Nearly six hours had passed since Cyrus and the others entered Blackstone Dungeon.
And yet, they still had not come out.
The adventurers in the temporary camp were growing more and more restless. What had started as low-voiced murmurs soon swelled into overlapping waves of noise.
“That lot still hasn’t come out?”
“Don’t tell me they really made it into the Core Chamber.”
“No way Blackstone Dungeon is that easy to break through!”
“Then how else do you explain it? If they died inside, they should have come back out by now.”
Every adventurer had their own opinion, and none of them could convince the others.
The unease and agitation in the air kept rising.
Greer sat beneath a temporary wooden shelter, his fingers tapping against the tabletop again and again. Rayne and the others sat quietly not far away. They looked as if they were checking their equipment, but in truth, not a single one of them had their attention on what their hands were doing.
Ever since Cyrus’s party entered the dungeon, Greer had not truly relaxed.
That was no ordinary adventuring party, and they were certainly not fools drawn in by rumors of resurrection and hoping to try their luck.
They were core hunters.
According to Guild records, Cyrus alone had dismantled nine low-level dungeons to date.
Blackstone Dungeon had too many secrets. Resurrection, people returning after death, Soul Damage, bosses capable of speech, and that system of rewards and trial rules that was clearly improving step by step.
They had not even figured out what this dungeon truly meant yet.
If Cyrus and the others really destroyed it, the loss would be far too great.
Greer sighed.
He never thought there would come a day in his life when he would worry about a dungeon being destroyed.
Life really was unpredictable.
Just as Greer sank into thought, a Guild staff member near the entrance hurried over.
Greer raised his head the instant he heard the movement.
“Guildmaster!”
The staff member stopped in front of the wooden shelter, caught his breath, then lowered his voice.
“There’s been a change at the entrance.”
Greer slowly stood with the support of his cane.
“Speak.”
“Just now, a few adventurers refused to give up. They took advantage of the crowd near the entrance and tried sneaking in to take a look. As a result... four people actually went in at once.”
Greer’s expression stiffened for an instant.
Four people.
If Cyrus’s party were still inside, Blackstone Dungeon absolutely could not have allowed four more people in at once. In other words, at least several of them were no longer being counted by the dungeon as challengers.
But they had not returned to the starting chamber.
Greer’s gaze darkened bit by bit.
“What about those adventurers?”
The staff member’s expression turned subtle.
“After they realized they really could enter, it was like they suddenly thought of something. They scrambled right back out on the spot. Now they’re refusing to go anywhere near the entrance.”
Greer snorted coldly.
“They run fast enough when there’s easy money to be made. The moment they realize they might die, they cling to life harder than anyone.”
He struck the ground heavily with his cane.
“A pack of cowardly fools.”
The staff member ducked his head, then quickly added,
“A-after that, we had someone test it again, only at the very edge of the entrance. Right now, up to six people can enter.”
Greer closed his eyes.
This time, his silence lasted even longer than before.
Six people.
That meant all five members of Cyrus’s party were no longer being counted among the people inside.
But none of them had come back.
Greer slowly exhaled.
Something serious had happened.
“Seal the entrance.”
He opened his eyes, his voice cold as a blade.
“From this moment on, no one approaches without my permission.”
The staff member immediately nodded.
“Yes!”
After the staff member turned and ran off, Greer looked toward Rayne.
Rayne was already on his feet.
Barton, Serin, Asar, and Tyren had also stopped what they were doing.
Greer’s gaze swept over them one by one before finally returning to Rayne’s face.
“Greyhound. Bring your party and come with me.”
Rayne did not ask why.
He simply sheathed the longsword in his hand.
“Yes, Guildmaster.”
By the time Greer brought Rayne and the others to the dungeon entrance, the surrounding adventurers had already backed away several meters on their own.
The area before the entrance, which had originally been packed with people, now looked especially empty.
No one was shouting to go in anymore.
No one was yelling about seeing this dungeon that could bring people back to life with their own eyes.
Every gaze fell on the portal standing silently before them, as if it were no longer a passage to a low-level dungeon, but a giant mouth that might close at any moment.
Greer stopped and looked up.
The entrance was the same as before.
No strange changes. Not even the slightest sign proving something had happened to Cyrus’s party.
That was exactly what made it even more unsettling.
A quiet source note: this chapter came from the page the author publishes on without approval; that publication supports its creator.
Rayne stood behind him, his face grave as he looked at the portal, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
“Guildmaster.”
Greer did not turn around.
“Speak.”
“If Cyrus and the others died, they should have returned from the starting chamber.”
Rayne’s voice was very low.
“But they didn’t.”
Greer was silent for a moment.
“Mm.”
Rayne’s fingers tightened slightly around his sword hilt.
“That means the dungeon’s resurrection rules... may have gone wrong.”
After those words fell, everyone nearby went quiet.
Greer leaned on his cane and took one step forward.
“That’s why, once we’re inside, no one rushes deeper.”
