“System, seize those people for me.”
[Invalid operation. This action cannot be supported.]
“Then throw them into the depths of the dungeon and lock them up first!”
[Invalid operation. The dungeon cannot forcibly relocate living challengers.]
“Aaaagh! Then lock the dungeon down!”
[Invalid operation. Challengers remain inside the dungeon. The entrance cannot be closed.]
“Then what can you do? Stand there and clap for me?”
[Challengers may be marked.]
[When marked targets trigger Trial Return, a custom penalty may be carried out.]
Owen went silent for two seconds.
“You had a function like that and didn’t say so earlier? You stupid system.”
The system gave no answer.
It only opened a new interface in silence.
[Challenger Marking]
[Return Penalty Settings]
Owen felt like he was yelling at thin air. If he still had hands, he would have covered his face, rubbed his temples raw, collapsed onto a bed, and declared the dungeon closed for the day.
Unfortunately, he had no bed.
No hands either.
He did not even have temples.
All he had right now was a core so angry it could probably be used as a lighting fixture.
He stared at the five silhouettes on the interface and, almost without hesitation, marked Cyrus and the others.
A moment later, dark-red frames appeared around all five figures.
They were painfully obvious.
Owen waited.
No chains burst out of the ground.
No stone walls split open.
No majestic punishment notice appeared.
The five red frames simply glowed quietly on the interface. Other than being harder on the eyes, nothing seemed to have changed.
“…That’s it?”
[Marking complete.]
“I’m asking what it does, not whether you successfully marked them!”
[Please define penalty conditions.]
Owen hesitated.
Those bastards had certainly made him so furious that his whole core was about to start smoking, but honestly, this was also part of the adventurer ecosystem in this world.
Break through a low-level dungeon. Destroy the core. Stop the dungeon from continuing to grow.
To the humans of this world, that was even the right thing to do.
He knew that.
And precisely because he knew that, it pissed him off even more.
Owen stayed silent for several seconds. In the end, he gritted his nonexistent teeth and entered the punishment plan on the system panel.
“Confinement. Lock them up for seven days.”
[Please select a confinement site.]
Owen felt his entire core buzz with rage.
Was this thing really a dungeon management system, or some cursed item designed specifically to make him die of anger a second time?
What soulless engineer made this garbage system? Why did revenge have to be configured step by step?
Was there seriously no convenient one-button feature that handled everything automatically, settings included, for lazy dungeon cores?
Holding down his temper, he flipped through the currently available locations.
Then he fell silent.
Because the system had only recognized one location as a valid “confinement site.”
The Core Chamber.
Owen stared at that option for two seconds.
“What the fuck?”
His breakdown echoed through the entire Core Chamber.
“That’s literally inviting the wolves into the sheep pen!”
Lock five people who wanted to break his core inside the Core Chamber?
That was no longer punishment.
That was inviting a thief into his bedroom, opening the safe for him, and telling him to take whatever he wanted.
“Build me a confinement room right now! Now! Immediately!”
[Invalid operation. Challengers remain inside the dungeon. Terrain cannot be altered.]
Owen’s last thread of sanity snapped.
The entire core began trembling violently. Its light flashed again and again, growing brighter by the second until the whole Core Chamber was almost washed in a deathly white.
Then, at some point, all that light abruptly stopped.
Owen stayed quiet for a long time.
At last, he let out a low sigh, as if all the air had gone out of him.
“Lucky bastards.”
He looked at the five dark-red marks on the interface, and his voice slowly cooled.
“I’ll remember you.”
[Notice: This Trial Return has been completed.]
[Confinement site has not been assigned. Custom penalty is temporarily stored.]
[Please complete the settings before the marked targets trigger Trial Return again.]
“Great.”
Owen stared at those names.
“Next time, I’m locking every last one of you exploit-abusing bastards inside.”
Inside the starting chamber.
While Owen was still losing his mind in the Core Chamber, Cyrus and the others had more or less recovered from the shock of Trial Return.
At least, that was how it looked.
The circular pattern at the center of the stone chamber slowly dimmed. The remaining light sank into the seams between the stone slabs like water. The fatal wounds on their bodies had vanished, and their breathing had returned to normal.
“All right.”
Cyrus’s cold voice rang through the stone chamber.
