A Glitch, Perhaps?
Recently, the Empire had been thrown into unprecedented chaos by the emergence of a new member of the Mugan Seven Palaces: the Tomb of Faith. Rumors ran rampant—two Heroes had supposedly perished, and an undead creature had allegedly usurped the Holy Sword. Whatever the truth, Margrave Astoria had no time to worry about such matters. His family had defended the northwest border of the Empire since its founding. For him, the expedition into the Frozen Lands was his sole, absolute duty.
"A magnificent sight," the Margrave murmured, looking down from atop the great wall at the army preparing to march. Though it was a view he had seen countless times, the sheer scale of nearly a hundred thousand soldiers made his skin crawl with a cold shiver.
The erratic behavior of wild beasts, widespread anomalies in mana detection, and the reports brought back by scouts all pointed to a single, terrifying conclusion: the impending monster wave from the Frozen Lands would be the largest and most devastating in recorded history.
The political landscape was already unstable due to the Tomb of Faith. If the northwestern border fell now, the Empire would plunge into absolute, irreversible ruin.
...This time, of all times. One wrong move could trigger the end of humanity. The Margrave clenched his fists. The lives of those hundred thousand soldiers rested in his hands. Indeed, it was no exaggeration to say the fate of all mankind hung in the balance.
"My Lord. Reinforcements have arrived from the Magic Tower." Having defended the wall on his own for so long, this was the first time he had swallowed his pride to request aid from every possible avenue.
"From the Magic Tower?" Yet, he had been skeptical about their help. What could have possessed those reclusive scholars, who usually locked themselves away from the world, to suddenly take action? ...I suppose everyone realizes how dire the situation is. They were stubborn, not stupid. The Masters of the Five-Colored Magic Towers had clearly recognized the gravity of this expedition to the Frozen Lands. A satisfied smile played on the Margrave's lips. For an expedition of this scale, securing the support of the Magic Tower was like gaining an army of a million men.
As he pondered this, the Margrave suddenly froze. According to his chief of staff, the reinforcements hadn't merely been "on their way"—they had already "arrived." Yet, despite the flurry of communications, no army was in sight.
"Chief. How many reinforcements did they send?"
"Just one, My Lord."
"One?"
A dry laugh escaped his lips, condensing into a puff of white mist in the freezing air. If it was only one person, could it be one of the Tower Masters themselves? To think one of those stubborn, sedentary eccentrics had actually graced them with their presence. The Margrave scoffed. "How arrogant."
Gratitude aside, sending a single person to a war zone of this scale was pure folly, regardless of whether they were a Tower Master. The Margrave knew the power of the Tower Masters well; he had witnessed it firsthand. It was indeed superhuman magic, but one had to look at the reality of the situation.
"The youth of today are far too overconfident. They have no concept of the value of their own lives." From the perspective of a seasoned veteran, it was nothing short of pathetic.
It was then that a single set of footsteps echoed from a distance. The chief of staff immediately rushed toward the sound. Watching him go, the Margrave scowled. Wagging his tail for a Tower Master while his own commander-in-chief stood right beside him—how could the discipline of a chief of staff, of all people, be so incredibly lax? The Margrave clicked his tongue in disapproval.
"It has been a long time."
But the moment the Margrave saw the newcomer, his eyes widened in sheer disbelief. "...Grand Sage?"
In times of war, there were very few people whom the commander-in-chief would address with such deep reverence. At most, the Emperor and the Pope—and even then, he respected their titles rather than their character. But the old man standing before him was someone he respected purely for who he was.
"What brings you all the way here, Your Eminence...?"
"Did you not hear? I have come to lend you a hand."
If anyone were asked to name the absolute strongest individual in the Empire, they would undoubtedly name the Grand Sage. His personal martial prowess was beyond question; he had trained the Masters of the Five-Colored Magic Towers and stood as the ultimate paragon for all mages. If someone claimed a single person could stop a monster wave alone, anyone would laugh in their face—until they paused, thought for a moment, and realized there was indeed one man who could.
Gulp. The Margrave swallowed hard. He had never imagined their sole reinforcement would be the Grand Sage. After all, the Grand Sage had long since withdrawn from secular affairs, living as a transcendent immortal detached from the world. Why would someone who had refused to interfere in worldly matters for so long suddenly step forward? Even if the expedition to the Frozen Lands was of paramount importance, was it truly enough to move the Grand Sage himself? No matter how much he questioned it, he could not find an answer.
"Astoria. Once this expedition is over, I have a favor to ask of you. First, this old man will take the vanguard in this battle. That way, you won't have to worry about sustaining heavy casualties."
Just as he said, if the Grand Sage led the charge, they could secure a victory with minimal losses. Yet, the Margrave could not bring himself to rejoice blindly. The Sage had traveled all this way because he wanted something in return. Swallowing his anxiety, the Margrave listened closely to the impending demand.
