Ch.44Dungeon (1)

“A dungeon, you say?”

I went to find the Mourner not long after.

“Dungeon… It’s been a while since I heard that word.”

The middle-aged man who had made himself a decent dwelling in the forest looked much healthier than before, anyone could see that.

He seemed to have slept well, as the dark circles that had been prominent around his eyes were now gone, and his severely limping leg appeared relatively better.

Though he said the wounds that had settled into his body hadn’t completely healed, he looked more like a person living a normal life than before.

Next to the hut he had built was a drying rack for fruits, and through the partially open door, I could see a proper bed and a pot of brewed tea on the nightstand.

Yes, this is how a person’s home should be. I nodded as I thought this.

“I was hoping you could come with me. Would that be possible?”

“No reason why not. Give me a moment.”

He smiled amiably as he gathered his belongings.

His belongings weren’t much—just a raw leather coat that looked handmade, a hunting knife, and a small axe.

The middle-aged man was the Mourner.

“Let’s go.”

I left the forest with the man who still wouldn’t tell me his name, and we met up with Isla. After joining forces, we headed in the direction of the dungeon.

And the dungeon was much closer than we had thought.

[Play time: 9,207 hours]

The ground where the snow had stopped was muddy, but no one in our party was going to be slowed down by such terrain.

As a result, our progress was quick, and even Isla, who had the lowest stamina among us, was an excellent hunter, so it wasn’t a problem.

We were able to reach the entrance of our target dungeon after just over four and a half days.

And the sight of the dungeon I was seeing after so long was…

“Efficient.”

As Isla said, it had an efficient design.

It looked like a temple situated prominently in the center of a mountain that had been hollowed out, like many of the mountains scattered across this land.

But rather than being ornate, it was a dungeon that gave off a strong impression of simplicity.

“Are we camping here tonight?”

“I’d like to go up since we still have time.”

As I listened to the Mourner and Isla’s exchange, I stared blankly at the strange dungeon that resembled both a temple and a tomb.

“…No, let’s set up camp here.”

Isla and the Mourner turned their gazes toward me.

The old man seemed to want to ask me why, but…

“Alright. Is this spot okay? Or should we change the location a bit?”

“We can change the location… I’ll leave my cloak with you, please take care of it.”

“Got it.”

No questions like where are you going or why are you doing this.

Without such inquiries, Isla simply moved according to my suggestion.

It wasn’t because she lacked thoughts or opinions. She knew well what I could and couldn’t do.

Moreover, she trusted me. A woman who would give her life for me couldn’t lack such trust.

I moved according to her trust.

“Mister, could you help Isla?”

“Sure. But why…?”

“I want to take a quick look around.”

The middle-aged Mourner seemed reluctant but soon helped Isla without further comment.

The scene of them preparing a place for the campfire and arranging various tools and camping supplies from the cloak was worth watching absentmindedly, but my body, which had been forced to remain still like a pillar for quite some time, wouldn’t allow it.

So I moved. After roughly noting the campsite location and memorizing the direction just in case, I walked toward the dungeon.

The snow crunching under my feet was still pristine white, perhaps having fallen not long ago, and the traces I occasionally spotted with my exceptional vision were mostly from animals.

Even those were few in number. Was it because we were near the dungeon, or was there another reason?

I’d know soon enough. I continued walking without hesitation, trying to take in everything with my eyes.

There was much to see.

Animal traces were sparse for a place near a dungeon, and among those, there were more land animals than birds.

And most of the visible animals were small, agile creatures that could survive in any environment.

There were many rocks near the mountain, and while the terrain was rough enough to make climbing to the dungeon arduous, a closer look revealed paths.

Stairs and stone paths that seemed to lead directly into the dungeon. Traces that ordinary people or non-veterans might miss.

I glanced briefly in the direction of our campsite before climbing the stairs.

I felt I needed to see the dungeon entrance to know more.

As I climbed, the mountain terrain gradually became more treacherous. Rough, as if it would not permit any form of life.

Yet even to me, who knew little about mountains, there was an inexplicable sense of dissonance.

It could almost be described as artificial.

As if the soil of the mountain had been stripped away and all vegetation living on it had been completely pushed aside.

But I soon realized that wasn’t quite right. I had already reached the entrance of the dungeon.

A homunculus like me has no magical power.

That doesn’t mean I’m not affected by magic. I just don’t have magical power; I don’t repel or resist it.

If I were a species that repelled magic like a Black Knight, it might be different, but I could feel some kind of energy seeping into my body.

It was a familiar sensation.

Memories flickered of something I had once seen, pierced through, and descended into to impale its heart.

Yes, this was black magic.

Traces of a magic also known as the School of Exploration. Despite its countless branches, its fundamental nature remained unchanged.

It was the presence of death.

Most adventurers wouldn’t know, but I was well aware that necromancers and black mages were not so distantly related.

Standing at the entrance of the dungeon, before the massive stone door, it became certain.

I had already suspected from the visible traces, but now there was no room for doubt.

This dungeon belonged to one of the three clans—specifically, the necromancers.

And it was likely an unexplored dungeon, with some powerful entity still alive inside.

At the same time, I could imagine details that Melody wouldn’t know.

There must have been outlaws here from the beginning.

When they were alive, this would have been an outlaw hideout, and the mountain would have been teeming with life.

