Dawn was just breaking.
Owen was “woken” by the commotion outside. Not that a crystal could sleep, of course. He’d simply gotten into the habit of pulling his senses in during the empty hours of deep night, to rest a little.
It made him feel like he was still a person.
Right now, the camp outside had come alive again.
The morning mist hadn’t cleared yet, and a Guild clerk was already hauling out the record board, yawning as he worked. A few early-rising adventurers crouched by the fence, gnawing on cold rations while they checked their gear.
The line snaked out, thin and straggling, from the camp entrance.
Owen looked it over, satisfied.
“Another booming day of business,” he murmured, like a shopkeeper throwing open his doors for the morning. “New day, new customers.”
[Entrance Opened]
White light began to flow through the portal once more. A Guild clerk called the first group.
The first group through was unfamiliar: four young adventurers in the kind of plain gear every rookie started with, green in every movement.
Owen watched them step into the canyon with interest.
“Come on in, come on in.” He adjusted the angle of his view to settle in more comfortably. “Let me show you the new menu after our update.”
The effect was immediate.
The four had barely made it into the canyon before they ran into an armored desiccated corpse. They’d clearly prepared according to the tips they’d picked up over the last few days.
They’d assumed the opening stretch was nothing but slow, sluggish nobodies.
Instead, the corpse lunged forward with a sudden, vicious thrust and opened a gash across the lead fighter’s leg, leaving him yelping in pain.
“Oof.” Even Owen felt a phantom ache watching it. “Outdated guides really do get people hurt.”
Caught completely off guard, the party scrambled for several ugly minutes before finally putting the corpse down. By the end, they were badly rattled.
By the time they reached the second ambush point, they traded a single glance and, without a word, agreed to pull out.
A shame, really. They hadn’t even made it as far as the new passages.
Owen didn’t mind.
“It’s fine, it’s fine, take your time.” He watched them go. “It’ll get discovered sooner or later today anyway. Hope you all like the change.”
And the moment that party stepped back out through the portal, the camp outside boiled over at once.
◆ ◆ ◆
“The dungeon changed!”
The four young people had barely caught their breath before a knot of adventurers swarmed them.
“The corpses in the front are wearing leather armor now, and they’re fast!”
“Damn thing pounced right on me. Scared me half to death.”
“We nearly went down on the very first one.”
The news raced down the line like wildfire.
The adventurers, who’d been lazily waiting for their numbers, erupted in an instant.
Some were thrilled, some uneasy, and others started clamoring all at once for details.
Not far off, Greer, who’d been dozing in a wooden chair with a straw hat over his face, slowly lifted the brim.
He said nothing, only listened quietly to the chatter, his clouded eyes slowly darkening.
It had changed again.
How many days had it even been?
He pushed himself up on his cane and waved toward the party standing ready not far off.
“Greyhound.”
Rayne came over at once. “Guildmaster.”
“You heard all that.” Greer tipped his chin toward the clamoring adventurers.
“Yes.” Rayne’s expression was grave. “It’s too fast.”
“Mm.” Greer nodded and started slowly toward the portal, leaning on his cane. “Good timing. We haven’t been in yet today. Get ready. We go in first.”
He led them to the gate, then glanced back at the party.
“Same rule as before,” he said. “I’ll come along again, but I’m not lifting a finger unless it’s a critical moment. You young ones need to put in the work. Stop counting on these old bones of mine all the time.”
“Understood.” Rayne drew a deep breath.
This time, they weren’t just going in to train.
They were going in to find out exactly how this dungeon had changed.
◆ ◆ ◆
At the end of the sloping passage, the canyon opened wide.
Rayne’s party had only just stepped in when they all stopped at once.
“Look.” Tyren dropped his voice and pointed ahead. “That corpse must be one of the upgraded ones they were talking about.”
At the mouth of the canyon, a desiccated corpse shuffled along, dragging its feet. At first glance, no different from before.
But Asar’s brow furrowed at once.
“Besides the leather armor, it moves a lot more nimbly.”
