《Dungeon Diary》


 Book 1: Chapter 1 - Life Before Death

    ¡°Is this¡­ death?¡±


    He had fallen, the bullet now a burning weight lodged deep in his chest, and the alley¡ªthe one that had always been his refuge, his escape, the place where he¡¯d once believed he could outrun the world, outrun the men who sought him¡ªhad betrayed him. No matter how fast he ran, no matter how many turns he took, he could feel their hounds, those dogs of justice, baying at his heels, scenting the dark things he¡¯d done, drawn to him as though every crime he¡¯d committed was etched into his skin. A single strand of his hair had been enough, and he hadn¡¯t even known it.


    ¡°Target neutralized!¡±


    The officer loomed above him, face unreadable, as if he had not just pulled the trigger, as if the bullet now lodged deep in his chest had been nothing more than a formality, a confirmation of something inevitable, and the faint hiss of static from the device on his vest, almost lost in the chaos, whispered to him of how little it all mattered, because this was always the end, the raid, the hounds, the relentless march of boots against pavement, the alley that had once been his refuge now closing in on him like a grave, as if the whole city, the world itself, had conspired to catch him, to remind him that his escape had never been possible, that from the moment he had taken that first step toward freedom, he had already lost, already fallen, already been claimed by a fate as indifferent as the cold eyes of the man who had shot him.


    ¡°To think the silent blade of Jagataru felled tonight¡­¡±


    ¡°Even the slickest fox fell into the eagle¡¯s talon, he had enough blood to drown the city by himself. Half of the crook infesting the government met their last page of history, and all of those are credited to his craftiest art of assassination.¡±


    It was never glory, never a boast or righteous cry. Murder, no matter how you tilt it, is a crime that rots the soul, and those dead faces haunt him in ways he couldn¡¯t shake. The blasted names they whispered about him in the shadows were just men, more human than he ever let himself be. Some of them were thieves, yes, greedy, hungry, selfish men. But the others, the ones who died beneath his blade, they did it for something. For sick children. For a promise. Or because life had dealt them a cruel hand, and he was just the final push. Those people... they died, their last breaths mingling with his name, their stories erased because he had been too blind, too hardened to care.


    The truth struck him, not like a revelation, but like the weight of the bullet still lodged in his chest, cold and unyielding. It was too late now. Every path he thought to choose, every moment he had tried to change his course, he had always found himself pulled back into the shadows. The darkness wasn¡¯t just around him¡ªit had become him, and he had wandered too far to ever find his way back.


    And as he let that thought settle, let the cold numbness crawl through him, seeping into his skin like the death he deserved, his mind began to slip, the last of his strength fading into oblivion. Darkness swallowed him whole. Not the kind that invited peace, but the kind that mirrored his soul¡ªempty, hollow, unrelenting.


    ¡°Hey, wake up!¡±


    It wasn¡¯t the police now, not the static crackle of their voices in the night, not the iron weight of judgment. Everything that had been¡ªthe street, the hounds, the alley¡ªvanished into silence. And then, breaking through that quiet, a voice. Soft. High-pitched. A girl¡¯s voice, piercing through the darkness that held him like a sudden burst of light.


    ¡°Wake up, human!¡±


    The voice echoed again, persistent, like a needle threading its way through his fogged mind, followed by the odd sensation of something tapping against his forehead¡ªsoft, almost like the playful touch of a kitten''s paw, which only deepened the strangeness, for wasn''t he supposed to be gone by now, free from this damned world, his soul severed from that broken, aged body? But here he was, alive, or at least something close to it, and curiosity gnawed at him as he blinked, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, opening his eyes to a world that shouldn¡¯t be.


    "Hey, you, you¡¯re finally awake! You tried to escape the dungeon, right?" said the thing before him¡ªa tiny floating creature, round and glowing like some perverse firefly with a light far too bright, piercing, beaming into his vision.


    The absurdity of it struck him¡ªthis thing, this whimsical spirit or whatever it was¡ªhow could it be real? He had heard stories, of course, of demons and devils, fiends that prowled the depths of hell, but this¡­ what was this? A fairy? A spirit? A joke played on him by the universe? His mind flitted through these thoughts, barely registering the words spilling from his own mouth, ¡°Uh¡­ what?¡± The voice sounded foreign to his ears, younger, too whole.


    Then his eyes fell to his own hands, his body, and the confusion deepened¡ªwhat was this strange, ridiculous outfit, this sack of grain he wore like some crude attempt at clothing, with holes cut out for his head and arms, and a rope tied carelessly around his waist as if it feared falling to the ground would seal its fate. He tried to take it all in, the pieces of it¡ªthe bizarre creature, the unfamiliar surroundings, and his own flesh that seemed somehow new, less worn than it had any right to be¡ªas if half a century had been stripped away, leaving him not just lost, but displaced, out of time, out of sense, like he had been transported into a world that wasn¡¯t his, one where nothing made sense.


    ¡°Dungeon,¡± claimed the light, ¡°You want to escape? Forget it!¡±


    This light, this strange glowing thing, it floated there, mocking him almost, as if it had some sense of humor about it, a humor that he couldn¡¯t grasp, not here, not now, not after the searing pain that still lingered, fresh as the moment it tore into him like molten metal branding his chest, as though the memory of it was baked right into his bones, and yet here he was, alive¡ªor something like it. The place around him¡­ it wasn¡¯t right, it didn¡¯t fit, like a puzzle missing its edge pieces, the world that should¡¯ve been there¡ªthe alley, the narrow place he knew, where the walls closed in on either side like a vice¡ªwas gone, or maybe it was still here, but he couldn¡¯t see it, couldn¡¯t feel it. No, he could feel it, his fingertips grazing rough stone, but not like before. Was it stone? The texture eluded him, slipping through his mind like water through a sieve. It might¡¯ve been rock, or maybe slabs, or even wood¡ªhe couldn¡¯t say for certain, not through the haze that hung over everything, thick like fog in the early morning. The darkness wrapped around him, a veil, impenetrable, distorting even the most familiar sensations until all he could do was guess, his mind reaching for anything solid, anything that made sense, but finding nothing but shadows and questions where certainty should¡¯ve been.


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    ¡°This isn¡¯t hell! Where¡¯s the fire, the group of Chikrabalas that will punish me?¡±


    ¡°Huh? Cikar¡ªwhat?¡± slammed the light ball angry, ¡°This is dungeon, you buffon head! What¡¯s hell, what place is that?¡±


    He asked, irritation gnawing at him like a hound chasing its tail, circling, spiraling, confusion settling in deeper, ¡°And you, what are you? A fairy? Are you some kind of fairy in this place?¡± His voice wavered between fury and disbelief, though the anger was more reflex than anything, as if lashing out might somehow make sense of all this.


    But the little light didn¡¯t bother with the straight answer he demanded, instead it bobbed left and right, floating like a leaf caught in the wind, mocking him with its silence. He couldn¡¯t read this thing¡ªhow could he? He wasn¡¯t a behaviorist, never had been, especially not for something like this, this glimmering creature with no face, no form that made sense. Yet, the way it danced in the air, there was something unmistakable about it¡ªa curiosity, like it was toying with him, amused by his confusion.


    ¡°Fairy?¡± it finally echoed, almost laughing, though he couldn¡¯t be sure. ¡°Me? Well, sure, you could say I¡¯m a fairy, for now. But I¡¯ll have you know I was once a beautiful princess, seated upon the grandest throne.¡±


    It flitted again, light as air, dismissing his question with a wave of some invisible hand. ¡°Anyway, your claim about dying, that¡¯s what interests me,¡± it continued, words sharp with mischief, as though it saw him as nothing more than a riddle to be solved, a tool with legs and arms. ¡°And you¡¯ve no clue why you¡¯re here?¡±


    The creature¡¯s voice grew brighter, sing-song almost, teasing. ¡°Those two things¡ªdying and not knowing why¡ªyou know, they mark you as an outlander. You¡¯re not from here, are you? You came from a different world, just like the prophecy said you would, long ago.¡± It paused as if relishing the absurdity of it all. ¡°Anyway, welcome to Lucia!¡± The way it spoke, like welcoming a lost lamb to the slaughter, filled him with the sense that this creature saw him less as a man and more as a piece in some larger game, and he, well, he was beginning to wonder if he even mattered in it at all.


    ¡°Lucia? This place is Lucia?¡± Robin repeated, the name foreign on his tongue, like a word spoken from a dream half-remembered, lingering just out of reach.


    ¡°Yes, Lucia, a world of magic and miracle!¡± the light circled him, twirling like a leaf caught in the currents of a breeze, gleeful and weightless, until it perched upon his head as if it had found the only roost in all the world that mattered. It nestled there for a moment, content, as though oblivious to the dread that had begun to gnaw at Robin¡¯s mind. ¡°But, here, you¡¯re in a bit of a predicament. Trapped, you know. For good.¡±


    ¡°Trapped?¡± he echoed, feeling the word sink into his chest like a weight. ¡°Trapped like unable to get out forever?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t say something so terribly discouraging, even to myself, outlander!¡± The light¡¯s voice took on a sing-song quality, mockingly playful, as if this whole ordeal were some grand joke. ¡°I mean, you¡¯re prey here too, and you wouldn¡¯t want to discourage yourself further, would you? That wouldn¡¯t be wise.¡±


    ¡°Prey?¡± Robin felt the tension in his muscles, a knot twisting in his gut. ¡°What do you mean, prey?¡±


    The answer came not from the light, but from the growl¡ªlow, guttural, like the earth itself was groaning beneath his feet. His breath caught in his throat, turning toward the sound. And there, in the darkness that had swallowed his world whole, he saw it¡ªemerging from the shadows like some nightmare given form. A creature as large as he was, its body hunched and crooked, covered in a thin, filthy layer of fur. Its maw hung open, thick strings of drool dripping between teeth like jagged stones, sharp and wet. The claws¡ªyes, those claws, like hooks tearing at the air itself, but worse was the dagger it gripped in its foreleg, now a twisted hand, and with it came the promise that the fight would not end quickly, nor cleanly, for this beast was not mere hunger. No, this was violence made flesh, and Robin could feel its eyes boring into him, measuring him, weighing him as prey.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I mean!¡± the light announced, triumphant, as it floated back beside him, its voice full of knowing, the kind of knowing Robin had never touched before, never even brushed against. His heart pounded, his breath caught between his teeth, the creature before him not just a beast but something pulled from the pages of a nightmare he hadn¡¯t known his mind could dream. ¡°Monster of this dungeon, Hundstein.¡±


    Hundstein¡ªthe word sounded foreign, thick with dread, hanging in the air like a curse.


    ¡°What should we do?¡± Robin asked, feeling the question fall out of his mouth before his mind had time to catch up to it. What could they do? What was there to do, when something like that stood before him, when the very world he thought he had left behind now felt like a distant memory, lost in the shadows of this new reality?


    ¡°Omitiad!¡± The light''s voice changed, thick and slow, warping like the sound of a record dragging beneath the weight of some unseen hand, and Robin felt the hair rise on the back of his neck, a chill running down his spine as if the world had shifted again, twisting under the power of a word he couldn¡¯t understand.


    And then it appeared¡ªout of nothing, a floating tablet, ghostly and unreal, suspended in the air before him. The surface shimmered with lines of symbols, their shapes like nothing he had ever seen, twisted and jagged and old, older than the beast, older than him, older than anything. The way they were arranged¡ªso precise, so cramped and layered like the frenzied notes of a scholar long gone mad¡ªmade his head spin. His breath came short, his pulse quickened, caught between the pull of wonder and terror, the feeling of watching something ancient, something that had no place in the world he knew, unfold before him. A world that wasn¡¯t his, a magic that wasn¡¯t his, but one that, for this moment, stood right before his eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s that? Magic?¡±


    ¡°Surprise, huh? You¡¯re indeed an outlander, someone coming from the other world, exactly the prophecy had been so noisy about. Who¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± the man looked hesitated, but soon he introduced himself, ¡°Robin!¡±


    ¡°What a name! Okay, listen, this monster has an ability called Sword Mastery!¡± the light showed the panel, ¡°It means this one can use a sword like a real swordsman. But we¡¯re lucky this one has nothing but the thing between its legs.¡±


    ¡°What the¡­?¡±


    ¡°The tail, silly! What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Joking in this situation, you surely are someone I want to be with¡­¡±


    The hundstein moved, not just toward him but into him, filling the air with the weight of its presence, its claws glinting in the dim light like promises made by the devil himself, and Robin could hear his own heart pounding as if it was trying to escape his chest, its rhythm a bitter reminder of the time he had left, if any, in this world he wasn¡¯t supposed to be part of. He glanced at the strange light, the creature that called itself a fairy, though no fairy he¡¯d ever heard of would hover there so quietly, its glow flickering like a candle in the wind, sharing his fear in its silence, as if it knew what was coming, as if it too understood that Robin had no weapons, no strength, only the scars of an assassin long past his prime, the wounds of a man who had lived too long in the shadows to ever be whole again.


    But something stirred in him, something deeper than fear, something older than pain¡ªa primal need, an instinct that screamed at him to survive, to find a way out, no matter what, no matter the odds, no matter the cost. He looked around, and then, just beyond the reach of the creature¡¯s claws, he saw it: a narrow crack in the dungeon wall, barely wide enough, but wide enough, if he was fast, if he was lucky, if he was willing to risk everything he had left. The growl of the hundstein was louder now, vibrating through the walls, shaking the ground beneath him, promising not just death but a brutal, unforgiving end.


    And in that moment, he knew¡ªhe had only seconds. Seconds to decide if he would face the beast, if he would meet it head-on, unarmed, weak, half-dead already, or if he would gamble on that sliver of hope, that narrow escape carved into the stone like a lifeline. The beast was close now, too close, its breath hot and foul in the air, and Robin, in those final heartbeats, could feel the weight of both choices pulling at him, both paths fraught with danger, both promising to change him forever.

 Book 1: Chapter 2 - Just One-sided Battle

    The little light streaked forward with an air of bravado that far outstripped its size, darting ahead like it could shoulder the burden of his survival, hold back the tide of the dungeon¡¯s suffocating darkness with nothing more than its feeble glow. Yet Robin stood there, as still as stone, rooted not by fear alone but by something deeper, something that refused to accept this gallant offer, refused to pass through that jagged crevice that loomed like the jaws of some beast ready to snap shut and crush him forever.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Have you gone senseless from fright too?¡± the light spat, its voice sharp, biting, cutting through the tension that filled the air.


    Robin¡¯s eyes narrowed, not in fear but in simmering frustration, the words that escaped his lips carrying the heat of something old and buried deep. ¡°You didn¡¯t even introduce yourself, princess.¡±


    ¡°The kind of logic running through your head must be all tangled up with madness!¡± the light shot back, flaring with an intensity that belied its size. ¡°Humans¡ªyou¡¯re all such fools! I¡¯m Minona Devia, princess of Devia¡¯s throne, and I command you to go!¡±


    A command fit for a king¡¯s ear, or at least a fool willing to take it. Robin¡¯s lips twisted into something like a grin, something that danced on the edge of contempt, as if the words meant nothing, as if he¡¯d heard such orders a thousand times before and found each one more hollow than the last. ¡°Fine by me,¡± he muttered, but it wasn¡¯t compliance that carried him forward.


    No, it was something else, something raw and reckless as he charged toward the hulking shape that loomed ahead, the Hundstein, a beast that should have struck terror into the hearts of men. And yet here he was, sprinting straight into its maw with all the heedlessness of a man who had long since learned that life and death were not the ends of the road but the twists along it.


    ¡°Not that way, you brainless fool!¡± Minona shrieked, her voice crackling with fury, the light around her flickering like flame caught in a gale.


    Robin heard Minona¡¯s warning, but it was nothing more than an echo swallowed by the pulse of his own heartbeat. His body moved on instinct, indifferent to the danger the little light screamed about, eyes locked on the beast before him. The Hundstein¡ªits name had been given, but it was nothing more than another opponent, one with fangs instead of blades, claws instead of fists, but still an opponent. The creature, no doubt, had sized him up as well, mistaking Robin¡¯s brazen approach for either desperation or madness, the kind of foolhardy bravery that often came from men with nothing left to lose.


    With a guttural roar, the Hundstein surged toward him, jaws wide, believing the fight already won, the human''s flesh its next meal. But Robin¡¯s fist cut through the air like a hammer, slamming into the monster''s jaw with a force that shattered not just bone but the monster¡¯s confidence, sending it reeling back in a stunned daze. It had expected a victim, but found a predator instead.


    Robin¡¯s breath came in short bursts, each exhale colder than the last, his body coiled tight with muscle memory. The beast, still stumbling, felt another strike¡ªthis time Robin¡¯s elbow shot forward, catching the Hundstein in the throat with deadly precision. Its eyes bulged, its lungs failed to pull in air, and the realization hit¡ªthis human wasn¡¯t prey, wasn¡¯t sacrificial, wasn¡¯t a meal, but something else, something that attacked with a lethal intent the Hundstein could hardly comprehend.


    Robin¡¯s gaze sharpened as the creature gasped for breath, his hand dropping to the rope tied around his waist. It wasn¡¯t a weapon forged of steel or magic, but it was enough¡ªjust enough. The rope looped over the Hundstein¡¯s thick neck, and Robin yanked, his movements swift and merciless, tightening the noose with every pull. The beast flailed, its claws raking the air, catching his skin, leaving streaks of blood across his face, but Robin barely registered the pain, his focus locked on one thing¡ªfinishing this.


    His knuckles whitened from the strain, the rope biting into his hands, but he ignored the ache, pulling harder, twisting the rope as the Hundstein thrashed, its massive body buckling under the force. Robin felt it then, the cracking of bone beneath his feet, the gurgling sound as the monster¡¯s last breaths were stolen, the life draining from it as surely as if he had driven a blade through its heart.


    ¡°Done,¡± he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice low, almost feral, as the beast¡¯s body went limp, collapsing with a heavy thud.


    From somewhere behind, Minona¡¯s voice broke through the haze. ¡°Oh ho! Golly, it¡¯s dead! It¡¯s dead for sure!¡±


    If it weren¡¯t for Minona¡¯s shrill cry cutting through the haze of Robin¡¯s focus, his hands might have kept tightening, his grip so fierce the rope would have become a blade, slicing through flesh, or worse, his own bones would have shattered beneath the strain. The beast had gone still, no longer thrashing, its breath stolen, its monstrous body finally surrendering to the cold stone floor with a thud that reverberated through the cavern. Robin stood there, hands still clenched around the rope, the skin raw and burning from the force he¡¯d used.


    ¡°The eyes,¡± Robin murmured, his voice thick, distant, like he was speaking from some far-off place, ¡°they¡¯re still glaring. I broke its neck, didn¡¯t even choke it. Snapped it clean.¡± His words were almost clinical, detached, but the weight of them pressed down on the air like a heavy fog.


    Minona recoiled slightly, the light dimming as if she wanted to pull away, put some space between herself and this man who seemed to kill with such ease, such certainty. ¡°You... you even know how it died?¡± Her voice wavered, a thin edge of fear threading through it. ¡°I thought you just strangled it, but you¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know how it died, Minona.¡± His tone was calm, but there was a hollowness beneath it, a weariness. ¡°I always know. It¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve watched the life drain out of something¡ªsomeone. I¡¯ve taken lives, more than you could count. I¡¯m not your regular human. I wasn¡¯t a soldier, not some knight serving a lord or a king. No one commanded me to do it, no one ordered me to stain my hands. It was my choice. And each one, each death, I knew it. Felt it. Watched it.¡± His voice thickened with bitterness, each word falling heavier than the last. ¡°I didn¡¯t kill out of duty or honor. I killed because it was the only thing I knew how to do. My hands have seen more blood than you can imagine. I don¡¯t belong here. I belong in hell, burning alongside every one of those sins, but here I am, killing again.¡±


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    Silence wrapped around them like the dark walls of the dungeon itself, the echoes of his confession lingering long after the words had faded. Minona hovered in the air, her usual mischievous spark dimmed as if the weight of his past had seeped into the air between them, pressing against her light. For a moment, she didn¡¯t speak, didn¡¯t crack a joke or throw a quip his way. The silence grew, filling the space like a heavy, suffocating mist.


    Then, as if grasping for something, anything to lift the crushing tension, she spoke, her voice lighter, but not without a strange, new respect. ¡°Well... if there¡¯s one good thing about all that, it¡¯s that you¡¯re good at killing, I guess.¡± Her tone held an odd mix of sarcasm and sincerity. ¡°Most outlanders would¡¯ve died just trying to kill a rat, but here you are, snapping necks like it¡¯s second nature. Hah! Lucky me.¡±


    Robin¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t shift, the weight of his confession still heavy in his chest, but there was a flicker¡ªjust a flicker¡ªof something lighter in his eyes. He could see what Minona was trying to do, trying to pull them both out of the grim mire of his past with a jab, a joke. And maybe, just maybe, there was something to her words. Maybe his past, his hands, his skills could serve a purpose here, in this twisted place, if only to survive.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he muttered, almost to himself, as if testing the words. ¡°Lucky you.¡±


    Minona¡¯s light dimmed slightly, her glow softening just enough to stretch the shadows long across the dungeon walls, casting jagged shapes that seemed to flicker with menace. She floated nearer to Robin, her usual air of confidence laced with something more conspiratorial, as if she were about to whisper a secret no one else could know, something dark and ancient, something that might help them survive¡ªif only just. Her voice dipped low, though the arrogance never fully left it. ¡°Our luck aren¡¯t going to be enough to keep you alive down here. That thing you just strangled to death? It was likely just a scout. Or maybe a young hunter.¡±


    Robin¡¯s eyes narrowed, his fists instinctively tightening, knuckles white against the dim light. The tension in his frame told Minona more than his words ever would, that readiness for another fight, for the next threat. ¡°Scout?¡± he muttered. ¡°So, what, there¡¯s a group somewhere?¡±


    ¡°Yes, a group.¡± She let the words hang in the stale, musty air of the dungeon, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°They hunt in packs¡ªthree, five, more, who knows? Maybe you¡¯ll get lucky and find only two. But I wouldn¡¯t bet on it.¡± Her light flickered, dancing like a flame caught in a draft, her tone lifting, playful, sharp. ¡°You might¡¯ve just killed their weakest one, you know. The runt. The one they send to sniff out the idiots who rush into fights thinking they¡¯re invincible.¡±


    Robin¡¯s jaw tightened, his resolve hardening, though a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. ¡°Just how vast is this place?¡±


    Minona floated closer still, hovering just at the edge of his vision, her light casting her usual arrogant grin across the stone. ¡°What, did you think I¡¯d tell you you¡¯re safe? Ha! In this dungeon? There¡¯s no such thing as ¡®safe,¡¯ Robin. There¡¯s cautious, and then there¡¯s stupid.¡± She twirled, a mocking little dance in the air. ¡°And you, my dear human, you toe that line with grace.¡±


    She paused, voice dropping into something more serious, more cutting, but never without that sharp edge of sarcasm. ¡°Stay put for a moment and let me figure out something useful about you. After all, your killer instincts alone aren¡¯t going to get us out of here.¡±


    ¡°What do you want to¡ª"


    ¡°Omitaid.¡±


    The strange panel materialized before them once again, hovering in the dim light like some ancient relic come to life, its surface marked by the same alien script Robin had seen before. Only this time, there were more symbols¡ªmore of that intricate, otherworldly writing that seemed to pulse with a quiet, mysterious power. Robin squinted, trying to make sense of it, the glowing letters shifting and twisting in ways that made his head spin. But Minona, drifting beside him, her light casting long shadows, took her time, as if savoring the moment, scanning the arcane script with an air of superiority that was becoming all too familiar.


