Ch.45Dungeon (2)

Dragons are the most iconic creatures in fantasy.

Whether you’re a fan of mass-produced fantasy, light novels, strictly copyrighted traditional fantasy, or games.

Everyone imagines something similar when they hear the word dragon.

A massive lizard with wings. A monster that breathes fire.

It was the same for me, who had read, watched, and played many things with shallow but broad exposure.

That’s what dragons meant to me too.

So there was no chance I had mistaken something flying for something else.

What I saw was undeniably a dragon. A monster with gleaming white scales that shimmered in the shadows they cast.

A transcendent monster that typically appears as the final boss in fantasy stories.

But I couldn’t simply accept that such a monster was a dragon at face value.

Of course, anyone would recognize it as a dragon, but…

“Dragon? What’s that?”

“Sounds familiar somehow… but I don’t know.”

I could tell from Isla and the old man’s responses.

They either had never heard of dragons or only had vague recollections of them.

That made sense.

As far as I knew, dragons didn’t exist in the world of Grim Darker.

Or more precisely, they once existed but disappeared.

Dragons went extinct before the Empire was even a kingdom.

I stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to make of an extinct dragon casually entering a dungeon.

*

Despite that incident, our campsite remained largely unaffected.

The forest was quiet, and despite such a massive monster passing through, there were no frenzied beasts.

That made sense too. There would need to be beasts around to go wild in the first place, but what creature would stay in an area where such a monster had made its nest in a dungeon?

Now I understood why there were no birds. Most had either fled or gotten caught up and died.

“What should we do?”

“We have to go in and see.”

So there was only one choice left.

Continue forward or retreat.

I chose to continue.

“Are you sure?”

Isla asked briefly.

“It looked strong.”

“It is strong. But… I’m curious why it’s here.”

Dragons are an extinct species.

Now, only dragonkin remain, carrying their bloodline.

Even they are powerful. They make you realize the true strength of dragons.

They possess physical abilities derived from their powerful souls and vast magical energy, along with regenerative capabilities and racial traits like their breath attacks.

In the game, dragonkin were an unplayable race. I heard you could play them with mods, but they severely disrupted game balance, so I never tried.

But I had encountered them as enemies. To speedrun, you need to know the game inside out, so I deliberately antagonized them sometimes.

They were formidable opponents. Their close combat capabilities rivaled those of a well-developed Homunculus Mourner.

It’s natural that their ancestors would be powerful. Generally, it would be best not to confront them, but…

Instinctively, I felt we needed to investigate now.

The danger remained the same. How often had I been safe since coming to this land?

I had even recently faced a massive crisis to my self-esteem, so I prepared without much concern.

[Play Time: 9,222 hours]

Preparations were completed shortly after noon.

I led the way with a longsword at my waist and various improvised tools tucked inside my cloak for use in the dungeon.

Since we wouldn’t be camping inside, I didn’t bring food or camping supplies.

But I did pack basic medical supplies for treatment.

Herbs good for wounds, bandages to secure them, and tourniquets I had suggested making.

After some trial and error, they turned out to be quite decent items.

I might survive injuries as long as my neck remained intact, but the others wouldn’t, so these were essential.

Remembering where I placed the medical supplies inside my cloak for easy access, I was about to climb the stairs when:

“What’s the plan?”

Isla asked. She was right behind me, holding her crossbow.

What plan, indeed.

She probably meant about the dragon. I thought for a moment.

First, I couldn’t understand why a dragon was inside the dungeon at all.

Why it had chosen this place as its nest.

Why a supposedly extinct dragon was specifically here.

If dragons weren’t extinct as believed, how many more existed in this land.

There was too much I didn’t know. I didn’t even know the dragon’s exact capabilities, so I couldn’t tell if confronting it was a good idea.

No, that’s wrong.

We shouldn’t confront it. While I might not die unless my head is severed, there was no guarantee that would remain true.

And if that applied to me, the rest of the party certainly didn’t have the specs to fight a dragon.

At least a level 8+ Mourner and a shapeshifter hunter of unknown level.

Without a protection school mage, this wasn’t a party that could challenge a dragon.

“We’ll explore the dungeon interior while trying not to be detected.”

I wasn’t sure of the dungeon’s exact structure, but the dragon probably couldn’t sense everything throughout the entire dungeon.

Melody wanted us to explore the dungeon, not hunt a dragon inside it.

If we explored and returned with news of a dragon, Melody, who had seen and heard all sorts of things, would understand.

With that plan in mind, we entered the dungeon without hesitation.

“Old man, on the count of three…”

“Three.”

“Damn it.”

The massive door opened, and stale air enveloped us.

What greeted us along with that eerie atmosphere was an enormous corridor.

A corridor so vast that we had to crane our necks to see the ceiling. Though it was said to be carved from the mountains, its vastness was unexpected.

I stood in the corridor, which could accommodate an entire army, and looked around in a daze.

“Is this a dungeon?”

“No, they’re not typically like this.”

The Mourner answered Isla. I remained silent, agreeing with the old man.

Indeed, dungeons were typically cramped according to common perception.

Not this vast and enormous.

But considering that the new continent was unexplored, perhaps such dungeons could exist.

Moreover, if it was a necromancer’s dungeon, it would be optimized for raising large armies.

With enough corpses, magic, and surrounding life force to steal, this dungeon could function as a barracks.

Yes, I was convinced this dungeon was a barracks.

“Keep formation as we move. Be ready to respond if enemies appear at any time.”

This dungeon is a barracks. Though I’ve never experienced this type before, it’s simple to understand based on estimation.

I’ve explored every dungeon in the old continent of Grim Darker. Even if the structures differ, there are patterns.

Every dungeon has a theme and purpose, and they don’t deviate much from that theme and purpose.

