The shadow on the wall crept closer.
Bell stood at the end of a T-shaped junction, a wall behind him and one unexplored path ahead. He held his breath and pressed against the edge of the wall. Footsteps grew louder.
The one in front was a tall Chienthrope, a large black sack slung over his shoulder. Judging by his appearance, Bell guessed he was around Level 2. His demeanor didn't resemble that of a new Adventurer, and he carried no weapons.
Did he come into the Dungeon for something else?
Two men followed closely behind. Neither carried bags for magic stones or loot, which only deepened Bell's suspicion. Their silhouettes stretched long under the dim phosphorescent glow, exuding a sinister air.
The black sack twitched slightly. It was a small movement, but Bell caught it clearly.
Inside... could it be a person?
The sagging shape of the sack fit that terrifying thought perfectly.
Just as Bell kept his eyes fixed on them, trying to confirm his suspicion, the Chienthrope suddenly stopped.
"Wait."
He turned his head, scanning the dark corridor. His sharp, beastlike gaze swept the area. Bell suppressed his instinct to move, pressing himself tightly against the wall, not daring to breathe.
It was a dead end. If they came closer, he would have to strike first. He was sure these men were up to something illegal.
The phosphorescence dimmed. Silence devoured the dark air. The stillness was suffocating.
"What's wrong? Move it already," a thin man urged.
The Chienthrope sniffed the air, about to speak, when another man interrupted.
"Just bring the person back already. Keep wasting time and we'll lose our share."
The Chienthrope said nothing, turned, and walked on with heavy steps. They left the junction.
Bell let out a quiet breath and stepped forward carefully. He had to report this to the Guild at once. Strange happenings in the Dungeon, suspicious Adventurers—he felt there was some connection.
But this wasn't something he could handle alone. That Chienthrope had clearly sensed someone nearby. Following recklessly would only get him caught.
Bell thought through his next move as he walked toward the intersection.
From within the cold stone walls came a sharp, mocking voice that cut through the dark silence.
"Never thought the great Dea Saint would turn out to be just a little girl!"
The man's tone was grating.
Airmid?
Bell froze. Their arrogant voices echoed down the passage.
"She's always got guards wherever she goes. Today we finally found an opening."
Guards...
From what Bell knew, Airmid had secretly slipped out to settle the Miach Familia's debts. After talking with Naaza, she should have returned. But his sudden appearance must have disrupted her plans.
The Dea Saint, worried about his condition, had accompanied him all the way to Babel Tower. After they parted ways, she must have been attacked on her way back. That gap in her plan—he was the one who caused it.
Could he really just turn away now because it was dangerous?
Bell followed the direction of the voices quietly.
The pale blue walls stretched endlessly. Despite being deep in the Dungeon, there wasn't a single sign of monsters. The Chienthrope stayed silent, while the two men spoke more brazenly.
"Did you see that white-haired kid in the plaza?"
"The one they call the weakest Adventurer?"
"Yeah. I bet the Dea Saint snuck out without her guards just to meet him in secret."
The man continued to mock and speculate about their relationship.
"So we should thank that kid, then."
"Thanks? He's probably still wetting his pants downstairs!"
Laughter echoed through the empty Dungeon.
Bell kept his distance from the others, pondering how to rescue Airmid. Attacking from behind wasn't a wise choice. The greatest threat to him was the tall demi-human. Charging forward like this would only take out the two men behind him. Leaving the demi-human to duel him one-on-one was a gamble with uncertain odds. Plus, the enemy might use Airmid as leverage, trapping Bell in a dilemma.
For now, it was best to wait and see. The purpose of the abduction, the choice of location—the entire affair seemed shrouded in fog, its full picture impossible to discern.
"Hey, you said the Dea Saint is so beautiful... maybe we should..."
The man let out a lecherous chuckle.
"Aren't you afraid of death? She's one of Orario's most renowned healers."
The other man shuddered in fright.
"We're already this far in, and we're in a Dungeon. Who would ever know?"
"Now that you mention it, you're probably right."
A rough voice cut through their conversation.
"Not now. Once I get the potion I deserve, you can do whatever you want with this girl."
The demi-human's words carried a hint of madness and wrath.
"Hmph," the man didn't argue. "Who knows what the leader wants with this Dea Saint? Once we hand her over, it won't be up to us anymore."
"You don't get it? Our potions are treasures to some, but to Dea Saint, they're poison," the other explained.
"Oh—so she's the antidote to this potion? Whatever the leader does to Dea Saint, we can..."
The man's words faded into the darkness.
The glow of Magic Stone lamps illuminated the surroundings, while the rhythmic bubbling of potions echoed from ahead. They had reached their base.
Perhaps certain no one would intrude, the passage held no guards.
Bell paid no heed to their foul language. He couldn't let anger cloud his judgment. The boy's sole purpose now was to rescue Airmid. That was all.
Bell moved slowly along the wall toward the light.
It was a vast cavern, its walls lined with Magic Stone lamps, resembling a room without doors. Similar to the gambling dens he had seen before, makeshift tables were scattered about, laden with all manner of alchemical equipment. The bubbling sounds of potions simmered incessantly.
The only difference lay in the people within the room. They stood beside the tables, repeating their motions like machines—cutting ingredients, scooping elixirs, sealing them into glass test tubes. A terrifying sense of otherness permeated the space.
They were utterly different from those Level 1 Adventurers—silent, expressionless. These people resembled hollow shells, commanded by some extraordinary will beyond human comprehension.
"Good work! We've waited days, and you actually brought the Dea Saint."
A man with sunken eye sockets greeted the demi-human with a smile. Bell judged him to be the leader of this group.
The demi-human set the long bag beside the table and urgently demanded, "Where are the potionsI requested?"
"All prepared," the leader replied with a smile, producing a square box where sky-blue potions lay neatly arranged.
The demi-human snatched it away. After counting the contents, he shot a cold glance at the sack.
"What do you intend to do with her?"
Madness spread across the leader's face, his savage grin more unsettling than anyone else in the room.
"Though such matters shouldn't be shared with outsiders, considering your hard work, I'll make an exception."
His words carried the weight of ruin and destruction, his face green as a demon under the Magic Stone lamp.
"Dea Saint? Of course she must die."