Pestilence Stirs (1)

Before a dungeon somewhere in the eastern territories.

"Preparations are all finished, I take it?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then we go in!"

"Yes, sir!"

A middle-aged man took the lead, and a dozen or so people filed in after him. The moment they crossed the threshold, a notification window bloomed before their eyes.

"Huh?!"

"W-what the hell is all this?"

"The monsters are multiplying? And they're adding a goblin shaman?!"

The cascade of windows left the group reeling. Faces slack with panic, they stared from the notifications to one another and back again.

"Tsk."

The middle-aged man who had led them in clicked his tongue, plainly unimpressed. He had spent over a month drilling them on dungeons and combat technique, and the first thing they did was lose their heads over a notification window. First time or not, it was pathetic.

The man was an instructor at the dungeon academy known as Hypos.

Hypos was an institution founded by the Dark King, Barden Ormisio — a name of considerable weight in the east — who had grown weary of watching gifted Masters and Fairies throw themselves into dungeons half-naked and unprepared, their talents rotting in the dirt before they ever had a chance to bloom. Tuition was steep, but the results were hard to argue with. Walking into a dungeon after proper training beat stumbling in half-ready every time, and the survival rate of both Masters and Fairies climbed accordingly.

The grim irony was that the deadliest dungeons were the lowest-ranked ones. F-rank. Even weak monsters knew how to fight, and when they came screaming in from every direction with murder in their eyes, plenty of novice Masters and Fairies froze up and died for it.

Anyone worth a damn around here… hmm. Those two over there, at least, look like they have some potential. Pika and Roa, was it? They said those two were the children of certain important people.

The instructor's gaze settled on the only two who had kept their composure — a young man and a young woman, unmoved by the panic around them, studying the notification windows with careful attention. The man was Pika. The woman was Roa.

Most Masters and Fairies ignored the windows that greeted them on entry, which was a waste. Those windows carried more information than people gave them credit for. Rank, party limit, and recommended level told you the difficulty. The dungeon's name itself was usually a clue to what lived inside — most were named after the monsters they spawned.

"What are you standing around for? Get in formation!"

"Y-yes, sir!"

The milling trainees snapped to at the instructor's bark and formed up. Close-range classes — Warriors, Swordsmen, and the like — took the front. Rear-line classes like Mages and Priests fell in behind. Pika, the one the instructor had marked as promising, was a Voodooist and took a place in the forward rank. Roa, a Mage, held the rear.

Nobody was going to die today. Not with a 5-star Rogue walking among them. Rogues ran a little lighter on raw combat power than other classes, but they were hardly so feeble they couldn't handle the trash in an F-rank dungeon. If the trainees got into real trouble, he would step in. That was the entire point.

Once the formation looked solid, the instructor raised his voice again.

"Move out!"

"Yes, sir!"

At his command, the trainees advanced into the dark.

The trainees pushed through to the third chamber without breaking stride.

Because they were that good?

Not even close.

"Why aren't there any monsters?"

"Right? Think they got scared and ran?"

"Heh heh heh. Wouldn't surprise me. One look at my sword and they probably pissed themselves."

"You moron. Your sword's weaker than my dick."

"The fuck did you just say, you piece of shit?"

"Who the hell is running their mouth in a dungeon?!"

"Urgh! Sorry, sir!"

The instructor's roar shut the snickering down cold. He sealed their mouths, then turned a grim stare toward a shadowed corner of the chamber.

Another corpse. What the hell happened in here?

The trainees had carved through to the third room like a hot knife through butter, and it had nothing to do with skill. The monsters that should have been here simply weren't.

Where did they all go?

A man seasoned enough to instruct at an academy did not lack for dungeon experience. The empty first chamber had struck him as odd. By the second, he had known something was wrong. He had pressed on to the third anyway — not because he was reckless, but because he needed to see what had gone wrong. Bringing the trainees with him had been the safer choice. Leaving them behind would have been worse.

Wrong doesn't begin to cover this.

The monsters that should have been feeding these kids experience points were lying in the gloom as corpses, their bodies riddled with bite marks, as if something small and hungry had been at them.

Finding monster corpses in a dungeon was not, by itself, strange. Bodies lingered until the party that had been running the dungeon left; only then did they vanish and new monsters spawn in their place. But that rule could not apply here.

Nobody came in ahead of us. So why are there corpses?

As he had already noted, the entry windows carried more information than most people bothered to read. If someone had entered before them, the system would have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠said so. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠count it had displayed was twelve — exactly their number.

The system was absolute. It did not make errors. Which meant they were the only people in this dungeon.

So why were the monster corpses still here?

"…Halt!"

"Sir?"

"I said stop, you idiots!"

"Y-yes, sir!"

The trainees, already drifting toward the fourth chamber, froze at his shout.

"We're returning to the city."

He had seen enough. Whatever was happening in here, pushing deeper was a mistake. F-rank or not, the moment a dungeon started breaking the rules, you got out.

"Sir? What do you mean?"

"Go back? We haven't even killed a single monster yet."

"We might as well take the boss while we're here, Instructor."

The trainees, who had no idea what he had seen, pushed back at once. They had paid Hypos Academy's steep tuition for the privilege of hunting monsters in a controlled environment and climbing levels. Walking out empty-handed was not what they had signed up for, and the complaints came fast.

"Enough! Whatever practice you missed today, I'll make up in another dungeon. Now turn around and—"

He was still trying to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stamp down their grumbling and get them moving when the sound hit.

A deep, gathering rumble rolled through the stone — kugugugugung — shaking the floor beneath their feet.

