I came to in the same grimy alley where I’d collapsed, the stench of damp stone and rotting garbage grounding me in reality. The talk with Iseria-chan was real. Although she probably would kill me if I were to directly address her with “chan”. I referred from doing so during our conversation. She’d been generous, though, gifting me a new skill: dimensional storage. A faint rune glowed on my left hand, pulsing with a cool energy that tingled when I flexed my fingers.
“It’s a long-forgotten storage room,” she’d said, her voice dismissive yet kind. “I have no use for it now, so take it.” The rune let me store items—monster corpses, supplies, anything non-living—anytime, anywhere. I could even step inside the space myself. However, other than myself I can’t store living things like people inside even if I were to get their consent.
Right now, survival was the priority. Iseria’s words echoed in my head: one week to find the Dragon Heart in the Farche Dungeon, or the billion-plus experience points from my Experience Boost would tear me apart. My life was ticking away like sand in an hourglass. I needed to move. First step: organize the mountain of information she’d given me. I rented the cheapest inn room I could find—a cramped, musty space with a sagging bed—and spread out my maps of the Farche Dungeon. Years with Crimson Raid had honed my cartography skills, and I pored over every line, filling in gaps, memorizing routes. One wrong turn in that death trap would be my end, but I’d navigated worse for Julius’s glory. I had to remember every rumor I heard about this dungeon, even if it was something plain, like a "take a left and there's just some bushes". But it's something I can manage.
The harder part? Supplies. Stamina potions, holy water, green scorpion juice, sunflower mushrooms—a bizarre list even by Magnolia’s standards. My measly 50,000 eris, courtesy of Julius’s mocking “birthday gift,” wouldn’t cut it. I needed 500,000. But I had a plan. Annerose Prismheart, a sister of the Church of Light, was my ticket. I’d heard whispers about her in my guild days—her angelic facade hid a broker who dealt in favors and risky trades. Knowing the right people really pays off. And with enough booze... it isn't hard to find the shady aspects of life. If I timed it right, I’d catch her at the market. I grabbed my maps and coins and headed out, my heart pounding with a mix of hope and dread.
The market was a chaotic swirl of voices, clanging stalls, and the scent of grilled meat. I approached a grizzled merchant, his beard flecked with gray, and handed him my list. He squinted at it, scratching his head.
“Pfft! That’s a hell of a list, kid. Stamina potions, holy water—I get it. But green scorpion juice? Sunflower mushrooms? And this other weird stuff?” He raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “What’s your deal?”
“It’s not polite to pry,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. My palms were sweaty, but I couldn’t show it. I needed to stall until Annerose showed up.
“Fair enough,” the Oji-san grunted, reviewing the list again. “I’ve got it all, no problem. But it’ll run you 500,000 eris. You said you’ve only got 40,000?”
He was right. My funds were a joke—barely enough for another night at the inn and some stale bread. I crossed my arms, feigning confidence. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Look, kid,” he said, lowering his voice. “Normally, I’d give credit to respectable adventurers. But word travels fast—you got kicked out of Crimson Raid. No guild affiliation? You see my problem.”
I scratched the back of my head, my mind racing. Come on, Annerose, where are you? I’d heard she frequented this market around noon, cutting deals with desperate souls. My time with Crimson Raid had taught me how to read people like her—those who thrived on opportunity. If I could just—
“Ara, ara? What do we have here? A lost lamb?” A melodic voice cut through the market’s din.
There she was. I turned to see Annerose Prismheart, her glossy blonde hair catching the sunlight, her azure eyes sparkling with a mix of kindness and calculation. She was stunning, the kind of beauty that made men stumble over their words.
Some called her an angel, but I knew better—her connections and “other side” made her a power player in Magnolia.
“You seem troubled, young one,” she said, her smile radiant. “Perhaps I can help? I am Annerose Prismheart.”
I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. “Magnus,” I said, keeping it simple. Annerose was a sister of the Church of Light, but also a broker who dealt in high-stakes trades. My years fetching favors for Julius had taught me about her—rumors of the church’s shady experiments with monster parts and organs, cloaked in holy rhetoric. She was my best shot.
“I see you’re strapped for cash,” Annerose said, glancing at the Oji-san’s stall. “I can’t let a poor soul suffer. Dear customer, did you know the Church of Light’s temple seeks fresh body parts for research? I’d be happy to cover your bill.”
Her smile was innocent, but I caught the glint in her eyes. The church’s organ trade was no secret among guild insiders—experiments to transplant monster parts, limited by Magnolia’s primitive medicine. Magic couldn’t solve everything. I met her gaze, weighing my options. “If I pay back the money, I don’t have to give up my organs, right?”
“Of course!” she said, her voice honey-sweet. “We’re the Church of Light, not some shady organization. Meet the deadline, and we won't touch a single strand of your hair.”
“Show me the paperwork,” I said, my stomach twisting. This was a gamble, but I had no choice.
“Ara! I like confident young men,” she purred, producing a contract with a flourish.
The Oji-san’s jaw dropped. “OI! You crazy, kid? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you! Why’d you do something so stupid like sell your organs?”
I ignored him, scanning the contract. My reproductive organs, pancreas, and one kidney—by Earth standards, they’d be worth a fortune. Here, they covered my 500,000-eris bill, but just barely. Maybe body parts were valued differently in Magnolia, or the church was squeezing me dry. Either way, if I failed, I’d die before they could collect. I signed without hesitation.
“One more thing,” Annerose said, her smile sharpening. “We need collateral—something personal. Mana detection ensures you won’t… say, skip town. But I’m sure that’s not on your mind, dear customer.”
I had nothing of value except… the ring. The Rodenburg crest glinted on my finger, a bitter reminder of the family that disowned me. I’d nearly thrown it away after reading my father’s letter, but now it was my lifeline. “Will this do?” I asked, slipping it off. My chest ached—once, it had symbolized my place in this world, a tie to Julius and my parents. Now, it was just a bargaining chip.
Annerose’s eyes gleamed, her lips curling. “Oh, my. The Rodenburg crest? That will more than suffice.”
The transaction was sealed. I turned to the Oji-san. “The supplies I asked for.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It’s your funeral, kid.”
Alright. With this… I just need to prepare all these ingredients. And… I’ll be ready to go. I don’t want to waste a single second. Time is of the essence as my life is draining like the sands of an hourglass. The great Farche Dungeon… prepare yourself to get conquered by someone… who can’t fight at all.