He looked at the portal, his voice sinking.
“Check the starting chamber first. Then the canyon entrance.”
Rayne turned back to look at his companions.
Barton raised his shield. Serin tightened her grip on her oak staff. Asar and Tyren each nodded.
Only after confirming that everyone was ready did Rayne look back at Greer.
“Understood.”
With that, Greer stepped into the entrance first.
◆ ◆ ◆
Cyrus was crouched beside the stone bed, refusing to let even the smallest detail escape him.
He had already finished checking this stone room for the third time.
The walls. The floor. Beneath the stone bed. Even the pale-blue light screen sealing the exit. He had inspected them all again and again.
No mechanism. No gap. Not even a keyhole.
There was nowhere he could pry open with his daggers.
Cyrus slowly sat back down on the edge of the stone bed, his expression frighteningly ugly.
It was not as if he had never been thrown into a prison before.
But never once had it made him feel this powerless.
At least back then, he had known how long it would be before he got out.
This place was different.
He did not even know whether he would be locked up here until he died.
Worse, he had to be imprisoned next to that noisy idiot.
A loud crash suddenly came from the cell next door.
Cyrus rolled his eyes despite himself.
Bang!
“Let me the hell out!”
Blake’s roar came through the holes in the wall.
Bang!
“You damn dungeon!”
Bang!
“If you’ve got the guts, let me out and fight me again!”
Cyrus closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.
It did not help.
Still too loud.
From the other side came Sanna’s cool voice.
“Blake, if you keep hitting it, the light screen might not break, but your hand definitely will.”
“What’s it to you?”
“Heh. Fine, idiot. Do whatever you want. I can’t be bothered.”
“Then shut your mouth. I’ve been putting up with you for ages, you bitch!”
Bang!
This time, even Darm spoke from the other side.
“Too loud.”
Blake’s movements stopped for a moment.
After a brief silence, he seemed to become even more furious from embarrassment.
“If you’ve got a problem, crawl through that hole and crush me yourself! Otherwise, shut your mouth!”
Cyrus finally opened his eyes.
“Blake.”
His voice was not loud, but the next cell instantly fell silent.
“Save your strength.”
Blake breathed heavily.
“You got a way out?”
Cyrus looked at the light screen in front of him and stayed silent for two breaths.
“Not yet.”
“Then why the hell are you telling me to save my strength?”
Cyrus did not answer.
Because he knew that no matter what he said right now, the idiot next door would not listen.
For the first time, he felt that separating prisoners might not necessarily be a good thing.
If they had been locked together, he guaranteed he would have made that idiot shut up immediately.
Blake made noise for a while longer. Then, as if his strength had run out, he went quiet for a long time.
After a while, his weak voice finally came through.
“I’m hungry.”
The entire row of cells fell into deathly silence.
Then Sanna finally exploded.
“I told you not to make a scene, you moron. Hungry now? Good. Starve, then.”
“...I was just being honest!”
Cyrus rubbed his temples.
A brainless brute, exactly as expected.
At this point, even he could not bring himself to get angry.
Getting angry at someone like that felt like it would make him dumber too.
Just then, Cyrus suddenly realized Jessup had not spoken at all.
He frowned.
In their current situation, a mage might actually have the best chance of seeing what was wrong with this light screen.
Cyrus immediately stood and walked to the holes in the wall.
Damn it.
He had better not have turned into an invalid from taking too many potions earlier.
He looked through the holes into the neighboring room.
Jessup was lying on the stone bed in another stone room, his chest rising and falling steadily.
Was he... sleeping?
Cyrus’s expression instantly darkened.
What kind of people were these?
A brute. A silent lump. And now a mage so damn oblivious he could sleep at a time like this.
Who the hell could sleep in a situation like this?
The thought had only just surfaced when his stomach gave a loud, traitorous gurgle.
The expression on Cyrus’s face stiffened.
At that moment, he once again felt grateful that they had been imprisoned separately.
Otherwise, he really would have lost the last scraps of his dignity.
Just then, dazzling white light suddenly flashed across the stone table beside him.
Cyrus endured his hunger and hurriedly retreated, daggers already in hand as he took a fighting stance.
Was it coming?
The dungeon’s executioner?
Cyrus tightened his grip on his daggers and stared hard at the center of the white light.
Torture tools? Poison fog? Some monster meant for interrogation?
When the white light faded, what appeared on the stone table was a wooden tray.
On the tray sat a pale-golden loaf of white bread, and beside it was a wooden cup filled with milk.
Wh-white bread?
And milk?
The daggers in his hands lowered bit by bit.
What kind of place had he been locked in?
◆ ◆ ◆
This was nothing like any dungeon he knew.
Inside the Core Chamber, Owen watched Cyrus’s party stare blankly at the prison meals he had prepared.
In the end, he could not suppress his laughter.
“Hahaha! Nothing but white bread and plain milk. Not even a little flavoring.”
Owen laughed so hard his whole core trembled faintly.