When Barton edged forward, the corpse didn’t simply shamble straight at him like the old ones had. It dropped its stance slightly and advanced on them at a measured pace.
“Just like those people said.” Rayne raised his voice. “Everyone stay sharp. Don’t get careless.”
At the back of the party, Greer simply held his cane and watched it all in silence.
◆ ◆ ◆
In the Core Chamber, Owen was grinning ear to ear, if he’d had ears.
This was exactly the show he’d been waiting for.
How would the adventurers handle their familiar monsters now that those monsters had gotten stronger? It would make all the resources he’d poured into repairing the core worth it.
And this particular party? They were old friends.
“Oho.” Owen’s attention latched right onto them. “If it isn’t my day-one customers.”
The very first party to set foot in his dungeon. He remembered them perfectly.
Back then, he’d felt rather sorry about getting them all wiped out by Cassandre.
Now, his senses lingered on them a moment longer, and that flicker of familiar amusement slowly gave way to surprise.
Something was different.
It had only been a handful of days, yet the presence around this party was much stronger than last time.
Owen’s rough estimate put his energy level firmly in Bronze.
The other four had all stepped into Black Iron.
“Well now.” Owen clicked a nonexistent tongue. “Leveled up across the board?”
For some reason, a faint sense of gratification welled up inside him — if he had a heart to feel it with.
The feeling was like watching a character you’d raised in a management game grow step by step. Addictive, in the worst possible way.
The dungeon was growing, and the adventurers were growing too. What a perfect result.
And the adventurers leveling up was good for him as well: the Soul Energy gap between higher-ranked and lower-ranked adventurers was nothing to sneeze at.
As long as he could help more parties grow, he’d reap more energy.
At the thought, Owen’s whole core stirred faintly with excitement.
And then he caught sight of the old man with the cane, at the very back of the group.
Owen paused.
It was him. The old man who’d seen through his setups last time.
“You again…” Owen couldn’t help grumbling, oddly guilty for no clear reason. “Feels like having a supervisor breathing down my neck. So annoying.”
Then again, on second thought, he wasn’t worried.
The upgraded dungeon would give this troublesome old man something new to gawk at, too.
“Welcome, welcome.” He rallied his spirits. “I splurged on a whole lot of good stuff today, you know.”
He settled in eagerly to watch this leveled-up party fumble around in front of his leveled-up mooks.
And the next second, his smugness froze solid.
The party didn’t give his new mooks the slightest chance.
Barton stepped up and caught the corpse’s first downward stroke rock-steady, his body not so much as swaying. Tyren’s arrow left the string almost simultaneously, knocking the sword clean out of the corpse’s hand. Asar cut in from the flank, his longsword sweeping cleanly across its neck.
The withered head went flying.
From first contact to finish, three or four breaths at most.
Owen: “…”
“…Hey, hey, hey.” He couldn’t hold it in. “My upgrade fees were not cheap! Ease off a little and let it do something, would you?”
Grumbling aside, though, watching that pleasing coordination, he had to hand it to them. It was like watching one of those highlight videos of skilled players back in the day.
“Fine, whatever.” He muttered, smugness impossible to hide. “Leveling up’s good too. Let these appetizers up front warm you up. The real feast starts in the back half.”
At the rear of the party, Greer held his cane and watched the same scene in silence.
The corpse was indeed stronger than yesterday. But what stood out more was Rayne’s party.
In under a week, they’d come this far.
Something faint and hard to catch passed through the depths of the old man’s clouded eyes. Satisfaction.
◆ ◆ ◆
Rayne’s party kept pressing steadily forward.
Before long, they noticed a side passage branching off to the right, one that should never have been there.
Tyren’s steps halted.
“…I’m pretty sure this path wasn’t here yesterday?”
Rayne followed where he pointed.
In the rock wall on the canyon’s right side, a gap had split open out of nowhere, a deep passage trailing off into shadow with no end in sight.
The cut face of the rock was jarringly fresh, as if it had been hewn open by force only the night before.
