Chapter 36 – That Elf's Name Was Ryū Lion
"Stop."
Akira's voice echoed through the fifth floor of the Dungeon. It wasn't particularly loud, but in this dim underground world, even a calm command carried sharply across the still air.
The elven girl who had been engaged in combat paused, her eyes narrowing slightly in caution as she turned toward the source of the voice.
What she saw made her eyes widen slightly.
The creatures of shadow—those eerie beings that had moments ago moved like cold, mechanical assassins—abruptly halted their advance. As if receiving a silent command, they all retreated in unison, their movements precise, fluid, and disciplined.
That single moment told her everything she needed to know.
These beings… belonged to the man before her.
Whether through magic or some kind of mysterious skill, the truth was undeniable.
"I sincerely apologize, Miss Elf," Akira said, offering a slight bow. "I didn't expect anyone else to be on this floor at this hour. My Shadow Legion must've startled you… or worse. I take full responsibility."
"…It's fine."
Her voice was clear, calm, and cool—almost icy, yet not unkind. Her gaze swept over the retreating Claw Shadows and Shadow Warriors, lined up like obedient soldiers awaiting orders.
As someone who had lived in Orario for years—even through its darker, blood-soaked past—she had seen many incredible abilities. But this… was something else entirely. To control such strange monsters like an army—it was nothing short of astounding.
This elf… was Ryū Lion.
Now working as a server at the Hostess of Fertility, she was known for her quiet grace and cold beauty. Many adventurers, especially men, frequented the tavern just to catch a glimpse of her.
But behind that identity lay a history few knew.
She was a Level 4 adventurer—a former member of the Astraea Familia, led by the Goddess of Justice herself. Their Familia had once stood tall as a pillar of righteousness… until it was destroyed by a conspiracy soaked in blood and betrayal.
Left alone and fueled by vengeance, Ryū had hunted down every name involved in the fall of her comrades. One by one, she silenced them—assassinations, ambushes, purges in the dark. Her justice was absolute.
Eventually, her body collapsed from the burden. Barely clinging to life, she was rescued by Syr Flover and brought back to the tavern she now called home. With Mia Grand's blessing, she stayed—not as a warrior of justice, but as a quiet, humble waitress.
Yet… even now, she hadn't let go of the past.
Every month, Ryū would vanish from the tavern for a night. Sometimes with permission. Sometimes not.
And each time, she journeyed to the 18th floor of the Dungeon—a place where her fallen comrades now rested. A quiet grave in the deep. She would leave behind a single flower.
Because the only person left who remembered them… was her.
Tonight had been one of those nights.
After laying her flower, she made her way back through the upper floors—only to stumble upon a strange encounter: a boy surrounded by monsters of shadow, testing some kind of new magic.
Their paths crossed like fate.
"I feel like I've seen you before, Miss Elf," Akira said casually.
"Oh? And here I thought pickup lines like that had gone extinct," Ryū replied, raising a brow. "You might want to retire that one."
She was used to this. Being the "ice flower" of Hostess of Fertility meant fending off advances—some bold, some stupid. Men confessed their love all the time. None succeeded.
Love, especially the kind served with a mug of ale, was not uncommon at her workplace.
"I'm serious," Akira insisted with a small smile. "You're one of the servers at the Hostess of Fertility, right?"
"Hmm? That's correct. Have you visited us before?"
"Twice, I think. But I was served by the silver-haired girl. Syr, I believe?"
"Ah. You mean Syr~" Ryū's tone softened, if only a little. There was no reason to doubt his claim. The tavern was well-known in Orario—and its staff, even more so.
Especially Syr. The girl had admirers everywhere.
"Tonight's been… more chaotic than I'd hoped," Akira said with a sigh. "I came here to experiment with some new magic. To keep the monsters at bay, I deployed my troops around the area. I didn't expect anyone else to be here, let alone a strong adventurer."
"These creatures… you control them?"
"No. I summon them," Akira explained. "They're warriors born from my shadow, brought forth using my unique skill."
As if on cue, the Claw Shadows and Shadow Warriors began dissolving into the floor, slipping seamlessly back into Akira's shadow like ink returning to a bottle.
Ryū blinked. She had never seen anything like it.
Still, in Orario, the line between Skill and Magic was often blurred. Stranger things had happened. Nothing was impossible in this city.
"Seems a bit like a Tamer," she mused aloud.
"That's different," Akira replied quickly. "Tamers subdue existing monsters from the Dungeon. What I do… is summon soldiers from the shadows themselves. Not the same thing at all."
"Ah… I apologize."
Ryū didn't expect such a strong reaction, but she wasn't one to argue. She bowed her head in apology.
"No harm done," Akira said. "By the way, I'm Shin Akira. From the Hephaestus Familia. And you, Miss?"
"…Ryū. Ryū Lion. I'm just a waitress at the Hostess of Fertility."
A waitress, huh?
Yeah, right.
What kind of waitress climbs out of the lower Dungeon floors with nothing but a wooden sword?
Still, names were enough. No need to question further. They were strangers, after all.
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Ryū."
"Likewise, Mister Akira."
Their introductions were brief, their meeting a strange twist of fate. But it was a meeting nonetheless.
"Well then, I won't keep you," Ryū said, giving a polite bow before turning to leave. "Take care, Mister Akira."
Akira simply smiled, watching her figure fade into the shadows.
He wasn't about to escort her. Not a good idea.
A high-alert elf, walking alone in the dead of night, suddenly being followed by a man? That was a recipe for suspicion. Best to give her space.
Once she disappeared from view, Akira turned back to his magic experiments. His Claw Shadows and Shadow Warriors re-emerged, and the research resumed.
He still had three magic slots left unused.
Now was the perfect time to test something: could he build a spell from scratch using his own will… and then use Falna to evolve it into a real spell?
The question tugged at his curiosity.
The concept of magic born not from books, but from desire and imagination… was fascinating.
If blessings from the gods allowed unique skills to form through belief, then perhaps… his shadow manipulation could take shape as proper magic.
Ever since reaching Level 2, his synchronization with the Tarakudo legacy had increased by another 10%. Along with it, he gained access to a new power: Shadow Force—and with it, a flood of arcane knowledge flowed into his mind.
Magic theory. Forbidden techniques. A deeper connection to darkness.
Everything… a gift from the King of the Shadowkhan—Tarakudo.
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