The dryads had also agreed to assist with managing the labyrinth. Well, "assist" was more like volunteering than being formal workers.
"We have the honor of shaping an amusement park here—it's hardly laborious work," Treyni explained, and with that, her sisters and the other dryads expressed no objection. Unexpected assistance had now arrived.
...…
...
A small forest was soon added within the labyrinth. Floor 95, ending in a five, was designated as a safe zone. With several empty floors above and below, we repurposed levels 91 through 94 for practical and aesthetic use: level 91 became an iron ore warehouse, level 92 a factory refining the ore into magisteel, level 93 was transformed into flower beds, and level 94 housed the honey processing plant.
Thanks to convenient transportation systems, anyone on floor 95 could access these levels easily. A central save point connected directly to gates leading to each floor, as well as stairs to lower levels. The labyrinth's defiance of physical laws made this arrangement seamless.
Once the boss at level 90 was defeated, the stairs to level 95 immediately appeared. We agreed that those who had reached that milestone could take a shortcut if they wished.
Beyond that, from floor 96 onward, the labyrinth plunged into grueling, hellish levels. Adventurers were required to rest and inspect their equipment before attempting these trials. Gates, caution signs, and inns were strategically placed at the staircases leading downward. Weapon and gear shops surrounded the safe zones, displaying rare equipment exclusive to the labyrinth—though traffic was expected to be light, mostly appealing to blacksmith enthusiasts.
I even considered slipping some of my own creations onto the shelves. While daydreaming about this, I coordinated with Myourmiles, finalizing the plan. By the end of today's reception, I had unexpectedly become a logistical helper for Ramiris and her men during the migration.
This floor was destined to become a forest city. Only those who had endured the dungeon's trials could gain access, rest, and recover before venturing further. This "City of the Labyrinth" was poised to grow into a thriving hub of civilization.
At that time, I had no idea of what lay ahead.
The next day dawned. Today's visitors were stronger species—creatures whose power demanded respect. Already, outside the chamber, commotion arose.
Two tribes, the ox-headed Gozu and horse-faced Mezu, were preparing to clash. Shuna's frown deepened, and Shion's eyes widened as she fought to maintain composure.
I sighed. "Let's hope this ends without incident…"
The visitors had brought roughly ten young warriors each, facing off with tension heavy in the air. These tribes had battled for over a century without reconciliation, and today's argument was over who would enter the reception first. Both sides likely assumed that precedence equaled advantage.
The ox-horned majin stepped forward, speaking with confident bravado.
"Demon Lord-sama, the Gozu tribe will be the true backbone of your army! With us standing strong in Eterna, none can oppose your rule! If we remove these weaklings from the Mezu tribe, your enemies will tremble!"
Notably, their high magicule content and combat capability were impressive. Several were already Rank A. No wonder they had sustained a hundred years of warfare.
Before I could respond, a Mezu majin fired back with equal intensity.
"Hmph, fools! If you are a Demon Lord, surely your vision surpasses petty rivalries. Join us, the Mezu tribe, and let us crush the Gozu, and any who oppose us!"
Both tribes were brimming with pride and aggression, their explosive personalities already testing my patience. Compared to these brash newcomers, the rabbitmen who had feared me seemed almost distinguished.
But, wait a moment.
These tribes were infuriating, yes, yet as I studied them, an idea sparked in my mind. A labyrinth—what is the first image that comes to one's mind? The Minotaur.
In Greek myth, there was the infamous ox-headed labyrinth guardian called the Minotaur. People dismissed it as legend, a story passed down through generations. Yet in the early twentieth century, the palace of Knossos on Crete was excavated—a complex structure with a basement resembling a labyrinth.
Whether the Minotaur truly existed was beside the point. Paintings of an ox were found throughout the palace, cementing the Minotaur as the quintessential dungeon monster.
And now, here they were—the Gozu. Creatures so similar to the fabled Minotaur, they were exactly what my labyrinth had been missing. The giant before me—surely, he would make an ideal candidate for a boss.
The weakest point of my dungeon had always been the selection of bosses. So far, we had only placed a few formidable monsters at levels 10, 20, and 30. This Gozu, I thought, would be perfect for floors 40 to 50. The idea of appointing him as a boss raced through my mind.