"…Huh?"

"What is that?"

It was already too late.

The instant he had understood something was wrong in the second chamber, he should have walked out. If he had, he would have kept his life.

The instructor possessed the Night Vision trait, and in the dark ahead he saw exactly what was making the ground tremble.

Those are… rats?

Rats. The vibration was rats.

A rat, on its own, was nothing. People who killed monsters for a living were not about to lose a fight to a rodent. The problem was the number. There were enough of them to shake the dungeon.

The floor. The walls. Even the ceiling. Rats beyond counting poured toward them in a surging gray tide.

The instructor roared the order and launched himself forward, throwing his own body between the tide and his students. He was their instructor. Their safety was his responsibility. And with an Agility-heavy build, he could outrun anything in this dungeon the moment the trainees were clear. No rat alive was catching a 5-star Rogue who had stacked his stats for speed.

"Hah!"

He hurled a dagger down the corridor. It traced a long arc, buried itself in the stone, and vanished beneath the oncoming swarm.

"Explode!"

The dagger detonated. A thunderous blast tore through the swarm, and fragments of rat sprayed in every direction.

A chorus of frantic squeaking rose from the wreckage. Some of the rats that had been charging the instructor and his trainees stopped dead and fell on their own dead, devouring them on the spot.

"Hiiiiiik?!"

"W-what the hell is that?!"

"H-how are there so many rats?!"

The fireball from the explosion lit the corridor, and the trainees finally saw the true scale of what was coming. Panic hit them like a wall. A single rat was nothing. Hundreds of them — thousands — was a waking nightmare.

"Run!"

At last grasping how bad it was, the trainees turned and fled, leaving their instructor behind.

"We'll help!"

"Fireball!"

Only two stayed. Pika and Roa — the same pair the instructor had singled out — planted themselves at his side.

"You fucking idiots! You get out too! Now!"

Their loyalty was the last thing he wanted. He could not run until every last trainee was gone.

"B-but—"

"Get the hell out of here, you stupid little shits! Haaaaah!"

Bang! BOOM!

He kept hurling daggers down the corridor. Each one punched into the stone and erupted, tearing through the swarm — but the dead were a drop in an ocean. The living outnumbered them by a crushing, impossible margin.

They're not running?

A chill crawled up his spine. The rats kept coming even as their own kind died in fire a few feet away. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Animals had a survival instinct. An explosion sent them scattering without a backward glance. These things were different. They hurled themselves into flames that had not even gone out yet, and they kept coming with their bodies on fire.

These were not natural rats.

A sharp sting bit into his ankle.

"Kh—?!"

He looked down. A rat had appeared from nowhere and sunk its teeth into him.

"Son of a bitch!"

Squeak—!

He stomped it into paste. It was an ordinary rat, and it burst under his boot, blood spattering the bite on his ankle.

…It came out of the ground?

The rat's hindquarters were still buried in the stone. It had dug up through the floor to reach him.

A rising, needle-thin shriek filled the corridor — thousands of throats screaming as one.

"…Damn it!"

In the handful of seconds he had spent looking down, the gray tide had closed to within ten meters. Too fast. Far too fast. Buying any more time against that many was a fantasy, and he knew it. The calculation finished in his head in a blink. His face twisted, and he spun on his heel.

"I told you to run!"

"Kh—?!"

"Kyaaak!"

He snatched Pika and Roa by the scruffs of their necks — the two of them still standing there like stunned cattle — and broke into a sprint. His Strength stat was nothing special, but it was enough to haul two people and run.

He ran, and ran, weaving ahead of the swarm, and in doing so he caught up to the trainees who had fled first, back in the opening chamber.

"AAAAAAH!"

"Help me! Help me! Help me!"

"Get off! Get the fuck OFFFF!"

"…That's impossible."

The trainees who had run ahead were already surrounded. The rats came on without the slightest regard for their own lives, throwing themselves at living flesh just to get their teeth in.

"H-help… ah, AAAH…!"

Some had already gone down. One trainee, body torn half to ribbons, stretched out a hand and begged — and the rats fell on the hand too, stripping it to bone.

The shrieking rose again, a wall of sound from every direction.

Rats ahead. Rats behind. They were completely encircled. Despair settled over every face in the chamber.

Every face but one. In the middle of that hell, the instructor found a way out.

"…Damn it!"

He bit down on his lip, hoisted Pika and Roa, and ran again.

"Ack!"

He planted a boot on the shoulder of a trainee huddled in the defensive knot and launched himself into the air. One long bound carried him over the swarm. He hit the ground running and did not stop until he reached the dungeon entrance.

"I-Instructor!"

"You crazy bastard! Where are you going?! Help us! Please!"

He left them there — the trainees ringed by rats, screaming his name — and walked out of the dungeon.

"I-Instructor…"

"Thank you for saving us…"

He set Pika and Roa on their feet. They thanked him in dazed, unsteady voices. He stood with his eyes on the ground, his face raw with guilt, and then he turned back toward the entrance.

"Instructor?"

"You're not… going back in?"

"We don't have time, so listen carefully. An anomaly has occurred inside that dungeon. Rats that should not exist in nature are attacking both monsters and people. Return to the city immediately and report this to the Dark King. Hurry!"

"What about you, Instructor… Instructor? Instructor!"

Pika called after him, but the man did not answer. He stepped back through the dungeon entrance without a word. If even one of them was still alive, he was going to bring them out.

The instructor who went back into that dungeon… never came out again.

Such was the incident that took place in a certain dungeon in the east.