“Well? Now do you understand how terrifying Blackstone Dungeon’s punishment is?”
He looked smugly at the five single rooms.
“No roast meat, no stew, no butter, and no jam.”
“Only the most basic, most miserable, most soulless prisoner meal set!”
At that point, Owen added with great satisfaction,
“Hmph. That’s what you get for trying to tear down my house.”
However, Owen’s smugness did not last very long.
Because he soon realized that the scene was very different from what he had imagined.
While Cyrus was still staring at the food with full vigilance, Blake had already crawled toward the stone table on all fours.
He snatched up the bread on the tray and stuffed it into his mouth without a second thought.
The instant he took the first bite, his whole body froze, and something like light seemed to flash through his eyes.
Then he started eating even faster.
Sanna in the next room noticed and hurriedly shouted,
“You idiot! You don’t even know if that thing is poisoned. How the hell can you just eat it?”
Blake’s mouth was full of bread, and his reply came out muffled.
“Fuck! This is so... so damn good...” He gulped down a mouthful of milk and swallowed. “I’ve never had white bread this soft before. If it kills me, then whatever!”
Sanna’s expression turned even uglier when she heard that.
She lowered her head and looked at the bread on her own stone table.
It looked clean. Its surface held a faint golden color, and it even carried a soft aroma like it had just come out of the oven.
Sanna was silent for two breaths.
In the end, she still reached out and picked it up.
The moment the fluffy softness touched her fingertips, her expression clearly stiffened.
She hesitated, then took a bite.
A moment later, Sanna shut her mouth and said nothing.
She simply sat back down beside the stone bed in silence and took a second bite.
Then a third.
Blake gave a muffled laugh.
“Hey, didn’t you say it might be poisoned? I can eat yours for you.”
Sanna chewed her bread expressionlessly.
“Shut up.”
“You’re eating pretty fast.”
“Say one more word, and when we get out, you’d better watch your tongue.”
If Owen had a jaw right now, it would probably have dropped to the floor.
His shrill roar echoed through the entire Core Chamber.
“Ah! Why are you eating it like it’s good? Isn’t that supposed to be prison food?”
“You’re supposed to eat it like you’ve lost the will to live! Stop making it look delicious!”
Owen had never imagined that after already dying once, he could still encounter something that made him this angry.
Well.
Today, he had.
“System! Lower their food quality!”
[Lower prison meal grade to: black bread and water?]
Owen wanted to slam the confirm button with his will.
His entire core had nearly gone red-hot.
But in the end, he still gave up on the thought.
The Core Chamber went quiet for two seconds.
Only then did he mutter reluctantly.
“Hmph. Consider this my great mercy! Once the seven days are up, all of you can get the hell out!”
◆ ◆ ◆
Cyrus silently set the empty wooden tray and cup together.
Just as he was about to close his eyes and rest, he suddenly noticed that someone seemed to be standing in front of the pale-blue light screen.
His movements stiffened.
Then he slowly turned his head.
Damn it.
It was Greer.
Cyrus’s expression immediately turned even uglier.
He absolutely did not want the other man seeing him like this, especially not now.
◆ ◆ ◆
Greer stood outside the light screen, looking at Cyrus with the corner of one eye twitching faintly.
Before entering the dungeon, he had imagined every worst-case scenario.
Cyrus’s party being wiped out.
The resurrection rules failing.
The dungeon beginning to devour challengers.
He had even considered the possibility that Blackstone Dungeon had developed malicious intent.
But this scene before him was the one thing he had not imagined.
Cyrus was not dead. Nor had he been devoured.
He was merely locked inside a stone room.
And from the look of it, he had just finished a meal.
Greer remained silent for a very long time.
So long that Cyrus’s expression grew visibly worse.
Unfortunately for Cyrus, Greer did not turn away.
He merely glanced at the empty wooden tray and cup beside Cyrus, then looked at the pale-blue light screen.
“You lot... got locked up?”
The corner of Cyrus’s mouth twitched faintly.
Cyrus clearly did not want to answer that question.
Especially not after he had just finished eating the white bread and milk the dungeon had delivered.
But right then, Blake’s voice came from next door.
“Old man! Can’t you tell? Hurry up and get me the hell out of here!”
Greer’s eye twitched again.
Rayne and the others stood behind him, and for a moment, no one said a word.
The heaviness and unease that had shrouded everyone’s hearts suddenly turned into something indescribably absurd.
Before Greer entered, he had prepared himself for the worst.
Yet the scene before him left him momentarily unsure what expression he was supposed to wear.
For one instant, he even felt a trace of inappropriate guilt for having thought so badly of Blackstone Dungeon.
No. That was wrong.
The corner of Greer’s eye twitched faintly again.
A dungeon was still a dungeon.
This one just seemed far stranger than he had imagined.
He looked once more at the empty wooden tray and cup beside Cyrus.
After several breaths of silence, he asked expressionlessly,
“So. What exactly did you people do?”