He did not comfort anyone. He did not ask whether anyone felt unwell. He only lowered his head, glanced at his twin daggers, confirmed they were still there, then looked up at the others still sitting on the ground.
“Don’t just sit there.”
His tone was hard, as if that death had only been a failed assignment.
“Report losses.”
Blake spat to the side and pushed himself up with one hand on his knee.
“My old friend of seven years is gone.”
He looked down at his chest, where only torn inner lining remained. He looked ready to twist someone’s head off.
“My longsword’s still here, but it’s about ready for the trash too.”
Cyrus ignored his cursing.
“Can you still fight?”
“Hah.”
Blake raised his head, the corner of his mouth pulling into a vicious grin.
“Do I look dead to you?”
Cyrus simply looked at him.
Blake’s grin stiffened.
He had, in fact, died once just now.
“I can fight,” Blake said through clenched teeth.
Only then did Cyrus look away.
“Sanna.”
Sanna raised her hand and shook the half-length of thin chain left in her palm.
“Main chain snapped. The claw’s still there. I’m down one dagger.”
She paused, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the edge of the broken chain.
“The gate boss prioritizes control methods. It wasn’t just reacting on instinct. It knew the most efficient response.”
Cyrus’s eyes shifted slightly.
“Continue.”
Sanna pressed her lips together, as if reluctant to admit her next judgment.
“If we want to restrain it next time, an ordinary chain won’t be enough. At minimum, I need an enchanted steel cable. And someone has to buy me more than three breaths.” Read the latest chapters at novelping dot com.
This chapter was taken from the author's publication page without consent; reading the version they posted there supports the writer.
Blake sneered.
“Three breaths? That thing swings once and you won’t even last one.”
Sanna did not even look at him. She only studied her fingernails.
“When did I say I’d be the one buying time, idiot?”
Blake was about to snap, but Cyrus cut him off coldly.
“Next.”
Jessup stood with a hand pressed to his forehead. His face was paler than usual, and his voice had lost that deliberate composure he normally held in place.
“My staff is fine. The potions are gone.”
He paused, his expression darkening further.
“If not for those two unexpected bosses…”
Blake’s face sank.
Silence fell over the stone chamber.
They all knew what Jessup meant.
If the last two bosses had not suddenly struck from behind, the knight alone probably would not have stopped the five of them together.
“A low-level dungeon,” Jessup said, each word forced out between his teeth, “with this many tricks.”
Darm was the last to speak.
“Greatshield’s gone.”
His voice was low, but everyone turned to look at him.
Cyrus raised an eyebrow.
“What about your spare?”
“Didn’t prepare one.”
Blake seemed about to say something, but after looking at Darm’s empty hands, he shut his mouth.
He had no desire to provoke a hulking brute in a bad mood and risk getting crushed to death.
Resurrection did not mean it stopped hurting.
Cyrus remained silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping across them all.
“Overall, our equipment and supplies no longer allow for a second attempt.”
He turned his eyes toward the exit leading out to the canyon.
“But at least we confirmed one thing.”
Sanna frowned.
“That the gatekeeper is stronger than we estimated?”
“No.”
Cyrus’s voice lowered slightly.
“That gatekeeper is only one part of it.”
Their eyes all settled on him.
“In theory, when challenging a boss, there is rarely outside interference.”
Cyrus kept staring at the exit, as if watching something invisible.
“At most, guards appear inside the room itself. But those two bosses pressed in directly from behind us, cutting off our retreat at the perfect time.”
He paused.
“That didn’t look like a normal patrol. It looked like someone moved them there.”
Jessup’s expression grew uglier.
“You’re saying it wasn’t a fixed mechanism?”
“Most likely not.”
Cyrus slowly withdrew his gaze.
“This dungeon reacts to our actions.”
He paused again, his voice as cold as a blade scraping over stone.
“And it reacts quickly.”
The chamber stayed quiet for a while.
Blake looked at the silent group, his brow slowly furrowing.
“So what? We crawl out with our tails between our legs?”
Cyrus turned and looked at him.
His gaze was calm. So calm that the person before him seemed less like a companion, or even a living being, and more like some lifeless object.
“We were underprepared this time,” he said lightly.
“Next time, we won’t be.”
Blake gave a scoff, as if he still had something to say.
But Cyrus had already walked past him.
As their shoulders brushed, Cyrus raised a hand and lightly pressed it against Blake’s shoulder.
