The squirming Goblin in my grasp blinks up at me, its small, surprisingly delicate features a stark contrast to the snarling, grotesque images I’ve always associated with its kind. I turn it slightly, examining the smooth curve of its cheek, the tiny, almost human nose. "Is that a Goblin, Abi?" Blondie's voice, laced with confusion, echoes beside me, mirroring my own bewildered thoughts.

  I’m lost. Utterly lost. This isn’t right. This is profoundly, disturbingly wrong. Just moments ago, I was thinking about how to efficiently level adventurers through my dungeon. Now, I’m holding a creature that, if it weren’t for the faint green tinge to its skin, could easily be mistaken for a lost child.

  A fragmented memory surfaces: a flippant joke, a offhanded joke. "Come visit, Abi. Become beautiful just by being inside her." I’d laughed then, winding up Me. But now, it's staring back at me, a fucked up parody of my own words. How can I possibly unleash adventurers on this? On what looks like a vulnerable child?

  My menu offers no explanation. It merely confirms the creature’s identity: Goblin. But that's not enough. The others… I glance around. A few more Goblins, scattered amongst the horde, sport the same disconcerting transformation. Gone are the wrinkled, menacing faces; replaced by youthful, almost innocent features.

  This is a catastrophe.

  How? How are these little monsters capable of such a drastic metamorphosis? Trixie and Barry are as furry and metallic as ever. Even Colin, king of drooling, maintains his bizarre, captivating aura of majestic mimicry. None of them have undergone a horrifyingly beautiful shift in species.

  My dungeon is spiraling into chaos. The carefully crafted ecosystem, designed to provide a challenge, is crumbling. Who’s going to attack adorable children? Who’s going to slaughter what could pass for a band of lost, slightly green, youths? And then there's the sheer number of them. Twenty thousand. Twenty fucking thousand Goblins and Hobgoblins, potentially transforming. Each floor, packed to its thousand-creature capacity, hold these… These things.

  I can’t use them. I can’t unleash them. Imagine the headlines: "Adventurers Slaughter Innocent-Looking Youths in Dungeon." The public outcry would be deafening. I can almost picture the horrified faces, the righteous indignation. Not the look my dungeon is going for. I shake my head, trying to clear the mounting panic.

  Suddenly, a cacophony of roars erupts from the Troll floor. I spin around, my heart pounding. Obling, the first line of defense, is still holding strong, but the Trolls… they’ve had more time to soak up the… the “good-looking juices.”

  I quickly check the other floors using my overview and wish I didn't. My jaw drops. It’s worse than I imagined. The Trolls, once hulking, repulsive brutes, now possess a disturbing, almost unsettling beauty. Their features are sharpened, their postures regal, their muscles rippling with an almost sexy grace.

  "Shit. Stupid, good-looking Trolls and Goblins," I mutter, my voice thick with exasperation. "Why can't anything ever be easy?" My dungeon is turning into a monstrous beauty pageant and I have no idea how to stop it. What did I even come here for again? I wanted to check on the adventurers, to see how they're faring, and now I'm stuck with a horde of supermodels.

  Bastards!

  After a quick look, I'm left speechless.

  Me?

  Why? I gesticulate wildly. Even though he's not here, my free hand waving towards the throng of… Things that are supposed to be Goblins. Why are they all so… Attractive? I mean, shouldn't Goblins be, you know, ugly? Smelly? The epitome of repulsive?

  I wrinkle my nose, trying to conjure the usual stench, the earthy, rancid odor I associate with them. But there's nothing. Instead, a delicate, almost floral scent drifts up, something akin to sun-warmed herbs and clean linen. It's utterly disorienting.

  They even smell nice! I exclaim, my voice rising in incredulous frustration. How? How is that even possible? There's no bath, no water source down here. They live in… In dirt!

  My gaze sweeps over the newly spawned Goblins. They’re not the grotesque, hunched figures I’m used to. They stand tall, with sharp, almost elven features. Their skin has a healthy glow, and their eyes sparkle with an unsettling intelligence. Even the Trolls, usually hulking monstrosities of moss and grime, possess a certain… Rugged charm.

  A strange, unsettling thought creeps in. "Should I even be complaining?" I mutter, the words barely audible. "Goblins are usually my biggest source of irritation. But they've completely flipped the script, turning everything I hate about them on its head. I pause, my brow furrowed. "Am I really going to keep whining just because they're… Pretty?"