    He crossed his arms, his patience thinning. ¡°What¡¯s that, exactly?¡±


    Minona perked up, her voice laced with that infuriatingly smug tone she often used when showing off. ¡°An appraisal spell,¡± she said, her light brightening with a mischievous flicker. ¡°Isn¡¯t it marvelous? Oh, but of course, it must seem like magic beyond your wildest human dreams. Poor thing.¡± She tilted slightly, the faintest hint of a smirk audible in her words. ¡°Anyway, this panel says you¡¯ve got Dagger Mastery. Fancy, huh?¡±


    Robin raised an eyebrow, his curiosity tempered by skepticism. ¡°Dagger Mastery? Where do I even get a dagger?¡±


    Minona muttered something under her breath, the sound barely reaching him, but Robin could sense that familiar, boastful edge in her tone. She floated closer, twirling lazily in the air, enjoying every moment of explaining something that, to her, seemed like common sense. ¡°This is a dungeon, human,¡± she began, her voice dripping with that playful arrogance. ¡°The deeper we go, the more we¡¯ll find¡ªdangers, yes¡ªbut also loot. You know, treasures left behind by other poor souls who dared to challenge this hellhole before you. Adventurers with more guts than brains. You¡¯re not the first human to wander into this abyss, you know.¡± She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in, her light flickering with something akin to a mocking grin. ¡°Must sting, huh? Knowing you¡¯re just another follower, not the fearless trailblazer you thought you were.¡±


    Robin''s jaw tightened, his tolerance for her attitude thinning as well. There was a time when her arrogance was merely an annoyance, but now, it was beginning to gnaw at him. Still, he bit back his retort, reminding himself there were more pressing concerns than trading insults with a glowing ball of sass. ¡°So long as I find a dagger,¡± he muttered, more to himself than to her.


    Minona hovered close, her light flickering with excitement as she eyed Robin. "Well, well, look at it again. Not just one, but three skills, you crafty little outsider. Dagger Mastery, Night Beholder, and Dungeon Walker."


    Robin frowned. ¡°What do they do, aside from Dagger Mastery?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Dagger Mastery self-explanatory, huh?¡± she teased, her tone playful, mocking. ¡°Night Beholder? It lets you see in the dark. That¡¯s why you¡¯re not stumbling around like a blind mouse in here.¡±


    Robin blinked, realizing the truth of it. ¡°Makes sense. And Dungeon Walker?¡±


    Minona¡¯s light dimmed, as if savoring the suspense. ¡°That one¡¯s a bit tricky,¡± she mused, floating closer, her voice low. ¡°You grow stronger by killing monsters. And if you, uh, eat them¡­¡± She paused, giggling as Robin recoiled. ¡°Oh, come now. Eating them boosts your power even more. Some people consider monster meat a delicacy here¡ªroasted hundstein, anyone?¡±


    Robin shot a disgusted glance at the fallen beast, wrinkling his nose. ¡°I¡¯m not eating that.¡±


    Minona fluttered playfully, unfazed. ¡°Suit yourself, but don¡¯t knock it ¡®til you try. Hundstein flesh grants any kind of weapon masteries, you know. This one you¡¯ve killed has one for sword¡ªa longer blade, in other word. Eat a piece, and you¡¯ll wield a sword like you¡¯ve trained for seasons.¡±


    He scowled, torn between revulsion and curiosity. ¡°Sword Mastery? By just eating it?¡±


    ¡°Yep!¡± Minona chirped, perching on his shoulder, her voice a whisper in his ear. One little push, and she convinced him to finally taste his first meat in Lucia. ¡°Just a bite. Roast, baked, however you like it, even raw too. But it¡¯ll sting your stomach a bit from the magic. Come on, Robin, a little taste won¡¯t kill you.¡± Her giggle held a mischievous edge, daring him.


    Robin shook his head firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll pass. Swords are too clumsy for an assassin.¡±


    Minona sighed, retreating with a dramatic huff. ¡°Fine, fine. But don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you about missing out on the finer points of dungeon cuisine.¡± Her light flickered with amusement, still teasing as they pressed on. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s move. I¡¯ll lead the way, oh stubborn one.¡±

 Book I: Chapter 3 - Summon The Troubles

    The dungeon rose like a forgotten wound in the earth, a place where silence settled heavy and ancient, a silence that stretched into the marrow of your bones and clung like the damp air, thick with the scent of rot and decay. Here, where the walls breathed darkness, where time seemed to fold into itself in the absence of light, there was no warmth, no respite for the weary or the weak, only the grinding pulse of the dungeon¡¯s eternal hunger. The shadows whispered of beasts, unseen and fanged, waiting in the crevices where night never ended, and each breath, each step deeper into that black heart, carried the promise of the one offering that had never been refused¡ªhuman flesh, torn and devoured, night after night, a feast that never ceased.


    Robin moved with careful steps, each one deliberate, his hand clutched at the rope-belt on his waist as his eyes flicked toward every shadow that shifted, every faint rustle in the distance. His voice was steady, though his vigilance never faltered. "So, Minona," he began, pausing only when a soft, indistinct noise made him glance over his shoulder, his brow furrowed, before continuing, "you know something about this dungeon, right?"


    Minona, her light form bobbing alongside him with a casualness that bordered on disdain for the darkness around them, let out a soft, almost amused hum. ¡°I¡¯ve been here since the day it erected its walls, manifesting monsters on its surface," she answered, her voice light and untroubled, as if she had long grown indifferent to the weight of the gloom pressing in on all sides. "I saw many come with brave hearts, yet they all met the same fate¡ªnourishment for the beasts that call this place home."


    Robin halted mid-step, eyes narrowing at the faintest rustle ahead, muscles taut beneath his murky clothes. He breathed in, steadying himself, and resumed walking, though his voice carried a sharper edge. ¡°But how? Knowing this place is a death sentence, why would they keep coming?¡±


    Minona drifted ahead slightly, her form casting a soft glow that did nothing to penetrate the deep shadows around them. She laughed softly, a sound that seemed almost out of place here. "Have you never heard of greed? Pride? Glory?¡± she said, her tone carrying a biting, effortless criticism. ¡°These walls lure the desperate, the foolish, the power-hungry. All those dangers, treasures, the whispered legends that captivate their hearts. They come here thinking they¡¯ll be different, but no heroic story, no gallant ballad, has ever been sung of their conquests. No one has lived to tell of it.¡±


    Robin¡¯s eyes darted once more toward a deeper shadow that seemed to move of its own accord, his hand tightening around his weapon, yet Minona¡¯s light continued undeterred, unaffected by the creeping danger. She floated ahead, her glow serene, as if the very darkness that threatened to consume him was nothing more than a familiar companion to her, while he remained cloaked in murk, every instinct on edge, suspicion gnawing at him like the creatures that lurked unseen.


    Robin paused, coughing as the dry air filled with dust stirred around them. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing. "Damn it¡ªdust again," he muttered, his voice rasping through the dryness that clung to his throat.


    Minona floated beside him, her light flickering playfully. "Parched, are we?" she said, her tone laced with a smug amusement. With a casual flick of her form, a shimmering ball of water and dirt manifested in the air, hovering beside her in a form akin to glass of water. ¡°Here,¡± she said, her glow softening around the conjured liquid. ¡°Take it while it¡¯s still cold.¡±


    Robin¡¯s brow furrowed, eyeing the glass of water warily. ¡°So magic can just pull water out of nowhere?¡± he muttered, half to himself, reaching out slowly. His fingers brushed the cool, hardened clay that formed around the water, and he hesitated. ¡°But... you sure it¡¯s drinkable?¡±


    Minona gave a light, dismissive laugh, the sound echoing faintly against the dungeon¡¯s oppressive walls. ¡°I used to drink it all the time when I had a mouth,¡± she said with a nonchalance that made Robin scowl.


    Reluctantly, he lifted the clay vessel to his lips, the chill of it biting against his skin. As the cool water rushed down his throat, his eyes closed for a moment, savoring the relief. It was like a spring bursting to life in a barren desert. When he finished, he exhaled, his breath cold and refreshing. "Hey, that''s clean," he admitted, a rare hint of gratitude slipping into his voice. ¡°Fresh. Almost icy. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Consider yourself lucky, then, human!¡± Minona''s voice lilted with pride, her light flaring briefly. ¡°I possess Elemental Mastery, control over all elements¡ªearth to mold the clay, water to fill it, ice to chill it, wind to carve, fire to harden. Even the water floating there, guided by my psychokinetic prowess¡ªAmra!¡± She floated higher, practically glowing with self-satisfaction.


    Robin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but tired of fighting her on every detail. ¡°Well, that¡¯s... a lot,¡± he muttered, shrugging his shoulders, his dark eyes scanning the dungeon¡¯s depths again as though hoping for some unseen danger to interrupt her boasting. ¡°Useful too. But why don¡¯t you fight for yourself, then?¡±


    Minona darted left and right in the air, as though shaking her head in mock disbelief. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± Robin¡¯s tone sharpened. ¡°Why not?¡±


    Her glow dimmed slightly, and for a moment she seemed to hesitate before bursting into motion again, voice rising. ¡°Cursed!¡± she spat, darting around him, her light flaring in frustration. ¡°I lost my power, some of my memory... I don¡¯t even know how I ended up here! It¡¯s infuriating!¡± She flitted angrily from side to side, her light swelling and waning like a storm about to burst. But then, just as quickly, she was calm again, drifting back to her usual smugness. ¡°But let me assure you, human,¡± she added, almost purring, ¡°I was once the most desirable in all of Lucia. Princes fought for my love. My body¡ªvoluptuous, white as pearl, hair like silk, lips like¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, sure,¡± Robin cut in, his tone flat, exhausted. ¡°But how do you get that body back?¡±


    Minona darted forward, hovering close to his face, her glow unnervingly bright. ¡°That¡¯s the best part,¡± she said, her voice dripping with smug delight. ¡°I don¡¯t!¡±


    Robin blinked, his hand brushing his forehead. ¡°You¡ªwhat?¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re helping!¡± she continued, spinning excitedly in front of him. ¡°When a monster dies, it releases mana¡ªmagical energy. I absorb it, rebuild my mana, fix my body. And you, with your Dungeon Walker, get stronger too. A beautiful mutualism.¡±


    Robin scowled. ¡°Do you even understand what mutualism means?¡±


    Minona twirled again, her light flickering with a playful arrogance. ¡°I share my wisdom with you, don''t I? My magic gave you water! My shine lights your way! And best of all, I am Minona Devia¡ªthe most charming princess in all Lucia. A mere peasant would commit crimes for a moment in my presence.¡±


    Robin exhaled, his patience worn thin, his sarcasm returning like an old habit. ¡°Right, right, Your Majesty. How could I forget?¡±


    Her smugness deepened, her light hovering inches from his face, a mischievous twinkle in her glow. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to learn about magic?¡±


    ¡°Can I even learn it?¡± Robin asked, tired of the back-and-forth but unable to stop himself from asking. ¡°How, tell me?¡±


    Minona¡¯s light flickered again, as though she was grinning. ¡°Not a chance.¡±


    ¡°This little¡ª"


    Minona roosted on his head, after blowing dusts away from his hair with something Robin perceived as magic, blowing away the dirt and the desire to squeze this little creature. ¡°Innates. All sentient beings in Lucia have it, at least one. Innate is still shrouded in mystery, but as far as I know, you can learn as many as you want, as long as you train for it.¡± She seemed to glow a bit brighter, clearly enjoying the role of the knowledgeable mentor.


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    Robin could feel it. The pulse, faint at first, then brighter, surer¡ªMinona¡¯s light, like a smug little beacon, always shining when she thought she had the upper hand, when her words filled the air with that relentless certainty of hers, twisting around his thoughts like a vine. He shifted, trying to shrug it off, that glow of hers, the way it seemed to press into him. ¡°Train?¡± he muttered, voice thick like molasses, as if the truth were stuck behind his teeth, not wanting to come out. ¡°You mean... like my Dagger Mastery? Because I was used to... handling knives?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± she burst out, her light swelling like a sudden flame, as if his hesitation had only made her surer. ¡°That¡¯s what we call innate exercise!¡± she went on, the words spilling out fast, too fast, like someone who never imagined being wrong.


    Robin frowned, let the silence hang between them, thick and awkward, let it dig into her a little, the weight of his next words slowly bearing down. ¡°But I don¡¯t kill people with a knife,¡± he said finally, the words slipping free, cold and slow, each one a shard of something he wanted to break. He watched her, waiting.


    Minona froze mid-air. The glow flickered, stuttering for just a moment, like a candle caught in a sudden draft. ¡°What?¡± Her voice trembled, not used to being questioned, not used to the sharp edge of uncertainty. ¡°But... you¡¯re an assassin. That¡¯s what you said, right? Sneaking through shadows, knives in hand, ready to strike. Dagger Mastery, that¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°I was a cook,¡± Robin cut in, voice flat, but heavy, each word dropping like a stone into the empty space between them. ¡°I knew how to chop things, mostly vegetables¡ªnot people.¡±


    He could see her light shrinking, dimming into something small, something weak. ¡°A... cook?¡± she echoed, the word soft, the certainty draining out of her voice as if she couldn¡¯t hold onto it anymore. ¡°That¡¯s how you learned Dagger Mastery?¡±


    Robin couldn¡¯t help the smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth, the way it felt to let her down, to shatter that image she had built of him. ¡°I don¡¯t know, you¡®re the one from this world.¡±


    Her light sputtered again, flickering like a dying star, struggling against the disappointment creeping in around her. She floated lower, her arrogance shrinking, her voice small now. ¡°But... you¡¯re an assassin,¡± she said, barely audible, clinging to the edges of her illusion like someone holding onto a dream as it slips away. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be... slicing through enemies, like... shing-shing-shing,¡± she added, but her voice was empty, her words thin, fragile.


    ¡°No one goes ¡®shing-shing-shing,¡¯ Minona,¡± Robin said with a sigh, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on him. ¡°Assassin in my world is silent, not reckless.¡±


    The light from her body sputtered, flickered, and faded until it was just a faint shimmer, barely there at all, as if she were fighting to keep herself glowing, to keep her fantasy alive. ¡°But... what about your Night Beholder?¡± she asked suddenly, desperately, her light swelling again, as if she found a thread of hope to cling to. ¡°Seeing in the dark, like... a shadow... that had to come from your assassin days, right?¡±


    Robin rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the ache of old memories, the weight of old truths. ¡°I was a night security guard,¡± he said quietly, the words thick, like a confession he didn¡¯t want to make. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m used to the dark night.¡±


    Minona flared in shock, her light bursting back to life for just a second before dimming once more, her voice tight with disbelief. ¡°Night guard, like a guard for for night? But... you said you were an assassin.¡±


    ¡°I needed the money,¡± Robin said simply, the truth hanging heavy between them. ¡°Assassins isn¡¯t job in my world.¡±


    She hovered there, stunned, as if the entire world she had built around him was crashing down piece by piece, her voice small and fragile as she clung to the last shreds of her image of him. ¡°But... but you still kill people, right? The Dagger Mastery... there was still... some shing-shing,¡± she said, voice trembling, zigzagging weakly in the air, her light flickering again.


    Robin groaned, his hand covering his face. ¡°Please, Minona... stop saying ¡®shing.¡¯¡±


    Minona¡¯s light flickered uncertainly, her usual bravado slipping in the brief, heavy pause that followed Robin¡¯s words. Then, with a sudden burst of forced brightness, she shot upward, her voice tight, too quick. ¡°Next is Dungeon Walker!¡± she announced, ¡°Ask me!¡± she urged, swirling through the air in a hurried attempt to mask her faltering pride, the challenge sounding hollow, but her need to regain control painfully clear.


    ¡°Innate that makes me stronger with every monster I defeat?¡± Robin¡¯s voice hung in the air, uncertain, as if he didn¡¯t trust his own words.


    Minona circled above, her light casting shifting shadows on the walls. ¡°Your innate is connected to your past,¡± she mused, her tone laced with curiosity, ¡°The assassin you were once. Who were they? What did you gain? And why did you kill them?¡±


    Robin stiffened, the question sinking into him like a blade, and he flinched against it. ¡°Why... why are we talking about this?¡± His words came out tight, almost brittle, as if spoken through clenched teeth, trying to shield himself behind them.


    Minona hovered closer, her light flickering as she pressed on, but softer now, probing. ¡°Is it so hard to tell? I¡¯m not prying... but no one kills without a reason. There¡¯s always something to gain. Especially someone who¡¯s killed as much as you claim.¡± She paused, her words lingering like smoke in the stagnant air, curling around him. ¡°What did you gain, human?¡±


    ¡°I...¡± Robin¡¯s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing, the weight of something unsaid pressing down on him. His gaze flickered away, but there was no escape in the darkness around him. Only Minona¡¯s persistent glow, watching him.


    And then, just like that, her interest evaporated. She flicked away with a sudden burst of light, her tone playful again, like the tension had been an illusion. ¡°Never mind!¡± she laughed, her voice breezy and careless. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me, human! Secrets are dull when they¡¯re given too easily, anyway.¡± She drifted farther, her light dimming as if retreating from the heaviness between them. ¡°But still... no one survives down here without a reason. Even you, with your Dungeon Walker,¡± she added, her tone light but edged with something sharp. ¡°At least you¡¯ve got more to fight for than just survival.¡±


    Robin remained still, silent, the air between them thick with unspoken things, the walls of the dungeon closing in, pressing tighter, until all that was left was the echo of her fading glow and the steady, quiet beating of his own secrets.


    ¡°This Dungeon Walker¡­¡± Robin opened his hands, studying the calloused palms as though something had shifted beneath his skin, but he felt nothing¡ªnothing but the same weight of them. ¡°I don¡¯t feel different.¡±


    ¡°From just one kill?¡± Minona¡¯s tone, light yet dripping with condescension, circled him like the air she commanded. ¡°Please. You¡¯ll have to paint these walls red with their blood before you notice anything. Dungeon Walker doesn¡¯t grant you power in an instant, human. You have to earn it. One Hundstein? A grain of sand, barely a speck. It won¡¯t even stick.¡± She paused, her glow flickering as she floated closer, blowing a soft gust of wind magic across his face. ¡°See that grain of dust? That¡¯s your current power.¡±


    Robin blinked at the sudden breeze, catching her mischievous gleam, a flicker of curiosity rising in him despite himself. ¡°So,¡± he began, voice steady, though the question carried the weight of something more, ¡°can I really get another innate?¡±


    Minona scoffed, her light flaring slightly in what felt like disdain. ¡°They used to say innates were gifts from ultimate entities, from Lucia herself. But those beliefs are for the weak.¡± Her voice curled around him, dripping with scorn. ¡°So you know, Lucia is the name of king¡¯s mother, not some deity. If you want power, you work for it. No divine hand¡¯s going to drop it in your lap.¡±


    ¡°Exercise and adaptation, like you mentioned?¡± Robin¡¯s voice was calmer, quieter now, as though asking too much would unravel something he wasn¡¯t ready to face.


    ¡°Innates come in different ways,¡± Minona began, floating lazily in front of him, her words half lecture, half boast. ¡°You could be born with them, like a talent, some takes sweat to hone them. Or there are shortcuts¡ªbooks, scrolls that hold the knowledge, but,¡± she added with a smug hum, ¡°I¡¯m not about to explain that until we see it ourselves.¡±


    Robin exhaled, long and slow, weary already from the constant back-and-forth, the insistent light that never let him rest. The idea of a ¡®cheat¡¯ had piqued his interest, sure, but nothing seemed worth the relentless boasting, the patronizing torch that never stopped talking. He couldn¡¯t endure much more of it, not when the knowledge was something he might never even touch. No, it wasn¡¯t worth the cost of burned ears and a fried brain.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s next?¡± Robin asked, a swift change of topic, hoping to steer the conversation away from her endless self-congratulations.


    ¡°We find you a weapon,¡± Minona answered, her voice brimming with excitement. ¡°Keep walking. I know where to look. I saw a chest down one of these paths.¡±


    As they moved deeper into the dungeon, Robin felt a strange undercurrent¡ªhope, maybe, but tainted, twisted, like something wrong was taking root inside him. The dungeon¡¯s oppressive air weighed on him, though the lightness of Minona¡¯s endless chatter numbed the worst of it. There was something off about her, something that pulled at the edges of his suspicion. From the moment he¡¯d met her, there¡¯d been no hostility, no fear¡ªnot the kind he was used to from his world. In fact, she¡¯d welcomed him, led him, like she¡¯d been waiting.


    Their footsteps echoed through the stone corridors, Minona¡¯s glow leading the way. Robin followed, his eyes alert, ever-watchful, his Night Beholder skill making the shadows clearer, the dangers easier to spot. But no amount of skill could lift the weight pressing on his thoughts¡ªthe poison of doubt. Minona¡¯s presence filled the silence, her brightness too cheerful, too eager. She was leading him, yes, but to what? And why? Robin¡¯s instincts screamed to question her motives, but he was trapped here, alone in a world that wasn¡¯t his, desperate enough to trust the light at his side¡ªif only because, for now, he had no other choice.


    The dungeon¡¯s silence pressed down on him, thick as the stone walls around them. Yet Minona¡¯s constant chatter filled the spaces, her light flickering as they ventured farther. Robin¡¯s trust was thin, fragile, already poisoned. But in this foreign, desolate place, he needed her. Even if she was leading him to something he couldn¡¯t yet see.

 Book I : Chapter 4 - New Tricky Stuff

    After what felt like hours of twisting through the tight, suffocating passageways, avoiding every skittering shadow and distant growl of those hulking Hundsteins, Robin and Minona finally came across a worn, half-rotting box. It was barely held together by an old rope that hung loose, like it had given up trying to hold its shape. Minona darted forward, her voice sharp with sudden excitement. ¡°There!¡± she cried, hovering over it like a curious moth drawn to a forgotten flame.


    Robin, with a smirk tugging at his lips, watched as she summoned a gust of wind to blow away the thick layer of dust that had settled across the top. The box groaned as he pulled it open, its rope-hinges protesting after what seemed like decades of neglect. Inside, his eyes gleamed at the sight of a lone dagger, lying there as though it had been waiting for him all this time. He pulled it from its scabbard, inspecting the edge with exaggerated care.


    ¡°This one¡¯s good!¡± he announced, his voice full of mock seriousness. He turned the blade this way and that, the dim light catching on its sharp edge. ¡°Sharp enough for, hmm¡­ cutting vegetables!¡± He grinned, waiting for Minona¡¯s inevitable jab.


    ¡°Vegetables? I¡¯ll show you vegetables when we see tree monster Slitherbark outside of this dungeon!¡± Minona¡¯s voice was thick with sarcasm, and she flared brighter, like she couldn¡¯t decide whether to scold him or laugh at him. ¡°We¡¯re not fighting vegetables! They have flesh, they want flesh, your flesh!¡± She hovered closer, practically buzzing with exasperation, but Robin could sense the smirk hidden somewhere in her tone.


    ¡°Alright, alright!¡± Robin held up his hands, still grinning. ¡°But these blades will do just fine, even if they can¡¯t julienne.¡± He turned his attention back to the box, his expression shifting into mock concern. ¡°But what¡¯s this? Someone left it here? Is it okay to take everything inside? I wouldn¡¯t want to steal from some poor, forgotten soul.¡± His voice dripped with exaggerated innocence.