There was barely any force behind it.
Still, it shoved Blake’s words back down his throat.
“As for you…”
Cyrus did not look back.
“I won’t stop you if you want to go in empty-handed.”
His voice was very soft.
“Just don’t slow down the next operation.”
With that, he ignored Blake’s reaction and walked straight toward the portal on the wall.
White light spilled from the crack like light through a doorway, swallowing his figure in the blink of an eye.
Only Sanna’s nearly inaudible chuckle remained in the stone chamber.
Blake stared at the place where Cyrus had vanished, his face dark. Finally, he cursed under his breath.
“…Fuck.”
At the portal in the early morning, all was quiet, as if nothing had happened.
The camp had not fully woken. Several campfires had burned down to dark-red embers, and thin mist drifted slowly along the ground.
The Guild staff member on night watch leaned against a wooden crate and yawned. Beside him, several early-rising adventurers were crouched by the embers, chewing on rations and quietly discussing which side passage they should start pushing through today.
No one paid attention to the fact that a party had entered the dungeon late at night.
Or rather, even if someone had seen them, they would have taken them for adventurers trying their luck under cover of darkness.
Then the portal suddenly lit up.
White light flashed, and Cyrus stepped out.
His face was calm. Twin daggers hung at his waist, and his clothes were covered in dust and dried stains. Soon after, the other four passed through the light gate one by one.
None of them looked good.
The lingering aftereffects of Trial Return still left them slightly dizzy.
Especially Darm.
The towering shield warrior’s hands were empty, and his eyes stared blankly ahead.
A young adventurer chewing rations choked and started coughing.
“…Someone came out?”
His companion patted him on the shoulder, then turned to look.
“When did they go in?”
That sentence made several nearby people raise their heads as well.
The Guild staff member on night watch had still been a little drowsy. But when he saw Cyrus’s face clearly, his whole body froze.
“Wait.”
His voice went sharp.
“Is that… Cyrus?”
The adventurers by the fire exchanged looks.
“Which Cyrus?”
“Which one do you think?” The staff member’s face instantly turned ugly. “That infamous core hunter. The one who specializes in targeting low-level dungeons.”
One adventurer nearby looked stunned.
“Aren’t they a dungeon-clearing party? What do you mean, infamous?”
Another adventurer looked disgusted.
“Clearing is clearing, sure. But they only go after places where rookies can get training. They tear them down, take the core and treasures, then leave. Where are the people left behind supposed to train? Go die in higher-level dungeons?”
The staff member quickly stood and turned, running toward the Guild’s temporary wooden building.
The adventurers left behind lowered their voices. None of them dared look that way too much, and unease crept into their tones.
“Shit. They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?”
“No idea. If Blackstone is gone, I’m fighting them.”
“Shh, shut up. You trying to bring trouble down on us?”
The voices around them dropped even lower.
But those hushed whispers spread through the morning mist like a slow tide.
Cyrus paid them no mind. This story is hosted at g.com.
He did not even glance at them. He only raised a hand and brushed dust from his sleeve, as if he had just walked out of a business deal that had gone poorly.
However, when he saw the Guild staff member returning with an elderly figure, he still raised an eyebrow.
Greer.
Cyrus recognized that face. Or more accurately, he knew of the man.
Greer, guildmaster of the Blackstone Town branch of the Adventurers’ Guild. A man with some reputation in this border region, though no more than that.
Cyrus’s gaze slowly swept over the cane in the old man’s hand, then landed on his somewhat stiff prosthetic leg. A faint curve tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Mid Bronze-rank, old, wounded, and stuck wasting most of his life away in a remote town like this.
As Cyrus saw it, the old man before him had long since been hollowed out by time and old injuries. All that remained was enough reputation to scare rookies.
He was curious what such a man intended to do about him.
Greer walked slowly up to him, then stopped with his cane planted on the ground.
“Cyrus.”
“Guildmaster Greer. I didn’t expect you to know my name. What an honor.”
Cyrus smiled and extended a hand toward him.
Disgust flashed through Greer’s eyes.
But there were staff members around them, adventurers, and people who had just been disturbed from sleep now watching from a distance.
So he said nothing. He merely extended his hand and shook Cyrus’s lightly.
Cyrus’s smile deepened.
“Well then, for the guildmaster himself to welcome me this early, Blackstone Town certainly knows how to treat its guests.”