It’s natural since they were research facilities or installations used by the Three Clans.

The key is to quickly identify that theme. I scanned the surroundings as we slowly advanced.

With the Star Blade drawn and burning away the darkness, I carefully committed everything I saw to memory.

Traps, enemies, and structures appear according to the theme.

Fortresses have more enemies than traps.

They include complex structures designed to repel intruders.

Research facilities, on the other hand, are more intuitive than complex, though their structural complexity varies by specific theme.

But they tend to have many traps, or trap-like fixtures.

Bosses also differ by theme.

In fortresses, they’re monsters that defended the fortress, while in research facilities, they’re creatures twisted by experimental results.

So what about this place? I assumed this barracks was a variation of a fortress.

The dragon we saw earlier was likely the boss or connected to it.

So my approach was very straightforward.

“Retreat path secured.”

“Good. Let’s keep moving forward. Report anything you find.”

“What should I do?”

“Guard the rear and be ready for combat.”

“Understood.”

I could handle any traps we encountered.

All that remained was to move forward.

We advanced, exploring the corridors.

Moving along the central passage, we detoured when we encountered collapsed, impassable corridors.

Our goal was the inner sanctum, the center.

While always ensuring a retreat path, I also considered the possibility of the dragon pursuing us.

If undead enemies started pouring out of the barracks, the noise of battle would inevitably attract the dragon.

So we always secured retreat paths, even when detouring through side passages.

I remembered these paths, and while checking for traps, the routes remained clear in my mind.

But unexpectedly, there was no combat.

Instead, only silence greeted us. The repetitive similar structures made it even more strange.

“Are necromancer dungeons… always this quiet?”

The old man asked. I recalled the dungeons I had seen in the game.

Countless undead pouring out. Endlessly surging forward, breaking through the star flames set by the Pyromancer and crashing against his shield, these rotting creatures.

My Mourner would swing his axe to cut down three or four at once, but their numbers seemed endless.

This dungeon was strange.

“No, normally we should be knee-deep in enemies by now.”

“We must be careful. I’ll take the lead.”

“Lu, get behind me.”

The formation changed. They seemed to be preparing for enemies to appear all at once.

I thought the same, so I guarded the rear while Isla advanced with her crossbow aimed forward.

[Play Time: 9,225 hours]

After three hours, we finally encountered our first enemy.

Crack!

A skeleton whose skull was shattered by Isla’s lead bullet, silenced forever.

That was it. We were starting to realize something was wrong.

I was beginning to think we should turn back.

“Luvellin, look at this.”

The Mourner called, and when I turned, he was pointing his torch at the wall.

“…Writing?”

It was text.

“What does it say?”

“Hmm, I can’t read it either… is it even writing?”

I was certain they were letters for a different reason.

The text that appeared on the status window overlaid above it. Letters that should have been unreadable were being translated by the status window.

“It is writing. But… it’s severely damaged.”

How could I explain being able to read unreadable text?

After considering, I made an excuse about the damage and read the text.

Even with the help of the status window, it was difficult to read.

It rambled and the content felt jumbled overall.

It seemed like something written by someone with mental issues.

“I’ve never seen this script before…”

Isla rarely let her words trail off, and I could understand what she left unsaid.

It was a reasonable assumption. Considering I was a homunculus created by the Three Clans.

The writing on the wall was their script.

But it wasn’t normal writing.

It was like a journal carved with a massive chisel.

Much of it was erased or worn away, making readable portions rare, but even the readable parts conveyed an abnormal, obsessive madness.

No, that wasn’t it.

These were words carved by a dragon’s claws, not a chisel.

The moment I realized this, something became visible.

[Though Father’s mercy helped us overcome the disease, Father bestowed another illness upon us. We spend each day struggling to manage this disease.]

One of the more coherent passages.

The mention of mercy and disease within it.

Perhaps this explained why the dragon wasn’t visible?

Could this be why only one dragonkin remained as a trace of a species that disappeared entirely?

And another question arose.

Who exactly is this “Father” consistently mentioned from flavor text onward?

Carrying all these questions, we continued walking.

Following a passage that led to a massive cavern.

The cavern seemed to be located at the center of the mountain.

The mountain’s peak appeared to have been pierced, and warm sunlight poured through that enormous hole.

It was a passage created for some massive creature to enter and exit.

—!

There, we encountered the enormous being.

A roar that sent chills down our spines and made us feel like vomiting from the pressure.

Involuntarily, I fell to my knees, the Mourner covered his ears and leaned against the wall, and Isla curled up with her tail in her mouth.

As the thunderous sound made even my cloak flutter, I saw the dragon.

The dragon was gradually being reduced within its roar.

Bones caved in, skin contracted, horns broke. Through some incomprehensible process, what finally revealed itself was…

“…A woman?”

As the old man said, it was a woman.

A woman with horns and a tail extending down her back.

A pale, inhuman complexion with a devastated expression reminiscent of a widow, yet mature.

Dressed in a clean white dress.

The sorrowful woman slowly raised her head to look at us.

And the moment our eyes met, the dragon in human form opened her eyes wide.

With a bloodless face and wide eyes conveying all sorts of emotions.

A certain intuition came to me.

The fact that the Three Clans were called three “clans.”

And the recognition that for necromancers to stand alongside powerful races like shapeshifters and vampires, they too must be a powerful race.

Plus the writing about disease and mercy.

The possibility I had considered wouldn’t leave my mind, so I consciously formed it into words:

What if necromancers were dragons?

My body tensed instinctively with this intuition.

I watched as the rigid dragon turned toward me.

We need to flee. If we move quickly along the escape route we prepared—

“Father?”

What stopped my thoughts was that single word from the woman’s lips.

And the tears streaming down her beautiful face.