    Minona rolled her metaphorical eyes, her glow dimming slightly as she replied with a weary sigh. ¡°An assassin just said that, huh? New to me. Anyway, this is just a regular looting box. Believe it or not, the hundsteins made it.¡±


    ¡°A dog with hands can craft this?¡±


    ¡°Unbelievable, right? They love to hoard weapons from fallen adventurers, cobbling together boxes from discarded wooden shields. It¡¯s their idea of keeping trophies¡­ only to forget about them later. Monster-brains at their finest.¡±


    Robin held the dagger up again, inspecting it with renewed interest. ¡°So, no one owns this dagger anymore?¡±


    ¡°It used to have an owner so, yes.¡± Minona¡¯s voice grew pointed, her sarcasm cutting through the air. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯d be thrilled to see you putting it back to good use. Go on then, Robin¡ªstart slaying with it, as a token of gratitude for the poor, forgotten soul.¡±


    ¡°Well then, I¡¯ll make sure to kill them in the most heartfelt way possible,¡± Robin muttered, twirling the dagger between his fingers like it was a toy. His grin hadn''t quite faded when Minona suddenly jerked forward, her light flaring with excitement.


    ¡°Hey, look!¡± Minona¡¯s voice cut through his musing, sharp and sudden. She darted forward, her glow dimming as she hovered over a corner cloaked in shadow. Something was moving there, slow and deliberate, inching closer, drawn by the noise they had stirred in their carelessness. ¡°A test subject!¡± Her voice crackled with mischief, like a child stumbling upon a forgotten toy.


    Robin¡¯s smile faded, replaced by the sharpness of focus. Night Beholder allowed him to caught sight of the thing¡ªa hunched, hulking form barely visible in the dungeon¡¯s dim light, but there all the same, lurking, waiting. He flexed his grip on the dagger, the weight of it familiar now, almost comforting. ¡°So,¡± he said, his voice low, ¡°you want to see how I cut meat?¡±


    Minona zigzagged in the air above him, her excitement palpable, flitting through the damp, stale air. ¡°Yeah! Shing-shing-shing!¡± she chirped, mimicking the sound of blades with a gleeful spark.


    ¡°I told you¡ª¡±


    It happened in an instant. The creature¡ªa Hundstein, one of the lumbering dungeon beasts with flesh like iron and eyes gleaming with primal hunger¡ªlunged forward, its heavy footsteps a dull thud against the stone floor. But before it could fully emerge from the shadow, Robin was already close. His body twisted, one fluid motion, dagger raised high, the blade catching what little light there was as it sliced through the air, silent, deadly.


    ¡°¡ªstop saying shing-shing!¡±


    The shriek that followed was more animal than anything human, a piercing cry of pain and surprise as the Hundstein faltered, staggered, then collapsed, its massive form crumpling to the ground in a heap of muscle and fur. The dagger had found its mark, a precise, critical strike deep in the beast¡¯s neck, right where the pulse beat strongest. A faint thud echoed in the silence that followed, the sound of lifeless weight surrendering to gravity, of flesh surrendering to death.


    Crimson blood, dark and viscous, spread across the stone floor, creeping outward from the Hundstein¡¯s still form, pooling around its body like a shadow stretching too far. Robin stood over it, breathing steady, his hand still gripping the dagger. ¡°Well,¡± he said softly, almost to himself, ¡°that was¡­ heartfelt enough.¡±


    Minona floated closer, her glow returning to its usual brightness as she cast her light over the fallen creature. ¡°That was fast,¡± she quipped, her voice still crackling with that mischievous edge. ¡°You make it look too easy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t care, the faster the better. Especially since there are possibilities, it¡¯s a scout and its friends are nearby.¡± Robin muttered, pinching his chin in that way he did when he was working something over in his head, grinding his thoughts into place like gears in an old machine that hadn¡¯t quite rusted yet but was close enough. He let the silence hang there for a second before he glanced over at Minona. ¡°Hey, Minona?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She snapped to attention, light flickering a bit brighter as if annoyed she was even being called on. ¡°You want to drink?¡± Without waiting for an answer, she started manifesting, clay spinning into being, water shimmering in midair, fire dancing just close enough to be felt. A glass of water, perfect and pristine, was beginning to take shape.


    ¡°No, no.¡± Robin waved a hand, cutting off her conjuring with a half-amused sigh. ¡°I mean, can you¡ªwell..." He paused, watching as she froze mid-craft, the water trembling like it was as uncertain as he was. ¡°Can you make it round? Like, a thin clay ball with water inside it? Make it as thin as possible, could you do it?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± She floated back a bit, light flickering with disbelief. ¡°Why? That''s super easy at my level!¡± Her voice swelled with pride, the kind that usually made Robin groan, but this time, he let it pass¡ªtolerable, even amusing. Exploitable.


    ¡°I have an idea," he said, his hands gesturing in the air, mimicking something small, round. ¡°A bullet, you know? A clay bullet that bursts into water. Can you shoot it?¡±


    Minona¡¯s light pulsed as if laughing at him. ¡°A bullet? You think that¡¯s all it takes? Oh, please.¡± She sighed, more for dramatic effect than anything, before raising a hand. ¡°Look! Like this, right?¡± A cloud of dust swirled into being, dirt wrapping around the water, creating something nearly spherical¡ªa dirt-encased water ball, its jagged edges betraying its instability, like an unfinished planet. It was a thing of raw creation, powerful in its imperfection. The dirt sphere hung there for a moment, suspended in the air, a proud display of Minona¡¯s magical prowess.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Robin couldn¡¯t help but admire it for a split second toward the mud sphere formed an exact copy of one in his thought. But then, as if in some cruel twist of irony, the sphere wobbled, the dust trembled, and the entire creation¡ªgrandiose and delicate all at once¡ªplummeted to the unforgiving dungeon floor with an undignified thud. The dirt disintegrated into a dusty mess, the water splashing out, leaving a pathetic little puddle.


    Robin raised an eyebrow, lips twitching at the corner. ¡°It¡­ it fell, Minona¡­¡±


    "Don¡¯t complain!¡± Minona snapped, her voice crackling with frustration, her light flaring brighter for a moment. ¡°That¡¯s the extent of my magic now, alright? I feel like¡ªlike there¡¯s something missing, something I should be doing, but my memory... it¡¯s all too vague. The memory of what comes next, what I¡¯m supposed to do to make it work, to shoot it." She let out a deep groan of exasperation, her pride buckling under the weight of her forgotten abilities. ¡°How could I forget something so magnificent? One of my best spells, reduced to rubble because of this wretched curse! Ugh, when I get my body back, I will¡­ will¡­¡±


    Robin¡¯s gaze softened, understanding the frustration beneath her sharp words. ¡°Okay, okay! Calm down, I get it! But it¡¯s still useful, at least to me,¡± he said, his voice carrying that rare sincerity which softened the sharp lines of his face. ¡°Please, make it again.¡±


    Minona hovered for a moment, her light flickering as if caught off guard. ¡°Huh? Okay... since you actually know how to ask this time.¡± She huffed, though there was an edge of begrudging pride beneath the frustration. The air shimmered, dust swirling, and the water formed into a familiar sphere encased in dirt. ¡°There,¡± she said, floating back, her gaze sharpening as she inspected her handiwork, ¡°Now what do you plan to do with it?¡±


    ¡°Nice!¡± Robin took the fragile mud ball in his hand, cradling it carefully as if it might fall apart at any moment. He studied it with a thoughtful stillness, weighing its worth, not as a weapon, but as something far more useful. ¡°Let¡¯s find our new test subject!¡±


    Minona hovered closer, confused, her light pulsing with suspicion. ¡°You¡¯d better show me something impressive, human. It¡¯s not easy to pull one out.¡±


    Robin¡¯s eyes narrowed as his Night Beholder caught a flicker of movement. ¡°Ah, there! A group of five Hundsteins? We¡¯re right!¡± He chuckled, low and dangerous. ¡°Must be the pack of the one I just killed, wondering one of their members returning late.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do with the bullet?¡± Minona asked, her curiosity rising alongside a sense of anticipation. Surely, surely, he had something dramatic in mind. ¡°Must be a great action!¡±


    In one smooth motion, Robin adjusted his stance, his grip on the mud ball firm yet light. His free hand lifted, forming an L-shape between his thumb and forefinger as if lining up a perfect shot. Minona¡¯s light pulsed with excitement now, watching closely, hoping for something grand.


    But in one swift, almost dismissive motion, Robin hurled the ball¡ªnot at the Hundsteins, but at the wall. It sailed through the dungeon air, smashing into the stone with a wet thud, exploding in a cloud of dust and water. The Hundsteins, startled by the noise, rushed toward the distraction as Robin slipped back into the shadows.


    ¡°What the¡ªwhat was that?¡± Minona¡¯s voice spiked with disbelief, her light flaring wildly. ¡°What in the name of all things magical was that? You threw it at a wall? My masterpiece, wasted on masonry! I hope you¡¯ve got a better plan than redecorating this dungeon!¡± She darted around him in a frenzy, her disappointment palpable. ¡°How could you miss that shot!¡± She moved erratically, spasming as if her emotions were a tangible force.


    Robin¡¯s lips twitched, and a grin finally broke through his calm exterior. ¡°That¡¯s exactly how I wanted it to work,¡± he said, glancing over at her with that smug look that always managed to unnerve her. ¡°Turns out it¡¯s useful for more than just looking pretty. Now, run!¡±


    Minona seethed, her pride dissolving like the dirt bullet had. ¡°Useful? Useful for what? A dungeon paint job? That was a spell, a proper weapon, Robin! I don¡¯t create magic just so you can pretend to play ball with Hundsteins!! Hey, wait for me!¡±


    Robin ignored the slow darting light and replied, ¡°Don¡¯t get so worked up. The Hundsteins are curious now, and they¡¯ll leave us alone for a bit.¡±


    Minona darted in silence, her light dimming, still simmering with disappointment as she picked up speed. ¡°I admit that sounds like strategy,¡± she muttered, no sign of exhaustion mixed in her tone, though the bitterness in her voice was impossible to hide. ¡°But I was expecting you could disarray them and start shing-shing¡ª¡±


    Robin cut her off, already far almost leaving her behind. ¡°Stop saying ridiculous things. Let¡¯s get out of here before they figure it out!¡±


    They hurried, the sounds of the Hundsteins fading behind them, their loot in hand¡ªa humble dagger, its edge gleaming faintly in the darkness, as if it remembered the taste of blood and longed for more. Robin¡¯s grip tightened on it, his mind drifting toward whatever dangers awaited them. But first, he had to rest his wary body. This interjection part of dungeon where less grumbles and roars filled the air and lots of escape route became the best spot for Robin to laid resting.


    ¡°We lost them, Robin, great. It was my chance to absorb their mana, and yours to gain power.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still sane, Minona! Me, with a dagger, against five rabid dogs that can clap me to death? No, nope, never, no way!¡± Robin¡¯s breath came in ragged bursts, and he collapsed against the mossy wall, its dampness seeping into his clothes. He didn¡¯t care. ¡°I¡¯ve never run this hard, sorry to show something like this,¡± The squish of the moss under his weight, the cold trickle of water running down his back, it didn¡¯t matter. All that mattered was that his legs were about to give out, and the wall was solid enough to hold him upright.


    For Robin, assassinations were supposed to be clean, quick, a dance with death but one he¡¯d mastered in his former life. He was no stranger to the cold efficiency of a blade in the dark. But endurance, the slow, grinding toll of prolonged combat, had always been his undoing.


    ¡°I¡ª¡± he gasped, pulling air into his burning lungs through both nose and mouth, trying to fill what felt like a bottomless void inside his chest, ¡°I don¡¯t like frontal fights... you know...¡±


    Minona hovered above him, her light flickering like a dim, curious star. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been... born with this terrible body, always getting tired,¡± he forced out between breaths, his voice rasping like dry leaves caught in a breeze. ¡°No matter how much I trained... it was never enough.¡± He coughed, expelling the excess air he¡¯d tried to pull in. ¡°That¡¯s why... when I assassinate... I do it the most efficient and quiet way possible.¡±


    Minona hummed, the sound low, more thoughtful now, as if she were weighing his words, balancing them against her disappointment. She wasn¡¯t one to easily let go of her expectations, but something in Robin¡¯s labored breaths and pale face softened her usual sharpness. ¡°You look pale again, Robin. Here, drink.¡± She conjured the familiar spell, forming a simple clay cup in the air, filled with water that shimmered coolly in the dungeon¡¯s dim light.


    Robin grasped the cup and downed the water in two swift gulps. The cold liquid slid down his throat, refreshing, ordinary despite its magical origin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ¡°Thanks. I feel better, but... I need more rest. Really.¡± He ended with a faint chuckle.


    Minona hovered silently for a moment, her light dimming slightly as if in thought. Robin couldn¡¯t see it, but there was a flicker of guilt, something deeper than her usual boastful nature. A part of her wanted him to be the hero she imagined, slicing through enemies with ease. But seeing him now, slumped against the wall, pale and worn, she realized her expectation might kill him. The thought of him having Dungeon Walker, gaining power from slaying enemies, while she could leeched some, made her forgot almost forever¡ªRobin wasn¡¯t invincible.


    For Robin, prolonged battles were a nightmare, contests of endurance that he was doomed to lose. He¡¯d learned long ago that no trick was too dirty, no escape too cowardly if it meant avoiding those drawn-out fights. One lone Hundstein? Easy¡ªa swift strike to a critical spot, like a tree struck by lightning. But facing two, three, five at once? That was a different story. They¡¯d drain him dry, like a sponge squeezed out of its water, leaving nothing but exhaustion in their wake.


    Minona, despite her mischievous nature, could hide the small trace of concern since she had no face to betray the fa?ade, but that flickered in the air between them. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± she said, her voice quieter than usual. ¡°But maybe next time, you¡¯ll show me something a little more... shing-shing-shing?¡±


    Robin chuckled weakly, leaning his head back against the mossy wall. ¡°You¡¯ll never give up on that, will you?¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± she whispered, but even she couldn¡¯t deny the trace of sympathy in her voice.

 Chapter 5: Some Unnecessary Violence

    There was reason enough why the dungeon remained wrapped in mystery, the kind of place that swallowed challengers whole, bodies left to rot, their names forgotten¡ªno legend or scrap of wisdom survived to tell how such a place came to be, or what cruelty first gave birth to its monstrous brood. And yet Robin moved through its shadowed halls, unshaken, a man shaped by the same darkness, his breath steady as if the unknown weighed nothing on him. The seventeen hundsteins he''d killed already¡ªa number he did not wear like a badge, but one that had seeped into his bones, making him quicker, sharper, more deadly. Dungeon Walker, they¡¯d call it, but it wasn¡¯t the title, it wasn¡¯t the skill¡ªit was innate, the rhythm of surviving, of walking a path no one else could walk, deeper and deeper, each step its own sharpened edge.


    ¡°Robin, over there! Two hundsteins!¡±


    Minona¡¯s voice, sharp like an echo through the black air, cut the silence, but he already saw them¡ªbodies hulking in the gloom, muscles tensed, teeth wet with hunger. And yet, even in the face of such oblivion, Robin¡¯s hand was still, as if waiting for the right moment to take them, to turn their threat into nothing but another ghost for the dungeon walls. They leaped then, both at once, those beasts of muscle and fang, confident that they would rip him apart, the prey already stepping into their sight. But Robin had already marked the moment. The footfall they heard was not careless¡ªit was the trigger. The dust ball bursted into a smokescreen swirled in their faces, biting at their eyes, assailing their mouths, and the growl turned to choking coughs. In their blindness, his blade moved, as swift and silent as death itself, severing life with the precision of a man who knew that mercy did not exist here¡ªonly the final breath of beasts who never knew him, never saw his face, but still, in the end, fell to the hunter who walked where none dared follow.


    ¡°Stay put you two¡­ uh? What¡ª¡±


    Yet, the fleeting taste of triumph soured in his mouth, turning bitter, rancid as the weight of what lay ahead shattered the assassin¡¯s cold exterior. His heart seized, blood curdling with a sudden, cruel realization¡ªthis place, this dungeon, was no mere lair for beasts, no simple den of monsters. It was something far worse, a maw that devoured not just flesh, but the soul, a place that breathed horror and bled despair. And as the scene unfolded before his eyes, his mind recoiled, staggered by the grotesque display, an abomination that no battle-hardened killer, no assassin, could ever brace for.


    ¡°Robin, what¡¯s wrong¡ªoh, my¡­¡±


    Minona¡¯s voice, usually sharp, playful even, trailed off, faltering at the edge of the horror. It was as though the dungeon itself had swallowed their words, leaving only silence, thick and choking. The ground ahead¡ªno longer just dirt and stone¡ªwas stained with deep, clotted crimson. Torn cloth and shattered armor, remnants of lives lost in screams that now echoed only in the shadows, were scattered like offerings to a bloodthirsty god. The air, sick with the iron scent of fresh death, clung to him, wrapping around him like a shroud. This was not slaughter, not savagery¡ªit was something far worse, something no human could conceive, a scene not of murder. There were no bodies, just blood, dried mixed with dust. Whatever had happened here had left nothing but its signature of death behind, a hollow void where lives once stood. And for a moment, Robin¡¯s mind wavered, teetering on the brink of disbelief, refusing to accept the monstrous truth that hovered just beyond the veil of reason.


    ¡°Woah, look at this mess.¡± Minona chirped, her light drifting lazily over the blood-soaked ground, casting pale illumination over the devastation below. ¡°This is just how hundsteins enjoy their dinner¡ªsuch messy eaters. Whoever was here didn¡¯t stand a chance. Bet they didn¡¯t even have time to scream.¡±


    Her words felt distant, far-off, as if spoken through a dream. Yet the truth they carried was undeniable, etched in the bloody-red prints that marred the ground¡ªfootprints too large, too monstrous, and too deliberate, a grim reminder that this dungeon was alive with hunger, a predator in its own right, waiting to consume all who dared walk its halls. And as Robin stood there, the memory of seventeen battles visited the mind. Those fangs sinking into his arm, the claws raking his skin, flared up again, a dull, painful reminder of how close he had already come to becoming just another victim, another bloodstain on these cursed stones. He considered himself too fortunate, having Minona with him as a noisy distraction.


    ¡°But... no way just two hundsteins did this, right?¡± His voice broke the silence, a thin thread of unease in the dark.


    ¡°The two you took down were probably the last of them, just nibbling on scraps,¡± Minona mused, her light flickering with a playful gleam. ¡°But these tracks? Maybe couples¡ª if not dozens, I¡¯d bet. But, but¡­ can you guess what? They¡¯re still hungry. Still on the hunt. Chasing something... or someone. A survivor, maybe?¡±


    Robin¡¯s mind staggered under the weight of it, the brutal reality sinking in. He had seen death, had caused death, had lived in its shadow his whole life¡ªbut this... this was something else. An atrocity that mocked everything he knew about cruelty. In the world he came from, there was a cold calculus to murder, a purpose, a reason, however twisted. But here, in this dungeon¡¯s grip, there was only malice. Mindless, ravenous, unstoppable. It was a reminder that the darkness within these walls was not just a thing to be survived¡ªit was alive, and it was coming for him.


    And yet, even as the horror pressed down on him, a thought slid into his mind, unbidden. Perhaps this was what he deserved. A man steeped in darkness, a killer who lost his village, Jagataru, he had lived a life of blood and vengeance. Maybe this place, this dungeon, was not a punishment, but a reckoning¡ªa final judgment for all the lives he had taken. To die here, twice, would be fitting, wouldn¡¯t it? The nightmares, the endless cycle of violence and death, they were not just his fate¡ªthey were his penance. And maybe, just maybe, he didn¡¯t need to fight it anymore. Maybe this was how things were meant to end, for a man who had walked with death for so long.


    But then again... should he fight? Should he rage against the cruel hand of fate, or accept that this was simply the way of the world? The darkness was vast, and in its grip, it would be so easy to let go, to let it claim him at last.


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    ¡°Let¡¯s move, Minona,¡± Robin¡¯s voice was flat, a cold command layered over the swirling unease that he tried to ignore¡ªthe crimson pool beneath his feet, thick and glistening in the dim light, a reminder of death¡¯s omnipresence in this wretched place, as if the very dungeon drank deeply from its victims.


    But before his feet could take the first step, her voice, ever gleeful, stopped him.


    ¡°Wait, Robin! Look there!¡±


    Minona hovered in the gloom, her small light casting shifting shadows against the grim walls, illuminating something half-hidden beneath the rubble. A leather bag, weathered and torn, lay partially concealed in the corner, covered in grime and dust, the edges of it nearly buried under debris. And nearby, the dark stain of dried blood¡ªa silent witness to whatever fate had befallen its owner.


    ¡°Seems there were two people here, and this bag must¡¯ve belonged to one of them¡­¡± Robin said, his voice softer now, solemn even, as he bowed his head in some small gesture of respect. ¡°May your soul rest in peace.¡±


    Minona¡¯s tone matched his for a moment, soft, almost tender. ¡°I pray for the owner too,¡± she said, her light dimming, a quiet moment passing between them, a stillness rare in the relentless churn of the dungeon¡¯s chaos. But the peace of it, the fragile sanctity, shattered as quickly as it had come. ¡°Now, can we open it?¡± Minona¡¯s sudden excitement broke through like a spark of mischief, her light brightening as she eagerly flitted toward the bag.


    Robin stared at her, the weight of his disappointment sinking deeper into his expression. ¡°We just prayed for the fallen, and now you want to loot their bag? You¡¯re a princess, right? Use your noble heart for once, damnit.¡±


    Minona paused, her glow dimming slightly, as if to reflect the silent judgment behind her playful exterior. ¡°This bag is masterless, remember?¡± she quipped, her tone light but her words carrying a heavy practicality. In this place, the sudden morality Robin tried to cling to felt absurd for the little light, out of place¡ª like trying to patch a sinking ship with a piece of cloth, an act of sentiment that had no weight against the dungeon¡¯s brutal reality.


    Robin frowned, the lines deepening on his face. ¡°But it feels wrong.¡±


    ¡°Really, now?¡± Minona¡¯s voice was pleading now, but with that edge of exasperation, as if she couldn¡¯t believe he would still cling to this in a place like this. ¡°We need everything we can get to survive. You know that. Or did you suddenly sprout a conscience here, in the middle of this lovely, moral-less death trap, huh?


    Robin sighed, arms crossed, the conflict inside him twisting tighter. ¡°What if the owner isn¡¯t dead? What if they just forgot it in the panic, or had to run? They might come back for it.¡±


    Minona lowered herself onto the dusty bag, her light casting a soft glow on its aged, leathery surface, now revealing every crack, every sign of abandonment. ¡°Take a good look at the blood, Robin. And the dust, too. Whoever owned this? They didn¡¯t just misplace it¡ªthey¡¯ve left this place, and I mean permanently. And even if, by some miracle, they survived, do you really think they¡¯re gonna waltz back in here? After seeing all this... crimson charm?¡± She gestured at the bloodstains, the silence between her sarcasm growing heavy with the weight of her logic, cold and undeniable. "What makes you sure they¡¯re just dying to revisit the scene of their near-death experience.¡±


    ¡°Dying¡­?¡±


    Minona saw the hesitation, the falter in his eyes, and softened her tone, her light gleaming brighter again. ¡°We¡¯re not stealing,¡± she said, her voice lifting with sudden inspiration, as though solving a riddle. ¡°We¡¯re doing a service for its late owner.¡±


    Robin stood there, silent for a moment longer, his eyes once more on the blood-stained floor, the weight of the dungeon pressing down on him. The bag seemed less a moral question now, more a simple fact, a decision he had already made in his heart even if his mind had fought it. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded, conceding defeat, his voice tired but resigned. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll loot it. Let¡¯s see what¡¯s inside.¡±


    Minona shone brighter now, almost gleeful, as if some weight had lifted from her. The bag lay before them, ragged and worn, its age showing in every frayed seam and dust-covered fold. Robin crouched beside it, inspecting the crossing lines of rope that seemed to hold it shut in place of a proper clasp. He drew his dagger, its blade dulled from the countless strikes it had landed in hundstein flesh, its edge now tired and worn like a warrior long past his prime. He tried to slice through the ropes, but the blade only scratched the surface, barely leaving a mark.


