A Tomb? Whose?

"A tomb? Whose?"

"If it's a tomb, then... don't tell me...?"

- Yeah. My flesh is buried here.

"?!"

- Calling it a tomb myself feels a bit weird. More precisely, it's just a part of my body, I suppose?

Vulcan's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heart raced with both excitement and dread at those words. If this was a tomb, it had to be brimming with Tud's legacy—thrilling prospects. Yet the fear crept in that this might be the end of his arrangements. He was only level 200, after all. Even if he'd claimed to have inherited everything from Tud already, it felt far too soon, far too insufficient. Even with Tud's soul sticking around, from here on out, he'd have to carve his own path. The thought left a pang of regret and thirst.

'It's over already...?'

- What bullshit is that? When did I say this was everything?

I just said a part of my body is here.

"Huh? Isn't that the same thing?"

But Tud, reading Vulcan's mind, just reacted with utter disbelief. His body might have scattered here, but claiming his full inheritance? Vulcan was a long way off.

- Tsk tsk. Don't lump our great race's abilities in with you pathetic humans. Separating and regenerating blood, bones, flesh—child's play for us.

"Ah, lizards."

- What did you call me?! Comparing us to lowly reptiles? Your respect for dragons is...!

Only then did it click for Vulcan. Lizardmen and such reptilian monsters could sever and regrow body parts. A piece of Tud's body lay here, that's all.

Tud stomped and nipped at Vulcan's head in a huff over the simple explanation, but Vulcan brushed it off. The point was, this wasn't Tud's entirety or finale. He could loot it without worry.

'So, crafting materials? Dragon bone or scales? If so, processing them right could yield graduation gear.'

Buzzing with speculation, Vulcan stepped inside.

The dungeon's layout was straightforward: a clean, square tunnel stretched ahead, lit by magical lights that brightly illuminated everything—as if boldly welcoming intruders: come if you dare.

"...What the hell is all this?"

Vulcan halted after a few steps. No guardians or barriers, but his eyes spotted them: the floor packed tight with trap plates.

- Traps, obviously. The flower of any dungeon, right?

Tud cackled, but these were no pushovers. Scarce safe footing—one misstep and traps would trigger. Walls shimmered with ominous glows, promising deadly ejections.

"What kind of insanity..."

Click.

Vulcan's Dragon Eye revealed safe paths, so he advanced tensely. But on the second step—

Blinding flashes scrambled his vision; safe zones shifted.

"!!"

Fwsh!!

Arrows rained from the walls. Vulcan recoiled, but one arced predictably toward his temple.

'Telekinesis!'

Not basic control—Vulcan twisted its trajectory just enough to graze.

"Guh?!"

Kagang!!

No easy feat. The arrow's force resisted; it merely skimmed his helmet's edge. Gear-focused on options over defense, yet the helmet dented, squeezing his head. A concussion-level jolt rattled his brain.

"What the fuck is this power?!"

- Kyahahaha!

Tud laughed at Vulcan's shock, but it wasn't funny. He'd minimized damage barely, yet HP chunked out from the graze alone. Helmet durability plummeted. Vulcan yanked it off and slumped, steadying himself.

"Telekinesis."

Regaining wits, he pulled the fallen arrow with telekinesis.

"A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trap arrow with this power? What were you thinking when you made these?"

- What thinking? Traps I made myself— this power's standard! My incarnation could pass safely with Dragon Eye, but clueless thieves eyeing my legacy? Gotta punish 'em!

Insane specs. Not Vulcan's old Unjust Arrows or new Crushing Arrows—these were mere trap fodder. Yet Unique grade, with that attack and options? A direct hit would pierce, crush wounds, rendering heals useless. Perfect finisher shot.

"Fair point, but..."

Even for guarding a dragon's legacy, overkill. Only a legendary craftsman's traps.

"Why the weird trajectories? And shifting safe zones?"

- Tsk tsk tsk. Still clueless. Why install dungeon traps?

"To kill intruders, duh."

- Wrong! If blocking, seal the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠entrance tighter or hide deeper. Traps expire eventually; known dungeons get breached.

"Then why bother with traps?"

Vulcan bristled at the scolding, protesting. Tud's answer shattered norms.

- To piss 'em off, obviously! Kyahahaha.

"...Yeah, true. Dungeons are for tilting the enemy."

Not wrong. But did his own incarnation need tilting? No retort came.

"Tch. Fine."

A spark of spite ignited. Feeling toyed by the glutton dragon, Vulcan plotted petty revenge.

- Huh? What're you doing?

"Stone Base Creation."

