"We will be off, Father," Sylvia said, dressed in gear that looked way too clean to see battle. She adjusted the strap on her new light armor and gave Orion a firm, confident nod.
Orion didn't nod back right away. His brows were still drawn together, concern written all over his usually stone-set face.
"Be careful out there," he said. "Even if the dungeon will have other adventurers around… monsters are still dangerous."
He turned to Clara next, voice low and tone serious. "Please take care of my daughter. She may pressure you to go deeper… but bring her back the moment she becomes reckless."
Hello. I am here too, I thought, waving sarcastically at no one in particular in my head.
Clara, ever the professional, bowed slightly. "Do not worry, Lord Orion. I will protect Young Lord and Lady Sylvia with my life."
Orion nodded. "Thank you."
"I'm not a kid, Father," Sylvia huffed. "I know when things get dangerous."
"You know nothing. Just follow her quietly," he grumbled, gesturing at Clara.
How cute, I mused. And my own father? Left me in another country and hasn't sent a single word. Hmph.
"Let's go, Clara," Sylvia snapped, clearly annoyed, then mumbled under her breath, "He doesn't even remember I'm seventeen…"
She grabbed Clara by the arm and practically stormed off.
Should I just… follow them? I wondered, taking one reluctant step after them.
"Lord Hugo," Orion called out, stopping me. "Please be careful… and take care of my daughter."
Dude, I'm literally the weakest one in this group. I sighed inwardly.
Out loud, I said with a calm nod, "I will see to it that we avoid any unnecessary danger."
Orion smiled… but not really. His eyes narrowed just enough to say: You don't get to talk about not walking into danger.
That was one time, Damn it!
Instead, I kept my expression polite and said, "Well then, we'll be off, Lord Orion."
I offered a small bow and stepped outside, where Sylvia and Clara waited—Clara as composed as ever, and Sylvia practically vibrating with excitement.
"I'll go bring the carriage," Clara said, already turning toward the stables. "The dungeon is located on the outskirts of Lioraeth."
"No need," I replied smoothly. "I've already asked a staff member to book a carriage for the day."
Clara paused, blinked, and looked back at me.
"With adventurers from both Lioraeth and the neighboring towns swarming the area, I figured relying on contracted storage would be… a heinous task," I added. "We'll leave our equipment and excess supplies in the carriage the staff member brought around."
Clara's eyes widened a little. "I apologize, my lord. I did not consider the queue at the storage house."
I waved her off as we walked toward the mansion gates.
"You were used to exploring dungeons with trainee groups," I said. "I assumed you might not be familiar with the chaos outside during peak adventuring hours."
Honestly, even I wouldn't have thought of it… if I hadn't seen the number of adventurers going in and out of the guild yesterday, all heading in the same direction.
I could've just told Clara to handle the carriage, but she's been a little less available lately. Sylvia and Clara have been spending a lot more time together. Not that I'm jealous.
Really. Not jealous. Just… efficiently ignored.
As we climbed into the carriage, Sylvia settled in beside Clara, still visibly buzzing with energy.
"Lord Hugo," she began, adjusting her gloves, "you might not know this since you've never been inside a dungeon before, but believe me—most veterans are very welcoming to newcomers. The atmosphere is surprisingly lively."
She spoke with the kind of warmth reserved for nostalgic memories and favorite desserts.
"Once you're inside, you won't even know who belongs to which party. Everyone helps each other out during subjugation hunts. It's like… an unspoken code."
She kept going, animatedly recounting the two times she had gone into dungeons before. From how someone lent her extra monster balm when her bottle shattered, to a small brawl that broke out over a cooking pot that turned into an impromptu stew party.
I nodded a few times as she talked, keeping my eyes on her, pretending to be deeply engaged, which, honestly, I was.
Sure, it was her story, but there was useful intel buried in there. Understanding the dynamics before walking into a literal death maze was not a waste of time.
But then I noticed Clara.
Her expression had… blackened. Slightly. Not the full-on murderous version...just the quiet, cold silence of someone remembering something unpleasant.
"From your words, Lady Sylvia," I said with a small smile, "I feel genuinely excited. I was worried for nothing."
Sylvia smiled back, cheeks faintly pink, clearly pleased.
