Su Shisan didn’t speak again. Instead, she pulled out a sheet of paper and started drafting her plans.
Since she wanted to gradually educate players in this game about the mechanics behind rule-based horror, she needed to construct a solid worldview first.
It wasn’t just about scaring them—it would also make her future dungeon designs smoother. With a consistent world framework, she could reuse the background across multiple scenarios.
And this wasn’t just her own theory. She had read in beginner forums that the more complete the worldbuilding, the easier it was for players to engage with the dungeons.
Every story boils down to three key elements: setting, plot, and characters.
Setting and plot were straightforward—a bizarre invasion of the world and humanity’s desperate resistance.
As for characters—In the universe of rule-based horror, there should be three fundamental factions: ordinary people, the bizarre entities, and those who fight against the bizarre.
Within these groups, countless sub-factions could emerge.
Su Shisan recalled her first dungeon and ran it through this framework. It fit perfectly.
NPC Thirteen was obviously a bizarre entity. The “Mother” figure was clearly a counterbalance—an anti-bizarre force. And the players?
They were the ordinary humans struggling to survive in this warped world.
That dungeon offered them no real escape. The rules enforced by “Mother” were technically correct, but only meant to stall for time. If the players followed the rules to the letter, survival was impossible.
This mirrored one type of anti-bizarre faction in her worldview: those willing to sacrifice the few to save the many. A handful of human lives traded for a temporary peace, giving others a chance to survive.
And naturally, this meant there had to be a contrasting force…
One term after another appeared on the page as Su Shisan slowly outlined the skeleton of this eerie universe.
“Thirteen! Someone contacted you through the Builder Exchange!”
On the third day of her worldbuilding efforts, the system suddenly alerted her.
The Exchange?
She immediately remembered posting herself under the NPC-for-hire section and her eyes lit up.
“Let me see.”
She opened her DMs to find a message from someone named Sparta, marked with a B-rank icon.
The message was short and to the point: “War-themed. Three days. Spy role. Interested?”
Su Shisan could understand the other person wanting to protect their dungeon concept—but wasn’t this a bit too brief?
What kind of war?
What kind of spy?
She had no clue.
Still, this was the first person to approach her for an NPC gig—and it was a war-themed scenario, which intrigued her.
So she replied, “Can you be a bit more specific?”
While waiting, she tapped on Sparta’s profile. Eight war-themed dungeons were listed, ranging from F-rank to B-rank.
The first one was “Interrogation Room,” followed by several mall-based anti-terrorism dungeons, and then large-scale battlefields.
Each one displayed a death rate—mostly hovering around 80%.
She couldn’t view the details of the dungeons, but judging by the titles and ranks, Sparta seemed competent.
Su Shisan had never met another Architect before, so she could only guess based on what she saw.
Sparta replied quickly: “Dungeon premise: 12 players sent on a suicide mission to infiltrate an enemy base and destroy the prison’s control center.”
“Main goal: escape alive. Bonus points for destroying the center. Your role: Pretend to be the 13th player. Ensure total party wipe.”
At first glance, the job sounded easy. It was an enemy base—high risk by nature. A single slip-up would blow the team’s cover. All Su Shisan would need to do is shout, and everyone would be exposed.
But she wasn’t naive—this wouldn’t be that simple. This was a B-rank dungeon.
The players would have access to better tools than the newbies she had dealt with before. If they vanished into thin air using props or skills, her sabotage mission could fail completely.
Plus, in this dungeon, she could “die.” If the players sniffed out her identity and struck first, it’d be an instant failure.
For Su Shisan, failure wasn’t the end of the world—it just meant losing some points or completion rate. But for Sparta, it would directly lower the dungeon’s ranking.
“Why ask me to do this?” she asked, curious. It wasn’t that she doubted her own ability—she just didn’t get why someone would trust a rookie Architect.
As if expecting the question, Sparta replied instantly:
“I found your post in the Exchange. Saw your dungeon had a 100% death rate. Looked you up on the player forums.”
“You clearly specialize in wiping out players. Most importantly, we clearly walk different paths. You’re low-ranked, so I don’t worry about you stealing my ideas. As for NPCs… all the ones I bought have zero brains. I need someone smarter.”
As a war dungeon designer, Sparta’s purchased NPCs focused on brute force. Intelligent and strong NPCs were incredibly expensive—B-rank or higher. So to save on points, she’d gone with muscle over mind.
