Fiery Fiasco and True Dragon Raid
“Hiiyaak!”
Eresa, startled into throwing a lesser-panda punch, and Dorne with flames erupting from his head—the rest of the party stared at the scene in dazed disbelief.
Raon peered into the open sarcophagus. No precious metals, no vampire.
It was something they'd momentarily forgotten amid the vivid memory of that last vampire, but originally, the sarcophagi on the first floor had a very low chance of containing either jewels or a vampire. The shock of opening the lid had sent bone dust and debris flying into the air, where it met Lucian's flames and unluckily caught on Dorne's hair.
“Hah, huff! Dorne, you okay?”
Eresa, who'd been wildly pummeling Dorne's head with her fluffy lesser-panda punches, suddenly raised both hands high to check his hair. Struck by a pang of guilt, she started stroking his head instead.
“Y-your hair... it's okay, right? Not gonna go bald or anything?”
Eresa and Inoi closely inspected Dorne's locks, but the hair reinforced by Iron Skin looked perfectly fine.
“Dorne... I'm so sorry. I didn't think that through.”
Lucian crept forward cautiously, offering an apology. Perched on Dorne's backpack, his timid expression was almost comical.
But Dorne was utterly unfazed. He wasn't one for empty formalities anyway, and he had no particular attachment to his hair.
(Those who are born with it never know how precious it is.)
The rest of the party, excluding Dorne, fretted over their leader's dignity taking a hit, stealing glances at him. But Dorne couldn't care less.
He hailed from a world where game directors goofed around in front of crowds, got deepfaked into countless creations as tools, and millions laughed and cheered at the spectacle.
“I'm fine, Lucian. No need to worry. It wasn't on purpose. Eresa, thanks for putting out the fire.”
Dorne had simply held back his reaction to avoid scaring the non-warriors, and now he was grateful to Eresa for extinguishing it.
The five ordinary party members breathed a collective sigh of relief, sensing Dorne truly wasn't upset. They smiled, appreciating how their chosen leader stood apart from the stereotypical sort—and liking him all the more for it.
“Let's get moving again.”
Leaving the lone open sarcophagus behind, Dorne's party dashed toward the portal to the second floor.
Dorne's party took several days to reach the second floor of the labyrinth.
“Eresa, head for the portal down to the third floor.”
Moonlight streaming through the windows chilled their spines. It didn't feel like mere illumination from the ceiling slits—it felt like the gaze of the true dragon itself.
No explorer had sensed the true dragon's presence until leaping out a window. Its fearsome breath hadn't reached inside the temple. And Dorne, who'd taken it head-on, had survived unscathed.
Recalling that, they shook off their vague dread of the true dragon. Now, they had to fight it.
“Portal's this way!”
The party followed Eresa's lead. Inoi frequently tilted her lantern to illuminate walls and ceilings untouched by moonlight, eliminating blind spots. Riding on Dorne's back meant she had stamina to spare, so why not be thorough?
Grrrrowl.
Thwack!
Whoosh!
En route, skeleton and vampire packs fell to Eresa's crossbow bolts and Lucian's spells targeting the vampires first. Arrows to the forehead and flames consumed them before they could attack or dodge, half-rising from their sarcophagi only to meet death.
A clear advantage for a party with reliable ranged attacks. Regrettable to leave bolts behind, but priorities mattered.
The skeletons opening sarcophagi crumbled pathetically under Raon and Lilia's spears and swords. No traps, ample light—this was easy hunting for Fighting Spirit wielders.
After a few more of Eresa's stews, they reached the clearing with the third-floor portal.
Such perfectly square open spaces were rare outside decayed wooden doors lining the passages, yet here it was, out of nowhere like a goblin village square—no door in sight.
Dorne's party slowed, entering the clearing. At its center: the descent portal, bathed in moonlight from a ceiling window.
The sight puzzled Dorne. Logically, the moon's shifting position over time would alter the beam's angle, yet it perfectly lit the portal. Was this designed? If so, how did it account for time's flow? Did the labyrinth ignore time? Or pure coincidence that they'd arrived just as the light hit?
Nothing else noteworthy—no traces beyond portal, light, and window. Torman's party hadn't arrived yet.
“We beat them here?”
“Looks like it. Torman's group must be farther from the portal.”
“Let's rest till they show.”
