Live Dungeon!

”I cannot yield on this! NON! I must AUST say NO!”

Xeno’s voice rang out with firm defiance, his declaration as theatrical as ever.

”You’re unbelievable…”

Pico, in turn, looked at him as if he were an unruly child, then sighed and pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes. Without a word, she rested her hand on the sheet of paper spread before her. It was the same document she had handed to Korinna the other day.

Detailed across the page was a thorough analysis of Xeno’s performance and personality, alongside proposed methods for integrating him properly into Team 2. Her finger landed squarely on one line in particular: a note criticizing Xeno’s excessive show-off tendencies.

”Tries to appear fine in front of the Healer,” she read aloud. ”Then ends up collapsing without having taken a single Potion. That’s happened quite a few times before and still did on the ninetieth layer, remember. It’s fine to put up a certain degree of acting for the God Eye, but when you start posturing even in front of your own party members, that’s not just unwise — it’s dangerous.”

This, more than anything, was the core issue that had come to light in Xeno’s time with Team 2. His speech, his mannerisms, all projected a confident, charismatic persona but beneath that, it was a self-image born from abnormal levels of narcissism. Even with those who had never held a high opinion of him like Korinna and Amira, he carried himself with the same flamboyant flair. It had only served to deepen the rift between them. Eventually, it raised doubts as to whether he was even making a genuine effort.

Trust between Healer and Tank was especially critical to any party’s survival. And so, if Xeno wished to earn Korinna’s trust, the first step was to change his behavior. He had to stop putting on appearances, stop hiding his injuries just to keep up the act. That stubborn refusal to admit pain — it had to go.

”But I am who I am.”

”…!”

His declaration caught her mid-breath. She had opened her mouth to retort, only to falter as she caught sight of his expression.

Gone was the exaggerated bravado. Xeno now sat with his elbows resting on the table, his hand pressed to his forehead, brow furrowed in something like anguish.

”I DO know I have to change. But the truth is, I can’t imagine keeping up with the team if I’m not who I am now. This is all I’ve got.”

It was not pride that kept Xeno from changing. His overwhelming confidence, the way he carried himself with flair and theatricality… It was not just narcissism. It was his armor. It was his psychological shield forged to protect his vulnerable heart. A means of survival.

He had not come to Dungeon City as a seasoned warrior. He had never hunted monsters in any of the other Dungeons. He was just a student from the Royal Capital, someone who loved researching God’s Dungeon at the academy.

He had graduated top of his class at a prestigious institution, with every door to success already open before him. And yet, he turned away from it all, chasing dreams and hope into Dungeon City.

But what awaited him was nothing like the fantasies he had clung to. The Paladin Job, widely regarded at the time as a dead-end role. The brutal reality of Dungeoneering, so far removed from the ideals he had imagined. The monsters were relentless, terrifying. A sane mind could not survive in such a place unaided.

The Tanks of Absolute Helix laughed often during battle. Hannah, with her unhinged willingness to gamble even her own arms to complete a task. Garm, the infamous Mad Dog. Even Daryl would break into a grin when his teammates shone or when he played his role to perfection.

Xeno had smiled, too — smiles he flashed at the Mount Golem, at the Winter General. But they were never true smiles. They were strained, hollow things. A desperate mask to cover his fear and force himself to move. His confident performance was, in part, a product of his own vanity but it was also the only thing keeping his spirit from shattering.

Pico knew that fear all too well. Being on the front lines of God’s Dungeon, amidst the madness of Absolute Helix, a Clan so extraordinary it boasted talents like Tsutomu himself, carried with it staggering pressure. She could see it in Xeno’s exhausted face whenever he returned from the Clan House.

And yet, even knowing that, she could not let it slide. Xeno himself had chosen to join Absolute Helix. He had chosen this path. She knew he did not want comforting words now. R𝒶𐌽Ο฿Ê𐌔

Her hands reached for his, gently folding over one of his with both of hers. Her voice came soft, almost trembling.

”I understand how you feel. I do. But… this won’t work. If you keep posturing like this, you’ll never succeed in that party. And even if you DO want to make it in Absolute Helix, you’d need to pair up with someone like Tsutomu again, just like on the eightieth layer. But if you can’t prove yourself with your current party, then that chance will be gone. You HAVE to change.”

Tsutomu was an outlier. With his knowledge from Live Dungeon, he could manage a Tank’s HP purely in his head. Whether Xeno reported his injuries or not, it did not matter. Tsutomu would account for him regardless, even while juggling aggro control. He could make Xeno shine.

Korinna, however, was different. She did not understand abstract concepts like HP. For her, a Tank’s self-reporting was critical. It was the only way she could accurately judge when and how much to heal. And now, on the ninetieth layer, Healer aggro control was a serious concern. There was no room to waste skills on unnecessary healing.