"Once we are victorious, I want you to lead your knights and join the subjugation of the Mugan Seven Palaces."
"...Are you referring to the Tomb of Faith?"
The Grand Sage nodded. "It is His Imperial Majesty's decree. A subjugation force will soon be formed, with the Holy Hero Cecilia at its center. The military high command wishes for you to assist her."
The Margrave barely managed to suppress a scoff. Asking a veteran like him to play second fiddle to a green, upstart star? Though he shuddered with indignation, he quickly deduced the political maneuvering behind the request.
Predictable. They wanted to attribute the core achievements to Cecilia, elevating her to solidify the birth of a new Hero. After all, the Empire's Four Heroes were highly valuable political tools. As a Margrave, he had no obligation to surrender his military authority, even to an imperial decree. His sole duty was to protect the Empire from the Frozen Lands. However, if he incurred such a massive debt to the Grand Sage, basic decency would compel him to agree, duty notwithstanding.
But to think they could even summon the Grand Sage... The Grand Sage was a man who wouldn't give a damn about the Emperor's orders. This meant his request, though framed as an imperial decree, was driven by his own strong personal volition. The Margrave fell into silent contemplation. With the Grand Sage's support, they would win the war with minimal casualties and enjoy peace for the foreseeable future. More than anything, the Grand Sage's involvement was proof that the Tomb of Faith had become a catastrophic threat capable of swallowing the entire Empire.
After careful deliberation, the Margrave nodded. "Very well."
He would conclude this expedition with as few casualties as possible, and then, they would conquer the Tomb of Faith.
"This place is so creepy. Do you think something's going to jump out at us all of a sudden?" Isabella shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as she walked. The only sounds echoing through the cavern were her voice and their footsteps.
I stole a glance at Charlotte. Beneath her usual expressionless facade, she was visibly sulking. Isabella had easily moved past the previous incident, marveling with comments like, "As expected of my Lord! You completely turned those golems inside out!" Charlotte, however, was the exact opposite. By nature, she was someone who could tolerate her own mistakes least of all. She was always dead serious and relentlessly strict with herself. To put it nicely, she was highly self-reflective; to put it harshly, she was incredibly stubborn and rigid.
Well, she did just get scolded by me. Given her personality, it was only natural for her to feel down. I had no intention of coddling her now, though. She needed to reflect on her actions and grow from this experience.
...Still, it's really hard to ignore. Even though I tried to pay her no mind, my eyes kept drifting toward her.
Forcing myself to look away, I kept walking forward. Soon, crimson eyes began to gleam in the darkness, accompanied by level indicators of the exact same color.
Lv. 71
Lv. 72
Lv. 75
True to its reputation as an ancient dungeon, even the common monsters roaming the halls were well over level 70. After a moment's thought, I reached out and stopped Isabella, who was about to step forward.
"Charlotte."
Keeping my gaze on her, I gave a slight nod of my chin. Charlotte flinched, blinking in surprise. Realizing my intent a second later, she unleashed a barrage of mana spears into the darkness. With a chorus of pathetic squeals, the level indicators vanished. As expected, monsters of that caliber didn't even qualify as a warm-up for Charlotte. Even if their numerical levels seemed close to hers on paper, the actual gap in their combat prowess was astronomical.
"Clean," I remarked, then watched her reaction. Charlotte, whose face was usually a blank slate, had now lowered her head entirely to hide her expression. I could still clearly see her tightly pursing her lips, though.
Look at her, she's thrilled. I really am too soft-hearted for my own good. But looking at her now, it feels like she's slowly turning into a spoiled, needy child. A figurehead boss and a bunch of high-maintenance executives... the Mugan Seven Palaces are truly doomed.
I patted the vial tucked inside my breast pocket. It was the Mana's Blessing (S+), a gift from the Giant King, Dalon. I had planned to give it to Charlotte if clearing the dungeon proved too difficult, but it seemed that wouldn't be necessary.
Several hours passed as we navigated the dungeon without any major incidents, eventually arriving before a chamber even larger than the Guardian's room. Perhaps traumatized by how utterly they had been thrashed by the Guardian earlier, neither of them dared to step closer. In any standard dungeon, it was only logical that whatever lay inside this room would be far stronger than the Guardian.
Though in reality, it's not that big of a deal. To be precise, the mid-boss, a Bone Dragon, was waiting inside. It was labeled a mid-boss, but for all intents and purposes, it was the final boss of this dungeon. According to the lore, it was the ancient dragon's most loyal servant, but I couldn't care less about that.
Inside the chamber stood an altar. The sleeping beast would awaken only if one touched the altar, made physical contact with the Bone Dragon, or encountered it face-to-face. Otherwise, it would remain completely dormant, no matter what else transpired. Entering through the main double doors would inevitably lead to a head-on confrontation. Fortunately, there was a narrow side passage next to the door that could only fit one person at a time. If you followed it and turned left, it led straight to a back door. Entering through that back door allowed you to quietly snatch the Dungeon Core without triggering a fight. Because of this exploit, the Grave of the Ancient Dragon was the easiest dungeon to reap rewards from in the Ancient Dungeon DLC. Paradoxically, it was also the hardest dungeon to fully clear.
