The Light-Bearing Adventurer (1)
The Inario Dungeon had died when its heart shattered.
We inside it were like corpses experiencing rigor mortis. An ominous vibration crept through the entire dungeon.
Hodo had marveled when we first entered that the passages hadn't collapsed without pillars or bronze plaques holding them up.
Now that the dungeon was dead, even the mysterious force that had sustained them in place of pillars and plaques had vanished. After a little time passed, we started hearing cracks and crashes from somewhere every so often.
The spot where the dungeon's heart had been was already partially collapsed. I hadn't seen it myself, but Hodo said he'd felt the vibrations from that direction.
That meant we had no choice but to push on without rest and escape the dungeon.
Inadia had started out walking like a dazed fool, but when he saw part of the passage behind us crumbling, he snapped to attention. Now he was even taking the lead without me giving any orders. Fear conquers despair, huh.
The silver lining amid the misfortune was that with the monster threats gone, we no longer needed to stay vigilant. Unlike the way in, we could move at full speed without restraint.
Camping was all but impossible. Even if we tried to sleep, the vibrations and crashing sounds kept us on edge and terrified, so we couldn't get any rest. In the end, we just powered through with a forced march.
For that reason, the trip from the entrance to the heart had taken nearly four or five days, but we made it back in less than half that time.
One and a half days after starting our return, we reached the second zone—the passage where the monster turtles had surrounded us from front and back.
Oddly enough, a bunch of monster dogs were standing blankly around the turtle corpses here.
The monster dogs showed no hostility, not even any will. Every monster except the basilisks was in this state right now.
Some dogs trembled like newborns that couldn't even walk yet, while others seemed to have just remembered something and started gnawing on the turtle corpses.
To make a bit of a sci-fi comparison, they were like cyborgs whose connection to the central control system had been severed, glitching out. In a word, their brains were empty.
They were no different from infants left only with instinct.
Seeing multiple ones crowding around the monster turtle corpses like that, it looked like these things served as the dungeon's janitors. If you'd died here, not just your body but even your gear would have become nutrients for the dungeon.
Finding out that the dungeon was truly "alive" was pretty creepy in retrospect.
In any case, the monster dogs without thoughts, will, or commands weren't even opponents for us. We didn't bother engaging them at all.
Push them with your foot, and they'd just roll away.
We even spotted an immature turtle midway, but it was the same story.
As we shoved aside the bothersome dogs and pressed on, we reached the pond where we'd camped on the first night.
We'd thought about drinking and resting here, but Panash blocked our path.
"The water is contaminated. No one drink it!"
Hairil sniffed the pond and shook their head vigorously too. This pond must have been some kind of facility the dungeon itself maintained and purified.
So it wasn't a natural pond—it was bait the dungeon had created? Like, "Come on this far, and we'll let you rest by some nice fresh water~ Just a bit farther and the monster turtles will surround you front and back~"
Damn, impressive. Good thing we killed it.
It was a letdown for the party who'd been hoping for fresh water, but it fueled our resolve to hurry to the exit. Even though it was time to rest, we pushed on without stopping.
Normally you'd collapse from exhaustion here, but it seemed humans could endure a day or two of sleep deprivation when a clear crisis loomed.
The crashing sounds from deeper in the dungeon we'd passed through were getting closer, and the vibrations more frequent.
In exchange, conversation had ceased.
We were pouring all our nerves and energy into escaping.
After two days since fleeing the dungeon's core, sunlight finally appeared ahead.
"Whoaaa!! Finally!! We made it!!"
Hairil bolted out first, practically on all fours, and gulped down the outside air.
The rest of us emerged from the dungeon one by one and flopped down on the spot. It looked like sunset outside.
With the tension released, fatigue crashed over us.
We all thought about just collapsing right there, but...
BOOM!! THUD!!
A massive rumble from inside the dungeon sent air vibrations rippling out to us.
Moments later, dust billowed from within, and small animals that had been hiding in the dungeon came swarming out in droves.
Like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
"Let's push a bit more and camp somewhere quiet and safe."
Everyone just stood without a word—that was agreement enough.
We walked another thirty minutes or so and set up camp by a small stream.
And then.
"Cheers!!"
"Hm..."
"To our safety~"
"Hee hee hee."
"Woof!!"
We held a modest celebration, polishing off all the remaining booze and food before reaching town.
