First Instance Dungeon (5): All According to God's Will

Kaya's mace carried no strength in it. No, she couldn't put any strength into it. The mere act of moving was a miracle in itself. But her movement was filled with unyielding will and faith.

My command hadn't factored into it even 1%. It was purely her own will. This one strike would be the last. That's what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her mace signified, and her will and faith were rewarded with results beyond imagination.

A 5% instant-death proc, excluding the boss monster. And it had triggered. Even elite monsters weren't exempt. Right after an incomprehensible message flashed, the monster bastard was engulfed in a pillar of light, its corpse vanishing without a trace.

"…."

"…."

The pillar of light lasted only a moment—literally. Somewhere between one and two seconds? But in that brief time, I felt a whirlwind of emotions. Relief that we weren't fated to die yet. Awe that God might really exist after such fervent prayer. And worry that Kaya might have overexerted herself or that the skill had some hidden side effect.

I approached Kaya, who stood blankly staring at where the pillar of light had been. Up close, she was silently gazing at the mini-goddess pendant necklace she'd shown the client uncle before entering the instance—the one like a miniature statue of the goddess.

—To defile my faith, my memories like that. I absolutely cannot forgive it.

—I don't know what you bastards believe in... but at least, the Goddess does not inflict unwanted suffering on those who do not believe in her.

I recalled Kaya's words just before swinging that final mace. From this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠battle with that damned bastard, I could roughly gauge the kind of pain she'd endured.

So instead of snapping her out of her reverie, I quietly pulled out bandages and wiped the blood from her entire body, wrapping them especially tight around her worst wounds. Normally, I'd have felt a bit awkward brushing over certain sensitive areas, but neither Kaya nor I felt anything like that now. Bandages had a minor hemostatic effect and were consumables for the "Bleeding" status, but I didn't want to think about that crap right now. Our current state made continuing combat impossible anyway.

With Kaya's healing skills as they are...

She didn't have pure healing skills at the moment, and Battle Vestals inherently had weaker healing output than Curing Vestals.

When we get back, I need to recruit a tank or look into skill changes.

My heart worried for Kaya, but my head planned for the hero party's future as its leader. Clutching my one-handed axe again despite the weakness in my body, I approached the altar, which still gave off a creepy vibe, though less so than before.

Rewards lay before it: gold coins, a book, and a scrap of paper.

I crept up cautiously, snatched them quickly, and retreated from the altar. Nothing happened despite my hyper-vigilance, but better safe than sorry.

From a safe distance, I opened the book, which had no title on the cover.

"Out in the open, huh."

'I'm evidence of heresy.' It reeked of that from the first page.

I couldn't read what they wanted to descend, which was a shame, but I wasn't curious anyway—it wasn't my business. Descent plan? If it wasn't descended already, that's why there was a plan. If whatever these bastards believed in had descended, we wouldn't be standing here alive.

Hand over the evidence, earn the client's trust and reward. Use that to gear up for the next dungeon. No time to worry about anything else.

I closed the book and turned to the scrap of paper. It looked like a potion or something. No, more like a map of this instance, similar to the one we'd seen. But it only revealed about a quarter to a third of the whole thing. After thousands of hours in roguelikes, estimating like this was second nature.

Tsk. Even bigger than the client uncle described.

I folded the map neatly, tucked it into the book, and stowed both in my bag. As I gripped my axe again and stared at the altar, heavy footsteps approached.

It was Kaya.

"Captain."

"Yeah, Kaya. I was thinking about what to do with this altar. What's your take?"

"I believe it should be smashed to pieces."

"Yeah?"

"But I will follow the captain's will."

Kaya looked pale from blood loss, but otherwise no different from usual. Yet something had clearly changed. Just a feeling.

I glanced between her gray eyes and the altar. Then I stepped back.

Questioning appeared on Kaya's face, and I nodded toward it.

"I'll respect your will. Smash it. With your own hands."

"…Captain."

I stepped back further instead of answering, and Kaya bowed her head to me. Then, without a hint of hesitation, she brought her mace down on the altar.