“It wasn’t.” Asar said with certainty. “Yesterday this was solid rock wall.”
Greer came forward on his cane, his clouded eyes resting on the gap for a long while.
“So this is what it grew overnight,” he said, voice low. “Stay alert once we’re inside. We don’t know what’s in there.”
Rayne nodded, hand on the grip of his sword, and stepped into the new passage alongside Barton.
The passage was anything but quiet.
Barely a few steps in, several armored Desiccated Corpses darted out of the shadows. Like their counterparts outside, they moved with unnatural agility, even trying to box the party in.
There were eight in all, tucked into side passages and corners, pouncing the moment they saw an opening.
But to Rayne’s leveled-up party, they were still only lesser monsters.
Barton always blocked the corpses’ attacks at the first instant. Asar and Tyren worked off each other, dispatching a second one right away. Rayne covered the gaps, and Serin stayed safely guarded at the center of the party, with no need to step in yet.
They cleared the place methodically, their steps barely pausing. Before long, eight corpses had become eight magic crystals in their packs.
The real obstacle waited at the end of the passage.
There stood two Desiccated Corpses, a full head taller than the ones along the way, clad in complete suits of rusted chainmail, the weapons in their hands looking a good deal more serviceable.
They guarded a stone door, one to the left and one to the right, like a pair of silent sentinels.
“These two are different,” Asar said quietly.
“They look a lot stronger just standing there.” Rayne narrowed his eyes. “Here’s hoping they’re not as nasty as the two back at the camp.”
They weren’t quite as nasty as the pair back at the camp. Still, the fight was a fair bit harder than anything they’d faced along the way.
The two Desiccated Jailers were tough, their bodies far sturdier than the corpses along the way. Every blow rocked Barton on his feet. Serin finally had her hands full, casting Pure White Ward over and over to blunt the impact Barton was taking.
But in the end, they were only tougher rank-and-file monsters, with no special tricks.
After a short, grinding fight, the party brought them down together.
“Phew. Glad they weren’t as much trouble as those other two.” Tyren let out a breath and rose on his toes to peer past the stone door. “Is this a treasure room, maybe?”
“Tyren, don’t get careless —”
Serin didn’t get to finish before she saw Tyren’s face go stiff.
She turned to follow his gaze.
And then she saw the space beyond the stone door.
It was a small area like an abandoned prison. Broken iron bars stood slanted in the ground, rusted manacles scattered in the corners.
And at the very center of that ruined prison stood a figure.
It was something entirely unlike the corpses outside.
Bare-chested and gaunt as it was, its skin carried more color. Only a few strips of cloth hung off it, and a length of heavy, rusted iron chain dragged from its wrist. Like a prisoner who had finally torn free of its cage, yet could never quite shake off its shackles.
Hearing the noise, it slowly raised its head, and two faint points of murky light surfaced in those dead, lightless eyes.
“Oh, a new boss?”
Tyren slid in front of Serin in a single step, his bow already drawn to full.
The words had barely left him when the prisoner moved.
It snapped its arm up, and the heavy chain came whistling around in a horizontal sweep straight at Barton, out front.
Barton turned his shield to meet it.
Clang!
The chain slammed into the shield face, jarring a grunt out of him and driving him back two steps. Compared to the lesser monsters along the way, the force behind this blow was on another level.
But that was as far as it went.
Barton steadied himself, cracked a grin, and arched an eyebrow at the prisoner.
A few days ago, a hit like that might have thrown him off his rhythm. But the Barton standing here now was a different man.
“Go!”
Rayne barked the order, and the whole party sprang into motion.
Tyren loosed arrow after arrow from the flank, every so often staggering the prisoner’s footing.
Asar slipped in from the other side whenever the chain swung wide, striking before it could be reeled back.
Barton pressed in step by step, denying the prisoner space to swing.
Serin’s wards flared over her teammates whenever the chain came too close.
Just as Tyren tried to circle to the side for a better shooting angle, the prisoner suddenly whipped its arm back, and the chain came snaking in low along the ground.
