Chapter 86

After successfully stealing the Sacred Sword and evading Rainer’s pursuit, Harold’s group returned safely to the royal capital to deliver the blade to Harrison.

Since Harold was maintaining the facade of being unable to speak, the handover was a brief, mechanical affair. However, there was no time to rest; a new set of orders was issued the moment the task was complete.

Their next destination was a ruin—or, in RPG parlance, a dungeon.

In the setting of this world—or rather, the game—ruins were the remains of the civilizations left behind by the Ancients. Weapons and items that defied modern reproduction lay dormant in their depths. "Adventurer" was the profession of those who delved into these sites in hopes of striking it rich. In fact, Rainer’s parents had been adventurers themselves, having discovered Gramglan during one of their dives.

While several ruins appeared in the game, this world contained countless others that had never been mentioned in the original script.

Thinking about it, it was only logical. It would have been strange if the ancient civilizations that once spanned the entire continent had only left behind two measly sites. The fact that things existed here despite not being depicted in the game for the sake of convenience wasn't a phenomenon limited to ruins.

This mission would take them into one of those "non-canon" ruins.

On the way to the site, Harold felt a prickle of unease regarding the unknown, but it was easily outweighed by a sense of excitement. To put it simply, it was the call of adventure—pure romance.

He had cleared the game’s dungeons dozens of times, and since arriving in this world, he had supplemented that experience with knowledge gleaned from books. However, seeing a ruin with his own eyes was a first, and he was deeply curious to see what lay inside.

If I can’t go back to my old world after clearing the main scenario, maybe I’ll become an adventurer, Harold thought as he arrived at the Hybar Ruins. Ventus and Lilium, as always, were in tow.

The Hybar Ruins remained largely unexplored. No one knew how deep they truly went. Sending a team of three—none of whom were professional excavators—to retrieve a treasure from such a place was a massive, unreasonable demand. It was also suspicious that Harrison knew a "secret treasure" was hidden there in the first place, though Harold assumed Justus had likely provided the intel.

There was no sense in overthinking it. His only choice was to dive in and get the job done quickly.

The ruins were located halfway up a massive, craggy mountain, but the area at the base was surprisingly prosperous. While the site’s proximity to a nearby town played a role, large ruins naturally acted as magnets for adventurers. Where there were adventurers, there was a need for food and gear, and where there was a need, merchants followed.

Excavations were rarely short-term projects. Rather than trekking back to town every day, many made camp near the entrance. Living on-site required daily necessities, which merchants were happy to supply.

The adventurers sold the items they unearthed—along with monster fangs, pelts, and crystals—to fund their supplies. It was a self-sustaining cycle. As people and goods converged, trade flourished. Logistics and a local economy took root. When the scale grew large enough, shops and makeshift inns were established, drawing even more people. The result was a functional community that resembled a small town.

Monsters were a constant threat, but with so many capable adventurers around, there was always someone to fend them off. Harold had heard that this security was a major factor in convincing merchants to set up shop in such a dangerous location.

(Even so, this is a lot livelier than I expected. I was hoping to keep a low profile...)

Harold’s mission was to retrieve the secret treasure supposedly hidden in the deepest level of the ruins.

He also had to consider the time constraint. While he needed to keep Harrison satisfied, the primary concern was collecting all the treasures before Rainer’s party reached the man.

He wanted this mission finished within a month at the very latest. He was aiming to do in thirty days with three people what thousands of adventurers had failed to do over decades. If they succeeded, the feat would be legendary—and inevitably, it would draw unwanted attention.

For Harold—and for his "black-robed" subordinates whose infamy was likely to grow—being in the spotlight was a liability. His best bet was to reach the depths undetected and leave as if they had never been there at all.

To that end, jumping in without any prior knowledge would be reckless. It would have been helpful if a kind soul had been willing to teach him the basics of ruin exploration, but adventurers were competitors, not mentors. No one was going to hand over their trade secrets for free.

If he wanted information, he had to pay for it.

The problem was that Harold’s tongue was ill-suited for negotiation. If he flashed a pile of cash and demanded information from his typical high-and-mighty stance, he would only earn their resentment. Instead, he decided to try a different angle.

"Now... talk."

"Heh, certainly. With as much as you’ve bought from me, I’m all ears."

If adventurers were a dead end, he would go to the merchants. To those who valued profit over pride, information was just another commodity. As Harold had suspected, they understood the monetary value of a good tip.

Of course, since he was dealing with professionals, he couldn't just buy whatever they recommended. He had to cross-reference his questions with multiple merchants and use a bit of intimidation to ensure they didn't try to fleece him.

By the time he was done, he had spent a staggering amount of money. He wondered if Justus would let him file an expense report.

(Like hell he would...)

Harold mentally scolded himself for the idiotic thought. He wasn't exactly an "employee." On paper, he was a criminal performing "service" to atone for his sins. He was a pawn—though "slave" was a more accurate reading.

Thinking about his treatment was depressing, so he pushed the thought aside and focused on his first real dungeon crawl.

