Live Dungeon!

”Ugaaah!!”

”Hannah’s movements seem unusually sloppy today, don’t they?”

”Well, she WAS sick in bed for a while, right? Can’t really blame her… though, yeah, she does seem kinda off.”

Two Birdkin, their feathers conspicuously red and blue, sat side by side in the Guild, munching on trays of fried potatoes as they watched Monitor #3. The red-feathered Rara, who shared Hannah’s Boxer Job and acted as an evasion-based Tank herself, narrowed her eyes at the clumsy movements broadcast on the screen.

Behind them sat Misil, leader of the Silver Beast Clan, and Madeleine, the hooded Sorcerer who looked more like a shady informant from Ealdred Crow than an Explorer. She kept her hood pulled low, never sparing Misil more than a vague grunt as he chattered beside her. Not that he seemed to mind; this was par for the course, and he talked on unbothered.

[She’s good at clearing poison, too. We’ll need to keep that in mind for the ninety-third layer.]

Further down the area, Lorena, her tall rabbit ears twitching like antennae, intently watched Monitor #2. As a Healer herself, she was tracking Tsutomu’s every move. With Silver Beast now making their own push beyond the ninety-first layer, the morning was dedicated to gathering strategic references from the Monitors.

As one of the handful of teams that actually got past layer ninety, the Silver Beast group drew many curious stares from other Explorers. Despite that, the four of them were fully focused. Only Lorena, with her sharp hearing, caught whispers of gossip drifting in their direction. She tuned them out the best she could.

”I finished organizing the intel!”

”Thanks a bunch!”

Until early afternoon, the group remained in the Guild, gathering data from the Monitors. They received reports from the few literate orphans under their care, who’d been entrusted with observation tasks. While they still had a long way to go before matching the precision of the Dungeon Maniacs, the kids were capable of extracting useful information from designated monitors. As such, Silver Beast was gradually training them up through hands-on experience.

Lately, the orphans have become an indispensable part of daily operations. The brutally difficult boss fight of the ninetieth layer had hit Silver Beast’s finances hard, forcing the Clan to reevaluate its structure. It was no longer enough for the orphans to be raised by Misil and then sent off to live on their own; many now chose to remain and work as part of the Clan proper.

As a result, they had started taking active roles: handling logistics, maintaining equipment, and negotiating with sponsor companies. Silver Beast, which had previously been managed almost single-handedly by their leader Misil, began showing signs of becoming a major Clan in its own right.

Of course, most of them were still novices. Comparing them to Ealdred Crow would be like comparing students to seasoned professionals. But thanks to the efforts of Misil and the older veterans, who actively mentored the newcomers, their foundation was solid. They weren’t entirely reliant on their sponsors anymore, and their identity as an independent Clan was beginning to take shape.

”Guess it’s stew with leftovers again today?”

”Hey, it’s easy to make, you know.”

By early afternoon, their Monitor session wrapped, and the group returned to the Clan House. There, orphaned children had prepared a massive pot of stew using meat and vegetable scraps.

To outsiders, the scene might have resembled a haphazard soup kitchen. It was hardly the image of a prestigious Clan. But for those who lived here sharing meals, chores, and every little victory they could score, it felt like family. They sat together, chuckling that even the half-melted veggies and tough cuts of meat somehow tasted better these days.

Beyond meals, the orphans helped with equipment prep, resource procurement, and daily maintenance. Those who’d already found jobs beyond the Clan often returned on their days off to teach skills specific to their professions. Thanks to their guidance, the Clan no longer had to suffer through undercooked chunks of root vegetables.

”Lorena! Please teach me today!”

”Sure thing!”

After lunch, each senior member took charge of a group of juniors. Lorena led a team of young White Mages who’d asked to learn the Mobile Healer style, forming a party with them and heading into God’s Dungeon. There, she demonstrated her skill rotations firsthand, offering feedback on the spot.

[I wonder… was this how Tsutomu felt when he was teaching me?]

Watching the determined faces of the children, Lorena couldn’t help but smile. Surely, at this very moment, Tsutomu was still pressing onward through the ninety-third layer, fighting to forge ahead.

At first, she had been intimidated by him, especially after hearing how he’d clashed directly with the Solit Company. But once she actually spoke to him, that impression softened. Sure, his tactics sometimes seemed a little underhanded when watching through the Monitors, but he’d taken time to teach her personally. He even wrote up detailed notes and pointed out specific areas where she could improve. For that, she respected him deeply, both as a teacher and as a Healer.

She’d trained meticulously with the documents he gave her, striving to one day stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Thanks to that hard work, she had reached a level where even Stephanie, who had stood out early on, was no longer out of reach.

But even then, Lorena had to admit that Tsutomu’s pace showed no signs of slowing. The gap between them was only growing wider.

The more Lorena honed her strength and deepened her knowledge, just as Tsutomu had taught her, the more she began to understand the true extent of his skills, which she hadn’t even noticed before. And the clearer that understanding became, the more she felt the gap between them widening without her even realizing it.

Once she recognized that, at this rate, even Stephanie might surpass her, she decided to shift focus. It was not to chase Tsutomu’s footsteps, but to strike where he hadn’t. She began training as a Mobile Healer, utilizing physical touch-based healing combined with her naturally fast legs.