Xeno’s downplaying of his injuries, born from vanity, and Korinna’s emotionally-driven imbalance in her support and healing, either flaw alone might have been negligible under normal circumstances. But on the ninetieth layer, both were potential death sentences.

”…I see. But even so… this is not good.”

Xeno looked troubled, clearly afraid to reveal the truth of his bravado to his party members. That secret, the fragility he kept hidden beneath the mask, was something he had shared only with his wife. He could already see the consequences of confessing: accusations of weakness, questions about whether he belonged in the Clan, and the unraveling of his place within it.

”Opening up about your weakness won’t get you kicked out of the Clan.” Pico said gently. ”If anything, it’ll raise your standing.”

”But still… wait. I’ve got it! What if — what if I teamed up with Tsutomu again?”

It was pure escapism, and she knew it. But she humored him anyway.

”I already told you that’s not going to happen. If you can’t prove yourself in Team 2, you won’t get picked again.”

”What if I send him a generous gift…”

”He earns DOZENS of times more than you do. If bribery worked, you wouldn’t see anyone else struggling, either.”

”Then… love! Love conquers all!”

”Oh? Are you asking me to seduce him for you?”

”What!? No — I’ll do it myself!”

”…There WAS that brief rumor he liked men, but it got shot down almost immediately. Even if it were true, not even Garm made it back into Team 1. You have NO chance.”

”You don’t know that until I try! I’ll go tomorrow!”

”Okay, I know this kind of fantasy scenario is popular with young women, but that’s quite enough. Let’s get back to preparing for tomorrow.”

”Ghhh…!”

After being completely shot down, Xeno groaned as though wounded and slumped over the table. But after a while, perhaps having finally come to terms with it, he lifted his head and began discussing the real plan with Pico.

▽▽

”…So, that’s the truth of it.”

”……”

The next day, Xeno confessed the truth to his party: that his confident facade had been just that. It was a mask, a desperate bluff. And he vowed not to let vanity dictate his actions any longer.

Garm, who had spoken with Xeno before and thought he had the measure of the man, looked genuinely taken aback. Korinna, too, seemed utterly at a loss. It was no surprise. Up until now, Xeno had been the party’s flamboyant joker, a man with no sense of social awareness. And now, here he was, speaking with sincerity.

[He’s actually doing it… though I bet I can see Miss Pico behind all this.]

Amy crossed her arms, observing the scene with a distant gaze, half-imagining the woman behind the curtain who had coaxed this moment into being.

Confessing one’s weaknesses might seem like a sign of fragility, but in truth, it often wasn’t. The ones who could not face their flaws were the truly weak. The strong were those who could see their weaknesses and accept them.

Amy believed that, as did Tsutomu. He, more than anyone, was aware of his limits. As a Healer, he was unmatched, but when it came to direct combat, even Korinna, with all her hesitation and uncertainty, could probably beat him. So instead of clinging to pride, he bowed his head without hesitation and asked for protection from Diniel or Leleia when needed. It was a weakness, yes, but accepting it and acting accordingly was what took strength.

”I am weak…” Xeno said, turning to Korinna. ”And that is why… I want to ask for your help.”

And so, there it was. There was the same strength Tsutomu had shown. Xeno had admitted to the false front he had worn, promised to change, and made clear his intention to rely on Korinna going forward.

But that alone would not solve all of the team’s problems. If Korinna did not also address the unevenness in her healing, Xeno’s efforts would come to nothing.

”…I’ll work on that too,” she replied, her voice subdued.

Her conversation with Pico had already begun to shift her view. She no longer saw the woman as just the fool’s enabler. On the contrary, she was clearly someone capable and sincere. And if that woman had seen something worth salvaging in Xeno, then perhaps, just perhaps, Korinna could try, too.

Now that Xeno had made the first move, there was no longer any reason to reject it. She still looked uncertain, even skeptical, but the first step had been taken. Amy, watching quietly from the sidelines, felt a flicker of hope.

[He went first, huh…]

The rift between Korinna and Xeno had been a major concern on the ninetieth layer. But outside of that specific context, it was a relatively minor, simple misunderstanding. A personality clash that could be repaired with a little effort.

But not all cracks were so shallow. Amira and Leleia, for instance. Diniel and Tsutomu, too — there was something simmering there. And there was one other pair, whose schism had not erupted into disaster YET, but when it did, it could be fatal.

Perhaps not on the ninetieth layer. But beyond that, on the layers yet to come, or the likely-to-exist hundredth, it could become a serious issue. One that might even impact who Tsutomu selected for Team 1.

Korinna was still fumbling her way through a stilted conversation with Xeno. And watching her from across the room, Amy’s eyes narrowed as she fixed her gaze on Garm. This long-standing, festering rift was not going to be mended with a single conversation. In fact, it might never be. But if it remained unresolved, it could once again cost her a spot on Team 1, and she was well aware of that.

With the wary gaze of a stray cat eyeing a leashed dog, Amy turned back to her thoughts, and quietly braced herself for what might come.