    ¡°It¡¯s lost its sharpness,¡± he muttered, frustration edging into his voice, the dull scrape of metal against rope a reminder of the weapon¡¯s fatigue.


    ¡°No worry!¡± Minona chimed, hovering closer to the blade, her light flickering as her voice shifted, carrying an eerie weight, an otherworldly resonance as she spoke. ¡°Orimka!¡±


    The air around them shimmered, a soft hum of magic swirling as sparks danced along the dagger¡¯s edge, wrapping it in a strange, fleeting glow. When the light faded, the blade gleamed, restored, sharper than it had been in days. Robin stared at it, his brow furrowing in disbelief.


    ¡°You¡¯ve still got something in you?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with both surprise and a faint trace of accusation, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. ¡°You¡¯ve been hiding this from me?¡±


    Minona¡¯s glow flickered, a teasing gleam in her light as she floated higer to the level of his face. ¡°Oh, relax, human," she said, her tone dripping with casual amusement. "It¡¯s just a little spell, nothing fancy. Just bringing our sad little helper back to its former glory. See? No big deal.¡± She hovered just above the bag, her playful smirk almost audible. "Now, quit stalling and cut it open, unless you''re planning to give the rope a second chance at life too.¡±


    Robin sighed, tilting his head, as if weighing whether to press her on it, but eventually, he gave in. With a steady hand, he sliced through the ropes with ease, the sharpness of the blade shocking him as it glided cleanly through the tangled mess. The bag fell open, revealing its contents¡ªa small trove, a scattered collection of worn supplies, things left behind by someone who never got to return for them. Potions, food rations, a couple of scrolls, and then, nestled between the rest, a book.


    ¡°What¡¯s this¡­ a book?¡± Robin muttered, pulling it out, turning it over in his hands. The cover was rough, leather-bound, the pages worn but intact, marked with strange symbols that seemed familiar yet distant, the same language he¡¯d seen in Minona¡¯s spellwork. ¡°It¡¯s got the same letters as your diatimo spell.¡±


    Minona hovered closer, her light casting long shadows over the pages as she inspected it, curiosity alight in her voice. ¡°Hmm, a book,¡± she mused, almost sounding surprised herself, though her tone quickly shifted, practical once again. ¡°Forget about the bag¡ªyou don¡¯t need something that¡¯s only going to slow you down. But the book? Oh, definitely take it. I¡¯ve got more than enough wisdom to teach you how to read it. Consider yourself lucky, human.¡±


    Robin ran a hand over the cover, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips, the weight of the knowledge it contained pressing against his mind. He hesitated for a moment, the ghost of guilt still lingering at the edges of his thoughts, a reminder of the fallen owner whose blood still stained the floor. But the necessity of it, the harsh reality of survival, had already settled in his bones. There was no turning back now.


    He nodded, resigned to whatever Minona would do in the close future, ¡°Okay¡­¡± and then slipping the book into his pack, leaving the torn remains of the bag behind as they prepared to move forward once more, deeper into the dungeon¡¯s cold, unforgiving depths.

 Chapter 6: Word for World

    "Minona, can you even read that?" Robin asked, his voice laced with something between doubt and amusement, eyes fixed on the stiff, newly opened book lying there on the ground like it had been waiting centuries for someone to crack its spine.


    On the opposing side there was Minona, that ball of light hovering above the pages, glowing like she thought she was some kind of torch for him, acting as some useful light source. The thought alone tugged a chuckle from him, something that barely surfaced these days, and for a moment, he wondered if she really could read it, or if she was just flipping those pages out of sheer curiosity. She¡¯d claimed she could teach him, but hell, she hadn¡¯t even touched the book with anything other than her telekinetic magic¡ªwas that even counted as touching anyway? Was she even literate? No way a bratty princess like her could reject something as basic as reading, right? But then again, was she?


    ¡°Hey, human!¡± she called, a trace of suspicion coloring her voice, that playful tone edged with sharpness now, ¡°I get the feeling you¡¯re thinking I¡¯m doing something stupid.¡±


    Robin smirked, his eyes narrowing in mock innocence. ¡°Me? No, no, of course not.¡± But the book, damn, that book pulled at him. The mystery of its symbols, the thought that maybe, just maybe, it had something worth knowing, gnawed at the back of his mind. ¡°Why should I bother, anyway?¡± He jabbed a finger at the book, more out of frustration than curiosity, though the curiosity was there too, scratching under the surface.


    Minona¡¯s light flared, a sudden burst of enthusiasm like she''d just conjured up the world¡¯s greatest plan. ¡°This, the Lucian language, I say," she declared, her voice bouncing with the same gleeful mischief she used whenever she thought she''d outsmarted him. Then, her glow brightened even more, as if the very idea filled her with a giddy sense of victory. "At least it¡¯ll give you hope, human. Hope to escape this place and see the world outside,¡± she floated up close to his face, her light playfully blinding, the weight of her offer hanging between them like some great promise she was just dying for him to accept.


    As some wise old sage once said, to truly understand a people, you had to first understand their language. The way they spoke, the words they shaped¡ªthose were the bones of their world, of their customs, their thoughts, their every godforsaken secret. Culture was language, and language was culture. Profound, maybe, but Robin, for all his years of silent killing and lurking in shadows, wasn¡¯t a stranger to learning. He had always known the power of a quick mind. It was that same drive¡ªthe need to adapt, survive, outsmart¡ªthat had sharpened him more than any dagger. And now, with the strange script of this new world staring back at him, there was that familiar thrill again. The thrill of a challenge. A test of his wits. He grinned, the same cold satisfaction tugging at him as it had when he mastered the ways of the blade.


    "Yes, teach me,¡± Robin said, the words rolling off his tongue as though he was already half-convinced he could crack this code.


    ¡°Good choice, human!¡± Minona¡¯s voice chimed with a teasing lilt, that playful edge ever-present. ¡°But first, let¡¯s compare it to your world¡¯s writing, shall we? Maybe we¡¯ll find some common ground, something to make this a little less painful.¡±


    Robin hesitated, then crouched down, dragging his dagger across the dusty ground to scratch out a crude alphabet. ¡°Alright, well¡­ this is it,¡± he muttered. ¡°The twenty-six letters. This one here, looks like a mountain? That¡¯s ¡®A¡¯. And beside it, ¡®B¡¯...¡±


    As he traced the letters, explaining each one in his rough, quiet way, he noticed Minona hovering close, her light flickering with a strange kind of energy. She was interested, that much was clear. Not that he could see her expression¡ªif she had one¡ªbut the way she flared, brightening to a near-blinding glow, it told him everything. He had to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of brilliance, almost chuckling at her reaction.


    "Easy with the light," he muttered, half amused, half exasperated, though something in her radiant excitement stirred something warm inside him¡ªstrange, coming from someone who had long since shut out the light.


    ¡°Huh,¡± Minona scoffed, her light flaring in mock surprise. ¡°So we have mostly the same letters, even in the same order! But your world, seriously¡ªjust toss out the vocals first,¡± she commanded, her voice dripping with that same sassy, irreverent tone that always made Robin¡¯s eye twitch.


    ¡°What? Why?¡± he asked, brow furrowing.


    ¡°Some of your little scribbles don¡¯t exist in Lucia. Now, erase that one¡ªlooks like an overly-constructed bridge. What even is that?¡±


    Robin sighed. ¡°It¡¯s ¡®H,¡¯ Minona. I told you.¡±


    She hovered closer, inspecting it with the same exaggerated disdain. ¡°Next, the one that looks like a defective tadpole. Not cute at all.¡±


    His finger slid across the dirt to the letter ¡®Q¡¯. ¡°This? I can agree with that,¡± Robin muttered.


    ¡°And that one¡ªwhat is that? Looks like a reversed mountain symbol. Who designed that, some overly-enthusiastic list-checker?¡±


    Robin traced his blade over the ¡®V¡¯. ¡°It¡¯s ¡®V,¡¯ come on. You¡¯re being ridiculous.¡±


    Minona¡¯s light flared again. ¡°And this lazy excuse for a letter,¡± she continued, her tone dripping with sarcasm. ¡°A two lines crossing is a character in your world? Really? Did the person who came up with that think the alphabet was hiding some treasure? Like, ¡®the treasure is the alphabet we¡¯ve made all along¡¯ scenario, huh?¡±


    Robin rubbed his temple, knowing where this was going. ¡°Someone thought it looked cool. Philosophical, even.¡±


    ¡°Philosophical, this?¡± Minona scoffed, her voice rising in playful mockery. ¡°I bet something inside their head as twisted as that ¡®X¡¯ characters. And what about this poor thing?¡± she pointed to ¡®Z,¡¯ her voice thick with dramatic distaste. ¡°Looks like lightningstrike but goes horizontal. Honestly, whoever invented these letters must¡¯ve hated the job, and humanity.¡±


    Robin, exasperated, threw up his hands. ¡°Could you show at least a little respect for my language?¡±


    She twirled in the air, laughing with her light flickering in playful bursts. ¡°Respect? For this? Please. Once you learn Lucian, you won¡¯t miss this nonsense.¡± Her magic sparked, summoning a sharp pebble, which she dragged across the ground in rapid motions, scratching lines and curves that resembled a tic-tac-toe grid.


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    ¡°There,¡± she announced proudly, her tone triumphant. ¡°From the left-top, that¡¯s B and C,¡± she spun in a lazy circle, her light trailing like a comet before stopping on the left side. ¡°All the way down here¡ªW and Y.¡±


    Robin squinted at the shapes. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding¡­¡±


    Minona hummed smugly. ¡°Now we¡¯re learning. Start from your name and¡­¡±


    At first, the grid of symbols made no sense¡ªjust scratches on the dirt, foreign and tangled in their strange shapes. Robin frowned, dragging his finger through the dirt, retracing them. But then, as he placed each letter in the order Minona had shown, it became clearer. An unexpected symmetry, each side of the field carrying two characters, with only the center empty. The puzzle was falling into place faster than he thought. He had expected this to be grueling, a struggle, but here, in this odd mix of scribbles and scratches, he found a pattern that made it all come together.


    ¡°Minona,¡± he said, almost in disbelief, ¡°I think I understand this.¡±


    Her light flared, smug and sharp. ¡°Of course you do! You¡¯ve just mastered the basics. Now vocalize them¡ªa, ¨¦, ¨¨, i, o, u. And don¡¯t you dare drag your feet. Grab the book, and by that, I mean right now!¡± She pulsed with impatience, her usual bossiness thick in her voice, pushing him forward like a gust of wind too strong to fight.


    Robin sighed but obeyed, grabbing the book and flipping it open to the first page. His eyes settled on the arcane symbols, characters etched deep into the parchment¡ªsomething ancient, something magical. He squinted, tracing them in his mind, the ink forming what he guessed was the title. Five words, all lined in a strange formation that still felt familiar.


    ¡°This must be the title,¡± he muttered, glancing at her for confirmation.


    Minona hummed in satisfaction, glowing with pride as if she were a teacher basking in the brilliance of her star pupil. ¡°Exactly. ¡®Legendary Tale, King Lucius.¡¯ See? I told you. I taught you the basics, now the rest is on you. Go on, quick! Read it!¡±


    Robin blinked, frowning. ¡°You¡¯re just gonna leave me to it? I thought you¡¯d stick around till I understood at least half of it.¡±


    Her light flickered in a playful taunt, swirling around him like a triumphant dance. ¡°I¡¯ve given you the basics, Robin. You¡¯re clever enough to figure the rest out on your own. Don¡¯t expect me to hold your hand. Besides,¡± she added with a boastful hum, ¡°you¡¯ll learn faster this way¡ªdiscovery always beats spoon-feeding. Now stop complaining and start reading. Compare the symbols, find the patterns. You¡¯ll see how the words vocalize themselves if you pay attention.¡±


    Robin felt the weight of her gaze¡ªor at least the glow of it¡ªpressing against him as if to see just how far he¡¯d fall, a baby bird shoved from the nest before its wings were ready. But that was the trick, wasn¡¯t it? You never knew what you could do until the ground rushed up to meet you. He sucked in a breath, steeling himself, then opened the book. The pages stared back, full of arcane symbols, jagged lines twisting together into something ancient, foreign, almost alive. They taunted him, these marks, daring him to fail. Robin smirked, his fingers trailing over the page like a gambler about to roll the dice. This wouldn¡¯t be hard. He¡¯d spent his life learning fast¡ªtoo fast for his own good, sometimes. And now, with Minona hovering above him, a flickering light of amusement and expectation, he felt that old, familiar challenge bubbling up inside him again.


    ¡°You know what?¡± He didn¡¯t glance up but could feel her light pulse a little stronger, the spark of competition lighting between them. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a challenge. I might be an outlander, but soon I¡¯ll have native fluency. Just you wait. I¡¯ll read this entire thing and leave you speechless.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, my students used to say that too¡ªright before they flunked.¡± Her voice, sharp and cutting, danced with a lazy sort of arrogance. ¡°You think you¡¯re special? I¡¯ve seen that before. Only difference is, I¡¯ll enjoy watching you trip.¡± She paused, her light flaring as if with a grin. ¡°I was a teacher once. Princess, teacher, you name it. So, enough boasting. Read.¡±


    That flicker¡ªshe was amused, but there was something else there, wasn¡¯t there? Not that he¡¯d let it distract him. Robin set his jaw, rolling his shoulders, and dove into the pages. The symbols flowed together, each letter an obstacle he tore down with ease. Words unlocked, lines formed, and the language, strange and foreign as it was, began to sing. The dungeon around him blurred, the cold stone walls and the silence melting into the background as his focus sharpened, lasered in on the task at hand. Every word was a victory, every sentence a step toward proving Minona wrong¡ªor right, in a way she wouldn¡¯t admit. He could feel her light flicker with each word he conquered, though she stayed silent now, her glow steady but somehow softer. She wasn¡¯t mocking anymore.


    He smirked to himself, a low, quiet laugh building in his chest. He wasn¡¯t just going to read a little. No, he was going to finish this entire book, cover to cover, and when he did, Minona would have to eat her words. ¡°I¡¯ll read the whole damn thing,¡± he muttered under his breath, the fire in his chest burning hotter. ¡°And when I do, you¡¯ll have to admit I¡¯ve bested you.¡±


    Her light, though still steady, flickered ever so slightly¡ªa pulse of pride maybe? But she didn¡¯t say anything, just hovered there, watching him, letting him work. Maybe she didn¡¯t need to. Maybe she already knew what he didn¡¯t¡ªthat this challenge was as much hers as it was his. And yet, beneath the surface, he could sense her pride, something unspoken in the way her light brightened, as if the fire inside him was lighting hers too. He felt it, even if he couldn¡¯t see her face.


    And so, as the final was flipped¡­


    ¡°My head¡­¡± Robin collapsed, face-first into the dirt, as if the very life had been sucked from his bones, his energy evaporating into the thick, stale air of the dungeon. ¡°¡­hurts so much,¡± he groaned, his voice muffled against the cold stone as he clapped the final page of the book shut with a dull thud.


    ¡°Congratulations!¡± Minona¡¯s voice, as bright as he¡¯d expected, not quite the supernova he¡¯d half-dreamed she¡¯d turn into but still brimming with that self-satisfied glee she wore like a crown. ¡°You finished the book. So, tell me, what have you learned, Robin?¡±


    He barely lifted his head, the weight of exhaustion pulling him back down. Dark circles ringed his eyes, hair in wild disarray, and his hands trembled ever so slightly, like the final throes of a battle-worn soldier. ¡°I¡¯ve lost all sense of time,¡± he muttered, his voice rough, hoarse from days of silence and mental strain. ¡°But I can tell you about the book, sure. It¡¯s about a peasant who clawed his way up to the throne, named the land after his mother¡ªLucia¡ªand took on her name, calling himself Lucius the First.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you think of His Majesty?¡± Minona¡¯s glow flickered playfully, her light circling him like a cat toying with its prey.


    Robin buried his face back into the ground, as though the stone might swallow him whole. After a moment, he took a long, deep breath, gathering himself for what felt like the thousandth time. ¡°He¡¯s beyond help, utterly insane!¡± he shouted, the words spilling out in frustration, his voice echoing against the dungeon walls. ¡°I refused to believe what I¡¯ve read! A mother-obsessed maniac ruling this land, naming it after her, conquering tribes, plundering dungeons¡ªjust so he could marry her? Marry. His. Mother! What kind of twisted logic is this? Whoever wrote this saga¡ªwhatever drug or liquor they were on¡ªI want some!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a brilliant insight, Robin!¡± Minona chimed in, her voice laced with that familiar mischievousness, glowing with barely contained laughter. ¡°But maybe let¡¯s keep your colorful commentary about our dear mother-obsessed king to ourselves, hmm? Don¡¯t want you meeting an unfortunate end at the guillotine when we¡¯re outside, do we?¡± She floated closer, settling lightly on his back, her glow flickering like a mischievous grin. ¡°Also, I¡¯ve heard your stomach grumbling. Hungry?¡±


    Robin groaned, covering his face with both hands, as though he could hide from the absurdity of it all. ¡°I don¡¯t want to eat Hundstein!¡± he groaned, voice muffled by his hands.


    ¡°No, no, not Hundsteins,¡± Minona¡¯s voice was filled with mischief, her light flickering in time with her laughter. ¡°Something better. Something you¡¯re good at¡­ Vegetables!¡± She chuckled, clearly reveling in whatever plan she was concocting.


    Robin groaned again, deeper this time, sinking even further into the ground. Whatever challenge came next, he¡¯d face it. But for now, all he wanted was to escape the madness of kings, dungeons, and glowing orbs.

 Chapter 7: Dungeon Delicacy Discovered

    The dungeon echoed, reverberating with the frantic rhythm of Robin''s pounding footsteps, the sound of his desperate flight stretching out through the dim, stone corridors. His breath came in jagged gasps, each inhale tearing through his chest like broken glass. Behind him, the guttural snarls, the pounding, the relentless, furious footsteps of the hundsteins¡ªthose massive, bristling creatures¡ªgrew louder with each passing second, each growl, each heavy thud of their feet sending a fresh spike of terror ripping through his heart. He knew, even with the adrenaline rushing hot through his veins, that fighting them was nothing short of suicide, a madman¡¯s gamble, an impossibility made flesh and fur. Too many of them, a dozen or more. This wasn¡¯t a time to be brave or reckless. No ¡®brace your fear and stand your ground¡¯ nonsense. This was an ¡®escape if you can and pray they trip over each other while you run for your life¡¯ moment.


    ¡°Minona,¡± he gasped, his voice barely escaping his throat, ragged, torn from the depths of his lungs, ¡°drop the dust bomb!¡±


    Roosting neat on dreadlocks of Robin¡¯s untended hair like a bird on a nest, she chimmed, ¡°Here it goes!¡± Minona¡¯s voice rang sharp and bright from above, a beacon of calm in the chaos.


    Chunks of solidified dust appeared high above her, materializing from the air itself, crashing down like boulders from the heavens among the snarling pack of beasts. The magic clumped together in nearly perfect spheres, plummeting into the midst of the hundsteins¡¯ charge, and with it came a violent explosion of dust and wind¡ªa thick, choking cloud that billowed up and out, swirling into their snarling, snapping faces. They slowed, the dust stinging their eyes, filling their lungs, blinding them in their furious pursuit. Some tripped, stumbling over each other in their blind rage, the pack faltering as Robin tore forward, the gap between them widening, his legs burning with the sheer effort of escape.


    ¡°Good job, Minona!¡± he panted, breath heaving, his muscles screaming, his vision swimming as the edge of exhaustion loomed closer. He ran, he ran like his life depended on it¡ªbecause it did.


    Minona, perched comfortably atop his head, her light flickering ever so slightly, replied in a voice as calm and curious as a child asking why the sky was blue, ¡°Why are we still running, human?¡±


    He glared upward, disbelieving, his chest on fire, his lungs begging for mercy. ¡°You seriously asking me that?¡± His voice barely more than a croak, forced out between labored breaths. ¡°Count their number yourself!¡±


    Minona hummed, ¡°Oh, no shing-shing again.¡± Her disappointment thick in the sound, like a teacher realizing her star pupil got defeated by nobody from no-prestige dojo for a plot.


    ¡°I swear¡ª¡± Robin gasped, his words cutting off as the sheer absurdity of it all washed over him, the mix of terror and exhaustion and Minona¡¯s complete lack of urgency pulling him deeper into the madness that had become his life.


    Despite the ache spreading like fire in his legs, his body crying out for rest, Robin kept running. There was no choice. Fear made him move, pushed him beyond his limits, turned his exhaustion into something distant, unreal. The pounding in his chest matched the thundering footsteps of the hundsteins behind him, each beat of his heart in sync with the terror that surged through him, endless as the sea¡¯s depths.


    ¡°Hey, human,¡± Minona¡¯s voice floated down, light and unaffected, that maddening calm in her tone, ¡°some of them are running on all fours now.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®on all fours¡¯?¡± His voice came out between ragged breaths, each word an effort, each breath harder to catch than the last.


    ¡°Like dogs. Uh¡­¡± A deliberate pause, the kind that set his teeth on edge. ¡°They¡¯re running faster.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean it that way!¡±


    The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Faster? He felt the cold grip of panic tighten around his throat. His legs were on fire, muscles straining with each step, his lungs burning as though he were inhaling flames. Faster? How could he go faster? But he did. Somehow. Fear drove him on, fueled by the image of those monsters, teeth bared, jaws snapping, ready to rip him apart. He could almost feel their hot breath on the back of his neck, see their shadowy forms closing in, feel the sharp claws tearing into his flesh. His mind flashed with gruesome possibilities, vivid pictures of himself being torn to pieces like some cheap rag left for the dogs.


    He shuddered, pushing the thought away, but the fear lingered, running through his veins like poison. His feet barely touched the ground now, his movements no longer his own but driven purely by instinct, by the desperation to survive.


    ¡°We lost our book,¡± Minona chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm, like this was all some kind of joke to her. ¡°Feeling faster now that you¡¯ve discarded our only entertainment?¡±


    Robin¡¯s fury flared up alongside his fear. ¡°There¡¯s nothing entertaining about reading some king with mother complex!¡± His words were gasped out, choked between breaths. ¡°How dense can you be toward danger?!¡±


    Minona¡¯s quiet laugh, that soft, mocking ¡°hehe,¡± lit a fire of rage in him, but he couldn¡¯t afford to waste energy on her. Not now. Not when every ounce of his strength was focused on keeping one step ahead of the creatures behind him. And yet, beneath the anger, beneath the fear, he knew¡ªthis was his fault. The hundsteins weren¡¯t chasing him because of some twist of fate. No, they were after him because of his own damn curiosity, his foolish need to explore, to feed his Dungeon Walker power. He¡¯d stumbled upon their nest, seen the helpless cubs, thought it¡¯d be easy, a quick slaughter to add to his strength. It was a massacre, and he hadn¡¯t thought twice about it¡ªuntil the adults noticed, until the bloodthirsty howls filled the dungeon, driving him into this frantic, desperate flight response for the first time.