Rayne moved like a blade drawn from its sheath, slicing in from the side of the fight, his longsword flicking the sudden strike cleanly aside.
Once again, their training showed.
Strong as the prisoner was, it moved clumsily. Under their pressure, it was quickly forced onto the back foot, its chain swings growing wilder and more desperate.
Finally, in the instant Barton smashed the chain aside with his shield, Rayne lunged forward, his longsword driving clean through its chest.
The gaunt body shuddered. The chain at its wrist fell to the ground with a clang, and the whole frame slid slowly down after it.
In its final moment, it lifted a trembling right hand toward the space beyond the stone door. Then the entire body dissolved, little by little, into points of blue light, scattering away in front of them.
The cell fell quiet again.
“…Is it done?” Tyren lowered his bow a half-beat late. “This new boss wasn’t all that hard, was it?”
Serin slowly raised her oak staff, hesitated a moment, then gently lowered it again.
“You really ought to be more careful,” she said, exasperated. “That chain nearly caught you several times back there.”
Tyren just grinned and scratched his head.
“Mm. Don’t let your guard down.” Rayne hadn’t relaxed, his eyes still sweeping the area. “We don’t know if there are other changes yet.”
Even so, he had to admit it himself — the party that had been knocked flat by a single stroke from the gate boss last time could never have won this easily.
They really had grown stronger.
And just then, something shifted.
Where the prisoner had vanished, something was giving off a faint glow.
◆ ◆ ◆
In the Core Chamber, Owen watched the scene, well pleased.
“Not bad, not bad.” He nodded a head he didn’t have. “Difficulty’s just right. A bit of pressure, but not so much they can’t fight back. Perfect.”
Now came the fun part: rewards. He’d already set the drop rates. Now all that mattered was whether their luck felt like cooperating.
“I bumped the drop rate for the first boss clear, you know,” Owen said, beaming. “Talk about lucky — everything dropped at once.”
The glow strengthened, finally condensing into a small ring of white light.
Rayne approached warily and examined it closely.
A rusted, broken shackle lay there quietly, wrapped in a soft halo of light.
“Is that… the shackle off that thing just now?” Tyren leaned in. “It dropped gear?”
Rayne didn’t touch it right away. He prodded it twice with his scabbard, and only once he’d confirmed there was no danger did he reach down and pick it up.
The instant his fingertips made contact —
A translucent panel surfaced in front of his eyes without warning.
Rayne jolted all over and nearly flung the shackle away.
“Guildmaster!” he cried out.
Greer hurried over. “What is it?”
“This thing…” Rayne stared hard at the panel before him, his voice gone dry. “It — it brought up information by itself!”
Greer’s expression changed.
It wasn’t that adventurers couldn’t see this sort of information panel. But that required returning to the Guild and using a dedicated appraisal crystal, and even then it showed only the simplest details.
In all his years as an adventurer, he’d never once seen a “drop” display its own information the moment someone picked it up.
“What does it say?” Greer’s voice dropped.
Rayne stared at the panel and read it out, word by word.
“Broken Shackles… Material.” He paused, his voice thick with disbelief. “Can be refined to extract Edra Essence, or used as a special forging material.”
“Edra Essence? What in the world is that?”
Tyren couldn’t help blurting it out, and the same confusion showed on the others’ faces.
Just then, Serin suddenly crouched down and picked up a small stone from the floor.
Sure enough, a panel surfaced in front of her too.
“Prisoner’s Token, one… one of three?”
For a moment, the cell was dead silent.
“One of three?” Tyren cocked his head, arms folded. “What’s that mean? The first of three? So where are the other two? And what happens if we collect all of them?”
“How do you always have this many questions?” Serin sighed and put a hand to her forehead.
No one else spoke.
Greer stared at the slowly dimming panel, something he couldn’t quite name churning in the depths of his clouded eyes.
This dungeon seemed to be trying to “communicate” with the people who entered it, in a way he had never seen before.
It wasn’t simply handing out rewards.
It was also… quietly leading them.
Leading them toward collecting something.