The members of the raiding party stared at one another in stunned silence.
After a long moment, Maru's trembling voice broke through.
"You… you all saw that too?"
"What the hell was that…" Terl murmured, still lost in the overwhelming vision of the dragon war. Gwyn, Lord of Cinder, had left him awestruck—the supposedly invincible Dragons had been shattered like fragile clay before his might. That kind of power… it had to be beyond legendary.
Leon turned to Drew, the dwarf mage—and by far the most learned among them. He wasn't just a spellcaster, but a certified one, with an actual academic degree. The sheer amount of study required just to pass that exam was enough to make most people's heads spin.
But Drew wasn't listening to anyone. Tugging furiously at his beard, he muttered to himself in growing agitation:
"No… no, that's not right. History… history was never supposed to be like this…"
The truth was, much of the world's past had been lost.
Even the elves' so-called Great Library, which boasted thousands of years of records, contained only a little over a millennium—two thousand years at most.
Rumor said that two thousand years ago, a Demon King had plunged the world into a cataclysmic war—an apocalypse that engulfed every corner of the land.
But how vast that war had been, how many powers had taken part, even the names of the Demon King and the Hero—none of it was known anymore.
What people did know was this: after that war, history became a void. Records before the war vanished as though wiped clean by some unseen hand. Every book disappeared. Long-lived races who might have remembered—dragons, liches—were gone. The elves were butchered, their sages slaughtered like livestock, leaving behind only clueless children who carried no knowledge of their elders.
The continent was left in ruins. The survivors were so few that for generations, survival alone consumed them. By the time humanity had the strength to care about history again, it was already too late.
There was no doubt: the history of two thousand years ago was lost forever.
But that hadn't stopped people from searching. And now, it seemed, a rare fragment of the truth had survived—hidden within the dungeons.
It was said that dungeons dated back to the ancient age. Each one carried its own story—not legend, not myth, but real history. If someone could gather every dungeon's tale, perhaps the truth of that lost era could finally be pieced together.
Unfortunately, only a handful of such stories had ever been uncovered. The rest remained locked away.
Still, one thing was believed to be certain: no matter how a dungeon mutated or how drastically it changed, its story—the history within—remained untouched.
Which meant… what they had just witnessed at the bonfire might really have been the history of the ancient era.
Gods above… was it truly that monumental?
Most dungeon stories were narrow in scope—about one person's grudges and loves, a race's origins, or the legendary feats of a single figure.
But Sein Dungeon had shown them a vision of the birth of the world itself.
Compared to that, everything else seemed utterly trivial.
"Our world was born from fire? That doesn't sound right…" Drew muttered, still frowning. "Gwyn… Izalith… Nito… the Dragons… If they were as important as that vision made them out to be, then they should rival the God of Holy Light or the Goddess of Dark Wind. Entire churches would've been founded around them."
The great churches did, after all, worship deities said to predate the blank in history. Their myths—origin tales of gods and creation—were favorite topics among scholars, though most dismissed them as little more than superstition.
After all, gods never descended to explain history to mortals. And in recent centuries, divine blessings had become rarer than ever.
O gods, have you closed your eyes to us? —the final words of the late Pope of the Church of Holy Light.
"Well?" Leon pressed, eyes fixed on Drew. "Any leads? Could that really have been…?"
But Drew only shook his head. Rising unsteadily, he said, "Let me try a spirit-calling ritual. Maybe an ancestor's soul can give us clarity."
He swayed as he began chanting obscure incantations, looking less like a scholar-mage and more like some wild shaman.
The spirit-calling ritual was a spell meant to summon the soul of an ancestor tied by bloodline, seeking their wisdom. But the ancestor summoned was completely random, and the results varied wildly. Most gave only cryptic, half-coherent replies.
If the ritual were truly reliable, people would have long since asked their ancestors about the missing history.
Drew knew this. But the weight of what they had just seen was too much to carry alone—he had to try.
Before long, faint whispers echoed in his ears, voices from a distant age:
"Dead animals… tasty. Roast with fire… even tastier."
"By the river… pick gray rocks. Hit other rocks with them. Fun."
Drew's expression froze.
What the hell… which era of ancestor did I just summon?!
Utterly deflated, he cut the ritual short. He should never have attempted it in the first place.
"I can't say for sure," he admitted at last. "This is too big, too important… not something I can decide alone." His gaze fell on the bonfire, eyes shadowed with thought. "When we leave here, I'll report this to the Mage Association. The Chairman must hear of it."
But who would ever believe that Sein Dungeon held fragments of the ancient era's history?
Even so, the group's earlier grim determination had evaporated, replaced with exhilaration. The vision had ignited something within them, their spirits burning as brightly as the bonfire before them.
They had come armed with Pacifying Agents purchased from Wade, ready to hunt down the Guardian Ape. Instead, they had stumbled into something world-shaking.
And as if that weren't enough, after heated discussion they made another discovery about the bonfire—it could level them up.
Naturally, the revelation left them reeling.
For raiders like them, the soul requirements were steep. Even Maru, who needed the least, required 4,000 souls. Leon, at the top, needed 10,000.
Even if he cleared the entire upper layer alone, he would barely scrape together enough for a single level.
"Boss, you take this." Maru pressed the Giant Basilisk's soul into Leon's hand. "You need it more than we do."
Everyone knew the messy state of Leon's life outside the dungeon.
He didn't bother with thanks—none were needed among them. He simply accepted it with quiet resolve.
He had already made up his mind: he would come here every day to grind for souls. Before going home, he would gather as many as possible.
Their next target was already set. Their intel on the Ringed Knight Straight Sword and the Sealed Prison had mentioned both a Demon Statue and the prison itself. Clearly, those were their next objectives.
But less than half an hour into the middle layer, they stumbled upon the Demon Statue itself.
It stood upon a circular altar of strange, faintly glowing stone bricks. Yet stepping onto it did nothing.
"Maybe it's linked to the statue?" someone suggested.
Leon reached out and touched the statue. Instantly, glowing words appeared before him:
[Find and defeat the Three Wise Beasts. The prison will unlock itself.]
Not just words—a crude sketch of the beasts appeared as well.
They were: a bear. A lobster. And… a massive hand covered in countless fingers.
These… are the Wise Beasts?!