    Their howls echoed, chasing him, pushing him. Vengeance. It was all about vengeance now, and he was the target of their fury. There was no escape, only the drive to keep moving, to stay alive for just one more second. He had learnt the feeling being the target of revenge.


    The adrenaline finally ebbed from Robin¡¯s veins as Minona¡¯s voice cut through the lingering panic that had gripped him for what felt like hours.


    "Hey, slow down, we lost them already!" Her tone was light, almost gleeful, as if none of it had mattered. Robin staggered to a halt, his breath coming in ragged gasps, each gulp of air like fire in his lungs.


    "Already?" He panted, disbelieving, his ears straining for the echo of the howls that had been his world just moments before. But the dungeon had fallen silent. No pounding feet, no snarls, no furious growls. The safety he hadn''t dared to hope for finally wrapped itself around him like a cloak.


    "Yeah, but look, there!" Minona, ever the guide, floated forward, her glow illuminating the direction she meant. No fingers to point, just her whole self, leading the way. Robin followed, more out of habit than anything else, still too winded, too shaken to argue. His legs felt like lead, his chest burning with each breath, but at least they¡¯d made it out. At least for now.


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    The air had shifted, no longer thick with the scent of blood and sweat, but damp and earthy, colder now, the chill biting at the back of his neck as he slowed his pace. Night Beholder caught the glimpse stalactites loomed overhead, sharp and gleaming in the dim light, a reminder of how close everything had come to crumbling. The walls around him seemed rougher, not the smoothed stone of human hands but jagged, untouched rock, wild as the creatures that roamed within. Along on his way, stalagmites jutted up like jagged teeth from the ground, casting eerie shadows as Minona¡¯s light bounced across the cave¡¯s uneven surfaces.


    "This place... it¡¯s not like before," Robin muttered, his voice still rough from the breathless sprint, awe creeping in now that the fear had loosened its grip. His feet splashed through the puddles, the sound of water dripping from the ceiling echoed, a slow rhythm that matched the beat of his still-racing heart.


    "Are we underground?" His voice was quieter, the cave¡¯s weight pressing down on him.


    "This? It¡¯s another side of the dungeon," Minona responded, her voice tinged with that ever-present smugness that made Robin grit his teeth even in moments of peace. ¡°This is the place I told you where food grows!¡±


    "The place?" Robin repeated, half-suspicious, half-exhausted, glancing around at the moss-covered walls, the dim glow of damp earth. "It doesn¡¯t feel like a dungeon anymore¡­"


    "You¡¯d be surprised. You wouldn¡¯t believe what dungeons can hide. Once, I saw a dungeon with its own sky inside, sun and all." Minona¡¯s glow flickered in the dimness, as if her pride in the knowledge could brighten the space.


    "A sky... and a sun? Underground?" Robin¡¯s brow furrowed. His legs trembled, the urge to collapse pulling at him, but Minona¡¯s words kept him upright, his mind half-distracted by the absurdity of it.


    ¡°For monsters to thrive, sure. Some of these places have entire ecosystems. Monsters feeding off other monsters, evolving.¡± Her tone had taken on a knowing edge now, like she always reveled in his ignorance, waiting to enlighten him when he was too tired to fight back.


    Robin stood there, the exhaustion that should have weighed him down like an anchor seemed to evaporate, leaving him oddly refreshed. His body felt lighter, as if he had just woken from the deepest sleep, though he knew better. Normally, pushing himself this far would leave him pale, skin clammy, senses dull, teetering on the edge of collapse. But now¡ªnow he felt stronger, like a current was humming through his veins, steady and constant.


    "It seems," Minona hovered near, her tone intrigued and full of that insufferable wisdom she always flaunted, "your Dungeon Walker is doing something big on you, human. Your stamina, especially, improved after you slaughtered those hundstein cubs."


    "No wonder I feel the force with me," Robin muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.


    "What force?" Minona blinked, if floating, light-filled beings could blink, her confusion palpable.


    "Never mind!" he snapped, not in the mood for explaining his world pop-cultural references she wouldn¡¯t grasp. "But does this mean I''m stronger, even by a bit?"


    Her light flickered with amusement as she bobbed in that zigzag way that made him want to throttle her. ¡°Stronger? To the level of ¡®shing-shing¡¯? Maybe. But don¡¯t forget, by cutting their numbers, you¡¯re keeping them from overpopulating and cutting off food supplies for stronger species too. You¡¯re doing a great service, really. Keeps some monsters from breaking free from this dungeon." She sounded proud, as if his accidental genocide of cubs had been part of her grand plan all along.


    "So, I¡¯m just doing everyone a favor then?" Robin¡¯s voice dripped with sarcasm, though the thought gnawed at him¡ªwas this really some twisted version of good? Killing as a service for everyone? Never heard of that before.


    ¡°Too bad you didn¡¯t eat them,¡± Minona chimed, her voice rich with smugness. ¡°I used my omitaid on that horde, turns out they had all kinds of weapon ¡®Mastery¡¯ innates you could¡¯ve absorbed.¡±


    Robin felt the familiar swell of anger rise in him, the absurdity of it all clawing at his chest. ¡°How many times have I told you, I¡¯m not eating dog!¡± If she¡¯d had cheeks, he might¡¯ve pinched them with his bare hands right then. But as it was, she remained an untouchable, glowing orb, far too pleased with herself to care about his frustration. Throwing her like softball? No, too agile, like fly.


    He glanced down, eyes catching on something sprouting from the ground¡ªa plant, its green base resembling a carrot but off, something different lurking beneath the surface. More of them dotted the cave floor, like they¡¯d been there all along, waiting.


    ¡°Is this... a carrot?¡± Robin asked, his eyes narrowing.


    "That¡¯s what I was telling you about! Omiotad!" Minona announced with her usual flair, her voice carrying that otherworldly echo as she cast an appraisal spell. The glowing panel appeared before him: Dang-gora, a plant monster.


    ¡°Monster?¡± His pulse quickened, the word sparking a panic that sent his hand flying to his dagger¡¯s hilt. Without thinking, he flashed his dagger as he brought it down toward the carrot-like creature. His mind raced, already conjuring the image of some hideous beast lurking beneath the soil, ready to strike.


    ¡°Wait, hey!¡± Minona zipped in front of him, her light flaring in alarm as she intercepted his attack just in time. ¡°I know you¡¯re hungry, but it¡¯ll let out a scream that causes fainting to anyone who hears it.¡±


    Robin froze, the tip of his dagger trembling inches from the creature, its unassuming green leaves swaying slightly in the air. His breath came in short, sharp bursts as he slowly lowered his weapon.


    ¡°Then how the hell do we deal with it?¡±


    ¡°Easy, just let me cook,¡± Minona said, her voice as light as a breeze, but something darker swirled beneath it. Robin watched in disbelief as she summoned several orbs of fiery light that began orbiting around her. Was this what she called cooking? A bunch of fireballs spinning like a hellish carousel? His unease grew as she continued.


    ¡°If you burn the stem, they¡¯ll die without knowing what killed them,¡± she added with a soft, almost tender laugh that barely concealed the sadistic pleasure bubbling just below the surface. ¡°When they wake up, they¡¯ll already be in the afterlife, wandering like children lost in a crowd.¡±


    Good God, Robin thought, swallowing hard, the hairs on his neck standing up. The fireballs slowly descended, igniting the stalks with a crackling hiss. Flames curled and twisted through the cave like wild snakes, consuming the patch of dang-gora as Minona floated by, raining down her fireballs. A faint, eerie scream echoed, soft at first, then growing¡ªa chorus of shrieks that sent an icy chill crawling down Robin¡¯s spine. It was like listening to the cries of souls being roasted alive.


    Minona¡¯s light flickered, almost vibrating with delight. "Oh, don¡¯t worry, Robin,¡± she said, her voice filled with unsettling glee. ¡°This is just the shriek of the dang-gora. By the time they realize it, they¡¯re already cooked!¡± Her tone practically hummed with excitement, like she was orchestrating some grand, sinister spectacle. "My wisps, let them be cooked!¡±


    Robin stared at the light ball beside him, his heart pounding in his chest, unable to believe what he was hearing. His mind scrambled, trying to make sense of the horror playing out before him. ¡°I¡ªI told you," he stammered, his words a jumbled mess of disbelief, "I mean, see, uh, are they even edible? The scream, Minona, the screaming¡ªare you even okay with listening to that? Burned alive like that?¡± His stomach churned as the faint wails faded into silence. ¡°You want me to eat a tormented parsnip?!¡±


    Minona giggled, her light growing brighter, the very image of delight. ¡°Oh, you have no idea, human! You don¡¯t know the feeling of barbecuing vegetables that scream back at you,¡± she said, her voice dripping with perverse joy. ¡°And they taste amazing! I promise. In fact, dang-gora is usually served with hundstein steak¡ªthough I know you¡¯re not a fan of the meat.¡±


    Robin stood frozen, his mouth hanging open. This was beyond anything he could¡¯ve ever imagined. The world gave you a squealing carrot, and what¡ªMinona made a screaming salad? Who could enjoy this?


    ¡°You look pale, human,¡± Minona remarked, her voice brimming with mock concern. ¡°Ah, you must be starving! Poor thing. I wish I could¡¯ve fed you earlier if not for those pesky Hundsteins getting in our way. They were practically begging you to eat them!¡±


    Robin sighed, the weight of his situation settling like a stone in his chest. ¡°Fine, but¡ªon the premise that it¡¯s a monsterized vegetable,¡± he said, resigned to whatever fresh madness awaited him. His hands, still trembling slightly from the ordeal, reached for the roasted dang-gora Minona presented. ¡°And this doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll ever eat hundstein, even if I¡¯m starving. Don¡¯t get your hopes up!¡±


    He bit into the dang-gora hesitantly, expecting the worst. But instead, the crunch of the roasted skin gave way to a surprising sweetness, rich and savory. His eyes widened in shock as the flavors burst on his tongue. It was, against all reason, delicious.


    Robin looked down at the dang-gora in disbelief. ¡°It¡¯s... good?¡±


    Minona¡¯s light shimmered, smugness oozing from her every flicker. ¡°Told you so.¡±


    Robin chewed slowly, torn between disgust and genuine culinary surprise. He hated how right she was. He hated how wrong he¡¯d been. And he hated, most of all, how much he wanted another bite.

 Chapter 8: Inescapable Malice

    It had been days, maybe weeks, maybe more¡ªthey had lost count in the thick silence of the dungeon, where time hung as heavy as the cold air. The walls pressed in, damp, sour, with a dullness that clung to the skin like a second layer of grime. The ground, a graveyard of dirt and stone, shifted underfoot, brittle and heavy. Robin had grown used to the slow decay of his own body in this place¡ªhis hair wild, tangled like the roots of some dead tree, nestling Minona like a strange, living ornament. She perched there now, as if she belonged, no longer floating, no longer shifting, content to rest atop him like the weight of all that had passed, and all that had yet to come.


    He¡¯d gotten used to it, her light bobbing gently just above his head, the quiet sound of her small movements, almost like breathing. It was an odd comfort, a light in the dark, but also a reminder that there were things here waiting, watching, things in the walls, in the shadows. He couldn¡¯t tell if it was her presence that steadied him, or the weight of knowing she too was trapped, like him, in this stone cage.


    "Hey, human," Minona''s voice broke the silence, a lazy drawl of boredom draped over her words. She shifted slightly in her roost, nestled comfortably in his mess of hair, like some overconfident bird perched on the ruins of a man. "When are we getting back to slicing throats again? You''ve been killing more Hundsteins than you''ve avoided lately."


    Robin''s jaw tightened. "Blame the damn Dang-goras I ate," he muttered, the weight of exhaustion evident in his voice, but laced with a bitter edge. "Since then, every Hundstein in this cursed place has refused to leave me alone."


    It was true. The new innate he''d gained from consuming the screaming roots, Fragile Fa?ade, had stripped him of any threatening presence.  Made him look like an easy kill, a lamb among wolves. Except the lamb had knife for teeth.


    Minona''s light flickered with a smug glow, bobbing slightly above him. "I forgot to mention that, human. You were starving, and I had to feed you, after all." She sounded pleased with herself, her tone lilting with false innocence, as though her forgetting was some grand act of mercy. "You¡¯re welcome, by the way," she added, preening in her own peculiar way. "Now thanks to that new innate of yours, those Hundsteins see you and think, easy pickings, instead of sounding the alarm."


    Robin held up his hand, the dried blood a sharp reminder of just how "easy" the fights had been. The deep claw marks still stung. "Look at this," he grumbled, voice thick with irony. "Good thing they didn¡¯t get a bite out of me. Their claws were bad enough."


    Minona¡¯s chuckle was soft, dancing in the shadows above him, her light flickering like a laugh in the darkness. "Oh, poor human," she teased, unbothered by his visible frustration. "All you do is whine. If you think that''s bad, you should¡¯ve seen what they did to the last idiot they cornered."


    He rolled his eyes, the cynicism bleeding into his voice. "I¡¯d never eat meat after that sight."


    But Minona just giggled, settling deeper into his hair, her smugness radiating. For her, this dungeon was just another playground. For Robin, it felt like a slow descent into madness, one claw mark at a time.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be like that,¡± Minona teased, her voice light as ever. ¡°You haven¡¯t even tasted Hundstein yet. They¡¯re practically venison with anger issue.¡±


    Robin grunted, wiping the back of his hand across his sweat-streaked forehead. The air in the dungeon felt like it had weight, pressing down on his skin, thicker than any heat he¡¯d known in the forests where he¡¯d once roamed free. ¡°My father always said, ¡®you don¡¯t eat something that eat flesh or has fangs.¡¯ Dogs are trouble, always have been. Nasty things. But they¡¯re still friends.¡±


    ¡°Nothing about Hundsteins is a friend,¡± Minona quipped, her flickering light catching the edge of his brow as she tilted, curious now.


    "The nasty part¡¯s still the issue," Robin muttered, voice low as if the weight of the dungeon pressed the words out of him. "Dogs are trouble with legs, a disaster if you don¡¯t keep them in check." His eyes wandered the dim, rocky corridors, but they weren''t really seeing the dungeon anymore. Perhaps they returned to the Dang-gora area again.


    "Jagataru?" Minona¡¯s voice softened, her curiosity like a flicker of light, probing, pushing past the defenses he''d built so carefully. ¡°What was it like?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer right away. His grip tightened on the hilt of his dagger, the rough leather biting into his palm. The silence stretched out between them, as endless as the stone walls that surrounded them. Minona hovered, the air still, waiting.


    "It was..." Robin¡¯s voice came low, rough like the crumbling stone under his boots. "It was home." He stared at the dungeon walls as though they could speak back to him, tell him how far away that home was now. "But that was a long time ago." His words trailed off, but the silence that followed was louder, echoing through the empty halls of memory.


    The dungeon pressed in tighter around them, its cold breath on his neck, the moss-draped stones like the faces of strangers he had once known. He looked away from Minona, but she didn¡¯t stop watching him. Her light dimmed, as if sensing the change, as if the weight in his words had stolen some of her spark.


    "We were chased," Robin finally said, his voice thickening, his eyes hollow and distant. "Chased from the land that was ours. My father¡ªhe worked that soil like it was an extension of his own hands. We were farmers once. Now it¡¯s all gone." His fingers reached out to trace the jagged wall beside him, and for a moment it was not stone he felt but the soil of Jagataru, rich and full of life, slipping through his fingers like ash.


    "The government took everything from us." His voice dropped even lower, as though the dungeon itself were listening, an unforgiving witness to the past. "The village turned noisy. The fields where we grew food became houses, crammed full by strangers. Our river¡ªonce so clear, you could see the stones at the bottom¡ªit turned black with the garbages they brought with them."


    The weight of it all seemed to crush him now, his chest tightening with each word. The warmth of Jagataru, the life he had known, had vanished, replaced by strangers who looked through him like he was the ghost. ¡°We lost everything,¡± he claimed, his voice no longer Robin¡¯s but something older, something cracked and worn from time and regret.


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    Minona was quiet now, her teasing long gone, her light flickering faintly like a candle about to go out. She hovered there, waiting, but the playful edge had left her, replaced by something almost tender, like a companion who finally understood the silence between words.


    Robin kept walking, but the weight of Jagataru hung on his shoulders. "It wasn''t just the land," he said softly. "It was us, our tradition, custom, and culture, as our identity. Before we realized, we became the strangers in our own village. I don¡¯t even remember the last time when I pray to what entity."


    He pressed his palm against the dungeon wall, feeling the cold seep into his skin, the roughness cutting into his calloused hand. "It all started there... the loss, the anger, the blood. It all came from that. From home."


    ¡°And you went out there, killing people?¡± Her voice was lighter than the weight of the words she threw at him, probing, slipping through the cracks of the silence that followed.


    Robin clamped his lips tight, but the silence spoke for him¡ªhe didn''t need to answer for her to hear what had already been said. ¡°Not just people," he muttered at last, voice low like a growl, "the officials. The ones responsible for Jagataru¡¯s destruction.¡±


    ¡°And did you gain anything from it?¡± Minona¡¯s tone shifted then, sharpening like a blade that had been hidden until now. Robin saw through it too late¡ªrealized too late that she had been leading him here, step by step, her questions dripping with that curious edge she always carried. This wasn¡¯t about Jagataru. It was never about Jagataru. She wanted something else, something deeper, darker, buried in him.


    He stopped walking, the dungeon air thick around him, his breath coming out in slow, measured grunts. He could feel her watching him, hovering too close for comfort, her light casting shadows on the walls of his mind. She wanted the secret of Dungeon Walker, wanted to peel back the layers of his power and see what lay beneath. It wasn¡¯t concern, it wasn¡¯t sympathy¡ªit was hunger. Her curiosity had teeth, and they were sinking into him.


    ¡°I told you we¡¯re not going there,¡± he spat, the words heavy with warning.


    ¡°Oh, human,¡± she floated beside him, her voice like a whisper that held too much weight. ¡°How long do you think you can keep it hidden?¡±


    ¡°None of your business.¡± He kept walking, faster now, but she darted ahead, her glowing form dancing just out of his reach, out of his control.


    ¡°Dungeon Walker,¡± she said, her voice lilting, teasing, but there was something hard behind it now, like steel under silk. ¡°It lets you gain power from killing dungeon monsters, eating their flesh to take their innates. You know what I¡¯m talking about, right? You kill, and you take something for yourself. Is it revenge? Or is it something more? Power? Wealth? What drives you to keep doing this?¡± Her words circled him like wolves around a wounded deer, taunting him, pulling him apart piece by piece.


    ¡°Why would you care?¡± he barked, his hands tightening on the hilt of his dagger, his heart pounding louder now, anger coiling tight in his chest.


    ¡°I do care,¡± Minona shot back, without hesitation, her voice cold and sharp. ¡°Before it gnaws at you from the inside. Secrets begeth weaknesses. Your past is a weapon, human, one that will be turned against you.¡±


    He opened his mouth to shout, to tell her to stop prying, to leave him the hell alone, but the sound of something else filled the air. A low, savage growl, closer than it should have been. They¡¯d been too loud, too careless, too caught up in words that carried too much weight. It crept closer, as if mocking his very existence.


    Robin turned, saw the beast¡ªa Hundstein, eyes gleaming, teeth bared¡ªand in that moment, he felt it. The anger, the frustration, the damn hunger in Minona¡¯s voice¡ªit all snapped. The beast charged, blind to him, as if Fragile Fa?ade had made him too visible, like a white moth on a dark tree bark.


    But it wasn¡¯t Robin who was easy prey.


    ¡°Stop thinking you know everything!¡± he roared, his rage exploding, hot and wild, his heart pounding like war drums in his chest. He lunged, dagger in hand, fury guiding his every move. The Hundstein never stood a chance. Robin¡¯s hand moved before he even thought about it, the blade slicing through flesh, through bone, with a force he hadn¡¯t known he possessed.


    The beast¡¯s head fell before him, severed clean with a single blow, its body crumpling in a heap. Robin stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from the edge of his blade. He hadn¡¯t even realized what he¡¯d done until it was over¡ªthe weight of the kill settled in. It came like a shadow creeping over him¡ªslow, suffocating. His legs weakened beneath him, knees buckling as he collapsed back against the rough, jagged wall. He slid down, the cold stone biting into his back, but it was nothing compared to the thing gnawing inside his chest. The Hundstein¡¯s severed head lay still in the dirt, eyes wide and empty, but Robin swore it stared at him¡ªjudged him. Mocked him. It had no voice, but he could hear it all the same. A silent condemnation. His mind twisted it that way¡ªperspective, angle, things he¡¯d never learned, yet things that betrayed him now.


    ¡°Oh, you poor thing,¡± Minona¡¯s voice slipped in through the quiet like a needle through cloth. She drifted closer, but this time she didn¡¯t hover in the air above him. She came down to his level, roosting lightly on the ground near where he sat slumped against the wall. ¡°My, my, human¡­ no, Robin.¡±


    The sound of his name caught him off guard. She¡¯d never called him that before. Always ¡®human,¡¯ a detached, almost mocking label that kept her distant. But now¡ªnow she used his name, and the weight of it hung heavy in the air between them. It was personal. Too personal. Yet there was something else in it, something twisted behind the warmth in her voice. Her tone was playful, but it slithered through his defenses like poison.


    "You kill those people, not for revenge, right?" The way she spoke shattered the silence, the words darting out like sharp stones, bouncing off the walls of the dungeon and ringing in his ears. ¡°Your anger, your avoidance, the fear I see in you now¡­ it tells me everything I need to know.¡±


    Her words hit him like blows, each one landing with precision. Robin felt his jaw clench, his eyes narrowing, but it wasn¡¯t anger¡ªnot anymore. Something else gripped him, something darker, heavier. His fist tightened at his side, but it wasn¡¯t for her. She was right. He knew she was right. He was an open book, and Minona had started reading aloud from the pages, tearing through his defenses with an ease that unnerved him.


    Robin¡¯s eyes dropped to the Hundstein¡¯s lifeless form. The power¡ªthe raw, terrifying power that coursed through him, that he could feel pulsing in his veins, still vibrating through the blade in his hand¡ªit horrified him. This wasn¡¯t justice. This wasn¡¯t revenge. He¡¯d told himself it was, but now, faced with what he had become, with what Minona saw in him, he realized the truth he¡¯d been burying for so long.


    ¡°You fear what you did, dinn¡¯t you?¡± Minona¡¯s voice danced through the air, light and lilting, but there was no mercy in it, only cruel curiosity. ¡°You killed them because you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait, no¡ª¡± Robin tried to cut in, but his voice faltered, weak against her onslaught.


    ¡°¡ªbecause you were scared.¡± She pressed on, her words a knife twisting deeper. ¡°That fear forced you to hunt and kill those people, right, Robin?¡±


    Minona¡¯s voice carried an almost singsong quality now, as if she were enjoying every moment of this, watching him unravel before her. Robin¡¯s breath hitched in his chest, his mouth opening but no words coming out. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat louder than the last, filling his head with noise. Her playful tone held him like a vice, squeezing until there was nothing left but his bare, raw fear.


    And he saw it now¡ªsaw that Minona wasn¡¯t just curious. She was something more. Something dangerous. She had led him here, carefully, like a predator playing with its prey, waiting for the moment when it was too late for him to escape.


    She knew.


    She knew his secret, even if she hadn¡¯t spoken it aloud. Knew the darkness he had tried to bury, the truth he had kept from himself for so long. And now she was peeling it away, layer by layer, until there was nothing left but the man he feared he had always been.