It shattered into dust.

Less evidence to bring back, but...

Money could replace that anytime. Whether the deep scars on her mentality from that brutal assault would linger or fully heal—it had to be now. I chose the latter without hesitation.

It wasn't just about our bond. No, I couldn't say it had zero influence. But living in this fucked-up place, I'd come to realize numbers and messages didn't capture everything.

Combat followed absolute system rules, but everything else felt like real human life—things games never implemented. Things that threw me into dissonance and tormented me.

Pain from hits, bleeding from stabs, freakouts from trauma triggers. These were obvious in reality. But in games, it was just HP -4, Mentality -10, "Bleeding" status, and a quick pained illustration.

Turn-based combat enforced game laws, but the rest mimicked real people so closely it tortured the real person I'd been.

Fuck this shit.

But the pain I'd endured, Kaya's pain—different from Zone 1-2. And the glimpses of deeply human anguish. They were making me, not Han Yujin, but Hendrick, see and act in this world.

Kaya's expression remained the same after smashing the altar—no recovery message—but to me, her darkness seemed a bit lighter.

Thinking that left no regrets about my decision.

"Mm, Kaya. Let's pull back here for today. What do you think?"

"…As the captain wills."

On the retreat path—which we knew had no traps from entry—it still felt nerve-wracking. Our conditions were that precarious.

Please. Raella, was it? If you don't want to see your daughter die, let us retreat safely. Please.

The closer we got to the entrance, the more mentality drained, but we had to endure. Fortunately, aside from the heavy mentality loss, no incidents occurred.

"Let's hurry back, get treated, wash up, and rest."

"Yes, Captain. If possible, I'd like some hot soup too."

"Soup only? You've gotta have bread and meat too."

"…Bread."

"Huh?"

"No, nothing."

Shaking her ash-gray hair, Kaya exited the instance.

"Fucking hell."

Coming here had spiked my use of crazy, shit-like curses. Felt like it, anyway.

"Still better than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dying 'cause we can't retreat."

No formal "Retreat?" prompt appeared. Feeling pointless defiance and annoyance, I flipped the bird at the message and stepped on the exit.

**

Maybe because of the insane penalty, Kaya and I both failed to level up—as expected. Three trash mobs and one elite weren't enough. Without the penalty, it might've been close, but that was water under the bridge.

"I'll give you money—get a room, wash up, and rest first."

"Captain?"

"I gotta report to the client."

"I'll go with you."

"One person's enough for the report. No need for both of us."

"I'll go with you."

Kaya, usually obedient, was being stubborn. Relationship issue? Checked—nope.

"Kaya. This is the captain's job. That's why you call me captain."

"I'll go with you."

"No, you need rest. You could collapse any second."

She shook her head instead of answering.

Damn, not even in a dungeon...

To shake her off, I put on a stern face.

"Kaya. Your condition is really serious. Extremely... rank, in fact."

Finishing with a slight nose wrinkle, Kaya's frozen blockade face changed.

"Th-that, th-that."

"You get what I mean, right?"

"Y-yes, I understand. C-come back q-quickly."

Kaya limped slightly toward the inn.

Mm. No relationship change.

Even bluntly saying she stank too much to come along didn't budge it—relationships weren't that fickle. And honestly, the blood stench all over her wasn't wrong...

I headed straight to where the client uncle would be. A dingy tavern tucked near the broker's office. Of course, he was at the same table, massacring beers.

"Mm!? Back already?"

"Yes."

"Can't even offer you a beer—you look beat."

I nodded and reported the progress: encountered a few heretic worshippers and fought them, spotted the "altar," fought and defeated its stronger guardian.

I held back on the book and map. Those were our combat rewards first.

"Evidence-wise, only two worshipper heads left. Don't wanna pull 'em out while you're drinking..."

"Hrm, fair enough. But..."

The uncle, listening intently, suddenly lowered his voice to a whisper. Cheap beer breath hit me.

"No other evidence? Like records or something?"