“Something killed it before we entered.”
Etzel stared at Maerin’s message. Once. Twice. Then a third time. The words did not improve.
DK stood a few steps away. His expression had already changed. No humor. No mild confusion. Only attention.
Etzel pressed the call icon. Maerin answered quickly.
“Etzel?”
“Define ‘something.’”
A pause. “We can’t.”
Etzel closed his eyes. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
Behind Maerin, he could hear movement. Voices. Paper. Maybe equipment being shifted. She wasn’t home. Probably still near the assessment station.
Etzel straightened despite his ribs protesting. “What did they find?”
“The original dungeon boss.”
“Dead.”
“Yes.”
“Before we entered.”
“Yes.”
Etzel looked toward DK. The knight said nothing.
“Where?”
“Under the Regent’s throne structure.”
Etzel frowned. “Under?”
“Partially.” Maerin continued before he could interrupt. “The Regent had grown its root network through the remains. The survey team initially thought the corpse was part of the throne.”
“That’s comforting.”
“It gets worse.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“You keep giving us reasons.”
Fair. Etzel sat back down on the stone. “Go on.”
“The dungeon’s original control structure was still connected to the corpse.”
His expression changed. “So the Regent didn’t create the Authority network.”
“No.”
“It stole it.”
“Yes.”
Etzel remembered the cavern. The roots. The crown. The pulses. The way the Regent had seemed less like a creature standing inside the dungeon—and more like the dungeon had learned to wear it.
He exhaled slowly. “The Regent found a dead king and stole the crown.”
Silence. Then Maerin: “That is uncomfortably accurate.”
Etzel smiled faintly. “Good. I was worried I was losing my touch.”
“You’re not.”
“That almost sounded supportive.”
“It wasn’t.”
“There you are.”
SYSTEM NOTIFICATIONEventInfluence Relationship DetectedStatusSource Hierarchy: ???DataKnown Influence: Derived
But the humor didn’t last. Etzel looked toward the dark tree line.
“If the Regent didn’t kill it…”
“It didn’t.”
“How do they know?”
Maerin hesitated. “The damage.”
Etzel’s attention sharpened. “What kind?”
“Wrong kind.”
“That is very close to not being an answer.”
“I know.”
He heard papers move. Then Maerin’s voice became more precise. “The Regent’s attacks leave crushing fractures, puncture damage, root penetration, and broad trauma from its blade structures.”
Etzel remembered DK’s shield. Remembered the stone splitting under those hits. “Right.”
“The original boss has some of that.”
Etzel frowned. “Some?”
“Postmortem.”
He stopped. Maerin continued. “The Regent damaged the body after death while integrating it into the throne structure.”
Etzel stared into the distance. “So the Regent scavenged it.”
“That’s the current interpretation.”
“And the actual killing damage?”
Another pause. “Different.”
“How different?”
“Clean cuts.”
Etzel’s eyes narrowed. “Blade?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“The survey team hasn’t finalized it.”
He heard another voice in the background. Then Maerin said: “There’s also internal damage around the Core region.”
“What kind?”
“Collapse.”
DK moved. Barely. But Etzel saw it. His head turned. His shoulders shifted.
Etzel looked at him.
Maerin continued. “The outer shell was breached in several places, but the fatal damage seems to have been deeper.”
DK spoke. “The Core collapsed inward?”
Etzel’s eyes went to him immediately. The line went quiet. Maerin had heard. “Yes.”
DK said nothing.
Etzel watched him. “You know that?”
“No.” A beat. DK’s expression tightened. “But I know I should.”
Etzel hated that sentence more every time he heard a version of it.
Maerin sent the report images. Etzel opened the first.
The original boss did not resemble the Regent. Good. At least the dungeon had some imagination. The corpse had once been roughly humanoid. Tall. Heavy. Four arms. A pale, layered shell covered most of its body, with dark fibrous material running through the gaps. Its head was narrow and almost featureless except for a vertical groove running down the center.
The System tag attached to the survey file identified it:
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ [SURVEY RECORD: SPECIMEN IDENTIFIED]│
│ Name: Hollowroot Custodian │
│ Estimated Base Rank: C │
│ Function: Core Guardian / Local Keeper │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Etzel studied the name. “Custodian.”
Maerin remained on the call. “Yes.”
“Not exactly dramatic.”
Sivenne’s voice appeared somewhere behind her. “Maybe it had a personality.”