    The man who killed, not for justice, not for revenge, but because he had no control. Because something inside him had snapped long ago, and the Dungeon Walker¡¯s power¡ªno, the very essence of what he had become¡ªwas feeding on it.

 Chapter 9: Tolerable Malice

    Robin couldn¡¯t summon any more defenses, no clever words, no veiled deflections. He was stripped bare, the last remnants of his bluffing armor shattered, leaving him vulnerable, exposed. His secret¡ªfragile and buried deep¡ªwas no longer safe. Minona, with her merciless curiosity, had broken through, her words slicing deeper each time, like thin blades cutting toward the core of him, toward that dark, hidden chamber he¡¯d guarded so fiercely. How had he let her do this? How had he let her unravel him with that sweet, innocent curiosity, with her childlike questions that felt harmless at first but now dug into him like claws?


    ¡°You know all of this just by looking, you say?¡± His voice cracked, the only sound he could manage, as hollow as the walls of the dungeon around them.


    Minona giggled¡ªof course she did. She was enjoying this, the gleam in her voice unmistakable. "I was terrified of my own abilities before,¡± she mused, spinning her words with that light, almost dismissive tone. ¡°Of how much I could see, how much I could understand. But then I started to enjoy it¡ªbecause it¡¯s the only thing I¡¯m good at, right now.¡± She hovered above him, her form still, serene, like a solitary star hanging in the cold, vast night, watching with detached amusement.


    And just like that, Robin felt his strength leave him. The energy that had sustained him, kept him upright and on guard, seeped away into the cold dungeon air. His muscles weakened, his limbs felt heavy, useless. He could feel it slipping away¡ªthe last of his resistance. How could he fight back against her? Not with words, not with his mind¡ªhe was never quick enough, never sharp enough to keep pace with her games. She¡¯d gotten him good. He had no more places to hide, no clever words left to throw up as a shield, nothing but the uneasy weight of her presence pressing down on him, making him feel small, cornered.


    There was only one thing left¡ªa gnawing sense of caution. A quiet, growing dread that with every word, every taunt, she was drawing him closer to the edge, to some unspoken danger. Robin could only hope, pray even, that she wasn¡¯t playing for the other side. That her teasing, her relentless probing, wasn¡¯t the prelude to something darker.


    "Your way of thinking, Minona¡­ it¡¯s terrifying." Robin''s voice, low and resigned, felt like it belonged to someone else, a man far older than the one standing there now. He was tired¡ªtoo tired to keep playing this game of evasion and defense. Maybe if he offered her the truth, just a sliver of it, she¡¯d stop, leave him to his quiet torment. He took a breath, knowing what was coming, hating that it had come to this. "They took everything from me¡ªmy village, my life, even my name. And in the end, I killed them, all of them, because I was afraid¡ªafraid they¡¯d take more."


    Silence filled the space between them, thick and oppressive. Minona didn¡¯t respond, didn¡¯t offer her usual sly remarks or playful jabs. She just hovered there, a silent specter in the cold dungeon air, but Robin could feel her watching, feel her judgment pressing down on him, like eyes he couldn¡¯t see but knew were there, burning through whatever fa?ade he still clung to. It was as if she was waiting, knowing there was more he hadn¡¯t said, more he was holding back, and her silence became a weight too heavy to bear.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t myself¡­¡± The words came out in a rush, desperate, like a confession forced out by a guilty conscience. He reached up, scratching at the tangled mess of his hair, his fingers working at it like he was trying to dig out some hidden torment, some gnawing parasite that had burrowed deep into his scalp. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what I was doing! I don¡¯t know anything anymore!¡± His voice cracked, rising with frustration, with a pleading edge, as if begging her to stop, to let him be. ¡°Don¡¯t ask me to explain things I can¡¯t¡ªjust don¡¯t!¡±


    But even as he spoke, Robin knew it was too late. He had already opened the door, let too much slip. And Minona, with her sharp gaze and sharper mind, wouldn¡¯t let it go. He was a man trapped, not just in this dungeon, but in the weight of his own choices, his own failures. And now, with nothing left to hide behind, he could only wait for her next move.


    ¡°Is that so¡­?¡± Minona¡¯s voice was like a thin thread of silk, teasing and sharp all at once. She floated before him, drifting just in his line of sight like the single, glaring lamp in an interrogation room, all-knowing and merciless. ¡°And about that assassin business¡­ you lied, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Her words hit him like a thunderclap, a jolt straight to his spine. His heart skipped, his mind racing. He knew he was easy to read, an open book, but how could she have seen through him so easily, so thoroughly? Robin lowered his gaze to the cold, unfeeling stone beneath him, the dungeon floor somehow reminiscent of the alleyway¡ªthe place that had betrayed him, the place that had once felt like home. That alley. The very one where he let his rage take control, where the corrupt official¡¯s sneering words had lit the fuse, driving him to madness, leading him to kill her in cold blood. That was the day it all began, the day the spree started. And now, here she was, peeling back the layers, seeing through every excuse.


    ¡°W-what do you mean?¡± He let out a chuckle, quiet and strained, the sound hollow even to his own ears. Maybe it was the fear pressing down on him, or maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªit was some twisted sense of relief. Was it possible he was glad, in some corner of his mind, that someone as perceptive as Minona was on his side? ¡°You¡¯ve got my attention. Tell me what you¡¯re getting at.¡± He tried to sound flippant, tried to play along, but his words came out more like a request than a taunt.


    ¡°You sound amused,¡± she said, voice dripping with mischief, ¡°More than you did a moment ago. Boo, I thought I had you there.¡± She pouted, floating back toward him with a huff before settling once again in her familiar perch, nestled in the tangled mess of his hair. ¡°My powers of analysis aren¡¯t supposed to be for your amusement, human. I was so sure I¡¯d got under your skin.¡±


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    He said nothing, but his pulse quickened as she continued, her tone now more boastful, almost smug.


    ¡°You¡¯re a killer¡ªcalculated, professional. The kind of assassin that even Lucia¡¯s craftiest can¡¯t compare to. A spree, you called it, but no ordinary spree¡ªevery move you made was precise, intentional. You were good. Too good.¡±


    ¡°Is that a compliment?¡± he muttered, though he already knew the answer.


    ¡°Yes, obviously,¡± she chirped, ¡°But let¡¯s not get distracted. You killed for a reason, didn¡¯t you? And if I piece together your little story and the abilities of your Dungeon Walker, there¡¯s something you were taking from those you killed, isn¡¯t there? Something you were retrieving.¡± Her voice grew sharper, more curious, more dangerous. ¡°So what was it, Robin? What did you take from them?¡±


    Her question hung in the air, a blade just waiting to cut. Robin¡¯s stomach twisted, a sick mixture of awe and fear settling deep inside him. How did she know? How did she see so clearly what even he struggled to understand?


    She was playing with him, toying with his mind, yet her playful malice was too sharp, too clever to brush aside. He knew now¡ªthere would be no hiding from her. Not anymore.


    Robin bit his lip, chewing on the bitter taste of memories he wished he could bury. His mind churned with those dark experiences, the ones tied to his past, each detail rising to the surface, one after the other. The faces, the blood, the fear¡ªevery recollection carved into his brain with an unsettling precision, forming sentences that no longer felt like they belonged to him, but to a version of himself he barely recognized. Why had he killed? What had he taken from those corrupt officials, really? It was all a blur, and yet somehow too clear.


    ¡°As far as I remember,¡± he muttered, more to himself than to her, ¡°I killed because I was afraid they¡¯d steal from me again.¡±


    ¡°They say in Lucia,¡± Minona¡¯s voice slipped in, light as air, almost offhand, ¡°fear is the greatest motivation to survive.¡± There was no malice now, no sharpness to her words, just an eerie calm. She said it as though it were the most natural thing in the world, as though the weight of his confession had no meaning. Maybe she was satisfied, maybe she had heard enough. Her interest seemed to wane, a slow fading of that predatory curiosity she¡¯d shown before. ¡°But don¡¯t you get tired of it?¡± she continued, her tone shifting, losing any focus on his past. ¡°This dark, dingy place¡­ don¡¯t you want to see the sun again?¡±


    Robin paused. His mind was anything but calm¡ªa storm raged inside, questions crashing like waves against him. He had never heard someone speak so casually about killing, as though it were nothing more than a necessary part of life. Fear, the driving force. How could someone¡ªsomething¡ªspeak of it with such indifference? What kind of world was he in, where killing was a skill to be honed, a tool to survive? At least the things he killed barely resembled humans anymore. Monsters, just like this place.


    But Minona¡ªwhat about her? Could he trust her? There was something in the way she shifted, how quickly her interest faded once she had her fill. Like a cat playing with a mouse, only to lose interest once it stopped squirming. Hiding from her would be a different game entirely, a challenge he wasn¡¯t sure he was prepared for. She knew too much, saw too much. And now, she seemed content to move on, to leave his darkest secrets hanging in the air between them like unfinished sentences.


    It unsettled him. He realized, with a deep, sinking feeling, that Minona was something else entirely¡ªsomething to be wary of, perhaps more dangerous than the dungeon itself.


    "Do I even deserve to feel the sun on my skin for what I¡¯ve done?" Robin''s voice was low, strained, the weight of his past pressing harder now, the darkness around them amplifying the guilt festering within him.


    "Who cares?" Minona¡¯s answer cut through the tension with a flicker of light, her playful tone a stark contrast to his brooding. "You won¡¯t know if you¡¯re dead, right?"


    Her flippancy struck him like cold water, and something broke inside, frustration leaking into his voice. "Have you ever felt sorry? Or killed someone and affected innocents in the process?" He raised his voice, not quite angry, but curious¡ªdesperate, even, to know if she understood the weight of her own words.


    "Yes," she answered, simple, straightforward, but so unexpected that it knocked the wind from his chest. Robin had been bracing himself for another mocking retort, but now he had to swallow his words whole, disbelief rippling through him. "I mean, I am a princess of the throne." There was a detached ease in her voice, as if she were recounting an old story long forgotten. "Every day, I smiled at assassins, knew their names, knew what weapons they preferred, and strolled the castle halls with my dress soaked in their blood."


    "You¡­ you killed them all? What if they had families? What if they were just desperate?" His voice trembled, but not from fear¡ªmore from the absurdity of it, from the way she made it sound so normal, so casual, like she was talking about brushing dust from her gown.


    "Did you¡ª" Minona scoffed, barely restraining a laugh, the sound sharp and almost mocking. "Did you listen to what you just asked?"


    Robin sighed, long and heavy, the truth of it sinking into him like a slow poison. She wasn¡¯t like him. She wasn¡¯t struggling with the moral weight of her actions, not the way he was. She didn¡¯t even bother to justify herself, didn¡¯t hide behind excuses about protecting her people, or surviving for some noble cause. And yet, that was better than hearing her admit she enjoyed it¡ªenjoyed killing, the same way she had laughed while purging those Dang-goras.


    "Fine," he muttered, still leaning back, legs trembling with the exhaustion he hadn¡¯t yet shaken. "But seriously, you need to learn some empathy."


    "Don¡¯t worry, human." Minona¡¯s voice was airy, smug, as if she had already outgrown any notion of guilt or remorse. He felt her shift above him, her weight settling into his hair like a bird rustling into a freshly made nest. "I¡¯ve lived longer than you to learn what empathy always had been."


    Robin closed his eyes, his body aching with the weight of it all¡ªthe dungeon, the secrets, and the constant dance with Minona¡¯s cryptic, boastful mind. He had learned something, though¡ªif he kept anything from her, she¡¯d find a way to dig it up, to turn it over and over in his mind until the pressure alone made him want to spill everything. She was dangerous like that, and he realized he¡¯d need as much caution with her as he would with the dungeon. Maybe even more.


    "Hey, human," Minona¡¯s voice floated down, light as a whisper, but carrying that playful edge. "Have you ever in relationship for once?"


    Robin groaned, "Let me rest, will you?" letting his head fall back against the cold dungeon wall, eyes half-closed in weary defeat. ¡°Everything has its own time.¡±

 Chapter 10: Longer The Challenge

    It could have been days, months¡ªtime lost meaning in this place where shadows stretched long and whispered secrets from walls carved by hands unknown. Robin¡¯s beard had thickened, each untrimmed strand an unspoken testimony to time slipping by in the dark, the dungeon¡¯s silence swallowing him whole. They had hunted Hundsteins, carved through dang-goras, scavenged whatever the dank stone halls would offer. Survival became a rhythm, a pattern as relentless as the drip of water from unseen cracks. Each footstep blurred into the next, the path always dim, always shifting, always unknown.


    ¡°Be careful now, human!¡± Minona''s voice drifted down, half-mocking, nestled in the tangled mess of his hair. ¡°Last time you let things get this quiet, we nearly got turned into dinner.¡± Her tone was light, too light for what lurked in the silence around them.


    Robin moved cautiously, muscles tense under the weight of her words, but the quiet pressed down on him like a shroud. Shadows twisted on the jagged walls as Minona¡¯s faint glow flickered above. They passed deeper still, each step careful, calculated, the air heavy with something unseen. The cave opened suddenly, the walls peeling away to reveal a cavern vast and sprawling. Uneven terraces stretched downward, the stone worn and ancient, marked by time and water that once flowed through, now long gone. It was a place that remembered, even if Robin didn¡¯t want to.


    But he did remember¡ªhe remembered the last time it had been this quiet.


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault for wanting a little peace,¡± Robin muttered, voice low but defensive, his eyes scanning the shadows for movement that wasn¡¯t there, as if the dungeon itself had ears. ¡°In fact, you should be thanking me for how quick we escaped.¡±


    ¡°Escape?¡± Minona scoffed, her tone dripping with scorn from her perch atop his head, the soft hum of her light mocking him. ¡°You gain power from slaying Hundsteins and yet you talk of running?¡±


    ¡°I killed one on the way out, didn¡¯t I?¡± Robin shot back, his voice rising in frustration. ¡°Guerilla warfare isn¡¯t simple, you know!¡±


    Minona¡¯s hum deepened, a spark of curiosity lighting in her voice. ¡°Guerilla, is that what you call it?¡± Her interest flickered like her glow, mischief sliding back into her tone, playful, prying. ¡°The battle techniques of your world are quite fascinating¡­ go on then, tell me.¡±


    The air hung heavy, thick with the scent of wet earth, as though the dungeon itself had exhaled a breath long held beneath the surface. Moss clung to the slick stones, the loose gravel shifting treacherously beneath his feet with each careful step. Even the nimblest of assassins would falter here, Robin thought, his breath filling his lungs with that musty, almost decayed scent. His muscles tensed as he felt the shifting rocks underfoot, his body hyper-aware of the sharp edges that lined every path, the jagged drops waiting with a quiet, patient malice.


    The faint drip of water echoed through the cavern, a steady rhythm that blended with the distant moan of the wind snaking its way through the dark, hollow places of the dungeon. That sound, the lonely echo, stretched across the stones like a ghost''s cry¡ªuntil it was interrupted, sharply, a crack in the stillness by a closer, more immediate sound. Low, feral, a hiss that crawled up his spine.


    ¡°Tell you what?¡±


    Robin stopped. For a moment, he thought perhaps it was only the wind shifting again, twisting itself into new shapes, but the sound was wrong¡ªtoo alive, too hungry.


    Minona, nestled in his hair, grew quiet, the air between them thickening as though even she had sensed the shift. She floated upward, silent as a shadow, eyes narrowing. The dang-goras he¡¯d seen before, the ones that churned the earth with their strange roots and bulbous forms, unsettling as they were, could never have made that sound. No, they were prey¡ªhe realized now¡ªsomething else, something far more dangerous, ruled this dark place.


    ¡°¡­Nevermind¡ª¡± Minona¡¯s voice came, thin and sharp as a knife''s edge. She darted suddenly away, urgency dripping from her every movement. ¡°Above!¡± she warned, her voice distant, the glow of her light shrinking as she flew further, faster, away from him.


    And that¡¯s when he saw it.


    Above him, in the shadowed heights of the cavern, something moved¡ªa flash of scales caught in the dim light, just as Minona''s warning came. Robin¡¯s eyes followed the movement, catching the dark, coiled form clinging to the jagged stalactite like a predator poised to strike. It was too late to react, not in the way he''d hoped. His body tensed, legs locked, rooted in place, as he watched the creature spring forth, uncoiling in a single fluid motion. It hurtled toward him, jaws wide, fangs glistening in the low light. For a moment, Robin thought it was just an oversized snake, some twisted creature from the dark places beneath the earth. But then its wings¡ªleathery, vast¡ªunfurled, a grotesque elegance that seemed to mock the air as it held itself aloft, hovering for just a moment before dropping lower, closer.


    This was no mere serpent, no simple beast. This was something else, something that owned the air it moved through, the ground it hunted on. Robin¡¯s pulse pounded in his ears, the thrum of it mingling with the distant drip of water and the creature¡¯s low hiss, the sound of its breath slithering out between sharp, jagged teeth.


    And its eyes¡ªcold, calculating¡ªlocked onto his, as if marking him, reading the weight of his every movement. It didn¡¯t just want to kill him. It wanted to break him, to devour him whole, piece by piece, with no more mercy than a wolf stalking a wounded deer. His feet stayed planted, his muscles tight and ready, yet inside, he felt the fear twisting, coiling in his gut.


    This thing, this winged serpent, held all the power of the skies and the earth, and it knew it.


    "What the hell is this thing? Snake? Venomous?" Robin''s voice edged with the strain of readiness, eyes never leaving the creature.


    "Omitaid!" Minona¡¯s voice, quick, sharp, like a blade cutting through his panic, "Natterwing. No venom¡ªan attack!"


    No sooner had the words left her than the thing moved again, its body twisting through the air with unnatural speed, its long form curving in a sudden, violent somersault. Robin¡¯s breath caught as the creature used its momentum, turning that grotesque body into a weapon¡ªan enormous whip that came crashing down, aimed squarely at him. There was no time to think, no plan or tactic, just instinct. His body moved on its own, muscles tightening, reacting, pulling him just out of reach as the thing smashed into the ground, sending a cloud of dust and debris spiraling into the air. He barely registered how close he¡¯d come to death until he saw the crater left where he¡¯d stood only moments before.


    The absurdity hit him then¡ªthe sheer madness of it all, the way this beast toyed with him, moving through the air like some executioner waiting for the right stroke. But there wasn¡¯t time to dwell on it, not with the danger so immediate, not with the creature looming, preparing for another strike. His hand found the dagger at his side, the familiar weight of it steadying him, a small comfort in a world that had long since abandoned any semblance of reason. He twirled it once, twice, before crouching low, eyes narrowed, waiting for the next move. This thing, whatever it was, meant to kill him.


    ¡°Use this dust bomb!¡± Minona''s voice, sharp with urgency, cut through the chaos as she tossed him the dust-compacted sphere. Robin grabbed it without hesitation, hurling the thing with all the strength he could muster, aiming to blind the creature, to clog its vision and scent with that thick cloud of dust. For a moment, it worked. The serpent reeled back, its massive wings folding defensively over its head, shielding its eyes. Dust hung heavy in the air, obscuring everything around them.


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    But then, in a sickening instant of realization, Robin saw it. The Natterwing wasn¡¯t just a brute¡ªit could think. The creature flapped its wings with brutal force, dispersing the dust in wild gusts, clearing its sight like it had learned this trick before.


    ¡°Please, please don¡¯t tell me this one¡¯s actually smart!¡± Robin¡¯s voice cracked, frustration edging into something close to panic.


    ¡°Maybe it knows wings aren¡¯t just for show,¡± Minona shot back, her voice too playful for the situation. ¡°Unlike that ridiculous hair.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a beard!¡± Robin snapped, desperation leaking through the bravado. ¡°A beard! I¡¯m a man, and men have beards!¡±


    ¡°Watch out¡ª¡±


    Before Minona could finish, the creature was upon him again, its fangs bared, jaws snapping with savage precision. There was no time for banter, no moment to breathe, as the Natterwing came at him with relentless speed. Its body, massive and sinewy, moved with a speed that shouldn¡¯t belong to something that size, each attack quicker than the last, a blur of muscle and scales. Even the stalagmites, once solid, crumbled under the onslaught, shattered by the force of the serpent¡¯s strikes.


    Robin¡¯s heart hammered against his ribs. He dodged, barely, each move scraping him closer to death. His legs burned, his breath came ragged, and the realization crept in¡ªthis thing wasn¡¯t just strong, it was fast, faster than he could keep up with. And worse, it was smart enough to focus solely on him, ignoring the floating light that was Minona entirely. It was a fight that had no end, a fight of endurance, the kind he despised.


    He wasn¡¯t going to last.


    ¡°It¡¯s become pretty clear, this snake doesn¡¯t give a damn about you, Minona!¡± Robin¡¯s voice cut through the air, as sharp as the situation demanded.


    ¡°Huh, what are you getting at?¡± she huffed, her light flickering with irritation.


    Boastful, always boastful, and Robin knew how to play her like a fiddle. ¡°A light ball isn¡¯t exactly a feast for something that hungry.¡± His words hung in the air, taunting.


    Minona¡¯s light dimmed, just a flicker, but it carried the weight of her simmering pride. ¡°Now, now,¡± she seethed, ¡°I can¡¯t accept that. That¡¯s offensive.¡±


    Perfect. That was the crack Robin needed. ¡°Good,¡± he said, barely containing a grin. ¡°Then let¡¯s show it just how wrong it is. I need you to unleash your fury¡ªno holding back. Make it as hot as you can, Minona.¡±


    ¡°My flaming wisps? That¡¯s all you need?¡± Her voice was tinged with a hint of surprise, but she didn¡¯t hesitate. Ten blazing spheres ignited around her, flickering with violent intent. ¡°When do I drop them?¡±


    ¡°Perfect.¡± Robin drew his dagger, the weight of it familiar but almost insignificant against the behemoth before them. ¡°I¡¯ll keep it occupied.¡±


    ¡°Huh? Where do you think you¡¯re going, human? Hey!¡± Her words trailed off as Robin dashed toward the beast.


    The Natterwing had recovered, coiling its massive body, jaws wide open, a lunge ready. Robin charged, heart pounding, already anticipating the serpent¡¯s crushing force. Its clumsiness was evident, the fangs that snapped at him missing more often than not, but its bulk, its sheer mass, caused destruction in its wake. Each failed lunge obliterated rocks and stalagmites, turning his cover to dust, but that same dust clouded the air¡ªcover Robin could use.


    The serpent¡¯s scales gleamed, each one a shield against the debris and shrapnel its own fury created. Robin¡¯s dagger was a mere pinprick compared to the gaping maw, the razor-sharp fangs that threatened to tear him apart. The Natterwing¡¯s hunger drove it, a relentless force, all instinct and malice, hunting its prey with the fury of something starved of living flesh.


    Robin bolted from rock to rock, the serpent¡¯s relentless pursuit turning him into little more than desperate prey. There was no opening, no break in the onslaught of fangs and scales, of wings that battered the air and body that smashed the earth. He¡¯d faced humans stronger than him before, ones that wanted his head on a spike, but never a flying serpent that seemed to defy nature itself.


    The dust swirled thick around him, clogging the air, filling his lungs, but his overgrown hair and tangled beard filtered the worst of it. He used it, as he always did, waiting, calculating. The Natterwing¡¯s bulk moved with too much force, too much wild energy¡ªleaving blind spots. And Robin seized one, striking from beneath, his dagger finding its way into the thick scales, plunging into what he hoped was the serpent¡¯s throat.


