No records detail who built this dungeon, when, why, or how. Among the kingdom's many dungeons, it's deemed highly dangerous, restricted by the state. It existed before Emden Kingdom's founding, but as a dungeon over 300 years old, it's an anomaly.
"Hey, Lord Dirk… this dungeon's been sealed for ages, right?"
Our survey team leader, Dirk, is deputy commander of Emden's Holy Knights, second son of a baron. Blonde, blue-eyed, muscular—a typical Emden noble—but unlike others, he's not condescending to commoners. Likely because he's a bastard son, unable to inherit. Emden's nobility ranks duke, marquis, earl, viscount, baron; as a baron's second son, Dirk gets no land, relying on state roles for income. Landless nobles aren't rare, but Dirk rose to deputy commander on sword skill alone. He says talent and effort only go so far—knight commander requires at least an earl's title, often a ceremonial role, with deputies handling real work. The Holy Knights have eight deputies; Dirk's fifth in rank.
"Yeah, sealed for over 300 years. No one's entered since our knights were founded. It predates Emden, from the Lutrine Empire."
The Lutrine Empire—gone over 300 years ago after losing a war. Its advanced magic and technologies vanished with it, rumored to be so powerful that neighboring nations allied to destroy it. I secretly admire Dirk as he wields his longsword, scanning the dim corridor. Blue-white magical flames light key wall points, a marvel. We can see without torches, a relief for rear-guard like me. These centuries-burning lanterns could make a fortune—lost magic tech. Oil costs add up; I'd love to take one.
"These massive, perfectly fitted stones are incredible. Not even a hair's gap. Rumors of Lutrine surpassing modern tech seem…"
"Believable?" Geryon, the thief, smirks. "Dreamy, Yennie. Cute."
Geryon, a lecherous middle-aged thief from the guild, is skilled at disarming traps but filthy, smelly, and perverse. He tries grabbing my butt—infuriating. Die, creep!
"Geryon's mean. Could we build this today, Rotal?"
Rotal, a hooded mage from the guild, seems elderly from his voice and wrinkled hands but stands tall, polite. I secretly call him Grandpa.
"Hmm, these lanterns likely contract fire spirits. Normally, a contractor's death ends it, but 300 years? A mystery. Lutrine was a magical powerhouse with lost arts. I'd love to study post-quest, but likely impossible."
"State-controlled sealed labyrinth," Dirk says. "We're allowed in to fund war efforts—a flimsy excuse. Without treasure, Emden falls, thanks to our 'benevolent' fool king!"
Dirk, fifth deputy, joins us adventurers due to Emden's crisis. At war with the Kotopus Empire, Emden faced a near-ambush invasion, with villages plundered. Three knight orders, standing armies, and noble-led units pushed the enemy back. Normally, you'd demand reparations or counter-invade—wars cost money, and nobles need rewards. But King Alexic III, against invasion, kept armies at the border, rebuilding not just Emden but enemy towns too. Noble, but naive. Neighboring Baringen and Urum praised him, but Urum's tied to Kotopus by marriage, likely stalling Emden's retaliation. Kotopus regrouped, reinvading. The stalemate drains Emden's coffers. Prince Aurel, the king's brother, scrambles for funds, including this guild-led dungeon raid, with Dirk overseeing us. If Emden's banking on this, it's in dire straits. Adventurers could flee via foreign guilds, easier than citizens, though wartime exit is uncertain.
"This labyrinth's weird. Half a day north, only traps, no enemies…"
It's cool, humid, comfortable—no dungeon stench. I'd stay here all summer. Geryon's disarmed many traps, but a labyrinth with only traps is odd. Normally, golems or monsters guard it, especially Lutrine's advanced golems.
"Strange," Dirk says. "We're heading north, but should've hit the valley. Space is warped?"
"Haha, the answer's ahead," Geryon says. "Look—huge door, fit for a throne room!"
A 4m-wide, 8m-tall golden double door gleams. Dirk says it rivals Emden's throne room. Geryon checks for traps, sneakily trying to pry gems—Dirk smacks him.
"This door's gold, with fine gems," Geryon says. "Enough to fulfill Emden's request."
"One door?" Dirk asks. "Opening it means facing what's inside. What's beyond?"
Treasure? Ancient guardian? Sealed monster?
"Geryon, can it open?"
"It's not locked," Geryon says. "Feels like a trap. Just take the gems?"
"I agree," Rotal says. "First day, quest done. Lucky."
Dirk ponders silently, maybe five minutes.
"Fine. No need to push. Let's return, call engineers, show them the gems."
Relief washes over us. No one wants to recklessly explore a sealed labyrinth. It's eerie—traps, no enemies. As we turn, the sealed double doors creak open.
"No escape, brave warriors. Welcome. Enter."
"Dirk, the corridor… it's gone!"
"Damn, a magical space-warping labyrinth!" Geryon says. "What now, leader?"
We try fleeing, but the labyrinth shifts, trapping us. We fell for it.
"I lead. Geryon, protect Yennie and Rotal. Yennie, buff us. Rotal, offensive magic."
Dirk issues orders, entering cautiously. The room's bright as daylight, vast as the capital's plaza. The mage who built this was unimaginably powerful. Even Chief Court Mage Sarialis couldn't craft this. Only rare spatial-gift mages can create such labyrinths, typically for storage, but mastered, they build palace-sized spaces.
"Welcome to my labyrinth. First guests in 300 years."
A voice echoes, but no one's here.
"Geryon, scout!" Dirk orders. "Anyone in this room?"
"Nothing. No presence."
We circle, scanning the bright room. Empty.
"Be still… Sleep's breeze, grant them peace."
Sleep magic? I try resisting—useless. I'm a high priestess, yet this basic spell… no resistance… In defiance, I kick Geryon and collapse into Dirk's chest.
"Four after 300 years… What's become of this world?"
Looking at the fallen—warrior, thief, priestess, mage—a balanced, high-level party. Yet they couldn't resist basic sleep magic? Amplified mana boosts effect, but they slept instantly. The priestess tried resisting, but their skills are lacking?
"First, their memories. What's changed since I slept…"
The mage, a knowledge seeker, is ideal. I lack a body; my bracelet vessel will fade if broken. Reinforced with layered magic, it's reached its limit. I need a new vessel. I probe the old mage's mind.
"My era's gone… Lutrine fell. Emden's under invasion."
The world's complex, with many nations—ripe for rise or ruin. Magic's declined drastically! It was secretive, passed within families, but without successors, it faded. A nation's fall loses its secrets; invaders can't claim all.
"I must act. No waiting for others. These four will do."
To gain a body, I must be born as their child. The mage is too old. The thief could sire, but his protection until adulthood is doubtful. The priestess—beautiful, high mana—but clerics rarely wed.
"The warrior…"
He sleeps, clutching the priestess sloppily. A warrior's son becoming a mage needs a magical mother for plausibility. I'll start with his memories.