No Need!
With Lucas, the boss of the artificial dungeon, dead and the black stone tablet controlling the space shattered, the dungeon's warped dimensions began reverting to their original form.
"Aaagh!"
"Watch out!"
The ground shook like an earthquake, and I quickly supported the staggering mage. While I was watching that thick-headed scene, the Hero retrieved the holy sword embedded in the floor. Soon, the vibrations stopped.
I could easily sense the change. The dungeon's darkness had thinned out so much it could no longer obscure our senses.
"Not as big as I thought."
I agreed with the Hero's mutter. The dungeon was spacious now that the spatial distortion was gone, but it wasn't some endless maze that would take days of running to escape.
The Hero pondered for a moment, then kicked the dungeon wall hard. The wall, no longer able to regenerate, crumbled like a cookie under her foot.
"Hng."
For some reason, the Hero looked satisfied as she sheathed me and the holy sword securely at her waist. The leader, who had been watching, cautiously asked,
"Is the dungeon cleared?"
"No, not yet."
Wait, there's still something left?
"The blessing hasn't disappeared."
At first, I had no idea what she meant, but then I sensed the flow of the blessing enveloping her body and let out an "ah."
The Blessing of Heresy Extermination (S-) was still lingering by her side.
"What does that mean...?"
"Follow."
With no intention of explaining further, the Hero curtly cut off the leader's question and started walking. The adventurers stiffly followed behind her.
[No slacking—pull out the glowstones.]
"Slacking...? Ah, got it."
After barking at the adventurers, I fell into thought. Did the lingering blessing mean there was another heretic besides Lucas? Well, we'd find out when we got there.
We encountered some remaining dungeon monsters on the way, but naturally, none of them were a match for the Hero. She sliced them down in one stroke each, arriving at what looked like an altar.
"Heretics... you've come this far..."
"Priest, hurry and escape! I'll hold them off here!"
Two figures in black robes guarded the altar. Both were beastkin, bearing blackened, corrupted stigmata—one an old man, the other young.
After gauging their power for a moment, I nodded in satisfaction. Neither was a threat to the Hero. Compared to Lucas, they were pathetically weak.
Still, that old guy's pretty handsome. If I'd been human, would I have aged into a face like that?
"Conscience."
[What?]
The Hero shot me a light glare before approaching them. Her steps were casual, but to her opponents, they were utterly terrifying.
"Stop this. You know you can't win."
"But, but... Priest!"
And the girl sobbing and clinging to the old man beside him was quite the beauty, too. She was exactly the type to stir my sadistic side.
"Judging by that sword, you must be the Hero."
The Hero paused mid-step toward them. Then, the old man with clouded eyes looked straight at her and spoke.
"Warrior chosen by the gods. I won't beg for my life. But before you strike, hear my tale. Learn what those deceivers in the heavens are hiding..."
[Blasphemy!]
"You speak without knowing, pitiful sword that has forgotten its master..."
His power didn't even reach Lucas's toe, but his dignity and wisdom befitted a high priest. No idea why a guy like this joined a cult.
With the girl's sobs as background music, the sight of him kneeling at the dark altar even evoked a sense of reverence. He opened his mouth in a solemn tone, as if prophesying.
"Hear me. I am the Secret Recorder of the Dark Cult. I shall tell you of the history your gods erased from the world..."
But dignity is dignity, and boring is boring. With that bible-thumping tone like a principal's assembly speech, it was probably nothing nutritious. If it was really important, the Hero would listen anyway.
My interest was in the girl beside him, not the old man. Beastkin beauty slave? The dream of every isekai protagonist. No matter how ugly or worthless, just "saving" them earns infinite devotion.
Not that it matters to me as a sword, but a guy can dream, right?
"In the beginning, before the three gods arrived on this land..."
Crack.
And just like that, the Hero reached out and snapped the beastkin girl's neck while listening to his story.
She wasn't some transcendent like Lucas, so it was instant death—no need to even check.
"Wh-what?!"
[Gaaah! What the hell?!]