    But the blade didn¡¯t sink deep enough. The beast let out a shriek, thrashing violently, sending Robin flying into a pile of debris. Pain shot through his body, his ribs screaming as he crashed against the rocks. He cursed under his breath, clutching his side.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± he growled, spitting blood, ¡°should¡¯ve learned more about snake anatomy.¡±


    ¡°Hey, human! Still breathing?¡± There was something in Minona¡¯s voice¡ªa flicker of concern, almost unfamiliar to both of them.


    ¡°Minona, now!¡± Robin barked, urgency tightening his throat, blood and desperation mingling in his words.


    Without hesitation, she descended like a meteor, her blazing wisps trailing behind her in a burning arc. The incendiary orbs, glowing with volatile fury, latched onto the Natterwing¡¯s wings, igniting its feathery expanse in a savage blaze. The flames, hungry and unforgiving, consumed the creature with a vengeance. The serpent screeched, a terrible sound that echoed through the cavern, its body thrashing wildly in a desperate attempt to escape the fire eating away at its flesh.


    ¡°It¡¯s running!¡± Minona shouted, her voice laced with both alarm and the faintest hope that this might finally end.


    The Natterwing¡¯s massive form twisted and coiled, trying to retreat, trying to flee the hellfire that Robin and Minona had unleashed upon it. For a moment, victory seemed tangible¡ªclose enough to touch, close enough to believe. The burning serpent, once so mighty, was now writhing in agony, its wings no longer a symbol of power but of downfall, melting under the assault.


    ¡°Not for long!¡± Robin growled, his voice ironclad with resolve, the fire of battle burning as fierce inside him as it did on the Natterwing¡¯s wings.


    With the tide turning, his dagger felt lighter in his grip, his body moving not from instinct but from purpose. The predator had become the prey, and Robin¡ªbattered, bruised, but unbroken¡ªwasn¡¯t about to let it slip away.


    With every ounce of grit and desperation surging through his veins, Robin lunged. His dagger, worn and battered like him, found its way into the serpent¡¯s thick, armored scales. The Natterwing bucked, its body twisting in frantic waves, wings shredded and charred, but still moving, still fighting for life. Robin felt the blade wedge deep, stuck in the thick hide, refusing to budge, and for a moment, doubt flashed through him. He had failed, he was sure of it, failed to strike where it mattered most.


    The serpent¡¯s body flailed beneath him, each wild thrash threatening to fling him off, to send him crashing into the jagged debris, to end him right here. Robin¡¯s grip slipped, the dagger locked in flesh, his fingers numb from the shock of the impact, but he refused to let go. He slammed his fist into the beast¡¯s eye, once, twice¡ªanything to keep it still, anything to stop its thrashing. The creature screamed in agony, a sound so primal it nearly drowned out Robin¡¯s own pain.


    For a brief, terrifying second, the serpent¡¯s strength almost won, its desperate wriggling threatening to hurl Robin to the cold, hard ground, but he hammered down with all he had left. His fist met the eye again, and this time, he felt the soft give of something vital rupturing beneath the weight of his blow. The beast''s thrashing slowed, its massive body convulsing, and Robin yanked his dagger free, gasping, heart pounding like a drum in his chest.


    He stood before it, muscles aching, lungs burning, blood smeared on his face and arms¡ªsome of it his, most of it the serpent¡¯s. The Natterwing was dying now, its once-fearsome wings hanging limp and useless, its monstrous strength all but spent. With what remained of his power, Robin raised the dagger and plunged it down, hard and fast, into the creature¡¯s heart, or where he imagined its heart lay, praying that it would be enough.


    The blade sank deep. Too deep. He knew it then¡ªthis was the final strike. The Natterwing¡¯s body seized, a pitiful hiss slipping from its maw as it collapsed in a heap, like a tree felled by a storm. Purple blood gushed, the ground beneath Robin¡¯s feet soaked in the serpent¡¯s death, the air heavy with the scent of burning feathers and the bitter tang of the dungeon.


    Breathing ragged, Robin staggered back, his body shaking, bruised, broken, and yet somehow still standing. Victory, hollow and bitter, settled into his bones. He looked down at the fallen beast, at the destruction they had wrought upon one another, and for the first time in years, he wasn¡¯t sure if the cost had been worth it.


    ¡°I¡­¡± His breath came in shuddering gulps, each word laced with the exhaustion of survival, ¡°I should have run¡­ should¡¯ve escaped¡­.¡± But he hadn¡¯t. He had stayed, and now he was left to reckon with the choices that kept him standing.

 Chapter 11: Longer the Night

    It had been days since the Natterwing battle, though it felt more like a lifetime¡ªa blur of pain, exhaustion, and running. Robin¡¯s ribcage screamed with every breath, bruises swelling beneath skin that still stung with the burn marks from that damned serpent. Each step was agony, his right leg dragging behind him, stubborn as if it had forgotten how to listen, and yet they had kept moving, moving because they had no choice.


    The blood. The cursed blood.


    They hadn¡¯t even had time to rest, not after the creature¡¯s carcass began to leak its strange, purple fluid, the thick stench of it filling the air like a call, like a signal. And then the noise, faint at first, but unmistakable¡ªthe growls, the scrapes of claws on stone, growing louder, closer. The Hundsteins, drawn by the pheromonic stink of Natterwing¡¯s death.


    So they ran, or rather, Robin hobbled while Minona flickered in the air beside him, her light bobbing and weaving like a firefly on the wind.


    ¡°You looked younger without the beard,¡± she teased, though the mischief in her voice barely masked her concern.


    ¡°Thanks, damnit,¡± Robin spat through clenched teeth, his hand gripping his side as if he could somehow squeeze the pain away. ¡°It¡¯ll grow back.¡± His leg dragged, stubborn and stiff, a reminder that even in victory, the body sometimes chose its own form of defeat.


    ¡°What a waste,¡± he muttered as they moved, each word heavy with the exhaustion that clung to him. ¡°Natterwing... whatever the hell that thing was... looks edible to me.¡±


    Minona said nothing, and Robin wondered if she could hear the frustration biting at his words, the bitter taste of disappointment in the back of his throat. The battle had cost him more than he cared to admit, and now they were running, not because they wanted to, but because survival demanded it, because the dungeon always had more to throw at them, always another beast lurking in the dark, waiting for the smell of blood to guide its path.


    They pressed on, the growls behind them a constant reminder that the battle wasn¡¯t over¡ªnot yet.


    Minona, ever the restless spirit, flitted beside him, her glowing form darting in and out of his vision like a mischievous spark. "So, how about¡ª"


    ¡°No Hundstein meat!¡± Robin''s words cut the air, sharp and bitter, the taste of frustration still thick in his throat. He didn¡¯t care for the rest of her question, nor for the constant sting in his ribs that reminded him of every wrong turn he''d taken since the battle. His leg dragged beneath him, uncooperative, and yet they moved¡ªone way or another, they always kept moving.


    Then the growl came. Low, guttural, primal, the kind of sound that crawled up your spine and whispered in your ear, telling you just how small you really were. Robin felt it before he heard it, a vibration in the air, like the ground itself was trembling beneath his feet. The kind of growl that spoke of hunger, old and unrelenting, a hunger that never ended. He knew the sound well. Too well. His body tensed in recognition.


    Hundstein. Of course. His body sagged with the thought, like the weight of it was too much to bear. It was always Hundsteins, always these cursed things, as if the dungeon itself could conjure nothing else. But this one¡­ this one sounded different. Its growl carried a chill, something deeper, more ancient than the others he''d faced before. It gnawed at his bones, made the air thick with anticipation, with dread.


    He glanced toward the shadowy form stalking through the cave¡¯s edge, its eyes gleaming with predatory intent. It didn¡¯t call for the others, didn¡¯t howl the way they usually did. No, this one was alone, and it liked it that way. A scout. Robin recognized the way it moved, deliberate, confident.


    ¡°It¡¯s a scouting one.¡± His voice was hoarse, as though the words had scraped their way up his throat.


    Despite the pain coursing through his body, despite the exhaustion weighing him down like a lead cloak, he lifted his dagger, ready. Not because he wanted to fight, but because he had to. And because that cursed beast, with its confidence and its cold eyes, had already made a fatal mistake¡ªit thought him weak.


    He could feel it in the way the Hundstein prowled closer, its steps heavy with arrogance. Robin¡¯s Fragile Facade innate was working its silent trick, casting him in the illusion of prey, of weakness, of something the beast could toy with before finishing off. And it believed it. Hook, line, and sinker.


    For just a moment, Robin felt something like satisfaction creep into the corners of his mind. If nothing else, this was his territory¡ªthe gamble, the trap, the silent understanding that the strongest sometimes fell because they never saw the knife coming.


    "Human!" Minona shot forward, her glow intensifying, casting jagged shadows on the stone walls. She hovered ahead, fearless in her strange, ethereal way, taking a vanguard position she had no right to claim. "I''ll handle this, myself!" Her voice rang out, filled with an eerie kind of bravado that felt more like a gamble than a declaration of strength.


    Robin blinked, half in disbelief. What in the world had gotten into her? Minona, the one who always danced on the sidelines, conjuring smokescreens and the occasional glass of water, now rushing headlong into a fight she had no business in. There was no face to read, no expression to gauge her intent¡ªjust the pulsing light of her form, bobbing erratically in the air.


    "You sure, Minona?" His voice carried a hesitation he couldn¡¯t quite mask. "I can still handle it. Just¡­ slower than usual."


    "Watch me fight!" she snapped back, more determined than he''d ever heard her. And then, before he could say another word, she summoned her magic¡ªa simple trick, dust compressed into a jagged blade of pebble, hovering like a poorly-made weapon. It was ridiculous, absurd even, but she charged at the Hundstein like it was her personal vendetta.


    ¡°You¡¯re not getting away from me, you venison with arms and legs!¡± she yelled, her tone far too confident for someone hurling a dust-made blade at a monster hundred time her size. She lunged, and the beast, bewildered by the audacity of this strange glowing creature, simply sidestepped. It was almost comical, the way it avoided her attack with no more effort than if it were brushing away a fly. But Minona was relentless, darting back in with her jagged weapon, her movements sharp and full of misplaced fury.


    The pebble blade struck its arm, embedding itself shallowly into the beast¡¯s thick hide. It wasn¡¯t much of a wound, not enough to even slow the Hundstein down. But it had caught the creature''s attention. Now, its eyes gleamed with something more dangerous¡ªa recognition that it had been attacked, however small the blow.


    And so it retaliated.


    The Hundstein snapped its jaws, fangs flashing as it lunged at her. For a moment, Robin''s breath caught in his throat, sure that she was about to be swallowed whole by the beast¡¯s ravenous maw. But Minona was quick, quicker than the beast anticipated. She darted away, weaving through the air in a wild, erratic pattern that kept her just out of reach. The Hundstein¡¯s fangs clamped down on nothing but air, its eyes narrowing in frustration.


    But then came the claws. Swift, brutal, and unforgiving, they swiped through the space where she hovered. This time, the attack came closer¡ªmuch closer. Minona spun wildly, barely avoiding the deadly swipe, her light flickering as if even she realized just how close she''d come to being shredded.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Robin watched, his heart pounding in his chest. She was fighting, yes¡ªbut the line between bravery and recklessness had blurred, and now she was teetering dangerously close to disaster.


    ¡°Minona, pull back! That¡¯s too dangerous!¡± Robin¡¯s voice cracked with worry, his feet anchored to the ground, watching helplessly as Minona narrowly avoided the Hundstein¡¯s savage claws. She was too reckless, too exposed. ¡°Let it come to me!¡± he called, urgency lacing every word, but she wasn¡¯t listening. Stubborn, as always.


    ¡°Like I could bleed?¡± Minona snapped, though her voice quivered, a trembling undercurrent she couldn¡¯t quite hide. ¡°This is nothing!¡± she insisted, but Robin could see it¡ªthe way she faltered, the hesitation in the way she hovered, refusing to back down, but no longer certain.


    This time, she conjured a hammer, the dust swirling around her like a cloud before hardening into rock. With a defiant dive, she hurled herself from above, determined to land the blow. But again, the beast was faster, too fast, and her hammer smashed into the dungeon floor, the force shaking the ground but leaving her open, vulnerable.


    Robin watched, tension knotted in his chest. She was trying, he could see that much, but she wasn¡¯t made for this. Not like him. Maybe she¡¯d seen too many of his retreats, too many moments where he chose to flee instead of fight, and now she felt she had to carry the burden herself. Maybe she thought if she could do this, the journey ahead would be easier. But she wasn¡¯t ready¡ªnot yet.


    ¡°Minona!¡± Robin shouted, his mind racing as he watched her struggle. She had power, more than she realized, but she needed direction. ¡°Create a dust bomb! Roast it with fire!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she blurted, spinning in midair, confusion overtaking her frustration.


    ¡°Just do what I say!¡± Robin¡¯s voice was strained, a sharp pang in his ribs flaring with every word. ¡°Then hit it with that.¡±


    Minona hesitated, her glow dimming for a second as if she was weighing his words, her uncertainty battling against her defiance. But then she moved, her dust magic swirling once more, the fire rising to meet it. The elements merged, forming a small, crackling vortex¡ªa miniature storm of dust and flame, wild and raw, spinning with barely contained energy.


    With a burst of resolve, she charged again, the fiery whirlwind trailing behind her like a meteor. The Hundstein, startled by the sudden shift, dodged, its instinct to evade working against it. It was a mistake. Robin saw it before Minona did¡ªthe beast¡¯s movement had placed it right in the path of the swirling inferno she¡¯d unleashed.


    ¡°You¡¯re cornered!¡± Minona¡¯s voice rang out with more bravado than certainty, her small figure bobbing defiantly in the air. But she held back, her attack coiling like a spring, waiting for the perfect moment. The Hundstein dodged, just as Robin had predicted, and she seized it, unleashing the blazing fury she¡¯d been holding in check. The dust bomb exploded, blanketing the beast¡¯s fur in searing heat, like a cloud of burning insects crawling over its skin.


    It howled in pain, thrashing wildly as the flames licked at its flesh. For a moment, she felt triumphant. But then, a wave of uncertainty washed over her. What now? She had the power, but she didn¡¯t know what to do with it. The victory felt hollow, incomplete, like a song without its final note. And for the first time, she floated a bit toward Robin''s direction¡ªnot with mockery or mischief, but with something deeper, something strange in her glowing eyes. Expectation.


    ¡°Robin... what¡¯s next?¡± Her voice was smaller than before, laced with a hesitation she rarely showed.


    ¡°Create a dust hammer you did earlier!¡± he barked, his voice rough with strain, each word sharp as broken glass against his ribs. ¡°Mix it with water¡ªmake it thick, like mud!¡±


    ¡°Huh? Already?¡± Minona blinked, disbelief creeping into her tone, as if the idea of following his orders so readily unsettled her.


    ¡°Just do it!¡± he snapped, his breath catching on the edges of pain. ¡°Trust me, getting hit in the head with a thick mass made of of mud is far worse than it sounds!¡±


    The command was clear, and though every instinct in Minona screamed to push back, to insist that she knew better, there was something in Robin¡¯s voice that stopped her. Something she couldn¡¯t deny. Reluctantly, she obeyed. Her mana swirled, condensing dust and water into thick, heavy hammers¡ªone after another, until ten floating weapons circled her like jagged, mud-filled fists.


    With a grunt of effort, she flung herself forward, hurling the hammers with all her might. They slammed into the Hundstein with a dull, sickening thud, the weight of each blow sending it crashing into the dungeon floor. The beast tried to rise, clawing at the ground, but another mud hammer struck, forcing it down again. Again, and again, until it lay still, its fur matted with mud, its body limp beneath the barrage.


    It wasn¡¯t dead¡ªnot yet¡ªbut she knew it wouldn¡¯t last long. She could leave it, finish it off, or flee while she had the chance. Robin would flee, she knew that much. That was how he fought¡ªhe used his strength to survive, to secure their escape, not to kill. But Minona¡­ Minona wasn¡¯t like him. She wanted to kill. If she could, she would. That was how survival was written in her dictionary.


    But still, she glanced back at Robin, bruised and limping, his chest heaving with the effort of standing. He had led her through this fight, shown her what to do when she was lost. It grated against everything she thought she knew about herself, about him, to admit that maybe, just maybe, he knew something about her potential that even she hadn¡¯t seen.


    Robin exhaled slowly, the weight of his next words hanging in the air between them. His voice cut through the fading echoes of the fight like a blade, sharp and decisive. He tapped the back of his neck with two fingers, his gesture quick, instinctive, as if he¡¯d already seen how the final blow should fall, how the battle would end. ¡°Rock spear!¡± he added.


    ¡°No need to tell me that, human!¡± Minona shot back, her voice hard, brittle with defiance. But beneath it, buried in the edge of her words, was something else¡ªa thread of trust, knotted tight against her will. She hated to admit it, hated that she needed him to guide her through the finish. Yet, here she was, betting everything on his command, on his damned instincts that seemed to know her better than she knew herself.


    With a flicker of concentration, she summoned her dust magic one last time. The jagged edges of the rock spear took shape, rough and unpolished, but deadly sharp, its length stretching like a lance in her imaginary hands. She hovered above the Hundstein, its breath shallow, its body twitching with the last vestiges of life, waiting for the strike that would take everything.


    With all the might she could muster, Minona plunged downward, driving the spear deep into its flesh. The impact stole the air from the creature¡¯s lungs, its final growl fading into silence as its body stilled, and its life bled away into the dungeon floor. She floated above it, victorious, though the taste of that victory felt strange, almost hollow in the silence that followed.


    She¡¯d won, but not without him. Not without his guidance, his voice in her ear, leading her to this end. And though she¡¯d deny it¡ªdeny it with every fiber of her being¡ªMinona knew that, in some way, this fight had been as much his as hers.


    Robin watched her, silent, as if he knew all along that she could do it. That she would. Even if her strike had failed, even if she hadn¡¯t been strong enough to deal that final blow, he¡¯d had plans in place, contingencies ready to fall back on. But it hadn¡¯t come to that. This time, she had won, and she had done it by trusting him, despite herself.


    Minona floated closer, her light trembling slightly, though her voice was quick to cover it, slipping back into its usual teasing lilt. ¡°Did you see that, human?¡± she crowed, though a faint tremor betrayed her tone, ¡°Still good at it, aren¡¯t I? Could¡¯ve done it even better if I could cast properly, you know.¡± The boast in her tone was loud, almost overcompensating, her arrogance a familiar shield she wrapped around herself. The whimsical comments had returned, light and sharp like they always did, signaling the storm had passed.


    Robin glanced at her, his expression flat, indifferent as ever, but inside, there was a weight lifting, a quiet relief spreading through his chest like the balm he needed for his aching ribs. She was herself again, back to her usual playful arrogance, and that was enough for him. He didn¡¯t need to say more than a low, ¡°Yeah,¡± his voice carrying no particular interest, yet it carried more than he¡¯d admit.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move. Can¡¯t have the pack finding us here once they realize one of their own isn¡¯t coming back.¡± His words were clipped, practical, but beneath them was the urgency of someone ready to leave behind the danger, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing they¡¯d gotten through, unscathed.


    ¡°Right!¡± she chirped, settling herself once more atop his head, as if nothing had changed, as if the brush with death had been nothing but another game. He felt her weight, small and featherlight, but unusually compliant, a sign that perhaps¡ªjust perhaps¡ªthere was more beneath her bravado than she let on.


    And just as he felt the quiet moment settle between them, her voice broke the silence, as mischievous as ever. ¡°Too bad, I roasted the Hundstein for you, look, there!¡±


    ¡°No Hundstein meat.¡± He groaned, still there was always some part of him to not tolerate her comment.

 Chapter 12: Another Eyes in Dungeon

    Far from the bizarre pair, in a cavern that felt more like a grave than a space meant for living things, the air was thicker, colder. The stone above was so high and so distant that it swallowed sound, the darkness a ceiling of silence. Walls, smooth where water had once carved its path, bled into jagged rock teeth that gnawed at the ground, a floor uneven, made to trip, to tear, to kill. The only music here was the slow, steady drip of water, like the ticking of a clock that had long since stopped caring.


    "Cross Slash Attack!"


    The shout came swift, cutting through the gloom, followed by the clash of steel and the guttural roar of something too large, too fierce to care about pain. Wounds opened across its massive frame¡ªgashes that would have felled any lesser beast. But this one, this bull-headed titan, was something else. Kneeling now, blood dripping like a sacrament from its battered limbs, it did not bend in defeat. Its eyes, red and fierce, still burned with the fire of something more dangerous than rage¡ªa will that would not break, even as exhaustion threatened to claim it.


    The beast, hulking and enormous, swung its axe wildly, desperate to connect with the swift figure that danced just beyond its reach. Its broad chest heaved with labored breaths, muscles rippling beneath its bloodied hide. And still, despite the torn flesh, despite the agony that would have driven any other creature mad, it endured, as if the pain had become part of its very being. The axe, heavy and chipped, rose and fell, each swing more erratic than the last, yet there was something in the way it watched, in the way its eyes never left the blood-stained dagger of the man before it.


    It was not just fury. No, behind the brute strength and the maddened slashing, there was something sharp, something patient. It could have turned, could have fled into the safety of the dark, but the bull-like creature stayed, forced its broken body to rise once more. It waited. Waited for the moment when the man would make a mistake, when he would come too close. Then, and only then, would the creature strike, and strike true.


    "This ends now!"


    The man lunged, swift as a shadow, his dagger flashing in the dim light, cutting through the heavy air toward its mark. His steps were quick, unpredictable, the kind of speed that had kept him alive until now. But no speed could outmatch the inevitability of the beast before him. The bull-headed giant, kneeling and bloodied, still held strength in its waiting, a silent predator behind the mask of a battered victim. It watched, patient, unmoving, as the man closed in, as the blade found its chest¡ªflesh tearing, blood spilling, but it did not flinch. It did not retreat. Instead, it waited for that perfect moment when the man, for the briefest second, thought he had won.


    And that was when the creature''s massive hands, hands as large as the head they now sought, struck with the force of a mountain falling. The dagger, buried in its chest, was a small price to pay. A wound, yes, but nothing compared to the satisfaction that filled its being as it closed its grip around the man''s skull. The pressure began slowly, almost tenderly, as if it were holding something fragile. Then came the squeeze, and with it the wet, sickening crunch of bone and flesh collapsing, the man''s final, silent scream lost in the sudden spray of blood, fragments of his skull bursting like an overripe fruit.


    The man''s body went limp, the dagger still lodged in the beast''s chest, his strength spent, his life extinguished in an instant so brief it felt unreal. And yet, it was real¡ªtoo real. His comrades saw it, their voices breaking the stillness, the horror in their cries filling the cavern.


    "Fang!"


    They screamed his name, three voices blending into one desperate sound, but it did nothing to stop what had already been done. The headless body slumped, crumpling in a heap at the feet of the bull-like giant, whose bloodied chest heaved once more as it rose to its full, monstrous height. Its fingers, wet and dripping with the man''s remains, flexed as it ignored the limp corpse now discarded beneath it.


    The creature, now standing tall, hefted its axe with slow, deliberate movements, the blade rising as though lifted by death itself. It did not care for the lives it had taken. It did not care for the three remaining souls staring back at it with terror in their eyes. It cared only for the fight, for the thrill of the kill. And it was not done yet. Not by a long shot.