Inoi suggested a break, adjusting her lantern. No longer beaming in one direction, it now bathed the surroundings like a strong mood light.
Dorne's party hunkered near the portal, eating stew and sipping water.
“Should we build the structure first?”
Inoi's question drew Dorne's reply.
“It's not our stuff anyway. Half-ass it and have to redo it later? That's worse. Leave it. We don't even know which window.”
Eresa and Inoi nodded.
Thud thud thud.
From the passage linked to the portal clearing, Torman raced with two mages on his back, Rien carrying the priest, and the scout running solo.
“Haha! Dorne! You got here fast!”
Reunited on the second floor, Dorne's and Torman's parties discussed the true dragon raid.
“So, Rien and I gotta hold aggro solid.”
“Two warriors drawing the true dragon's eyes... deep-floor explorers really are on another level.”
Their plan: Build platforms under the windows. Mages, priest, and scout attack the true dragon through the windows from atop. The two warriors down resistance potions, use Fighting Spirit to tank the breath, and draw its gaze.
Crucial: The warriors fighting outside directly.
“What about going in and out the windows mid-fight? Breath doesn't enter, right?”
“We considered it, but no guarantees. Breath from outside won't come in, but stick your head through and breathe inside? Everyone dies.”
“Ah... no variables.”
“Exactly. You know it too—the scariest thing is the unknown.”
“I feel that.”
Under scout Kail's direction, both parties built the structures: Combining wooden rods and planks into platforms right under the windows.
“Good. All set.”
At Kail's call, the builders descended via ropes fixed to the windows. Eresa opened her Inventory, distributing stew and roast chicken by headcount. Of course, Dorne's and Torman's portions dwarfed the rest.
The explorers ate, a nagging thought that this might be their last meal pushed aside by focusing on the flavors.
“This is good. Oren Labyrinth Merchant Group staff know their stuff.”
“Haha, Wendi Labyrinth Merchant Group folks any good at cooking?”
“Top-notch. Swing by after the raid for some.”
Dorne's face soured at the tension-breaking banter.
Do people in this world not know about flags?
Flags littered his path like landmines in a demilitarized zone. The deliberately slow meal finally ended. Some explorers idly scraped empty bowls.
The twelve felt deep revulsion before the true dragon raid. Torman spoke up.
“Ha ha! Everyone's tense, huh? Let's recall why we're doing this raid.”
All eyes fixed on Torman's massive frame. Expressions mixed 'let's hear it' and 'convince me.'
“We've hit a plateau in deep-floor runs.”
“Yeah.”
Scout Kail chimed in.
“Keep going like this, and with noble backing, we might head to humanity's frontier—not exploring, but pioneering. Some party members might prefer expanding human lands over endless stalled delves.”
A mage and the priest nodded.
“We firmly believe this true dragon raid breaks our slump. That's why we prepped.”
Rien's eyes burned. Having taught weapon arts to Dorne's warrior trio, she seemed to value keeping Torman's party intact. Perhaps sharing her livelihood's skills was part of that.
In a world where apprenticeship was normal, teaching techniques to tasty prey for no reason wouldn't fly.
“Doesn't mean it's a desperate gamble, right?”
The remaining mage, face unstrained by tension—the only one—nodded. He'd been skeptical.
“Deep-floor explorers learn this: Same monster's weak on shallow floors, strong on deep ones.”
His explanation, aimed at Dorne's party, perked the bear beastkin's and lesser panda's ears. The anxious lesser panda's tail brushed the floor, then snagged Dorne's leg.
“So, the true dragon on floor two is manageable for us. That's Eric's cold analysis—the most rational among us. No one's against it. Even long-lived Wendy agreed.”
Recalling their reasons for the true dragon raid straightened Torman's party's shoulders.
Clink clink.
Explorers clutching empty bowls like lifelines passed them hand-to-hand, gathering eleven into Eresa's hands for twelve total.
“Stuffed now. Time to start.”
Torman's and Dorne's parties shook off unease, rising. Eresa and Kail distributed resistance potions. Outside fighters Torman and Rien got double portions—pricier, larger doses.
Potions downed, explorers climbed their handmade platforms.
“We'll draw its eyes outside. You hit it hard from in here. Aim for the mana core in its heart. Breath comes from there—might even block it.”
Torman grinned his advice, then leaped with Rien through the window in one bound—to the temple roof awash in moonlight.