Chapter 8
Chapter 8
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Dungeon (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Federback headed toward the back of the mansion, reflecting on old memories.
The overlord of the Northern Region, the swordsmanship noble house of Meursault.
Meursault had been strong.
...Precisely, it used to be strong.
For hundreds of years after the founder joined the Hero in slaying the Demon King.
Meursault had stood at the pinnacle of all families, known as the "Iron-Blood Sword House of the North."
With unyielding convictions and lofty spirit, they repelled countless enemies, earning fame as guardians of the northern wall and praise as heroes from mythic tales.
Yet even in their most glorious eras, they never grew arrogant.
Because they knew the Mythic Age had not yet ended.
Because they knew dragons, demons, and giants could reappear at any moment to unleash massacres.
Their gaze was always fixed on the battlefields of the next generation.
In a world where myths lived and breathed, surviving as frail humans meant precisely that.
Federback thought.
'Peace is something you guard while standing on the edge of a blade.'
Raising his head, Federback saw a massive cave before him.
Secret Vault.
Long ago, the ancestors of Meursault, who braced for a tomorrow that might never come as if every night were their last, had made one preparation.
They had gathered the ultimate swordsmanship passed down through the family—all the secret techniques and hidden arts—in one place, compiling them into a grand synthesis.
It was a secret location created to prepare for the greatest crisis that might befall the Meursault House someday.
But currently, no one knew its secret.
One hundred years ago, a horrific accident had occurred, causing the patriarch and all the family's central figures to vanish overnight.
That day's tragedy left an irreparable scar on the Meursault House.
The orthodox bloodline, passed down through generations, had been completely severed.
The new patriarch, who barely managed to continue the family line, came from a branch family.
Due to the break in the orthodox bloodline, he knew nothing of the secrets left by his forebears.
Thus, the family traditions handed down orally for hundreds of years vanished.
No one knew where the secret place was or what it hid.
The whereabouts of that place, which could have been the Meursault House's last hope, remained a mystery.
The new patriarch searched for the ancestors' legacy hidden somewhere but found not a single clue.
There seemed no way to uncover the secret amid land that looked crushed under the weight of time and piles of ashes.
Then, a miracle occurred.
In the dark era when the Demon King appeared and massacred humanity.
At the far end of endless misfortune, the Meursault House's Secret Vault was discovered—by sheer, utter coincidence.
On the day the northern front lines were reduced to scorched earth, a retreating unit fleeing demonic beasts stumbled into a collapsed cave and found the Meursault House's secret arts.
'And the result of that is this.'
Federback looked up.
The Meursault House mansion, the training cave located at the rear cliff.
This cave had been dug for training purposes, but due to weak ground causing frequent rockfall accidents, it was now a sealed area.
Step— step— step—
Federback stepped into the cave without hesitation.
A single ray of blue light leaked through cracks in the rocks, illuminating the path.
The howling wind echoed deep into the cold, damp cave.
...Splash!
Every time he stepped in a puddle, a eerie, wet sound reverberated loudly.
Federback traced the cave wall with his sword tip.
Scraaaape—
The rough stone wall, battered by ages of wind and weather.
Deep in the dim cave, light seeped through a narrow crevice hidden by rocks.
There hung a single mural, out of place in the gloomy cavern.
A mural said to have been painted in blood by the founder, Camus Meursault, hundreds of years ago.
It depicted a warrior battling the Demon King.
Its meaning was clear.
Right here, in the heart of this coldly cooled volcano, the family's secret lay hidden.
Federback nodded.
'The place Father and Sister searched for so desperately in their lifetimes... only to be discovered so futilely later on.'
His memories from before regression were still vivid.
Federback remembered not only the Secret Vault's location but also how to open and conquer it.
Step— step— step—
The blood-painted mural drew closer.
The figure of a human fighting the Demon King.
The vanguard of the Hero Party, the last Meursault before destruction.
Federback drew his sword.
'If you meet a god, kill the god. If you meet an ancestor, kill the ancestor.'
This was the ancestors' teaching: do not cling to delusions.
'Kill Ancestor.'
It meant breaking free from outdated conventions to attain true freedom.