Etzel raised an eyebrow. “You’re there?”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Unfortunately for Maerin.”
“I heard that,” Maerin said.
“You were supposed to.”
Etzel smiled. Tessa’s voice came next. “Are you looking at the images?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t zoom in too much.”
Etzel immediately zoomed in. Tessa sighed. “I don’t know why I bother.”
“You gave unclear instructions.”
“I gave extremely clear instructions.”
“Interpretation differs.”
Maerin cut through them. “Look at the torso.”
Etzel did. Three long cuts crossed the Custodian’s outer shell. Diagonal. Deep enough to expose the material beneath.
But—something felt wrong. He looked at the next image. Then the next. Different angle. Same wounds.
Etzel leaned closer. The cuts were ugly. Visible. Obvious. Which meant they were easy to focus on.
He ignored them. Looked toward the Core region. The body had a central armored structure below the chest. Most of it remained intact externally. But beneath—the internal lattice had collapsed toward the center. Not exploded outward. Inward.
He frowned. “The cuts didn’t kill it.”
Maerin answered immediately. “Survey team agrees.”
Etzel tapped the screen. “Then why make them?”
Silence.
Sivenne spoke. “Because cutting things is satisfying?”
“No.”
“That was a real theory.”
“It was a bad one.”
“You hurt me.”
Etzel barely heard her. He studied the first cut. Then the second. Then the third. Different depths. Different angles. None penetrated far enough to reach the Core chamber.
So why?
The Custodian had been armored. If someone wanted the Core, they could have tried to break straight through. But they hadn’t.
Etzel changed images. Something about the wounds bothered him. Not where they were. Where they weren’t. No random strikes. No desperate exchange. No scattered damage. Each cut sat at a different side of the body. Left shoulder. Lower flank. Rear upper leg.
Etzel’s eyes narrowed. “They weren’t trying to penetrate the armor.”
Maerin said: “Then what?”
Etzel imagined the fight. The Custodian moved. An attacker struck the shoulder. What would that force? Turn. Then the flank. Shift. Then rear leg. Movement again.
Etzel stopped. “It was steering it.”
Silence. Sivenne’s tone changed. “You can steer a boss?”
Etzel looked at DK. “If you’re strong enough.”
DK’s answer came quietly. “Or experienced enough.”
Etzel turned toward him. The knight was still looking at the images. Something in his face had gone distant. Not memory. Calculation. Older than memory.
Etzel sent the highest-resolution image to DK’s device. The knight studied it.
Maerin said: “The survey team currently thinks there were multiple attackers.”
DK answered immediately. “No.”
Everyone on the call went silent. Etzel looked at him. “One?”
“One.”
Maerin’s voice sharpened. “Why?”
DK moved through the images. One. Two. Three. “Spacing.”
Etzel leaned closer. “Explain.”
DK pointed at the first wound. “The attacker entered here.” Then the next. “Recovered through this side.” Then the third. “Changed position around the target.”
Etzel looked. DK continued. “Multiple fighters leave interference.”
“Interference?”
“Crossed approach lines. Competing attack lanes. Forced spacing.”
Sivenne spoke. “Unless they’re very good.”
“Yes.” DK didn’t hesitate. “But then the wounds become even more disciplined.”
He zoomed into the cuts. “These are consistent.”
Etzel saw it. Not identical. Consistent. Same control. Same depth discipline. Same decision about where to stop.
DK pointed at the height of the first cut. Then the second. “The attacker changed elevation.”
Etzel frowned. “Jumped?”
“Possibly.”
“Fast?”
“Yes.”
“How fast?”
DK looked at him. “I don’t know.”
Etzel sighed. “Of course.”
But something colder moved beneath the joke. A single attacker. C-Rank dungeon boss. Controlled around the battlefield. Killed through a Core collapse. Then gone.
Etzel looked at Maerin’s call window. “Did the attacker loot it?”
“No.”
That was worse. He hadn’t expected it to be worse. It was.
“Core?”
“Still there.”
Etzel sat back. Sivenne spoke softly. “So someone strong enough to kill a dungeon boss alone didn’t take the Core.”
Tessa added: “Or anything else.”
Etzel looked toward DK. “Then it wasn’t hunting for resources.”
“No,” DK said.
“What was it hunting for?”
Nobody answered.