I turned toward Clara. "Clara, what about you? Did you ever get the chance to interact with other adventurers inside the dungeon?"
Clara shook her head. "No, my lord. Our group of trainees was always directed toward the deeper regions. We rarely spent time near the dungeon's entrance, so I haven't seen much of the surface crowd."
She paused, eyes lowering slightly.
"In the deeper layers… the atmosphere among adventurers isn't exactly 'lively.'"
Her voice dipped at that last word, like it didn't belong in the same sentence as "dungeon" anymore.
"The adventurers we encountered deeper inside weren't casual explorers. They didn't dive for livelihood or reputation… they worked for large organizations, ones that control the revenue systems and market infrastructure surrounding dungeon resources."
She spoke carefully now, her voice quieter, almost clinical.
"Commercial products harvested from dungeon monsters, like the flamewool from Emberhorn Rams, or the venom-coated fangs from Duskhiss Vipers, those are all handled by these groups.
The costlier goods, like reinforced scales from Deepgloom Basilisk Lizards, are only found in the more dangerous, lower strata."
So… cheerful stew parties at the top, cold-eyed professionals at the bottom. Good to know.
We reached the dungeon in just under three hours.
Sylvia was the first to hop out of the carriage, practically glowing with excitement. I followed after, and then Clara stepped down with her usual silent grace.
I turned to the driver and spoke quickly, "Where will you be parking your carriage?"
He pointed to a designated space behind a row of vendors, just out of the main path.
Good. I officially handed him the responsibility for our supplies and rations. He gave a polite nod, and I resisted the urge to add please don't get robbed.
The entrance was bustling. Carriages weren't allowed near the dungeon gate, so the area was instead packed with shops, rows of tents, and wooden stalls crammed together, all selling dungeon essentials.
There were mana potions. Actual, proper mana potions.
Back in Valthryon, those things were rare enough that nobles rationed them like gold. Here, they were stacked like apples at a harvest fair. Just sitting there. Like stamina potions.
It was weird.
Most adventurers here had mana mastery several times higher than even Clara. But in terms of raw combat ability, I could probably out-duel them.
What a bizarrely balanced race, I thought. Elves: Min-maxing since the dawn of time.
We stocked up on mana and stamina potions, Clara's calculations were precise, of course, and then we made our way toward the entrance.
Sylvia walked beside me, still not bothering to hide her smile. Whatever memories she had tied to dungeon crawling, they were clearly fond ones. Her steps were light, her eyes sparkling.
And then there it was.
The dungeon entrance.
Elvian guards swarmed the area, checking IDs and adventurer cards. Their uniforms were crisp, weapons clean, and expressions cold. Very cold.
They weren't here to smile, they were here to make sure no one went in looking to cause trouble. Or come out as it.
Clara handed over our adventurer card.
One of the guards looked us up and down, his gaze sticking on me longer than I liked, and muttered, "Humans? Really?"
Clara, unfazed, just stood still as they verified our info.
"If it's your first time," the guard said, returning the card, "I recommend you explore only the first two floors. Dungeons here are not like the ones back in your homeland."
That pride in his voice… classic elf.
Clara nodded, "We'll keep that in mind," and we stepped through.
The moment we passed the entry arch, everything changed.
No guards.
No monsters either.
Just clusters of people chatting, checking equipment, drinking potions, and scribbling down notes on mana formations. This wasn't a battlefield, it was a prep zone.
Clara adjusted her gloves. "Let's go deeper and get some real combat experience, Young Master."
I nodded. "Agreed."
Sylvia chimed in beside me. "Let's go! I want to see what kind of monsters spawn in Elvian dungeons."
With her excitement powering the mood, we moved ahead. The path sloped downward. Not a steep descent, but my feet knew the truth, we were going underground.
The clatter of metal slowly rose.
So did my heartbeat.
I don't know what got into me when I fought Varkis. That reckless, desperate drive to win kind of blocked out the fear. But now? Heading toward monsters for real? I felt… nervous.
It had been a while since I felt this.
Maybe because my life as William had become a routine. Meetings. Deadlines. Family dinners where people smiled without their eyes.
But this… this gave me nostalgia.