  Yeah, but… Damn it, I mutter, the words escaping with a frustrated sigh. "I didn't see this coming. This is well beyond unexpected. Stupid Goblins. And stupid Trolls for aiding them in this… This beautification project."

  I glance down at the small Goblin child still clutched in my grasp. It stares back with wide, intelligent eyes, its features delicate and refined. I can't reconcile this creature with the feral, repulsive image I hold in my mind.

  I suppose I am, I admit in a low, miserable grumble. The cognitive dissonance is a physical ache. I know the child is a Goblin, but my brain refuses to process it as such.

  With a flick of my wrist, I disable the auto-spawners. I need to contain this anomaly. "Fine," I mutter, a grudging acceptance settling over me. "If they want beauty, they'll get it."

  I begin to manipulate the fabric of the dungeon, carving out a new space beneath the surface. Floor 43, nearly the size of Varona, but hidden from view, takes shape. This will be their new home. A home for twenty thousand Goblins and their equally attractive Troll companions.

  "Pfft," I exhale, a mix of exasperation and reluctant admiration. "Stupid, beautiful Goblins."

  Huts spring into existence, morphing into Dwellings, then Longhouses, and finally, Reinforced Longhouses, each iteration a testament to my growing repertoire. Offshoots appear, variations tailored to the specific needs of the burgeoning population. Tanneries rise, their pungent aroma a promise of processed hides. Cramped Coops materialize, promising a steady supply of eggs. Meat Shacks, their crude structures dripping with the promise of sustenance, dot the landscape. And across the sprawling expanse, I seed the forest with an abundance of cheap animal spawners, ensuring a constant flow of food, a guarantee against the gnawing hunger of so many creatures.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  They still don't need to eat, but when did that stop anyone doing anything around here?

  I still can't quite believe I'm catering to Goblins and Trolls. The very thought would have sent shivers of revulsion down my non-existent spine before. But change is the essence of my existence, a constant flux that I need to embrace. If I'm to truly embody my role as the Dungeon Core, I must adapt, even if that means overcoming my ingrained aversion to the little green bastards.

  Once the adventurers and guards return to their relentless pursuit of levels, I'll restart the Goblinators. I don't need more loitering around the dungeon, sucking up my beauty juices. Good, old-fashioned, ugly, and smelly Goblins, ripe for the killing are what the adventurers need.

  Until then, I push the thought aside, a problem for the future, a burden for the ever-reliable "me." Future-Abi can handle it. She's always here, always ready, a tireless worker who never shirks her duties. It's a convenient arrangement.

  "Are we done now? I'm getting hungry." Amber's voice, a familiar refrain, cuts through my thoughts. Her stomach rumbles in agreement, a symphony of impatience. I glance around, realizing how much time has slipped away. Building a miniature city, even with my abilities, is a time-consuming endeavor.

  Although, Amber's hunger is a constant, a perpetual state of being, regardless of the time. Violet and Bear exude an air of bored restlessness, while Blondie seems to be engaged in a silent conversation with someone, her eyes fixed on some unseen point, her lips moving in a barely perceptible murmur.

  After a brief, but satisfying, lunch, we relocate to the Coliseum. The thought of forcing the triplets to fight gnaws at my conscience, but the clash with King Aldus has laid bare our weaknesses. We can't afford complacency. The triplets' swift demise, a stark reminder of their vulnerability, has spurred me into action.

  The monstrous element of my family, though victorious, can't rest on their laurels either. They too need to grow stronger, hone their skills. Everyone must prepare for the inevitable challenges that lie ahead. Prevention is the key and a proactive approach to ensure that the next battle, whatever form it may take, does not end the same way.

  "Are you ready, girls?" My voice, though laced with concern, carries a note of determination. This is their first real fight, a baptism of fire, and I can't shake the feeling of unease. The Immortality feature of the Coliseum offers a safety net, but it does little to quell my maternal instincts.

  The triplets, however, radiate an eagerness that borders on excitement. They seem almost impatient to test their mettle, to prove their worth. A pang of guilt strikes me, a realization of the opportunities I've denied them.

  I retreat to the Ringmaster's booth, leaving the girls and Bear to face their trials. They need this, and so do I. I need the reassurance that they can defend themselves, that they are not as fragile as I fear.

  Excitement flickers across their faces as Golems rise from the arena floor, their stony visages impassive, their movements deliberate. They stand motionless, awaiting Randy's commands. Violet sets Bear on the ground, and the battle begins.

  Even as I watch the triplets, my mind drifts to Marie. The lack of a backup Space Mage weighs heavily on me, a constant source of anxiety. I have access to the magic myself, but replicating the older woman's expertise is a daunting task.