Once she’d carved out that identity for herself, she began seeing glimpses of attempted imitations of her Mobile Healer style among other White Mages on the Monitors. Even Tsutomu, though only loosely, had showcased something akin to it during his team’s attempt on the ninetieth layer. It had been awkward, even clumsy to a degree that made her itch to offer commentary, but the fact that he had taken the time to mimic her technique filled her with pride.

[Still, I never thought I’d end up in a position where I’m the one teaching other Healers. Maybe someday, the Healers I train will go on to become Explorers themselves… And maybe by then, I’ll finally be standing shoulder to shoulder with Tsutomu.]

Smiling at the thought, Lorena resumed her lessons, patiently guiding the still-green White Mages toward their own paths.

▽▽

Five days later…

Alma, propped against a blue staff looted from a treasure chest in the Snow Field layers, rested her chin in one hand and watched Absolute Helix’s run through the ninety-fourth layer unfold on the Monitor.

[What a relentless advance…] she thought. [Ealdred Crow’s already breached the ninety-sixth layer. The Scarlet Devil Squad doesn’t have a leg to stand on at this point.]

Just a year ago, the Scarlet Devil Squad, led by the once-notorious Explorer Weiss, had been considered a major Clan, commanding both reputation and results. But lately, the only notable accomplishment under their belt was the defeat of a mutated Shell Crab. Even their breakthrough into the Light and Darkness layer after the eightieth layer had gone largely unnoticed.

And yet, despite the bitter slant of her thoughts, Alma’s expression wasn’t particularly grim. For all their lack of headlines, the Clan wasn’t exactly failing. More importantly, ever since Weiss, formerly near-mute, had started making an effort to speak with his teammates, the air within the Clan had changed for the better.

[I wouldn’t have noticed that, not too long ago…]

Months ago, even as things improved, Alma remained something of a pariah within the Clan. Weiss, pitying the way she’d been treated, largely because of her previous obsessive dependence on the Black Staff and Tsutomu’s open hostility toward her, which was especially painful since he had since become one of Dungeon City’s most influential figures, had attempted to arrange a reconciliation between the two. It had failed spectacularly.

Back then, Alma had deflected all responsibility. She’d genuinely believed she was helping by raising up an unknown orphan by dubbing him ‘Lucky Boy,’ paying him generously for appearances, giving him what she thought was a leg up. Sure, the nickname had come from her, but she’d meant no malice. It was others, jealous of Tsutomu’s meteoric rise, who had twisted her words into poison. She was innocent. Or so she told herself.

And yet, when Tsutomu showed up to the so-called reconciliation, his gaze was cold and cutting, like he was staring at something vile. He refused even to take back the Black Staff. That look, combined with the weight of the cold shoulders she’d endured since, caused her emotions to explode.

He was supposed to be just another orphan. Even burdened with the mocking title of ‘Lucky Boy,’ he’d gone on to slay the Fire Dragon in a three-member party, popularize the three-role system, and earn the respect of the city’s noble overseers after the unprecedented Stampede that struck the Dungeon City. And Alma, once the one with fame, had become the one whispered about, pitied, or ignored.

With Tsutomu’s apparent disdain shadowing her, she was snubbed by her peers and even the townspeople. Shops refused to trade Magic Stones or gear with her. And as isolation set in, she clung even more desperately to the Black Staff.

Somewhere along the way, she’d come to believe that Tsutomu had orchestrated it all, that he’d intentionally driven her into exile. But as she was gradually separated from the Black Staff and spent more time with her Clan again, Alma began to realize the truth: Tsutomu hadn’t done anything.

It took time for that truth to sink in. At first, she couldn’t believe it. But slowly, cautiously, she began speaking with those who had once treated her coldly. And little by little, she understood that they hadn’t been following Tsutomu’s lead, and that there had been no conspiracy. Tsutomu simply didn’t like her, and that was it.

The irony made her laugh. Back when he had been the pariah, the so-called ‘Lucky Boy’, she hadn’t lifted a finger to help. She even remembered turning away from his pleading gaze when the rumors had started to swirl. And now, feeling that guilt gnawing at her from the inside, she’d finally decided to drop the self-victimization. She wanted to apologize, truly. But Tsutomu avoided her now, and without the right moment, days just kept slipping past.

[Never thought getting swallowed by a Sandworm would finally give me my chance,] she thought, smirking wryly.

It had happened during the Stampede near the Royal Capital. Alma, drenched in monster blood and gore, had burst into Tsutomu’s line of sight and, before she could lose her nerve, apologized.

He had looked at her, blinked once, and simply said, ”It’s behind us now.”

That was all. But to her, it meant everything.

With that, the knot in her chest finally loosened. She could breathe again. They could speak again. And ever since, the curse of her pariahdom had lifted like a morning fog. The guilt, the resentment, and the loneliness all began to fade.

Lately, she’d even started tagging along with the Scarlet Devil Squad during visits to Absolute Helix. She was… happy now. Genuinely happy.

[Heh. He’s making that punchable face again.]

Watching Tsutomu on the Monitor, his brow furrowed as he managed multiple poisoned party members, Alma chuckled quietly to herself.

She could finally see him for what he was: not a cold-blooded tactician who crushed enemies underfoot, nor a hero who had saved Dungeon City. Just a young man, a little awkward, maybe too intense, who loved God’s Dungeon more than anyone else.