The Fallen Morning Star

The Dungeon. Ask any active adventurer what the word means, and nine out of ten will answer in perfect unison, as if they had rehearsed it. It is the underground prison where the Goddess confined the Betrayer who fell to the surface, and the Bastion built to stem the flood of evil. Ask them why they think so, and they will tilt their heads and reply: You haven’t read The Dungeon City Story? That book is really famous, you know… It has spread from the Empire, the largest nation on the continent, all the way to the remotest backwater villages in the north where trade is nearly impossible.

At the deepest core of the Dungeon, a crimson heart that had taken the place of the sun cast an ominous glow, throwing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faint shadows across a hall paved in black marble. Every time the colossal heart contracted and relaxed, a heavy heartbeat reverberated through the vast chamber. The space evoked a strange nostalgia and sense of security, like returning to a mother’s womb, yet the alien mixture of blood-red light and darkness stirred a primal fear.

At the center of that place, atop an abnormally steep rise, a single figure sat reclined on a throne carved from pale marble. One hand rested against his forehead in contemplation. His hair had lost all color, closer to white than gold, and three pairs of sharp black horns rose from his head like an ancient crown. The red light leaking from the heart suspended in the ceiling dyed his empty eyes the color of gently burning embers. Each time the heart pulsed, the flames reflected in those indifferent pupils flickered faintly.

After remaining motionless with his hand on his brow for a long while, he slowly lowered it and placed it over the hollow in his chest. It was as if he wanted to confirm that he was still alive. Yet where a heart should have been, there was only a hole the size of a palm. Empty. Both emotionally and physically.

The only thing that could fill this void was the one and only savior in this world—the one who had made his heart, long stopped in the abyss, beat once more. She alone.

But meeting her was impossible. Not while the arrogant walls of the world, its laws, and its rules still stood between them. Still… if one day the world were to suddenly collapse, would he finally be free?

Kuk kuk, something like that~

He would definitely, one day, grant the true wish she kept hidden in her heart. Walls? If you cannot climb them, you simply break them down. And once a wall has been shattered, you need only refrain from rebuilding it. If he could surpass her and ascend to the throne of the highest god, both she and the world would surely be saved.

The arrogant demon who had once been called the morning star by the Goddess and favored by her believed this with all his heart.

At that moment—

A calm voice, so composed it was irritating, echoed inside his head and shattered his thoughts. For an instant, a blue vein rose faintly on the demon’s snow-white forehead before sinking again. He let out a tiny sigh no one could hear and parted his pale lips.

"...I did not call you, Alb."

The demon had nothing to say. If he opened his mouth now, only crude words unfit for his dignity would spill out. Just as a small crack appeared in the armrest of the throne he gripped, that irritating voice spoke again.

Grind.

"...Yes. I will be careful from now on."

"...Underst—" Click.

"...."

The one-sided conversation ended. The demon was so dumbfounded that his quietly boiling anger simply subsided. How could anyone be so individualistic, so utterly devoid of consideration or understanding? When he had first retrieved the dying creature from the Dungeon after it sacrificed itself to save its comrades, it had not possessed such a vicious personality. It was an existence he had chosen himself, yet it was truly arrogant and irritating.

Had it not been useful, he would have discarded it immediately and found another servant that obeyed well and showed proper respect. But it was annoyingly competent, so he could not easily cast it aside. Among all the servants he had kept at his feet until now, this was the only one who had gathered such intense hostility toward the Dungeon in such a short time.

The demon crossed his legs on the throne and pulled an old book from his subspace. On its cover, elegant handwriting spelled out The Dungeon City Story. The volume was so worn from repeated readings that it looked as if it might tear apart at any moment.

"Hmm. The next work was titled The Adventurer’s Story, wasn’t it?"

His capable servant might have some talent for writing, but the demon believed she had absolutely no sense for titles. With the hand not holding the book, he tapped the air several times, altering the contents of the “gift boxes” she had secretly placed with curses and mimics. He also bestowed blessings of growth upon several high-tier aberrations in the Green Zone that showed promise of reclaiming territory.