  Before absorbing my Core, Marie was reluctant to teach. Stating her time was precious, her focus elsewhere. But since I offered her an out, she's undergone a transformation. Embracing her role as a mentor she's actually conducting three classes a day. If she can cultivate even a few more Space Mages, I'll be content, and she'll be off the hook. It's a win win.

  Then, she can pursue her dream of joining the Syndicate full-time. I won't stand in her way, not if it's truly her passion. But I can't bear the thought of losing her now, not without a replacement, not without someone to fill the void she'd leave behind.

  Marie's role in closing the portal to the demon realm was pivotal. Without her, without her mastery of space, that battle might have ended very differently. The Assassins were nearing exhaustion, their reserves depleted. Had the demons continued to pour through the portal, would we have been overwhelmed? Could I have closed the portal myself?

  Amber's sudden appearance in the spectator box snaps me back to the present. She's been teleported, a clear indication of her defeat. Blondie follows soon after and then Violet, all vanquished by the Golems.

  "Why were the Golems so strong?" Blondie's voice, laced with indignation, breaks the silence. I discreetly shift away from Randy, inwardly echoing her question.

  "That's what I was about to say," Violet pouts, her eyes fixed on Randy. "I'm never doing that again."

  "They tasted disgusting too." Amber's contribution, as always, is uniquely hers.

  I'm speechless. Why she tried to eat a Golem, especially after lunch, is beyond comprehension. And why she did it in her human form, when she could have transformed, is even more baffling. None of the triplets used their Dragon forms, a tactical blunder that undoubtedly contributed to their defeat.

  "I don't think I want to do it either. Who needs to level up? I can just stay in the dungeon." Blondie's reluctance is palpable.

  "Never mind. You can try again tomorrow," I say, my voice firm despite the pang of guilt.

  "What?" The triplets' voices, a chorus of disbelief, break their usual unison. The thought of facing the Golems again seems to shatter their carefully constructed personas.

  "I know it was tough. But think about how tough it was for me, watching you die. I don't want to go through that again."

  "But... You can always bring us back like last time," Violet counters, her logic surprisingly sound. If only she knew the cost.

  "Doing that cost me 30,000 DP for the three of you. It's 10,000 for Bear as well. That's probably why he's still in the ring." Violet's eyes widen as she realizes Bear's absence.

  10,000 DP for a bear cub? I was probably insane. The autonomous monsters are still stomping on him, but they're making no headway. One of the Golems feet breaks on his back, and it falls to the ground.

  Well, that was unexpected.

  "It's not a bad deal to avoid death, Violet. I agree, but you can't guarantee I'll always have the points to do that. No. It's a much better idea for you three to level up."

  "But I don't wanna." Violet's voice is thick with tears.

  "Please don't make me do this again, Abi." Blondie's plea is heart-wrenching.

  "I'm so hungry I could die." Amber's pronouncement, as always, is perfectly timed.

  I feel a wave of guilt wash over me. I hate seeing them like this, but I know I'm doing the right thing.

  "Why didn't any of you transform? The Golems literally stomped all over you, just like they're doing to Bear. You could have done the same thing to them if you changed into your Dragon form."

  The triplets look aghast, as if I've uttered a blasphemy.

  "Don't you like us like this, Abi?" Blondie's voice is laced with sadness.

  "What? Of course I do. I like you alive more though. Who said I didn't like your Dragon form?"

  "No one. It's just that we've been this way since you summoned us. We thought you wanted us to stay this way

  "No. I just... If you need to, then transform. I don't mind either way. I just want you to survive. Anyway..." I give the triplets a few pointers on their battle, with the Ringmaster nodding along behind me.

  Inside the ring, a very excited Bear has just earned his first kill. Climbing on the body of the floored construct, the other Golem continued its attacks. That kept the injured Golem out of commission while damaging it enough for the little cub to claim victory.

  Bear, unfazed by the blow, springs from the ruined Golem, a blur of motion after leveling. He lands squarely in front of his new opponent, his eyes blazing with a primal intensity. The air crackles with anticipation.

  My voice catches in my throat. I’ve completely forgotten about the girls beside me. My entire world has shrunk to the circle of the ring, to the tiny, ferocious cub facing down a mountain of stone. The dust motes dancing in the harsh arena light seem to hold their breath.

  Huh? A strange thought worms its way into my mind. Is Bear… Is he going to be stronger than the triplets?