Federback slashed both the Demon King and the ancestor's neck with his blade.
Modern nobles would call it desecrating ancestors... but shattering such conventions was how one seized the Meursault secret arts.
And then.
The Demon King and warrior began to weep as their heads fell.
Rumble rumble rumble rumble rumble...
The stone wall split from top to bottom.
And then.
Boom! Roooar...
Stairs leading deep underground revealed themselves.
The Meursault Secret Vault.
The moment the family's lost secret reemerged after a century.
"......"
Federback inhaled the dry scent of blood wafting from below.
The legacy left by the heroes who guarded the North slumbered within.
'It's been a while.'
Of course, the pre-regression Federback had conquered this place before.
Federback advanced without hesitation.
Now, he would claim everything left by his ancestors.
Dust piled up to his ankles on the stairs.
How deep had he descended?
The soil composing the strata changed types several times.
...Thud!
Federback set foot at the underground's end.
Thrusting in a torch revealed the ruins buried within.
Patterns embossed on pillars, magic circles engraved on the floor, murals on the ceiling.
They whispered to each other in an ancient tongue, then fell silent at the intruder's arrival.
'This place too, after a long time.'
Federback stroked his chin.
The breath of the mythic age clung vividly to everything in sight.
It was truly grand and overwhelming.
'Today, everything here becomes mine.'
Federback plunged into the depths beyond the ruins without a moment's hesitation.
Before regression, conquering this place had cost him considerable losses.
He had narrowly escaped death multiple times from traps and nearly become shredded by the native demonic beasts.
And sure enough.
...Bang!
A crossbow bolt flew straight at Federback's face as he charged ahead.
Whizz—
Federback tilted his head aside, dodging the arrow.
It grazed his pale, plump cheek, drawing a thin line of blood, before embedding in the wall.
'It begins.'
Federback raised his sword and shield.
Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!
Countless arrows soon pelted his sword and shield.
Arrows unmarred by rust after hundreds of years.
'At first, they targeted the legs, right?'
Federback lowered his stance, defending only his lower body with sword and shield.
Passing a large stalactite, he turned the corner of the narrow path between walls.
'Now it's the head and heart...'
Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!
From here, the arrows aimed not at his lower body but his upper torso.
Federback crouched even lower than before, breezing through the trap with ease.
'Killing off descendants who finally made it here? These arrows are vicious.'
Even if it was to prevent looting, this was excessive.
The Meursault ancestors must have had fiery tempers.
But Federback navigated all the traps with familiarity.
'If I'd died to this barrage, I wouldn't have survived past year five—no, year three—of the Great Demonic War.'
The dark elves of the Demon King's army fired arrows that curved and twisted midair, accurate enough to pierce eye slits in helmets.
Having endured those, Federback found these traps child's play, crossing them effortlessly.
And then.
"......!"
A vast open space appeared before Federback.
The ruins here were overrun with mushrooms, moss, vines, and roots.
Unknown spores from moss or mushrooms floated in the air, casting an eerie glow.
"The next trial."
Federback reversed his grip on the sword.
He knew what would appear next.
Crack—!
Federback swung his blade.
Glowing mushroom caps tumbled off, revealing what lay beyond as it slid to the floor.
...Thud!
It was a massive centipede.
A skull-like yellow head, a glossy black body, and countless legs glittering gold.
But most striking was its size.
Wriggle— wriggle— wriggle— wriggle—
It was as thick and long as four or five grown men lined up.
Yet it moved silently, without sound or presence.
Had its head not split open, it would have crept stealthily toward Federback and sunk its potent fangs into its prey.
"......These centipedes have been a while too."
Federback shrugged.
These centipedes weren't native; they were invasive species adapted to the Secret Vault's environment.
The Meursault ancestors, while constructing the dungeon, had released natural guardians that wouldn't interfere with the treasures.
Over long ages, these giant centipedes formed their own ecosystem inside the dungeon, their colony now less a trap and more a massive "gate."
And then.
Crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch...
Chilling sounds echoed from the depths ahead.
The true residents who had occupied this space for centuries emerged.
Toward them, Federback drew his sword resolutely.
"Get out."
A lawful eviction order from the homeowner.