The Ruthless Supporter
The mist still carried the smell of burned flesh.
Raska and I approached from the eastern tunnel. The air felt wrong—too hot, too sharp. Ahead, three figures stood around a massive dissolving corpse. White scales turning to black ash. A body the size of a small house, collapsing inward as the Dungeon reclaimed it.
No wings. Just a long serpentine form with a cracked skull, smoke still rising from the wound.
In the center of the blast crater sat a magic stone the size of my fist, pulsing with a faint violet glow.
"Holy shit," Raska muttered beside me. "They actually killed it."
I recognized the white hair immediately.
He looked exhausted. His white-and-red light armor was scorched black in places, one pauldron half-melted. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and his hands were shaking slightly as he stared at the dissolving corpse.
Welf wiped soot off his greatsword, but his eyes kept darting to Bell like he was checking to make sure he was still upright.
And the small supporter with the massive backpack stood near the magic stone, her chestnut eyes flicking across the crater as she adjusted a strap. Lilli. She didn't look at us directly—not yet—but I saw her shoulders tense the moment we stepped into view.
She knew we were there.
I raised one hand in a casual wave and kept walking forward.
"Hey Bell."
Welf's hand dropped to his sword hilt immediately.
Bell blinked, then turned. When he saw me, something shifted in his expression—recognition, then relief.
Welf's voice came out sharp. "You know him?"
"Yeah..." Bell said quietly.
Raska's head snapped toward me, one ear flicking forward. "Really?"
I shrugged. "Kind of a long story."
Welf didn't relax. His grip stayed on the hilt, eyes narrowed as he sized me up. "That doesn't tell me much."
"Wall Shadows," Bell offered, his voice a little steadier now. "He helped me with Wall Shadows."
"Helped is generous," I said. "You saved my ass."
"It wasn't—"
"It was." I stopped a few paces away, keeping my hands visible. Non-threatening. "Nice kill, by the way."
Bell looked back at the corpse, confusion flickering across his face. "I... I don't know how—"
"Your hand was glowing," Welf cut in, his tone dry. "The sparkle-sparkle thing. Remember?"
"That wasn't—" Bell started, then stopped. "I didn't mean to—"
"Doesn't matter." Welf's gaze shifted back to me. "It's dead. That's what counts."
Lilly finally spoke, her voice clipped and professional. "If you're here to congratulate us, we're busy."
I met her eyes.
She looked away after one beat.
Not hostile. Just... careful.
"I'm not here to congratulate you," I said. "I'm here to trade."
Silence.
Welf's hand tightened on his sword. "Trade what?"
I gestured at the magic stone still sitting in the crater. "That."
Lilly's expression went flat. "Infant dragon's magic stone."
"Yeah."
Bell opened his mouth. "Oh, okay—"
"What are you offering in exchange?" Lilly cut in sharply.
I reached into my pouch, pulled out the day's haul, and set it on the ground between us. "This."
Fifteen Orc stones. Three Imp stones. Two War Shadow finger blades, intact—serrated edges still sharp, no cracks.
Welf let out a low whistle. "That's not a bad day."
"It's a terrible day," Raska muttered behind me.
I ignored her. "Stones are worth about eighteen thousand. Blades go for four and a half, maybe five if you find the right buyer. Call it twenty-three thousand total."
Lilly pulled out a small notebook, flipped it open, and started writing. Her tiny fingers moved quickly, scratching numbers across the page.
Bell glanced at Welf. Welf shrugged.
After a moment, Lilly looked up. Her voice was perfectly calm. "Do you think that's enough?"
I blinked.
She didn't elaborate. Just watched me, waiting.
The silence stretched.
Then the math hit me.
Infant Dragon. Floor 19 spawn appearing on Floor 10. Irregular. Boss category.
Worth at least sixty thousand valis.
"...Shit," I muttered.
Raska snorted.
I turned to her. "How much you got?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Valis. How much?"
"...Seven hundred."
Silence.
I stared at her. "Seven hundred valis."
"Yeah."
"That's not even enough for one decent meal."
Her face flushed slightly—not embarrassed, just annoyed. "I have it for drinks!"
"Cheap ale?"
"What's wrong with cheap ale?!"
"Everything."
"You know what?" Her ears flattened against her skull, voice rising. "Forget it! Next time you can starve!"
"You'd let me starve for cheap ale?"
"YES!"
Bell's mouth fell open. Welf coughed into his fist, shoulders shaking.
Even Lilly's pen paused mid-scratch.
I rubbed my face, thinking fast. Twenty-three thousand plus seven hundred. Still nowhere close to sixty thousand.
Then it clicked.
I turned back to Raska. "What if we form a party? Silverback hunt."
Her ears perked up. "Silverbacks?"
"We need the hair anyway."
She went still. I saw the calculation flash across her face—the wasted day, the failed hunt, the quest materials we'd been chasing for hours.
After a long moment, she nodded. "...Okay."
I turned back to Bell's party. "We need your help. Floor 11. Silverback hunt."
Welf straightened slightly. "You want us to hunt Silverbacks?"
"Pack spawns. Territorial. But predictable if you know where they den."