And then the scene unfolded before us.
Two men, sturdy, but clearly not elite, were running at full speed, their boots slapping against the smooth dungeon stone. Behind them: a monstrous creature.
It was a spider.
But not just any spider, it is almost equal in size to a mid-sized Elephant.
Inspect labeled it: Venomweaver Matraxx.
Yeah.. naming sense in this world is fucked.
Its body was as wide as a cart, covered in glistening black chitin. Eight blade-like legs scraped across the stone as it moved unnaturally fast, eyes glowing with a purplish hue that screamed toxicity. Threads of silver web dragged behind it.
But they weren't fleeing.
They were baiting it.
I squinted. No, not baiting...it was a coordinated distraction.
One of the men suddenly dived out of the way, and in the same moment, a ball of searing fire roared across the hall and exploded against the spider's abdomen.
The creature shrieked, an awful, high-pitched sound, and staggered, its legs scraping wildly as the ground beneath it softened into sludge.
The fire had altered the terrain. The stone had become muddy, either a spell effect or some alchemical reaction. The spider lost its footing, its speed and precision gone in an instant.
The two men stopped running.
For just a second.
And then, with perfect timing, long ice-like spines rose beside them, formed through magic or cleverly hidden traps, I wasn't sure and they guided those spines forward like arrows.
With subtle hand motions, the spikes launched and drove into the creature's side.
It screamed again.
Not fatal. But painful.
Then it came, the finishing move.
Veins of green, bark-like tendrils erupted from the ground, wrapping around the spider's form. I don't know who the caster is, and I didn't care; I was so immersed in their coordination.
Then the same woman who had cast the fireball raised her hand again, and another surge of flames engulfed the plant matter.
Fire met vine. Vine ignited.
But the trick wasn't the fire, it was the ice.
The flames touched the embedded ice spikes inside the spider… and instead of melting, the mineral-packed shards shattered from within, sending a burst of sharp debris tearing into the creature's vitals.
The spider let out a final, gurgling hiss and collapsed, vomiting thick purple blood.
The fire burning it, the thorns on the vines making the movement painful, and the shattered ice debris tearing its vitals...
That was… brutal.
Damn! I almost vomited.
Their attacks, individually? Weak. Even I could overpower each of them one-on-one.
But together With strategy?
Deadly.
Okay. So this is what real dungeon combat looks like.
I stared at the scorched, twitching corpse.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, the thought clicked into place.
Am I going to learn how to do that?
I cleared my throat, clapped my hands together, and said with all the confidence of a man who definitely wasn't trying to bail:
"So, since we've officially visited the dungeon… let's head bac—"
"No, my lord."
"Lord Hugo, let us not."
Clara and Sylvia shut me down in perfect harmony, like they'd rehearsed it in the carriage or something.
"…Right."
Just then… I saw something.
Inspect flickered.
A soft outline shimmered mid-air, faint, like the glint of glass catching the light, but it was there.
A small circular shape, floating just above the corpse of the dead spider. Not touching it. Just... hovering.
What the hell is Inspect outlining? Air?
"Clara," I said quietly, pointing toward the spider's body. "Do you see that? Right there, above the matrixx...or something in the air."
Clara followed my gaze without blinking. "What is it, Young Master?"
"You don't find anything strange?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Like… something in the air right there, shaped like a disc?"
She shook her head calmly. "No, Young Master. I don't detect anything."
Figures. Superhuman reflexes and strength, but can't see ghost air.
I squinted harder.
It was still hovering. Faint. Unmoving.
"…It's nothing," I muttered eventually. "Probably just steam from the fire spell earlier."
Except steam didn't move like that.
Because now, that thing, whatever it was, began drifting. Slowly at first. Then, as if tugged by something invisible, it zipped off toward the deeper end of the dungeon corridor.
And just like that, once it crossed out of Inspect's range, the outline vanished. Gone. Back to being indistinguishable from regular old air.
What the hell was that?
Inspect had outlined it like it was something real… something worth noticing.
But it didn't give me any information.
Why would Inspect pick it up… but not tell me what it was?
I stood there for a few seconds longer, watching the empty corridor where the thing had disappeared.
Dungeon core..Isn't that situated in the deepest floor...?