Etzel reopened the timeline Maerin sent. The pieces lined up too well. The Hollowroot Custodian died first. Its control connection remained. The Regent found the corpse. Integrated with the abandoned authority. Then the dungeon changed. Creatures began disappearing. Energy draw increased. Spawn patterns became abnormal. The black influence appeared in affected creatures.
And—the second influence signature started moving away.
Etzel stopped. “The Regent wasn’t the cause.”
Maerin’s voice came quietly. “No.”
“It was a scavenger.”
“That is also our current interpretation.”
Etzel looked at the timeline again. The moving signature. North. Away from the dungeon. He felt the pieces arrange themselves. Not proof. But enough.
“The second signature.”
Silence. Maerin knew where he was going. “We thought the same.”
Etzel stood. “It killed the Custodian.”
“Possibly.”
“Then left.”
“Possibly.”
“The distance between the two signatures kept increasing.”
“Yes.”
Etzel walked two steps before his ribs reminded him why he was supposed to be resting. He stopped. DK noticed. Said nothing.
Etzel pointed at him. “Not one word.”
“I said nothing.”
“Your face did.”
“My face remained still.”
“Judgment can be stationary.”
Maerin sighed through the call. “Etzel.”
“Yes?”
“You are not following it.”
He paused. Sivenne laughed. “Oh, she knows you now.”
Etzel looked north. The unknown source had already been moving away when they discovered it. How far was it now? What Rank? What type? What species? Was it even a creature?
He imagined himself walking after something that had killed a C-Rank dungeon boss alone while injured, unregistered, and currently armed with—
He looked down. Nothing. His hatchet was dead.
Etzel sighed. “We’re not chasing it.”
Silence. Then Sivenne: “Who are you and what have you done with Etzel?”
“I am injured, unregistered, badly armed, and we are discussing something that killed a C-Rank dungeon boss alone.”
A beat. “I have occasional moments of clarity.”
Tessa laughed. Maerin did not. But Etzel could hear relief in the silence. That mattered. More than he expected.
The official report had already been escalated. Maerin explained what would happen next: additional patrols, expanded creature monitoring, more energy readings around nearby dungeons, comparison with other anomalous reports.
Etzel listened. Then one question occurred to him.
“My name.”
Maerin went quiet. “What about it?”
“How much of me is in the report?”
Sivenne answered first. “Your beauty was described extensively.”
Etzel nodded. “As it should be.”
Maerin ignored both of them. “You’re listed as an unregistered civilian combat participant and witness.”
Etzel blinked. “That sounds terrible.”
“It is accurate.”
“My ability?”
“No.”
His expression changed. “You left it out?”
“You didn’t authorize me to disclose it.”
Etzel said nothing. For once, genuinely nothing. Limited Necromancer. DK. His Level. Witness. Everything valuable in this world eventually became information someone could use. Maerin could have written it down. She hadn’t.
“Thanks.”
A pause. Then Maerin: “Don’t make it strange.”
Sivenne immediately added: “Too late.”
Etzel smiled. “Unfortunately, she’s right.”
The report included the first preliminary appraisal of the Regent materials. Etzel read while Maerin summarized.
Regent Crown Fragment. Rare. Useful in Authority-compatible equipment. Carapace. High-value defensive crafting.
Throne Root Heart. That one had received additional flags. Etzel frowned. “What does ‘specialized research interest’ mean?”
Maerin answered: “It means someone wants to study it.”
“Someone?”
“The Registry laboratory.”
“No.”
“I already said no.”
Etzel stopped. “You did?”
“Yes.”
“Before asking me?”
“I told them it isn’t entirely ours to authorize.”
That was fair. More than fair. Etzel looked at the next item.
Authority Core. Its appraisal contained another note. Anomalous resonance detected.
Etzel’s humor vanished. “What resonance?”
“Very weak.”
“With what?”
“We don’t know.”
He closed his eyes. “Excellent.”
“They asked to inspect that too.”
“No.”
“I also said no.”
Etzel opened his eyes. “You’re becoming my favorite.”
Sivenne gasped somewhere in the background. “Betrayal.”
Tessa laughed.
Maerin said: “You still cannot sell any of it.”
Etzel’s affection immediately cooled. “And there she is.”
The Authority Core remained secured. No testing. No transfer. No sale. Not until the group agreed. That eased Etzel more than he expected.
Then Maerin brought up something considerably less mysterious.
“You still need a weapon.”
“I am aware.”
“You can legally buy ordinary weapons without Hunter registration.”
Etzel straightened. “But?”