    "Damn it! Fang, you fool!" The cry came from the woman, her voice cracking under the weight of grief. She stood there, trembling in her purple dress, hands shaking as she tried to wipe away the tears that blurred her vision, a mage powerless against the suddenness of death. Her heart beat against her ribs, too fast, too loud. And yet, there was no time to mourn. Not here. Not now.


    "I''ll avenge you, Fang!" came the voice of the long-eared man beside her, his face twisted with rage, eyes burning like embers as he clutched his bow. His hands were steady, though his heart pounded with fury. Vengeance was all that remained for him now, vengeance for the friend that lay headless and broken at the feet of that monstrous thing.


    "Listen up, everyone! Don''t falter!" The command sliced through the thick air, the one sound that gave them all something to cling to in the midst of despair. It came from the man wielding the giant sword, his voice sharp and clear. He had no time for sorrow, no time to feel the weight of the loss, though it hung heavy in the air around them like the stench of death. "Ben, keep him busy with your arrows! Luna, I trust your magic!" His orders were firm, not a question but an expectation, as if by speaking them he could force hope into the hearts of the others.


    "Got it!" came the replies, almost in unison, though the tremor of fear still lingered behind their words. They knew what lay before them, the impossible fight, the blood already spilled, the blood still waiting to be spilled. And yet, they moved.


    The swordsman charged first, the weight of his weapon barely slowing him as he barreled forward, a living storm of iron and flesh. His target¡ªthe creature''s waist¡ªwas clear in his mind, but clearer still was the image of their late comrade''s broken body, a reminder of what would happen if he hesitated, even for a second. To his side, the archer''s fingers twitched on the bowstring, ready to unleash a flurry of arrows, just as he had before, as if repetition could somehow undo the horrors that had already played out. The tension in the string was nothing compared to the tension that knotted in his chest, a tight, suffocating thing, but still he aimed.


    Behind them, Luna stood with her hands outstretched, trembling not from fear but from the power she called upon. Her lips moved in a silent chant, her mind focused, even as her heart wept. There was no time to falter. Not now. They moved as one, not because they believed they could win, but because they had no choice.


    "Graaah!" The beast''s roar rattled through the cavern like the crumbling of the earth, shaking the air as it gripped the dagger lodged deep in its chest. Its monstrous hand clenched the tiny weapon¡ªso small it seemed like a splinter, an insult to its size, a nuisance more than a threat. The sword that had been swung against it earlier had felt just as insignificant, as if these humans thought they could pierce its hide with needles and toothpicks. And yet, the blood that leaked from its wounds made its body feel lighter, strange as it was, as though the weight of its own pain had been shed along with the blood it spilled. This lightness¡ªthis sudden awareness¡ªwas an opportunity, the kind that broke battles and left only death in its wake.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "What is it doing¡ªwait!" The archer''s voice cracked through the tension, his realization too late, far too late to stop what was already in motion.


    In a single fluid movement, the beast hurled the dagger. It flew not with the lumbering force of its size but with the swiftness of a viper''s strike¡ªsilent, deadly, precise. The mage in her purple dress barely had time to blink before the dagger ripped into her stomach, its sharp edge slicing through flesh as if it were no more than paper. The force of it was unimaginable, a bullet to a sponge, her body barely absorbing the blow before it crumbled, folding inward. She felt the briefest sensation¡ªa pressure, an emptiness inside her as the blade punctured deep, tearing through her innards with a brutal efficiency. Her stomach exploded, not with pain but with a hollowness so profound it stole her breath before she could scream. It was over in an instant, and yet in that instant, she knew everything. She felt the life pour out of her, felt the blood pooling beneath her as she fell to the cold stone, her fingers instinctively reaching toward the wound, though she knew, even before they touched the ragged flesh, that there was nothing left to save.


    "Luna!" Their cries echoed through the cavern, desperate, anguished, but they were calling to a corpse. Her name fell into the ears of the dead. Her eyes, still wide with the shock of it, stared upward, unblinking, her lips frozen in the shape of a word that would never be spoken. The blood that had once flowed through her veins now spread across the floor, dark and thick, and her guts, slick and twisted, spilled out like coiled ropes, lifeless.


    The beast did not spare her a second glance. Its eyes shifted to the remaining two, still standing, their weapon raised in defiance, their eyes gleaming with the same hatred, the same resolve that had filled the mage''s heart only moments before. But they were frozen now, staring at the crumpled body of their comrade, and in that stillness, the beast saw its victory. It was not their strength, not their weapons that had challenged it¡ªbut their hope. And now, with her death, that hope was shattered, lying on the cold cave floor in a pool of blood.


    "Bastard!" The archer''s voice ripped through the thick air, raw with grief and fury, and he let loose another volley of arrows. They flew in a rain of death, each one aimed with deadly precision at the hulking creature that towered before him, too massive, too slow to evade them all. This had to be it¡ªhe would see to it that the arrows found their mark, that the beast paid in flesh and blood for what it had done. He counted them in his head: three, five, seven arrows, each one destined to pierce its hide.


    It had grown tired of being this archer''s target, tired from the sting of arrows tearing into its flesh, tired of being hunted by these fragile, foolish creatures since the dungeon had first formed around it. These humans¡ªthey were no different from the monsters it had fought time and time again, nothing but gnats swarming a beast, thinking they could strike it down. But the giant was done being struck.


    With a sudden, guttural growl, the beast''s massive hand slammed into the earth, and the ground trembled, rising in response to its will. The arrows that should have been buried in its flesh clattered harmlessly against a dome of clay, summoned from the earth itself, a shield born of rage and desperation. The arrows fell uselessly to the ground as the dome crumbled, revealing the giant beast¡ªunscathed, untouched, and now more menacing than ever.


    "No way!" The archer''s voice wavered with disbelief, his eyes wide as the truth dawned on them all.


    "Is that... Earth Magic?"


    The words hung in the air, a realization that shattered whatever hope had lingered. The beast knew magic. Not only brute strength, not only mindless savagery, but magic, too. The humans had been fighting with all they had, and yet it still held more power, more tricks they could not match.


    Before they could react, the beast lunged, moving with a speed that seemed impossible for a creature of its size, its eyes locked on the archer. He was the one who had been the most annoying, the one who had rained arrows down upon it again and again. Now, it was his turn to be hunted. The archer raised his bow, an arrow aimed directly at the beast''s head. This time, there would be no mistake. But the beast was charging faster. Too fast, it evaded first three arrows with ease.


    "You damned beast¡ª"


    It caught the fourth arrow in mid-flight, its massive hand closing around the slender shaft with a sickening ease. Before the archer could even comprehend what had happened, the beast drove the arrow into his shoulder, the force of the blow sending him staggering on his knee, the pain erupting through him like fire. Then came the kick¡ªhard, brutal, and without mercy. The archer''s body flew through the air like a broken training dummy, crashing toward the cavern wall, his limbs limp and helpless. Only the swordsman''s desperate, last-second catch saved him from splintering against the stone.


    But even that salvation felt hollow. For as they stood there, battered, bruised, and broken, they could all feel it¡ªthe hope slipping away, as fragile and fleeting as the breath in their lungs. This beast, this thing that they had thought was nothing more than brute strength and raw fury, had proven itself to be more. Magic. Intelligence. And an indomitable will to survive.


    "Ben, you okay?" The swordsman''s voice trembled, his hands shaking as he crouched over the wounded archer, both of them battered, their breath labored, ragged, the weight of the fight pressing down on them like the dungeon''s walls themselves.


    "I... I''m fine¡ª" But the words were cut short, silenced by the earth itself, as a slab of clay, impossibly large, impossibly fast, rose from the ground and crashed down with a sickening finality. In that brief, flickering moment, the archer¡ªBen¡ªpushed the swordsman aside, his last act not one of defiance, but of sacrifice. The swordsman stumbled, untouched by the weight of the slab that had fallen like a gargantuan landslide, sealing Ben beneath the earth. There was no sound, no struggle. Just the stillness of death.


    "Ben!" The swordsman''s voice broke, hollow, his chest heaving as the tears welled in his eyes. But even as he cried out, his words held no meaning in the cold, damp air of the dungeon. Ben was gone, and the beast¡ªits hulking frame silhouetted in the dim light¡ªpaid no attention to the man''s grief. It had no use for tears.


    Its axe still in hand, the giant swung, a movement born of weariness as much as strength, the heavy blade cleaving through the air with a purpose that had grown stale. The swordsman, instinct alone guiding his trembling hands, raised his weapon in a futile defense. The clash of metal rang out, the force of the beast''s strike driving the man back, his arms quivering under the strain. He leaped, desperate, scrambling away, his feet carrying him deeper into the shadows, into the maw of the dungeon''s endless dark. He vanished, swallowed whole by the same dungeon that had claimed his comrades.


    But the beast did not follow. It watched, eyes heavy with a fatigue that was not physical, but something deeper¡ªsomething worn into its very bones. The battle was over. Another fight, another death, another survivor fleeing into the dark, clinging to a life that had already been hollowed out by fear. It had no desire to chase, no desire to kill for the sake of it. Victory tasted the same as defeat, bitter and cold. The humans would return, they always did. More bodies, more blood, more futile attempts to end it.


    The beast knew this cycle well. They came with their arrogance, with their hope that they could win, that their numbers, their weapons, their magic could make a difference. But they died the same, full of terror, their faces twisted in the moment they realized it had all been for nothing. And yet, despite all this, despite the brutality it showed them, the beast knew its fight was no different from theirs. It fought because it had to, because survival was the only thing that mattered now. There was no bloodlust, no joy in the kill. Only instinct, only the endless need to survive.


    It didn''t know how it had come to this place, how the dungeon had swallowed it whole and forced it into this life of constant violence. But it was trapped, just like the humans. And though it fought them off, crushed them beneath its strength, it was only delaying the inevitable. More would come. They always did.


    And the beast, as always, would have to fight again.

 Chapter 13: New Resolution

    ¡°This¡ªperfect!¡± Minona¡¯s voice rang through the empty space, her small, glowing form darting up and down the vertical rock like a flickering flame, alive with her magic and the restless boredom that seemed to fuel her. ¡°We¡¯re using this!¡± she declared, her dazzle gleaming with a strange excitement as she flared her power against the flat stone, her enthusiasm almost absurd in the dead silence of the dungeon.


    Days had passed¡ªRobin couldn¡¯t say how many, or if days even held any meaning down here. The darkness around them was a blanket, heavy, swallowing time and thought, thickening his sense of isolation, blurring day into night until both felt like distant memories, until the very idea of sunlight seemed like something he had invented, something that didn¡¯t exist beyond the boundaries of this dungeon. He¡¯d long stopped keeping track, the oppressive gloom weaving through the corridors, once tight with menace, now unraveling into a disconcerting familiarity. The quiet, once a pulse of hidden danger, had flattened, turned to a strange stillness, the air around them clear, clean even¡ªjust air, no smell of blood, no rot or decay, no threat in the shadows. Just quiet.


    The kind that gnawed at him.


    ¡°Get your dagger now, human! We¡¯re in writing class now!¡± Minona¡¯s sharp voice jolted him from his thoughts, her playful tone cutting through the stillness like a crack in the wall she was so busy creating.


    Robin had lost the will to argue, drained of that edge he used to carry, the one that sharpened his mind, the one that had kept him alert through fight after fight, each battle a test, each enemy a measure of his strength. Now, the dungeon felt emptied of those challenges, its once dark and menacing halls growing tame. Hundsteins, Natterwings¡ªgone. Even the wretched Dang-goras hadn''t found nourishing on this ground. What was the point of him growing stronger if there was nothing left to conquer? Nothing left to sharpen him but boredom. The air, thick before with danger, now felt thin, meaningless. A place once teeming with life¡ªor death¡ªhad turned into a tomb of silence. And Minona? She wanted the assassin to carve stones.


    ¡°Whatever, Minona,¡± Robin muttered, the words spilling out of him more from exhaustion than indifference. ¡°Whatever makes you happy¡­¡±


    He watched her work, her magic weaving the walls from dirt and dust, her power almost endless, shaping, molding the earth with the ease of someone who had far too much energy and far too little to use it for. Water mixing with earth, clay forming, the spark of fire magic to harden it, wind to clean it, her magic flowing effortlessly. Slowly and gradually, the wall grew before his eyes, and Robin¡ªhis dagger ready, though without any real purpose¡ªlooked at the flat surface she¡¯d crafted, the smoothness she¡¯d achieved with a kind of careless precision. It was something to do, he supposed. Something to keep his hands busy, to keep the quiet from sinking into his bones any deeper.


    But as his dagger touched the stone, carving those first lines into the surface, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the dungeon had given up on them, that in all their relentless battles, all the blood they had spilled, they had drained this place of what made it dangerous, what made it feel alive. It felt hollow now, an echo of what it had been, the air stale with nothingness. He carved, but his thoughts wandered¡ªwondering if the silence, this emptiness, wasn¡¯t some kind of test itself. A test of endurance, not against the monsters that had once filled these halls, but against the slow, creeping weight of time, of boredom, of being forgotten in a place that had once threatened to feast his flesh.


    And Minona, her energy boundless, her mischief never quite sated, seemed to thrive in it.


    ¡°But¡­ what do we even write, Minona?¡± Robin asked, the tip of his dagger hovering uncertainly over the stone, his voice dull with the exhaustion of days and battles, his mind numb from the endless quiet and the absurdity of his current task.


    ¡°Ah! Great question, human!¡± Minona flared with pride, her little body alight with mischief, glittering her magic dust in the dim glow of the dungeon. She spun in the air, a tiny, triumphant cyclone of energy. ¡°Now, repeat after me and carve it into the wall!¡± Her voice rang with an enthusiasm that Robin found both endearing and a little terrifying. ¡°The assassin of the otherworld¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait¡ªassassin?¡± Robin cut in, his frown deepening. ¡°What¡¯s with the ¡®assassin¡¯ stuff? And ¡®of the otherworld¡¯? Because I¡¯m not from this world?¡± He shifted uncomfortably, the dagger still in hand, but unmoving. ¡°Just ¡®Robin¡¯ works fine. I don¡¯t need all that extra nonsense.¡±


    Minona darted around him, her laughter echoing softly off the stone walls. ¡°It¡¯s not nonsense! It¡¯s part of your lore, human! Your legend!¡± She paused dramatically, floating in front of his face, her eyes bright with excitement. ¡°Just trust me, will you? You follow my lead, and your name will be etched in history for all time. Now repeat: ¡®Robin, the assassin of the otherworld, answered the call of fate¡­.¡¯¡±


    Robin stared at her, bewildered. His dagger wavered. ¡°Answered the call of fate? Really? Who am I? Savior? I just fought a bunch of rabid dogman and an oversized eel and that makes me hero! How is that answering the call of fate?¡±


    Minona twirled in midair, dismissing his complaints with a flick of her tiny spark. ¡°Details, details. It¡¯s all in the framing, human! You think future explorers will be inspired by ¡®Robin fought some Hundstein¡¯? No, no, no. They need to know about Robin, the hero, the legend, the conqueror of the dungeon!¡± She declared grandly, as if the very walls would come alive with the power of her words.


    Robin sighed, resigned to the absurdity of it all. The dagger finally touched the stone, scratching out the first exaggerated words. ¡°Fine, whatever,¡± he muttered. ¡°¡®Robin, the assassin of the otherworld¡­¡¯¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit!¡± Minona cheered, circling him like a proud teacher. ¡°See, you¡¯re getting it! And don¡¯t forget the part about destiny and challenging the darkness. It¡¯s crucial for the tone.¡±


    Robin paused, lifting the dagger. ¡°Challenging the darkness? Minona, this place is just a hole in the ground with rocks and monsters. I¡¯m not challenging anything. I¡¯m just trying to survive.¡±


    She scoffed, fluttering close to his ear. ¡°Survival is part of the legend, Robin! Heroes survive. They endure. They conquer. You¡¯re writing history here! Your history!¡±


    ¡°Feels more like I¡¯m writing bullshit,¡± he muttered under his breath, carving out the next ridiculous line. Each stroke of the dagger on stone carved more absurdity, which burden his hand. The words began to stack up, sentences turning into paragraphs, each one more embellished than the last. He could barely keep up with her exuberance, the endless stream of heroics she insisted on crafting from their simple struggles.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    By the time he reached the end of the wall, Robin¡¯s arm ached, and his head spun with the sheer volume of the nonsense they had just etched into the dungeon. He stepped back, staring at the grand tale he¡¯d carved out under Minona¡¯s relentless direction.


    ¡°There! Perfection!¡± Minona declared, hovering back to admire the wall like an artist unveiling her masterpiece. ¡°We¡¯ve captured the essence of your journey! Future adventurers will know that you, human, conquered this dungeon. The hero who challenged the darkness!¡±


    Robin glanced over at the first line, then back at Minona, his brow furrowed in disbelief. ¡°Challenged the darkness, really? I fought a couple of beasts, and now I¡¯m writing an epic saga for your amusement. It¡¯s ridiculous.¡±


    Minona bobbed, shrugging her imaginary shoulders, her mischievous comments never fading. ¡°Ridiculous? Maybe. But legends are born from exaggeration. Trust me, no one¡¯s going to remember the guy who just ¡®fought a bunch of Hundstein.¡¯ But this?¡± She hovered closer to the flat surface, dazzling in excitement. ¡°This is legend that will last for decades, if not eternity. Your name shall be printed on every storybook, sung by bards all around the taverns, even gossipers couldn''t resist spreading it.¡±


    Robin groaned, rubbing his face with his free hand. ¡°Fine, whatever makes you happy and stop bothering me.¡± He couldn¡¯t help but smile a little, despite himself. It was either carve these ridiculous words or endure one of Minona¡¯s invasive personal questions¡ªand he wasn¡¯t about to explain why he had no first love stories to share.


    Minona''s light shimmered, dancing with a mischief that seemed to brighten the gloom of the dungeon walls. ¡°Next!¡± she announced, her voice thick with anticipation. ¡°¡®Robin, the daring hero, confronted a beast of the merciless realm of the murk, whose howl echoed through the dungeon¡¯s depths, a sound so terrifying it made even the shadows shiver before it. Its fangs, sharp as enchanted blades, gleamed in the darkness, and it prowled with the stealth of a ghost. But Robin, ever quicker and more cunning than the beast, ensnared it with a crafty trap¡ªa cord of doom spun from shadows¡ªand felled it in a heartbeat, leaving the creature bewildered by its swift defeat.¡¯¡±


    Robin''s brow furrowed as the dagger hovered over the stone. He could almost hear the absurdity dripping off the tip of his blade. ¡°She is talking about the strangulation,¡± he whispered, shaking his head. ¡°Okay, next gibberish, Minona?¡±


    Minona, undeterred, flared brighter, her voice practically twinkling with the kind of enthusiasm that ignored all reason. ¡°Details, human! Not gibberish! The people want details! They don¡¯t care how you did it¡ªthey want to feel the legend, the thrill! Now for the part about meeting me, it becomes¡­¡±


    ¡°Here it comes,¡± Robin sighed, eyes already glazing over in anticipation of her next elaborate twist.


    ¡°¡®As Robin ventured on his noble quest to purge the realm of evil,¡¯¡± Minona began with a flourish, ¡°¡®he encountered a radiant companion¡ªthe enchanting princess of Devia, Minona. Her wisdom, a beacon brighter than the sun, dispelled the shadows that dared to cross their path to confuse the hero and make him doubt his justified journey. With a mastery of magic that could only be described as unparalleled, she became the perfect ally for our hero, Robin, her brilliance and power making her an indispensable partner in their epic journey.¡¯¡±


    Robin stared at the wall, the carved lines suddenly feeling twice as heavy. ¡°You¡¯re really enjoying this, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± Minona¡¯s voice burst with glee. ¡°It¡¯s not every day you get to write your own legend with your bare hands. Well, in your case, hands. In mine, superior intellect.¡±


    Robin rubbed his temple, feeling the weight of the dagger now pressing against more than just stone. ¡°Next, please?¡±


    Minona¡¯s laughter filled the air, a sound that somehow didn¡¯t echo, but instead lingered like smoke in the dim light. ¡°It''s ¡®Robin the hero, alongside his brilliant partner Minona, ventured into a realm ruled by fearsome man-eating vegetation. The path was shrouded in darkness, the terrain jagged and treacherous, yet they fought with unwavering valor. Minona illuminated the way with her radiant magic, transforming the battle into a dazzling display of courage. Robin, wielding his mighty prowess, vanquished the horde, absorbing their essence and strength to assist him on his journey.¡¯¡±


    Robin shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the very simple, very unheroic reality of that moment. ¡°You torched the sleeping plants. That¡¯s all. I don¡¯t think burning Dang-goras alive qualifies as a dazzling display of courage.¡±


    Because it¡¯s also an art, human! You¡¯ve got to sell it! And besides, it makes a magnificent tale, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Minona hovered beside the wall, admiring their work like a proud mother gazing at her child¡¯s first painting.


    ¡°Mouthful, I¡¯d say,¡± Robin muttered, his hand absently running over the etched lines of exaggerated victories, larger-than-life monsters, and a hero he barely recognized. ¡°But sure, whatever makes you happy.¡±


    Minona ignored him, too caught up in her grand retelling. She hovered near the next blank spot on the wall, already narrating with flair, ¡°¡®The vicious plants were merely guardians of the realm¡¯s true ruler¡ªa serpentine creature of immense power, rising from the shadows, intrigued by the valor of the hero. Its mighty presence alone shattered the rock, trembled the ground, challenging the hero to a battle of endurance. In the fierce struggle that ensued, Minona set the serpent ablaze with her fiery magic, and Robin delivered the heavenly judgment, ending the serpent''s life and its tyranny.¡¯¡±


    Robin couldn¡¯t help but snorted, a short, dry sound that escaped him almost involuntarily. ¡°We burned it alive and I stabbed it like a monkey trying to dig termites out of a tree with a stick.¡±


    Minona gasped, feigning shock. ¡°Stop it, you¡¯re underselling yourself again! It¡¯s an epic, not a comedy! And besides, this is all practice for your writing¡ªtake some pride in it!¡±


    Robin sighed, shaking his head but unable to fully suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. He¡¯d long since given up arguing with her when she got like this, so brimming with life and excitement that it was easier to carve her fantasies into the walls and let her bask in the glow of her own creative fervor.


    Still, as he etched out the next ridiculous line about the flying serpent and a heroic, triumphant battle, he wondered¡ªnot for the first time¡ªif Minona was older than the world itself, older than the dungeon and the stones beneath his feet. How long had she wandered these halls, spinning stories and lighting the way for some other poor fool who¡¯d stumbled into her world? It was something he never dared to ask her directly. Some rules, after all, were universal, and one of them was this: never ask a woman her age.


    Robin leaned back, the dagger finally resting at his side, his fingers raw from a day spent carving Minona¡¯s grandiose tales into the dungeon¡¯s slab of a wall created by her boredom. His body, though slowly healing, ached in that deep, lingering way that no amount of rest could immediately relieve. He exhaled, the sound heavy with both the satisfaction of the work done and the weariness of a body stretched to its limits. His eyes, bloodshot from the endless focus on fine details, traced over the wall now covered in etched words, in sagas both real and imagined.


    ¡°At least,¡± he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were talking more to the walls themselves than to Minona, ¡°it¡¯ll be funny if someone stumbles upon this one day and gets the wild idea about us.¡± His gaze traveled along the jagged lines, the exaggerated stories of his battles, the impossible grandeur of the feats Minona had concocted for him. What had once been a blank, cold surface now brimmed with life, with stories¡ªtheir stories¡ªcaptured in stone.


    ¡°Definietly, human¡­¡± Minona replied, calm replaced her playful words, ¡°Definitely!¡±