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The clone nodded in silent agreement, his hands moving as quickly as mine to extract the core\'s components. The runes etched into the stones surrounding the core glowed faintly as we extracted them, each one a key to controlling the dungeon\'s unique properties. Once we finished, this place would no longer be a threat, but a tool at my disposal.

While we continued to dismantle the core, my mind reached out to the other clone, the one stationed deeper within the tower, overseeing the next phase of my plan. He had summoned my devil servants: the hobgoblin, the minotaur, and the undead goblin king. Their presence was palpable, a reminder of the power I held over the creatures that once ruled these dungeons.

The hobgoblin stood tall, its once crude form now far more refined after the battles we\'d faced together. The minotaur, hulking and menacing, was no less fearsome. Both of them had served me well, but it was time for them to evolve—time for them to become something far more dangerous.

As the clone called them forward, he reached into his robes and pulled out a single petal from Armandra\'s corpseflower.

"Here," the clone said, his voice cold and commanding. "Take this."

He handed the petal to the hobgoblin devil servant first, watching as the creature hesitated, its glowing yellow eyes locked on the small, delicate fragment. The petal, while seemingly fragile, was imbued with the very essence of Armandra\'s lingering power—an energy born from the twisted mana of the dungeon, shaped by her malice and hatred.

It was a catalyst, one that would push the hobgoblin to the next stage of its evolution.

The hobgoblin took the petal, and immediately, a vortex of mana began swirling around him. The power was palpable, a sharp, crackling force that sent ripples through the air. His body trembled, his muscles bulging as the mana consumed him, reshaping him. The transformation was quick, brutal, and awe-inspiring.

His once lanky frame filled out, his skin darkening to a deep, almost obsidian hue, veins of glowing red mana pulsing beneath the surface. His eyes burned with new intensity, and when he stood straight once more, he was no longer a mere hobgoblin.

He had become a Goblin Champion, a devil servant of immense strength. His aura was heavier, more dangerous, his very presence commanding respect and fear. He flexed his newly muscled arms, testing his strength, and let out a low, guttural growl of satisfaction.

The clone smiled coldly. "Good."

Next, he turned to the minotaur. The massive creature towered over the clone, its breath coming out in slow, heavy snorts. Unlike the hobgoblin, the minotaur\'s transformation would require more than just strength—it would need control, discipline. The clone handed the second petal to the minotaur, watching as the creature accepted it with a solemn nod.

The moment the petal touched the minotaur\'s hand, the air around them grew thick with energy. Mana swirled in a wild, chaotic storm, but the minotaur held firm, standing steady as the power coursed through him. His transformation was different—less violent, more deliberate. His muscles bulged, yes, but his posture shifted, becoming more controlled, more regal.

His fur darkened to a deep, midnight black, and his horns lengthened, curling forward with an imposing grace.

The energy solidified, and when the transformation was complete, the minotaur stood taller, prouder. He was no longer a mere brute force on the battlefield. He had become something more—an Ascendant Minotaur, a devil servant with not just strength, but strategy. His eyes gleamed with intelligence, and the runes that now covered his body glowed faintly with a cold, blue light.

He had evolved into a creature of both physical and magical power.

"Excellent," the clone remarked, his voice laced with satisfaction. "You\'ll serve me well in this new form."

But as the clone surveyed his newly evolved servants, something caught his eye—something he hadn\'t expected. The undead goblin king, standing a few paces behind the others, was holding something. His bony, decaying fingers were wrapped around a small, writhing object—a creature that looked as though it had been torn from the very fabric of the dungeon itself.

The clone\'s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, his interest piqued. "What do you have there?"

The goblin king\'s hollow eyes met the clone\'s, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he held out the object for inspection. It was the remains of a small creature, barely alive, its body blackened and twisted, but unmistakably powerful. It took a moment for the clone to recognize it, but when he did, a wicked smile spread across his face.

The creature was the [Ebon Devourer]—a legendary beast known for feeding on the mana of dungeons. It was rare, feared, and powerful enough to rival a demon lord in strength. And yet, here it was, weak, barely clinging to life in the hands of the undead goblin king.

Somehow, the undead goblin king has guessed that I\'m going to need the [Ebon Devourer] and perhaps retrieve it in the middle of our battle with Armandra.

As in the battle with the wicked half-elf, the undead goblin king together with the hobgoblin devil servant and the minotaur devil servant are busy on keeping way the other dungeon creatures from hindering our fight, so perhaps even Armandra didn\'t notice the subtle move and the smart decision it made.

This is a good sign.

It means that his servants, the three of them, have enough intellect that could broaden the type of missions I could send them to. And it seems they have great decision-making capabilities with my benefits in mind.

"Well, well," the clone murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement. "You\'ve found quite the prize."

Experience tales at empire

Without hesitation, the clone reached into his robes and summoned the Devil Pen, its black ink swirling ominously in the air. The pen floated toward the [Ebon Devourer], and with a single, commanding thought, the clone spoke the word of power.

"[Enslave]."

The pen flared to life, its dark energy wrapping around the creature like chains, binding it to my will. The [Ebon Devourer] writhed, its body convulsing as it fought against the magic, but it was futile. The pen\'s power was absolute, and within moments, the creature stopped struggling. Its blackened form stilled, its eyes dimming as it succumbed to the enslavement process.

The clone watched with satisfaction as the [Ebon Devourer] fell silent, its body limp but alive, now fully under my control. This creature, once a feared force within the dungeons, would now serve me—an invaluable asset to my growing army.

The [Ebon Devourer]\'s power was immense. It had the ability to absorb mana from its surroundings, feeding on the very life force of the dungeons it inhabited. With this creature in my service, I could drain entire areas of mana, leaving nothing but desolation in my wake. And in turn, I could grow stronger, feeding off the power it absorbed.

The clone stepped back, admiring his handiwork. "You will prove useful in the battles to come," he said, his voice low and cold. "With your power, we\'ll be unstoppable."

As the [Ebon Devourer] lay still, now bound to me, the clone couldn\'t help but feel a surge of anticipation. This was just the beginning. The dungeon core, the evolving devil servants, the legendary creature now under my control—it was all coming together. Piece by piece, I was building something far greater than anyone could imagine.

And when the time came to face the true enemies of this world, I would be ready.

The dungeon core was nearly dismantled, its power now mine to wield. My clones were already in motion, preparing for the next steps. And with the addition of the [Ebon Devourer], my strength was growing exponentially. This world, with all its chaos and corruption, would bend to my will.

I smiled, a cold, calculating smile.

This was the path to victory.