Hodo said he never touched alcohol when crafting to avoid mistakes—it was like drunk driving to him. With no work now, he'd pulled out his hidden reserve.
Of course. A dwarf not drinking? No way.
"Grrrah... This stuff's no joke on the proof, but I love how it punches right up the nose.
Hey Ashu, dilute yours with water. Don't go passing out."
"Ugh... yeah."
No sooner had Panash finished speaking than he keeled over from his drink.
Looked like he was out cold.
"Kyahahaha! One shot could sterilize a canteen or three—super useful for travel, this distilled spirit. And it's rare enough you can't drink it casually otherwise."
Wait, Hairil was drinking too... Oh right, no underage drinking laws here.
That baby-faced kid was downing it like a pro. Back home, the cops would've swarmed in an instant.
I pulled out all my stockpiled basilisk jerky for snacks.
We were all exhausted, but too exhausted to sleep, so we'd decided on this little celebration with drinks.
But then.
"Sir Inadia, care for a drink?"
"......"
Hodo offered, but Inadia had been staring blankly without a word since exiting the dungeon.
He was sitting apart from the group even now.
He'd survived, but his father's namesake dungeon had collapsed, and he'd shown his ugly side. Now regret and worry were probably flooding in.
From the brief glimpse of his expression, it wasn't mere reprimand-level concern—it was the despair of "How do I even live from here?"
Ashu had said she got beaten a lot as a kid too. Was their family really like that?
"Sir Inadia."
Hodo approached with a full bottle of booze.
"When a mine collapses on us dwarves, we can't pick up our picks from the grief of lost comrades, the helplessness of failing to prevent the disaster, and terror of the mine itself.
The foreman always passes out drinks then. We all get properly smashed together, vomit out our sorrows, sing away the fear, and dig up our courage."
Hodo set the barrel down beside Inadia, who hadn't even turned his head.
"If it's uncomfortable, no need to clink glasses. But I hope this at least melts away your worries, even if alone."
Hodo returned to the campfire. Inadia clearly had no intention of joining.
Stoically, he muttered something like "Last watch, so I'll turn in first" and was already lying down asleep before we knew it.
First watch was me and Hodo. Not standing it together—we'd agreed the first to tire out from drinking would take second watch.
Normally guards don't drink, but no need to be all military-stiff in this mood.
Heh, Ferio would've never allowed it.
As we drank round after round, people started dropping one by one. Fatigue was hitting, sleep calling.
Ashu had dozed off on my shoulder before I knew it, and Hairil passed out cold—I tucked them both into sleeping bags.
Fatigue was crashing over me too. Hodo said he'd handle second watch himself, so crash hard.
Dwarves really were boozehounds with stamina to match.
I thanked him, handed over the leftover jerky, and turned in first.
Tomorrow this ordeal ends.
Back in town, Ashu and I'll hit every tasty restaurant and gorge ourselves.
With those happy thoughts, I closed my eyes.
Sudden topic change, but let's talk booze.
In my world or this one, alcohol's a key social tool. It lowers psychological barriers with intoxication, letting even strangers chat easily.
Human, elf, dwarf, beastkin—booze creates conversation no matter the race.
Deeper intoxication purifies people too. That's why you get honest confessions or bottled-up emotions exploding after drinks.
Go even further, or if the drinker's mentally unstable, booze turns poison. Not the die-on-the-spot kind, but the sort that crumbles mind and reason.
They call it turning into a "mad dog."
I woke to something heavy pressing down uncomfortably in my sleep.
Right in front of my eyes was a "dog" reeking of booze.
The dog had drawn his sword and aimed it at me.
"This... it's all... your fault... you porter... I absolutely... absolutely can't forgive you."
I was so exhausted and groggy I thought it was a nightmare.
So even as some bastard held a sword to my chest, I just stared blankly like it was someone else's problem.
"...Atone with death."
Thinking back on what he'd done in the dungeon, maybe I'd been too lax.
He was someone I'd never see again after a day or two. But bullying or dealing with a noble permanently would bring massive backlash.
Dirty, but I'd figured "just endure it a bit." Who knew it'd lead to this.
I'd been through plenty of fights, but I still resisted outright killing. Maybe that's why I assumed others wouldn't go that far either.
A weak, cowardly denial of reality.
In that belated regret, Inadia's magic sword gleamed with moonlight-pale light and pierced my chest.