. "I can’t cast spells all day. I’ll burn out. I need a tool. I need something that focuses the Void into a cutting edge."

He helped her toward the elevator.

"You have three days, Grika. Build me a weapon that can kill a forest."

Grika looked back at the wall of thorns. A flicker of manic, destructive joy sparked in her yellow eyes.

"A Void-Core engine. And flamethrowers on it.."

"Bigger," Reed said, pressing the button for the lift.

"How about Chainsaws?"

"Two of them."

Grika’s eyes gleamed with electric pleasure as she was erasing and redrawing the schematics.

The elevator doors closed, cutting off the sight of the encroaching jungle.

[QUEST UPDATE: THE GARDEN OF SIN]

[Objective: Diplomacy Failed.]

[New Objective: Total Deforestation.]

[Time Remaining: 72 Hours.]