"And what's the split?" Lilly asked, pen poised over her notebook.
"Standard dungeon split," I said. "We divide drops based on contribution."
Her pen moved. "That's vague."
"Thirty percent to your party."
"Forty."
"Deal."
Her pen stopped. She looked up, eyes narrowed. "You agreed too fast."
"Because forty's fair."
"Or because you're planning something."
I sighed. "I'm not planning anything."
"Then why do you need Silverback hair specifically?"
"Client request."
"What client?"
"Can't say."
Her eyes narrowed further. "I don't work blind."
"Alchemist," I said. "Research. That's all I can tell you."
She tapped her pen against the notebook, thinking. "Silverback hair is valuable. Hephaestos Familia pays well for it. At least twenty, maybe twenty-five thousand for quality samples."
I nodded. "I know."
"So you're asking for this boss category monster's magic stone—" she glanced at her notes, "—worth sixty thousand, plus Silverback hair worth twenty-five thousand. That's eighty-five thousand in materials. And you're offering twenty-three thousand in drops plus a forty percent split on Floor 11."
"Yeah."
"That's not a fair trade."
Silence.
Lilly stared at me.
Welf glanced between us, waiting. "Damn!"
Bell looked lost.
I thought about the wasted day. The failed spawns. The clock ticking on Raska's quest.
"Change of terms," I said.
Lilly's pen stopped mid-tap. "We already agreed—"
"You keep all drops from Floor 11. All magic stones. Everything."
Silence.
Raska's head whipped toward me. "Hey! What are you—"
"It's fine," I cut her off. "We already lost a full day."
Her mouth opened. Closed. After a beat, she looked away, jaw tight.
Lilly's pen didn't move. She just stared at me. "All drops?"
"Everything except Silverback hair. And the dragon stone—"
"We keep the dragon stone until after Floor 11," Lilly said, her gaze locked on mine. "If you can't keep your words, the deal's off."
"Fair," I said.
Bell shifted uncomfortably. "That's... that's really generous."
"Or it's a trap," Lilly said flatly.
"It's not."
Welf let out a short laugh despite himself. "You really know how to sell a deal."
Lilly ignored him, her gaze still locked on me. "Why would you offer all drops? Nobody does that without a reason."
"The reason is time," I said. "We're on a deadline. You need experience. We both get what we want."
"What if we failed?"
"If we fail, you lose nothing. Worst case, you walk away with your share. And the stone."
Her pen tapped against the notebook—rapid, irritated rhythm. "This doesn't make sense."
"Does it have to?"
"Yes!"
Silence.
Then Welf spoke, his voice thoughtful. "Do you guys have any experience with lower floors?"
"We already been to floor fourteen as a party of three. So you don't have to worry."
"Is that true?" Welf asked, not to me but Raska, looking directly into her eyes.
She nodded once.
"And you want us for support?" Welf continued, now looking at me. "Not bait?"
"Not bait," I confirmed.
"Then what's the catch?"
"No catch. We handle Silverbacks. Collect drops. Simple."
Lilly's pen stopped tapping. She looked at her notebook, then at Bell, then at the dragon stone still glowing faintly in the crater.
"What do you think Mr. Bell?"
"Lilly… we can trust him."
After a long moment, she snapped the notebook shut.
"I thought you were an idiot," she said slowly, "But you're just dumb."
"Both the same," I muttered, annoyance creeping into my tone. "At least this time I won't be used as a monster lure."
Lilly tensed.
Welf paused. "Used..."
Her jaw tightened.
Welf's gaze shifted between us, something clicking in his expression. He looked at Lilly. "Wait—you know him too?"
Lilly didn't answer.
I sighed. "It's a long story."
He raised an eyebrow. "How many long stories do you have?"
"Enough."
Bell cleared his throat softly, breaking the tension. "When do we dive?"
"Tomorrow," I said. "Dawn. Babel entrance."
Lilly pulled out her notebook again, made a quick note, then looked up. "Fine."
She held out her hand.
I took it. Her grip was small but firm.
"We have a contract," she said.
"We do."
She released my hand, stepped back, and immediately grabbed Bell's arm. "Come on, Mr. Bell. We need to resupply before tomorrow."
"But the stone—" Bell started.
"Contract terms." She started pulling him toward the tunnel entrance. "Mr. Welf, don't break anything expensive tonight."
"No promises!" Welf called after them, grinning.
They disappeared into the mist.
Raska and I stood there in silence, the dissolving dragon corpse still crackling faintly behind us.
Then she turned to me, arms crossed.
"Seven hundred valis," I said before she could speak.
"Shut up."
"For drinks."
"I said shut up."
"Cheap ale."
She punched my shoulder. Hard.
I stumbled sideways, laughing despite myself.
"You're the worst," she muttered, but her tail was swishing—annoyed, not angry.
"Come on," I said, rubbing my shoulder. "Let's get back. We've got Floor 11 tomorrow."
"Think they'll actually show up?"
I thought about Lilly. The way she'd calculated every angle before agreeing.
"Yeah," I said. "She'll show up."
"How do you know?"
"Because she's a professional."
And professionals didn't leave money on the table—even when they thought it might be a trap.
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