For that one moment, the old man and I shouted in unison. What the—psycho much? Pretending to listen and then killing her out of nowhere!
So cruel!
[Well done, Hero. No need to listen to a heretic's ravings!]
Meanwhile, the holy sword—crazy psycho not far behind the Hero—was practically delighted.
The value of life had plummeted to the dirt. Truly lamentable.
"Heretics will be heretics after all. Even when I gave you a chance to lift the veil from your eyes!"
The old man's lament became his final words. As the Hero released the hand that snapped the girl's neck, she followed up with a clean roundhouse kick that sent him flying.
His frail body slammed into one wall of the altar, twisted at an angle impossible for human flesh. No matter how great beastkin regeneration was, he was surely dead on impact.
"Eek!"
"S-so the rumors were true..."
Even the adventurers, who had started lowering their guards after traveling together, shrank back again at the sight.
Of course, the Hero ignored it all, uninterested in her surroundings. That level of my-pace was something even a thoughtful demonic sword like me couldn't imitate.
Thud, thud. The Hero walked up to the altar and grabbed the object there.
It was a black cup.
End of description.
[Hmm?]
No, for an altar item, isn't it too plain? Just black, made of metal—nothing special about this utterly ordinary chalice.
[No evil aura from that cup...]
Look, even the holy sword, who was hyping it up, shut up awkwardly. For the final reward of an S-rank dungeon, it was pathetically underwhelming.
"C-could we appraise it once?"
[What? None of you have appraisal traits.]
"Haha, we brought a few appraisal scrolls. Adventurer basics."
As we stood there dumbly holding the cup, the leader ventured carefully.
Hmm, adventurer basics. I reflected for a moment. Yeah, I've been a sword too long.
To hear life advice from such a green junior. In return, I decided to impart a lesson of my own.
[Hand it over.]
"H-here you go!"
The lesson that no preparation matters before overwhelming power!
Appraisal scrolls cost dozens of silver each, but the leader had to hand it over without complaint.
The Hero took the scroll and rubbed it on the cup. Isekai common sense tip: Tearing scrolls wastes that expensive paper. Always check the instructions first.
As the Hero rubbed the scroll, text appeared on the blank paper.
It was the world's record. What I call the Status Window is just a glimpse of that.
Magic Grade
Black cup.
Effect: Accelerates spoilage of liquids inside.
Of course, the world's record wasn't always useful.
"My precious scroll!"
Apparently the ranger's—it was his wail from afar.
The Hero muttered in admiration.
"Worse than holy sword."
[Too harsh!]
Of course, we ignored the holy sword's whining as promised.
Examining the cup closely, I soon spoke up.
[Still, it's listed as treasure, so it can't be worthless despite the description. Man's intuition or whatever. Kidding. The Dark Cult treated it like a holy relic—must be valuable.]
"Really?"
[Should've tortured the old man for info before killing him. He'd have known its use.]
I'm not an adventurer anymore, but treasure always gets the heart racing.
[Might be dangerous, so we'll take it. Any complaints?]
"Well..."
[Nah, you wouldn't shamelessly claim a share after all the Hero's done for you, right? Shameless beasts get culled...]
"Of course the Hero should have it—that's what I meant. Right, everyone?"
"Y-yeah. Absolutely."
The other adventurers nodded with fear-stricken faces at the leader's words.
And so, after this peaceful negotiation, the black cup went to the Hero.
[Alright, let's get out.]
Not that they got nothing out of it. Surviving an S-rank dungeon was brag-worthy alone, and they'd butchered most of the monster byproducts.
Soul-corrupted monster corpses would fetch a high price as magical or ritual reagents.
Out of conscience, I calculated asking for 90% of the sales later.
Without the Hero's absurd power, we might've been trapped for months in that hellhole.
We found the entrance we'd come in through and stepped out to blinding light.
It's night now...? What I'd mistaken for sunlight was a forest of torches.
Beneath the torch cluster, a heavily armed knight order had set up camp at the dungeon entrance, staring right at us.