Following the "standard procedure" he’d purchased from the merchants, Harold led his group up the mountain. They carried enough food, recovery items, and necessities to last the trip. Thanks to the well-maintained artificial paths, they reached the entrance without issue.

The atmosphere changed the moment they arrived. Though there were still adventurers lingering about, the lively air of the base was replaced by a heavy, stifling tension.

Dungeons were home to monsters, and many who entered never returned. Those who made a living here never let their guard down. Harold took a deep breath to steady his nerves.

"We’re going."

Ventus and Lilium followed silently as he stepped inside.

The area near the entrance was well-lit by the sun. As they moved deeper, the natural light faded, replaced by lamps hanging along the walls. The "fuel" for these lamps was Light Stone—a mineral that glowed naturally. These stones were graded by intensity and color; a top-grade stone the size of a fist could buy a mansion. The stones in these lamps, however, were likely bottom-tier pebbles sold by the bushel.

They followed the lamps down a narrow, two-meter-wide passage. After a few minutes of gentle descent, the tunnel suddenly opened up.

"..."

For a moment, Harold stood entranced. They had entered a massive, roughly dome-shaped cavern. The sight was breathtaking: every inch of the exposed rock was composed of Light Stone. A soft, pale purple glow shimmered from all sides, creating an ethereal, otherworldly atmosphere.

The color and intensity suggested the stones were of low quality and had little market value, but in that moment, Harold didn't care. It was simply beautiful.

The ceiling rose more than ten meters above them. Its shape suggested it wasn't a natural formation, making Harold wonder how it had been excavated. Was it the work of generations of adventurers, or the architectural prowess of the Ancients?

Below them, the subterranean space plunged much deeper than the ceiling was high.

A path had been carved into the walls, spiraling downward into the abyss. At various points, horizontal tunnels branched off into the cliffside. Those likely led to side rooms or deeper into the ruin’s interior. Seeing the sheer scale of the place, it was easy to see why people got lost or spent decades exploring it.

The structure made combat extremely difficult. The merchants had warned him that if he encountered a monster in these narrow passages, his first instinct should be to run. In addition to the cramped quarters, ruin-dwelling monsters tended to swarm. If a fight dragged on, there was a high risk of being overwhelmed by reinforcements or driving the monsters into a frenzied, uncontrollable state.

It was yet another reason why exploration progress was so slow.

Keeping a sharp eye out for monsters, Harold’s group began their descent down the spiral. They ignored the side tunnels, heading straight for the bottom. Based on RPG logic, the most important items were always on the lowest floor. They could save the thorough search for later if the bottom proved to be a bust.

"...Stop."

Ventus and Lilium froze at his command. Harold had sensed a non-human presence coming from a tunnel about twenty meters ahead.

As the three held their breath, a Golem—a three-meter-tall mass of clay armored in jagged rocks—lumbered out of the hole. It was a classic monster he recognized from the game. It began to stomp down the path with slow, heavy movements, heading in the same direction as Harold.

Harold weighed his options. Waiting for it to move on was the "safe" bet. However, there was no guarantee this was the only monster nearby. If something appeared from a tunnel behind them, they would be trapped.

He wasn't worried about losing, but a loud commotion might attract a swarm, forcing them to retreat and waste time. That was a hassle he didn't need.

Harold sharpened his senses. Within his range, there were no other monsters. Just the one. It was slow, and it hadn't noticed them.

Harold set down his pack and silently drew his twin swords. The blades shimmered with a cold, spectral light in the dim violet glow of the cavern.

In an instant, two streaks of light flashed through the air. They weren't jagged like lightning, but refined and razor-sharp. They intersected with the Golem’s massive frame. A heartbeat later, the creature collapsed into a heap of rubble. Harold landed softly on the remains, looking down at the pile of dirt with indifferent eyes.

He realized then that he could handle a swarm of these things easily enough. His constant training in many-on-one combat was clearly paying off.

Just as he was appreciating his own growth, a roar shattered the silence.

"NUUUUOOOOOOHHHHHHH!"

It was a deep, guttural sound—less a scream and more a war cry echoing from the very bottom of the ruins. The ground beneath Harold’s feet trembled with the force of the impact.

He had a bad feeling. Almost immediately, a man came tumbling out of a tunnel on the lowest floor amidst a cloud of dust and a thunderous crash. Between the distance, the dust, and the dim lighting, Harold couldn't make out his face, but the voice was unmistakably male.

The man struggled to stand, seemingly injured. Then, a swarm of monsters poured out of the tunnel after him, surrounding him.

They were bipedal moles with thick, drill-like horns that spun with a mechanical whine. They threatened their prey by clashing the long, wicked talons on their hands. A swarm of Spiral Moles. If left alone, the man would be ground into unsightly mincemeat in seconds.

Harold sighed at the trouble unfolding before him. So that’s what happens when you rile up a swarm, he thought with detached curiosity as he leapt down into the thick of the Spiral Moles.