“Hunter-grade Core equipment is another matter.”
“Of course.”
“Licensed weaponsmiths can still sell reinforced conventional weapons.”
Sivenne said: “Buy a spear.”
Etzel frowned. “Why?”
“Reach.”
Tessa: “Safer.”
Maerin: “Versatile.”
Etzel looked at DK. The knight considered. “Possibly.”
Etzel stared. “You all planned this.”
“No,” Maerin said.
“That makes it worse.”
Sivenne continued. “Or a short sword.”
“Now we’re just naming weapons.”
“A hammer.”
“No.”
“Why no hammer?”
“I have standards.”
“You used a hatchet.”
Etzel placed a hand against his chest. “Do not insult the dead.”
DK looked at him. “You should not choose a weapon because it resembles the one you lost.”
Etzel stared at him. “I was emotionally attached.”
“You spoke to it.”
“Exactly.”
A pause. DK nodded once. “That does support your claim.”
Etzel smiled. “Thank you.”
“I did not say it was healthy.”
“Conversation over.”
Still—the idea stayed. A proper weapon. Something suited to him. Not something grabbed because it happened to be nearby. He liked that. A new problem he could actually solve. Eventually.
The call ended.
Etzel stayed outside with DK. The images remained open. The Hollowroot Custodian. Three visible cuts. Collapsed Core. One attacker. Probably.
Etzel zoomed into the first wound again.
Witness remained silent.
He stared. Nothing.
Second wound. Nothing.
Third. Nothing.
Etzel frowned. “Come on.”
DK looked over. “What?”
“Recognition.”
Nothing happened.
He switched images. Tracked the angles. The cuts. The Core. Still nothing.
“This is irritating.”
DK looked at the image. “Do you understand what you are looking at?”
Etzel opened his mouth. Stopped. Looked again.
He had theories. The attacker steered the boss. Probably. The Core collapsed inward. Definitely. One attacker. According to DK.
But Etzel himself did not understand how the killing mechanism worked. He didn’t know why the Core collapsed. He didn’t know the exact attack. He didn’t know whether the visible cuts were all deliberate steering strikes or simply wounds from a larger exchange.
Theory. Not understanding.
Etzel leaned back. “Oh.”
DK waited.
Etzel dismissed the expected System message that had never appeared. “It doesn’t care that I have a good guess.”
“That seems sensible.”
“I dislike sensible abilities.”
“You chose it.”
“Stop using facts against me.”
DK looked back toward the images. Etzel did too. Witness had confirmed the hatchet. Confirmed the bracket. Because he understood them.
Here? Nothing.
Good. Annoying. But good. A wrong answer dressed confidently enough was still wrong. Etzel would have to remember that.
Night settled fully. Etzel should have gone home. Instead he looked through the survey images one final time. Not for a flaw. Not for Recognition. Just—looking.
He moved slowly through the corpse images. Armor. Cuts. Core chamber. Regent roots. Postmortem damage.
Then one image stopped him.
A close view beneath the Hollowroot Custodian’s rear shell. Etzel leaned closer.
Something dark ran along a fracture. Black. Thin. Almost like soot.
His heartbeat changed. He enlarged the image.
The mark wasn’t part of the Custodian. It wasn’t one of the Regent’s pale veins either. Black. Hair-thin. Branching.
Etzel remembered the Briar Shepherd. The fragment near its skull. The dark lines on the tree. The blackened root.
He turned the screen toward DK. “Same thing?”
DK looked. For a long moment—nothing.
Then his face changed. “No.”
Etzel felt a small amount of relief.
Then DK continued. “Older.”
The relief disappeared. “What?”
DK took the device. Studied the image. His fingers tightened around the edge.
“The thing we found inside the Shepherd…” He stopped.
Etzel waited.
DK’s eyes remained on the black trace. “It was made from this.”
SYSTEM NOTIFICATIONEventInfluence Relationship DetectedStatusSource Hierarchy: ???DataKnown Influence: Derived
Etzel stopped breathing. Another line formed: Source Hierarchy: ??? Then: Known Influence: Derived.
Etzel stared. Derived. Not source. Not origin. A derivative. Something lower in a chain.
He slowly looked toward the northern darkness.
The Regent had not been the source. The dungeon had not been the source. The Briar Shepherd had not been the source.
Whatever had killed the Hollowroot Custodian—might not have been the source either.
For the first time, Etzel understood just enough to wish he understood less.