Sparta even sent a screenshot and added:
“You probably can’t access the forums yet, right? Here’s a thread talking about your dungeon.”
The post was one of the many circulating online. Su Shisan opened it:
“Anyone cleared that Thirteen’s Perfect Companion dungeon yet? I’ll pay for a guide.”
[Little Karami e No.0]: My next dungeon is this one, but even the White Knight Guild doesn’t have a strategy guide. How am I supposed to survive it?
I don’t have many points left—if I die again, I can’t even afford rent. I’ll pay 30 points for a walkthrough that works!
[No.1]: This one’s brutal. I died for no reason. RIP my 100 points.
[No.2]: It’s a disgusting dungeon. The longer you stay, the dumber you get.
[No.3]: All I know is the White Knight Guild says both ‘Study’ and ‘Rest’ paths lead to death. Look for a third option if you want to live.
[No.6]: Bad news, OP. My ability lets me check dungeon death rates—and this one’s still at 100%!
Su Shisan didn’t mind the player reactions. Her dungeon was tough, yes—but it was survivable. A death rate of 100% simply made it more exciting.
Once people started beating it, no one would talk about it anymore.
But something in the thread caught her attention.
“Player abilities? Are they just props?”
The big eyeball (her system assistant) wobbled as if shaking its head.
“After clearing an F-rank dungeon, players unlock a natural talent.”
It then tried to pitch her something.
“You can buy an item from the shop to view their abilities—only 88,888 points for lifetime use!”
Su Shisan turned to look at it, deadpan.
“How many points do I have?”
“…1,725.”
The system shrank back in silence.
She returned to Sparta and messaged:
“I don’t know much about players. Just that they have talents and props. How do I blend in?”
It took a moment before Sparta responded:
“Make up a talent. Even B-rank players have garbage skills. I’ll supply the props. No one can access the system or forums during the dungeon, so they won’t suspect you.”
“Teaming is disabled too—they won’t know each other.”
Interestingly, the name she used in the forum and marketplace was always “Thirteen.” But clearly, no one thought that was her real name.
“Alright. Let’s meet and talk in person.”
With all concerns addressed, Su Shisan agreed decisively.
Sparta immediately opened a system-authorized teleportation portal. Both parties had to consent for the portal to activate.
Stepping into the swirling black vortex, Su Shisan felt the world spin. When it settled, she stood in a sleek, high-tech space—like the command center of a sci-fi game.
A giant screen dominated the center, broken into multiple feeds showing different monitored zones.
A woman with short, deep-blue hair lounged in the command chair, legs crossed, looking at her with curiosity. Dressed in a sleek silver military uniform, she radiated icy elegance and charisma.
“Thirteen?”
“Sparta.” Su Shisan met her gaze calmly, unfazed that this alluring woman didn’t seem to match the name “Sparta.”
Sparta’s eyes glinted with approval.
“Good look.”
“I need details on the dungeon.”
Su Shisan got straight to the point.
Sparta didn’t waste time. She brought up the map on the large screen.
“Airborne prison. Players are inmates. Escape goal: steal aircraft. Control hub: top floor center.”
Only then did Su Shisan notice Sparta’s peculiar speech—her words came in fragments, as if she physically couldn’t form full sentences.
But Sparta looked composed and confident, showing no embarrassment about her speech. Clearly, she didn’t care what others thought. Her willpower was unshakable.
She continued, pointing at two locations on the map.
“These two: heavily guarded. But I worry… players… find another way. Like… secret passages.”
Red markings highlighted the hidden routes—a “golden finger” of Su Shisan’s spy role. She’d be able to travel freely within the prison.
B-rank dungeons often attracted B- or even A-rank players. With their vast array of props and tricks, even Sparta’s airborne prison wasn’t immune to sabotage.
“One question.” Su Shisan asked while eyeing the busy prison on the monitors.
“How do you have so many NPCs?”
It was a classic rookie Architect question. Sparta chuckled.
“They’re… natives. Real ghosts… infused with lore. Not NPCs, not players, not us. Only D-rank and above can use. Keep grinding.”
So that’s how. No wonder NPCs were so expensive. Large-scale dungeons would cost a fortune unless you used native spirits. Now it all made sense.
“…That’s why I hired you. Tempt the players. Push the mission. Make sure they all die.”
Sparta’s voice was low and smooth, her smile utterly captivating—even as she delivered her chilling final directive, one word at a time.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.