Yet reality intervened. These tribes showed little loyalty to me. At most, they were thinking, "This guy might be useful." Their desire to use me to eliminate their rivals was transparent. With a little guidance, they could be incredibly valuable—but they lacked discipline.
I was about to activate a fragment of my authority when Rigurd stepped forward, muscles taut.
"You brats! How dare you speak so rudely in the presence of our king! I, Rigurd, will show you your place!"
Usually, Rigurd was calm, attentive to town affairs, a model civil official. Yet I knew he had trained in secret. His strength already surpassed Gobta and Rigur, and he had even volunteered to confront the Holy Knights. His aggression was no longer theoretical—I knew he could handle these two tribe leaders.
"What did you just say? How can a mere official be so bold!"
"You're a mere lackey of some weak Demon Lord. Stop bluffing!"
The leaders barked, their young warriors echoing them. They underestimated me entirely. My presence alone had subdued others in the past, but these were clearly hungry for a fight. I considered them a nuisance to be subdued with minimal effort.
Then, with a single, deliberate motion, I activated my Pharaoh Dragon Haki.
An invisible, absolute authority radiated from me. It surged outward, crushing all hesitation and defiance. The moment it washed over the Gozu and Mezu tribes, they froze—rigid in place, as if their bodies had been seized by an unbreakable force. The hostile energy they had radiated moments ago evaporated entirely. Even their eyes, filled with arrogance and fury, were now wide with awe and fear.
"S-Stop…!" one of the Gozu warriors tried to speak, but no sound escaped.
"They… they can't move…" whispered another.
Rigurd smirked beside me, recognizing the overwhelming presence I commanded. Even the powerful majins approaching the town seemed to pause, sensing the authority emanating from the Pharaoh Dragon Haki. The balance of power had shifted instantly.
The concept of assigning a Minotaur as a boss seemed trivial now. Far greater challenges demanded my immediate attention.
I stepped forward, my presence absolute, and spoke:
"Stand down, or suffer the consequences. I am Atem, Pharaoh Dragon, ruler of Eterna. Know your place."
With those words, the tribesmen's defiance had evaporated completely. Their arrogance had been shattered—not by brute force, but by undeniable authority.
I turned to Benimaru and the others, my voice commanding without question:
"Let us move. Now."
"Yes, sir!"
"Understood, Pharaoh-sama!"
With their responses affirming loyalty, we advanced toward the epicenter of the overwhelming power. The air around us trembled with menace, the labyrinth itself seeming to pulse in anticipation.
When we arrived, about ten Kurenai were already surrounding the three men responsible. A couple of guards, gatekeepers, and some Yomigaeri lay on the ground—wounded. Gobjay was there too; he'd charged in, brave but reckless. Running headfirst at those intruders was careless, and it showed.
Those who weren't hurt were helping townsfolk and guests find cover. They'd been trained for emergencies; the evacuation moved smoothly and without panic. Still, the sight of anyone bleeding on the town's streets angered me.
I turned my attention to the three culprits. One was a slim, tall man who looked polite enough and wore an earring. Another was bulky and muscular with a nose-ring. The last was short and stout, wearing a mouth-ring. Each had a bizarre hair color and style—like delinquents with dyed hair. The image fit them well.
"Who the hell are you people?" Shion demanded, stepping forward behind me. "Did you come here to cause trouble in Demon Lord Atem-sama's domain?"
The earring man stepped up with a grin.
"Get lost and out of my way. I've got no interest in scrubs. I was planning to kill that Clayman to take the demon lord's seat, but someone screwed that up for me and now I'm pissed. I don't do needless killing, but if anyone blocks me, I won't be so nice!"
His tone was arrogant and violent, but looking at the injured, it was clear none of them had been killed. Given the difference in magicule reserves, if he'd truly wanted murder, the Yomigaeri wouldn't be alive to testify. His claim of avoiding needless killing seemed believable enough.
Still—intent mattered. They came to stir trouble during our inauguration. This was intolerable. The Founding Festival loomed; merchants and nobles from other nations were already here. A disturbance now would be disastrous.
I let cold authority settle over me and stepped forward, my voice low and absolute. "You trespassed, attacked my people, and disrupted the peace of Eterna. Explain yourself, or answer for it."
The earring man froze—not from fear of words, but because something in my stance left no room for bluffing. Around us, the town's defenders tightened their formation at the edge of my presence, ready for my command. The three brats had misjudged this place. That miscalculation would cost them.