"It seems dangerous ahead. Wait here."
They had already done their part by bringing me this far. All they had to do now was wait quietly. Turning my back to them, I squeezed myself into the narrow side passage. My dark iron armor scraped against the tight stone walls, making an unpleasant, grating noise. It was only difficult at the very entrance; once I got fully inside, there was actually a decent amount of room. I shuffled sideways like a crab, occasionally getting my armor snagged with a dull clunk, but I didn't let it bother me.
The straight passage eventually veered to the left. After turning the corner and walking a bit further, a stone door came into view.
Creak—
The stone door slid open with a heavy, echoing rumble, revealing the chamber's interior. In the distance, the Bone Dragon lay curled on the floor in a classic draconic posture. Even though I had successfully flanked it and faced no immediate danger, the sheer, overwhelming presence of the beast made my heart hammer in my chest. I crept forward on tiptoe, taking slow, deliberate steps.
I spotted an altar made of red stone, upon which rested a gleaming golden orb. That was a decoy reward. It wasn't the Dungeon Core, but a powerless dragon pearl. The developers had officially called it a "Dragon Heart," but to me, it looked exactly like a dragon pearl. If an unsuspecting player touched it, the Bone Dragon would immediately awaken. Since it was practically useless anyway, I ignored it.
Now, let's see... The walls of this chamber were studded with hundreds of round, glowing stones that looked like lightbulbs. There were easily hundreds of them, but I knew the exact location and the subtle difference of the one I needed. While the ordinary glowing stones emitted a reddish-orange light, the Dungeon Core radiated a soft, elegant golden glow. The moment my eyes locked onto the spot I remembered, my feet moved toward it.
...This is definitely it. Confirming the minute difference, I snatched the Dungeon Core. I stared at it intently even after it was in my grasp, fully convinced of its authenticity. With this, my business here was finished.
I carefully tiptoed back out through the rear exit, and the Bone Dragon remained completely asleep the entire time. I had worried that reality might differ from the game and trigger the dragon anyway, but thankfully, nothing of the sort happened.
Phew. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, condensing into cold air. Before stepping back into the narrow passage, I looked down at the Dungeon Core once more. Absorbing a Dungeon Core here wouldn't cause the dungeon to collapse. That was another key difference between ancient dungeons and the standard 72 Dungeons.
Crack! The moment I crushed the Dungeon Core with my bare hands, a brilliant golden light wafted up from its shattered fragments like fragrant incense. This was the legacy of the ancient dragon, containing the raw, fundamental power of both the Dungeon Core and the dragon pearl. Instead of dispersing into the air, the energy flowed directly into my body. As if every single drop of it had been perfectly absorbed without leaving a trace, a strange, mystical sensation coursed through my veins. I looked around several times to test my new power.
Just as I was looking for a way to test if the absorption had been successful, a centipede caught my eye. I glared at the insect and activated Dragon's Fear through sheer mental intent. In an instant, the centipede, which had been crawling along just fine, went completely limp.
"It worked."
The Dragon's Fear was functioning perfectly. Now, all that was left was the Dragon Tongue. Dozens of Hanja characters swirled in my mind. Given the confined space, I avoided wide-area commands and focused only on single-target spells.
"Heavenly Pressure."
*Crunch!* The limp body of the centipede was instantly crushed by an invisible, crushing force. As its level indicator vanished, the pressure dissipated like a mirage. I nodded in satisfaction. Following Dragon's Fear, the Dragon Tongue had also executed flawlessly. As a side note, while Dragon's Fear was a permanent passive trait, the Dragon Tongue was subject to a cooldown. Even if the words used were different, once you spoke a Dragon Word, you couldn't use another one immediately afterward. The restriction imposed a cooldown ranging from a minimum of ten minutes to as long as twenty-four hours.
*Scuttle, scuttle.* I spotted a cockroach crawling near my feet.
"Mute Death."
I muttered the word while staring at the insect, though I didn't expect anything to happen. It hadn't even been ten minutes, so there was no way it would work. I had only spoken the command out of sheer disgust, wishing for it to die.
*Twitch!* But right then, the cockroach went completely stiff. There was no rigor mortis, nor any sign of life whatsoever. Most importantly, the disappearance of its level indicator signified absolute death.
...What? Did the Dragon Tongue actually just work? Twice in a row, without any cooldown? Questioning myself wouldn't yield any answers. I scanned the area for other insects, focused on them one by one, and spoke a single Dragon Word for each. Following Mute Death, I used eight different Dragon Words. All eight succeeded.
...Is it a bug?