"Yes. This should be enough for today."

Leaning comfortably against the throne, he opened the book he had read countless times. The only pleasure left to the demon sealed underground after his attempt to steal the Goddess’s divinity was reading this dramatized tale of himself and her.

"Skin as pure white as fresh snow, and a chest so vast it could contain the sea itself."

The demon gave a bitter smile as he savored the storyteller’s description of the Goddess. After all, he had seen the dark circles under her eyes from exhaustion and a chest so flat one might mistake her for a young boy.

"Hmm?"

As he carefully turned the page so as not to damage the book, his senses caught the strange feeling he had noticed once before. It was a subtle yet dangerous sensation that the demon before acquiring divinity could never have detected.

"...Could it be? Has it returned?"

The thing that had left a scar on the Dungeon with a single strike?

He closed the book, stored it in subspace, and connected to the Dungeon system he had built independently to check the logs. There, he found it.

"The Plague Doctor…"

An unidentified being possessing power far beyond its rank, one the demon had personally recorded on the Dungeon’s blacklist.

"This…" I should nip the bud before it grows any further.

He had no intention of repeating the precedent set by the Irregular who had single-handedly broken through the Black Zone, reached the deepest core, wounded him, and delayed the grand plan by over a century. The same mistake made with the Hero Minosuthus would not be repeated.

"Be arrogant in your own strength, Plague Doctor."

The moment you set foot in my domain without knowing your place, you shall realize your own arrogance and fall. Just like the morning star that lost its light and plummeted to the earth.

After obtaining a three-hundred-million-gold leather gauntlet, my contractor and I put our heads together to decide what to do with it.

"Since it’s an artifact Raven-nim acquired, I’ll follow your opinion."

Actually, we didn’t put our heads together at all. I agonized over it alone! Our clever ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠contractor escaped the labyrinth of worry with a single sentence, then lay down in my lap, toying with Kkachi and enjoying the happiness of a pet owner. Mamon, who had just finished his tea, sparkled at the sight of Kkachi poking out from the contractor’s robe. Sion simply slept on the contractor’s lap. In short, I was the only one clutching my head and thinking hard.

The question was whether to sell the artifact we bought for three hundred million and enjoy a luxurious, leisurely, and affluent high-class Dungeon City life, or to equip it ourselves—either me or the contractor—to explore the Dungeon more safely.

"I…"

After asking Mamon to let me test the artifact directly, I made my decision.

"So ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you’ve decided to equip it yourself, Raven?"

"Correct."

I would use it. I had briefly considered giving it to the contractor because of the “Unpierceable” modifier, but since the artifact’s efficiency scaled with the amount of magic power one could channel, it made more sense for me—with over twenty million magic power—to wear it.

"A wise choice. It may sound strange coming from me, the one who governs greed, but for adventurers, stagnation and complacency are poison. I fully support your decision, Raven."

Mamon’s words, from someone who had become my best friend in under ten minutes, drove the final nail in. Above all, my decision had been heavily influenced by something the contractor once told me.

The Dungeon City Story. I couldn’t remember the exact details, only that killing the last boss at the end of the Divine Spear would normalize the world. The contractor treated it as nothing more than a fairy tale, but since I viewed this world as a JRPG, I believed the story was true. Just as life has an end, games have endings. Here, defeating the last boss would be the ending.

The heroes defeated the Demon King and lived happily ever after. How perfectly orthodox.

But as the chaos-loving demon I am, I intend to twist that clean story ever so slightly.

The plague doctor cosplayer who escaped a ruined ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠world became the Demon of Terror, smashed the Dungeon to pieces, and lived happily ever after with his contractor.

The way to make that happen is simple. Go into the Dungeon, gain experience, earn money, upgrade our gear, and keep descending. Repeat that process, and eventually we will reach the last boss.

Therefore, we are heading into our Dungeon.

"This time it’s Green Zone exploration nyang! It’s incomparably more dangerous than the White Zone, so prepare thoroughly nyang!"

"Yes…!"

"Let’s do that."

Thus, the second Dungeon expedition of Sion’s party officially began.