First Instance Dungeon (1) 5: Empty Pockets
‘But we don’t have a damn thing right now, do we?’
I’d snatched up the paper tempted by the reward, but we had no money or gear on us. Just our bodies, basic weapons, and armor. Kaya realized it soon enough too—her face soured. The paper even came with a combat warning; charging in unprepared would be straight-up stupid. I was swallowing my regrets and about to set it down when—
“Ah, the heroes here to smash the heretics!”
A bushy-bearded uncle spotted the paper in my hand and came stomping over. He let out a booming laugh, slapped my back thwack-thwack, then grabbed my wrist and dragged me off without a word. What the fuck is this guy? I resisted, but the strength gap was insane. I shook my head at Kaya, who was reaching for her mace, signaling her to stand down.
He hauled me into a dingy little tavern. Beard-for-a-face sat at a corner table and jabbed at the seat across from him—with his beard. Or chin. Hard to tell.
“Three beers here!”
“Whoa, beer out of nowhere...”
“I’m buying—don’t sweat it!”
Kaya kept her hand hovering over her weapon grip, eyes scanning the room, while Beard Guy chuckled like it was the best day ever.
“Who the hell are you? And what’s your angle with us?”
“Hot-blooded heroes, eh? Fair enough. Haven’t touched your drinks yet, so I’ll go big too.”
The beers arrived. He chugged his, draining half in one go.
“Gulp. Booze down—time to get real. Simple story. I’m the one who posted that quest.”
“The client?”
“Damn right. More like the client who’s been burning up inside for three days straight with zero takers. Jacked up the reward—no dice. Was slapping that warning on there a bad call?”
In Seilroom, where prices could murder you, day-laborers didn’t dodge good pay unless it was pure shit. Folks hitting the instance lobby—the quest board—were desperate types like us: broke-ass heroes who couldn’t afford the main dungeon right now. Fine, we were newbies, but countless laborers skipping it for three days? Sketchy as hell. A different flavor of unease from what that nun Libea had hinted at earlier.
No beer touched yet—no freebies taken. Time to bail.
We were broke enough not to be picky, but this screamed “grave-digging.” I was mulling a smooth rejection when Beard Guy slammed back the rest of his beer and bellowed.
“You’re hesitating, right? Here’s some support.”
“Support?”
“Yeah! First nibble in three days—got me all pumped! Sorry for the drag-along.”
Another round! Suddenly, he balled his fist. That pot-lid hand trembled—I tensed up on instinct. Table didn’t splinter. Mug didn’t shatter. Phew.
“No point dragging out my sob story—it’d just sound pathetic. Bottom line: Commit, and you get 3 gold upfront. Plus basic supplies. Just bring back some proof or intel from inside. Deal?”
3 gold, supplies on top—easy 5 gold minimum.
“We know jack about the place. Gimme all the info first, then we’ll judge...”
“Haha, naturally!”
He pounded his beer like a weapon, spilling details on the [Heresy Worship and Forbidden Magic Evidence Collection] quest. What counted as evidence, how to spot it, the place’s size, how tough the heretics and taboo mages were, their numbers—everything.
[Heresy Worship and Forbidden Magic Evidence Collection]
◈ Evidence: [Altar remnants, ritual items, forbidden tomes]
◈ Size: [Multi-room layout]
◈ Enemies: [Heretics & Taboo Mages - Est. Strength & Numbers]
“Last bit’s a guess, but that’s everything I got. Thoughts?”
“Gonna check with my partner first.”
“Smart! Waited three days—few more minutes fine.”
We huddled in the opposite corner. I leaned in close, whispering. Kaya flinched a bit, but volume control demanded it.
“Kaya. What’s your take?”
“...I’ll follow Leader’s lead.”
“Nah, even as leader, I don’t wanna solo-decide unless it’s do-or-die. Hate dragging us into shit on a whim.”
Politely: Open-minded leader. Rudely: Coward dodging blame. She went with the former—nodded faintly.
“No rule we gotta collect it all ourselves. No ‘wipe every heretic’ clause. Seems doable. Just...”
“Just?”
“Place feels too big for two...”
I nodded agreement.
Good no ‘mace every heretic and mage to death’ mandate.
The blood-smeared mace, beaming god-praise smile from 1-1 had overlapped—feared she’d go full zealot on me.
Sorry, Kaya. Unconsciously pegged you as a crazy bitch.
Who wouldn’t, fresh off meeting? Quick self-justification done, back to Beard Guy. He’d polished off his fifth mug. Bladder alert.
“Oh, yeah! Verdict?”
“Not manpower. Two ain’t pulling meaningful results...”
“Haha! Knew it!”
Slammed the table, roaring with laughter.
“Never figured one-and-done. Reward’s per evidence—1 gold each. All-in-one? Woulda set 15, 30 gold. Right?”
Made sense. Doubts lingered, though.
This guy could steamroll me. Felt it when he dragged me. Minimum Level 3 vibes. Why toss gold at a scrub like me? Desperate? Or anyone’ll do?
Not churchy at all. Ties to post this?
Mouth itched to probe, but that crossed lines. No personal digs unless quest-relevant.
Main dungeon’s bullshit difficulty in mind, instance wouldn’t be cakewalk. Leaning no...
Then Kaya grabbed my hand, tracing a circle on my palm. I whipped around—she played it cool, but ears and nape flushed pink.
Nun intuition? Or heretic-hunting itch?
Refusal tilt neutralized by her sneaky skinship vote.
Not braindead to fold on a hand-hold in this death-trap world...
“Sigh... Yeah, even partial, two’s a stretch. Hated pulling this card.”
Forcing us in? Gripped Kaya’s hand, legs primed to bolt.
But: “Keep it secret, and I’ll bump your weapons up a tier. Half-retired Blacksmith Guild.”
Free weapon upgrade!? Squeezed Kaya’s hand hard. She wriggled; I let go fast. Hype wouldn’t quit.
In The Long Terror, top rage-baits? Skill buys. Weapon/armor upgrades. Endless.
Heroes got 4 random basics on recruit—stuck unless low-drop dungeon luck or Seilroom training center cash. 4 good ones? Godsend. 2 solid? Still dungeon-grind fodder. Rarely used all equally.
Weapons/armor different. Only Guild basics resisted dungeon taint—merchant “tech.” Heroes gritted teeth for repairs/upgrades. Half profits sunk. 9 tiers max—DPS/tank priority only.
Costs so busted, 10-tier gear? Rare as fuck.
Us? Fresh off 1-3. Free upgrade. Gold rewards looked like pocket change.
“One condition.”
“Huh. After all this? More? Desperate or not...”
“No. Upgrade first.”
“...”
Uncle’s face hardened. Eat-and-run dawned on him. Sure—he’s stronger, Guild-backed; we’re dime-a-dozen Level 1 noobs.
“Promised extra over reward. Risked Guild boot for upgrade promise. Tried holding you that way. What trust you shown me?”
Fair. Pushed luck? Post-main-dungeon trauma screamed insurance. Busted.
Awkward silence hung.
Thud. Kaya set a goddess-pendant necklace on the table. Gave me an unreadable look, then addressed uncle.
“Should Leader and I betray your trust before completion, I’ll gladly forsake mercy’s path—serve you equal to the betrayal.”
“...Kaya?”
The returning silence weighed like lead.