Greer let out two dry laughs.
The sound was low and held no warmth.
“I can make a fair guess why you’re here.”
“Oh?”
Cyrus drew the sound out. His other hand rested casually on the hilt of one dagger at his waist.
“Do adventurers need to explain their reasons to a branch guildmaster before entering a dungeon now?”
“Ordinary adventurers don’t.”
Greer looked at him.
“But you’re not an ordinary adventurer.”
The surrounding whispers grew even quieter.
Cyrus laughed.
“Guildmaster, that doesn’t sound much like a compliment.”
“It wasn’t one.”
Greer’s voice was calm.
“The Blackstone Dungeon has been flagged as an anomaly under observation by this branch. Before headquarters sends personnel here, I require you to suspend any destructive action against the core.”
“Abnormal observation?”
Cyrus seemed to have heard an amusing phrase.
With a flick of his fingers, one of the twin daggers at his waist fell into his palm. The tip flashed in the gray-white morning light.
“Guildmaster, now that sounds even more interesting.”
His gaze swept over the staff member beside them, whose face had gone ugly, then slowly returned to Greer.
“Don’t tell me the Blackstone branch is raising this dungeon?”
The staff member’s face changed sharply. Almost by instinct, he took a step forward.
Greer lifted a hand and stopped him.
The staff member clenched his teeth. In the end, unwilling as he was, he stepped back and could only glare at Cyrus.
Cyrus took it all in.
The irritation from the failed attempt began to melt into something like amusement.
Greer was not provoked.
At least, not on the surface.
“We are not raising it.”
The old man’s voice remained steady.
“This dungeon has special characteristics. The relevant report is already being prepared and will be sent to headquarters soon.”
“Soon?”
Cyrus burst out laughing.
“Guildmaster, let me ask you this. Is attacking a dungeon illegal?”
Greer’s expression darkened slightly.
“No.”
“Does the Guild have a rule forbidding mid- or high-rank adventurers from attacking low-level dungeons?”
“…No.”
“Then please tell me, Guildmaster.”
Cyrus leaned slightly forward. The smile on his face remained gentle, but his tone pressed close like a blade.
“Which rule are you using to tell me to stop?”
Greer closed his eyes.
For one brief moment, the surroundings were so quiet that only the occasional crackle of embers could be heard.
“I am not citing regulations.”
He opened his eyes again.
“This is a warning.”
Cyrus smiled.
“A warning?”
“People from headquarters will arrive soon.”
Greer looked at him, speaking each word clearly.
“When they do, how this dungeon is handled will not be for you to decide.”
Cyrus bent at the waist and gave Greer a slight bow.
The motion was so polite it nearly became absurd.
“Then come speak to me after headquarters has formally issued an order.”
He straightened, his smile unchanged.
“Our party still needs to resupply and replace equipment, so we’ll be taking our leave.”
Cyrus turned and walked away.
When Blake passed the staff member, he deliberately slammed his shoulder into him.
The staff member staggered half a step, his face livid, but Greer raised a hand to stop him.
Sanna, meanwhile, turned back with a cheerful smile and waved at the staff member.
“Don’t be so angry.”
Her tone was light.
“We’re properly licensed adventurers, after all.”
With that, she quickly followed Cyrus and the others, disappearing into the camp as it began to wake.
The staff member clenched his teeth, as if he still wanted to chase after them, but Greer lightly blocked him with his cane.
“Guildmaster…”
“Don’t follow them.”
Greer watched the direction Cyrus and the others had left, his fingers slowly tightening around his cane.
It was not that he did not want to stop them.
He simply could not stop them right now.
No order from headquarters. No formal lockdown. Not enough force on hand to detain an entire Bronze-rank party without dragging bystanders into it.
Even worse, Cyrus knew that all too well.
This was not the first time Greer had seen a Newborn Dungeon torn apart.
Nor was it the first time he had seen a group of rookies lose the training ground that could have kept them alive.
And Blackstone had its irreplaceable resurrection property.
At least this time, he did not want to stand by and simply watch it happen.
“Send the report early.”
The staff member froze.
“But the materials haven’t been fully organized yet…”
“There’s no time.”
Greer cut him off, his voice low.
“He won’t wait for headquarters.”
The morning mist had yet to disperse.
The old man watched those figures fade into the distance and said quietly,
“He’ll go in again before then.”