"You're telling me… you defeated two gargoyles, stepped into the next area, and before you even had a chance to explore—
you fell off a cliff and died?"
Bedford City — Lord's Manor, top floor.
A stern-faced old man adjusted his spectacles, his gaze sharp and skeptical as he studied the elf standing before him.
Stella's cheeks burned crimson.
"…Is that for real?"
She wished the floorboards would open and swallow her whole.
"Aren't you silver-ranked adventurers?"
She wanted to die on the spot.
"My second son hasn't even returned yet, and you're telling me you died before he did? And he doesn't even have a single combat skill."
Stella's shoulders hunched lower and lower, until her back was nearly parallel with the polished wooden floor. Her voice rose in shame.
"This is truly disgraceful! We don't deserve the commission fee!"
The old man, Philip Bedford—lord of Bedford City and patriarch of the Bedford family—sighed heavily. He removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. In that moment, he looked far older than his years.
"Forget it. The commission fee will be paid. The Bedford family never goes back on its word. And besides… you did bring back some results."
Aside from Vilde and Charon, all of Stella's companions had returned alive—shaken, but carrying some form of discovery.
The cartographer had sketched part of the swamp's map, bringing vital intelligence: lighting the beacons would open the fortress gates.
The alchemist had returned with strange, colorful moss balls, each with detoxifying properties rivaling high-grade potions—though each color seemed to counter a different poison.
The mineralogist… had not survived. He'd triggered a teleport trap, appeared in an underground mine, and been bisected by a knight in a single blow. But before dying, he had glimpsed a floor covered in Bloodcrystal ore—even spotting the rare purple Bloodcrystal, worth a hundred times more than the common kind.
Others had also encountered monsters and returned with reports—meager results, but results nonetheless.
Stella's own team, charged with protecting these researchers, had achieved little more than they had.
No wonder she was ashamed.
Not only had they failed to keep their charges completely safe, but she had died in perhaps the most humiliating way possible.
It had happened almost immediately after she and Gibbs set foot in Blighttown.
The moment they crossed the threshold, a bone-deep chill seeped into their bodies. The air was damp, heavy, and smelled of rot. Every instinct screamed at them to stay on guard.
They'd taken only a few wary steps before monsters swarmed—giant rats with pus-filled boils that burst into foul, steaming liquid when struck, and grotesque meat-slimes made from unidentifiable chunks of flesh. The stench alone was enough to make a person gag; fighting them was worse.
Stella had nearly sprinted the entire way through, nerves fraying with each encounter.
Before this, she'd always had a strange fondness for monsters—admiring their unique shapes and savage beauty.
But after seeing the things in Sein Dungeon… she learned monsters could be grotesque, nauseating, and almost abstract in their horror.
From now on, she swore, she would kill monsters on sight. No hesitation. No mercy.
In truth, the rats and slimes were little more than nuisances—ugly and disgusting, but manageable.
The real nightmare began when they reached a suspension bridge.
From the trees, agile monkeys attacked—too quick for even Stella's archery to keep up.
And worst of all…
They threw feces.
Fresh. Steaming. Feces.
When they ran out, they hurled jars filled with stored excrement instead.
Gibbs had been forced to use his prized shield as cover, tears brimming in his eyes as he blocked the projectiles.
When Stella saw a particularly massive lump of filth arcing straight toward her face, she made the only choice her instincts allowed—she leapt off the cliff.
Gibbs followed without hesitation, his expression one of pure, unshakable relief.
When they returned, he discarded his shield without a word.
Stella replaced every single piece of her gear.
Neither of them ever spoke of the incident again, telling everyone else the bridge had simply collapsed.
If the truth got out, the laughter would follow them to their graves.
Frankly, the sheer stress of that monkey ambush could have killed a lesser adventurer outright.
"Ahem."
Philip's cough pulled Stella back from her spiraling thoughts.
She realized the conversation had run its course—it was time to leave.
She had come intending to return the commission fee out of a sense of honor, but Philip had refused to take it back. Fine—she would accept his generosity.
"In that case, we'll take our leave. I wish you all the best, Lord Philip."
With a graceful bow, she turned and departed—her thoughts still tangled around the Sein Dungeon.
If she didn't clear it at least once, it would haunt her forever.
But with their current strength, it would take dying dozens of times to succeed.
And time was money. Commissions meant income—and without income, they couldn't even afford teleport crystals.
So she formed a plan: call for reinforcements.
To my dear sister,
How fare things in the Elven Forest? I trust the warriors under your command have kept it safe. Is our mother still acting as queen? Your little sister has found something she absolutely must accomplish…
Bang!
The guest room door closed behind her.
Philip Bedford replaced his glasses and returned to the mining experts' report.
We discovered a mine with an astonishingly rich deposit of Bloodcrystal—clustered so densely it formed lotus-shaped growths. In the old Sein Dungeon, miners could work half a day for a single palm-sized piece of Bloodcrystal, then walk hours to the next vein. Daily yield was tiny—and after the dungeon reset, the process had to be repeated, wasting enormous labor.
If we can find a direct route to these mines, Bloodhealing Potion production will soar. Your wealth will rival that of a duke's. Even the most arrogant prince of the southern empire will court your favor.
But the monsters here are fierce. I saw a giant lizard sheathed in blue crystal—and worst of all, a mysterious knight. Even a high-grade defensive magic scroll couldn't block his strike. With a single swing, he felled me. He will be your greatest obstacle to mining.
Yet, my lord, you must not give up. I discovered purple Bloodcrystal—purple! With it, we might brew the supreme potion spoken of only in theory. Remember the king's strange illness? It might cure him. If it does, you will be the first newly appointed duke after the war.
We urge you to continue mining. Send more people. Even if only one miner returns with purple Bloodcrystal, it will be worth it.
Our team unanimously recommends sending no fewer than five hundred miners into the Sein Dungeon each day.
Philip lowered the report and reached for his teacup—only to notice his hand trembling.
Excitement coursed through him. He'd taken the bait, and the dream was intoxicating.
"Go. All of them. I want every miner in the territory recruited!"
Knock, knock, knock—
He was about to snap at the interruption when a familiar voice called through the door:
"Father, I'm back."
(*****)
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