Repairing his helmet, Vulcan reactivated Dragon Eye and approached the traps. He slammed down stone bases, crushing plates en masse.

Thud!

Fwshsh!!

Arrows flew wildly, piercing air.

- That won't...

"Stone Base Creation."

Thud!

Fwshsh!!

No advance. Tud scoffed, expecting base-walking. Instead, Vulcan stacked another layer.

Weight triggered re-fire—arrows whizzed harmlessly. He hadn't moved forward.

"These'll come in handy."

Grinning wickedly, he telekinetically collected them.

- ...You're farming them?

"Arrows this quality? Sell for top gold each. Heh heh heh!"

Returning the shady grin, Vulcan repeated until ammo depleted. Instance dungeon—reset on exit, but he stayed, exhausting stocks.

With Tud's legacy ahead, he'd reset for arrows if needed. Archers would pay premium for these monsters.

'Jackpot.'

Tud tongue-clicked in unforeseen admiration. Vulcan piled bases, smashed, triggered deliberately. Exhaust one trap's load, advance slightly, repeat. Subspace filled with Death Arrows.

Thus, he cleared the first trap zone, pockets full.

"Next up... Huh?"

At the end, no next area—a white door blocked.

Dragon Eye active, but end flickered blindingly; he tensed, unconfirmed.

"Entrance to the next gate or something?"

- Can't you see? This is the second.

"...This?"

Not a divider—this door was the trial.

"Wait, this color looks familiar..."

Closer look: not natural white—heat-altered.

'Red-hot?'

Approaching, scorching waves hit. Blacksmith's eye confirmed: overheated metal glow.

"This thing's heated?!"

Should be molten at that temp, yet solid—special metal or magic.

"...Touch wrong, it'll melt."

Obvious: heat would liquify hand or weapon on contact. Even tough gear wouldn't survive a strike unscathed; blades especially useless against thickness.

- So, problem?

"...Nah. None."

Irrelevant to Vulcan. Legendary apron's fire immunity made the sizzle mere heater warmth.

"Door, so open it?"

Sizzle.

Confident, Vulcan braced, hands on hot iron.

"Blessing of Strength."

No damage confirmed; minor HP for strength buff. He heaved.

Thud. Gruuumble—

Heavy as expected—even STR-maxed Vulcan strained fully. Slowly, it yielded.

"Guh?!"

Screeech—Boom!

Peeking the crack: not heat—hellfire leaked.

Gear screamed as flames touched—not door's heat insulating inward blaze.

Fire immunity didn't shield durability. Door slammed shut, saving gear bottoms.

Normies would despair: fire resist needs gear, but flames melt it.

"Damn, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that'd tilt anyone."

Options existed: ice spells, resist gear, vent flames. But exit-reset meant arrow refill.

First hard, repeats easier—but unknown trials ahead? Frustrating.

'Flames, heat, red-hot door... Hmm?'

Vulcan differed. Durability pause aside, he was immune, ready for more. Bonus gains possible.

- Scheming again?

"Nah, this is the answer, right?"

- Shifty eyes...

Vulcan stripped to panties, apron, gloves. No item effects, but STR sufficed.

Thud. Gruuumble!!

Door creaked open; flames lunged harmlessly.

"Flame Absorption."

Work gloves sucked it in—absorb/store/emit option.

Hyper-dense; capacity maxed quick. Rest he'd tank.

"Flame Control."

Glove's other perk: flames retreated fearfully, obeying his will. Tud's foreseen solution.

'Perfect.'

Siiiizzle—

Passage cooled rapidly sans blaze.

- Why pull that out? Still hot.

Vulcan fetched from inventory: Freezing Staff, accelerating cooldown pre-durability loss.

"Ice Storm!"

Direct clash futile, but fanning cooling metal? Ideal. Chills swept behind; he spammed.

"Ice Storm! Ice Storm! Ice...!"

- Wait, you don't mean...?

Tud caught on, staring slack-jawed. Vulcan grinned back, stowing staff, redonning apron/gloves nude.

"Might as well take it all—no point leaving scraps."

Flames surged past him, clawing the chilled door.

Crack! Craaaack!!

Door wailed: rapid cool/heat cycles warped, cracked it.

- Dismantling the dungeon for your pockets. What kind of maniac are you?

“Heh. You were the one who originally said it: the most effective traps are designed specifically to tilt and destabilize your foes. Therefore, from the perspective of the attackers, finding a way to completely tilt the maker of those very traps—now that’s what I would consider a truly proper strategic walkthrough and a masterful conquest, wouldn't you agree?”

Gruuumble!!

Hyper-heat-proof door shattered. Massive chunks itemized, vanishing into Vulcan's subspace.