All kinds of vegetation would have flourished, and various birds and beasts would have lurked around, making food supplies plentiful.

Sometime, someone…

Until they awakened something that had been sleeping inside.

Something powerful enough to wither and kill all vegetation in the surrounding mountains, yet reclusive enough to shut itself inside the dungeon.

There were many possibilities to imagine.

Even narrowing it down to common boss monsters from necromancer dungeons, the list was extensive.

Aboleth, Drider.

Or twisted monsters like Beholders or creatures like Mimics.

From those with atypical appearances to monsters commonly seen in any fantasy game.

Diverse, but with the common trait of emanating death energy and preferring to hide away.

In the midst of this, I belatedly recalled the near absence of birds in the area.

A being that birds avoid or that causes them to die off completely.

It was reasonable to assume something that could fly.

The possibilities of a Beholder or an Aboleth were high. Either would be a formidable opponent.

It would be better to find more clues to be certain before proceeding.

But I couldn’t risk dying alone by entering the dungeon for that purpose.

Feeling the sharp energy piercing my skin, I turned back and descended the stairs.

By the time I finished my exploration and returned to the campsite, it was already set up and meal preparations were underway.

A large pot was boiling over the campfire, and Isla was checking the seasoning in front of it.

Her eyes were on the pot, but as I approached, her tail moved from side to side. Isla welcomed me without even giving me a glance.

Her face remained expressionless, but that was part of her charm.

Thinking this, I removed my gauntlets and tossed them onto the cloak.

“How was it?”

“It’s a necromancer’s dungeon.”

“Are you sure? Just from looking at the outside—”

“I’m certain. There’s no one in this world who knows dungeons better than I do.”

Unless the six above me were to come. Otherwise, I was the being who knew dungeons best in this world.

Perhaps even better than the three clans.

“Hmm, if you say so, I won’t argue. But could you explain in more detail?”

The old man, known only as “mister” or “old man” since I didn’t know his name, didn’t seem to know much about dungeons.

Assuming Isla was similarly unfamiliar, I sat down on the chair placed in front of the campfire.

“There will be undead.”

“Undead?”

Isla asked, and for her benefit, I briefly explained.

Monsters returned from death. Decaying, twisted, abandoned bodies that are only controlled.

Isla’s reaction was sour.

“So aiming for the heart won’t work.”

“It depends on the undead, but it’s better to aim for the head if possible.”

As a hunter, she often targeted the heart rather than the head.

Aiming for the center of the body was much more accurate than targeting the head, and many beasts had hard skulls.

But with her skills, targeting wouldn’t be impossible. Isla stirred the simmering stew for a moment and then nodded.

“And there’s some kind of magic spread throughout the dungeon that will quickly tire you if you stay active for too long. Resting inside is out of the question. You could die that way.”

“So we’ll have to go back and forth.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to place the campsite closer?”

I shook my head.

“Then we’d be affected by the magic. This distance is just right.”

It was something I had suspected from the moment I first saw the dungeon.

That’s why I had the campsite set up here. I said as I accepted the bowl of stew Isla handed me.

“It will be tiring, but this is the best option. Of course, if there are other opinions, I’ll listen…”

“None here. Dungeons aren’t my specialty.”

“Mine neither.”

Isla prepared portions of stew for herself and the old man, then sipped her own.

“I trust Lu.”

She said, briefly sticking out her tongue as if the stew was too hot.

The name “Lu” she called me was, so to speak, my nickname.

It was an Isla-exclusive nickname she had stubbornly used since meeting Melody.

I thought it was a bit of a lazy nickname.

Lu from Llewellyn—if my name were Kim, would she call me “Ki”? It felt a bit odd.

But it wasn’t all bad. It also meant we had become close.

Above all, since Melody continued to call me “you” even after learning my name, I knew Isla was doing this out of a sense of competition.

So it was fine. The sound wasn’t bad either.

She seemed to like it so much that it felt awkward to say anything against it, so I let Isla call me that.

“So tomorrow we’ll enter the dungeon?”

“That’s the plan.”

“If you want to identify all the traps, two months would—”

“Two weeks.”

“…Two weeks?!”

Two months. Even that would be quite a fast schedule.

For an ordinary adventurer, that is. But I was no ordinary adventurer.

“Two weeks is enough.”

I was a veteran.

Not just any veteran—I was the world’s 7th fastest speedrunner for “clearing all dungeons and seeing the ending.”

The middle-aged man closed his mouth at my confident smile, and soon after finishing our meal, we went to sleep.

*

I woke up in the morning.

That part was no different from usual, but today there was one difference.

ROOOOOOOOOAR!

I was awakened by a tremendous roar.

As I rushed out of the tent, Isla, who had been sleeping clinging to me, was already outside, staring blankly at the sky.

Even the old man, who had been on watch duty, was gazing upward in a daze, so I too raised my head.

And that’s when I saw it.

A pair of massive shadows like an eclipse cast upon the ground, something enormous fluttering across the sky casting those shadows.

It was something very different from what I had expected.

Horns protruding from its head and vertical pupils split beneath them.

A long, imposing physique with scales that gleamed like metal.

The immense air pressure that made the entire forest and world tremble with each flap of its wings.

There was only one way to describe such a being.

“…A dragon?”

I stared blankly at the dragon returning to the dungeon through its ceiling.