The Free Knight

Clank, clank.

A figure encased from head to toe in full plate armor emerged into view. Both parties halted in their tracks, sizing each other up across the corridor. The standoff lasted only a heartbeat before the armored newcomer made the first move, lifting the visor that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠obscured their face with a single gauntleted hand.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

The face beneath belonged to a woman with bright, cheerful features. Neither Bennett nor his companions showed much surprise; in this era, female mercenaries who took up arms and plunged into the thick of battle were hardly uncommon. Indeed, female mages, mercenaries, and free knights roamed the frontier in plentiful numbers.

"Greetings," Bennett replied, stepping forward as the party leader to exchange courtesies with the unknown knight.

"I'm Rose. A free knight."

"I'm Bennett, leader of this party."

"Bennett? Hmm, that sounds familiar..." Rose trailed off, then caught Bennett glancing past her shoulder and gave an easy shrug. "I don't have anyone with me. I had a party initially, but some absolute lunatics scattered us to the winds. The iron doors suddenly flew wide open, and hundreds of zombies came pouring out like a flood."

"Ah."

It was the exact same catastrophe Bennett and his companions had just endured.

"Did you run into the same mess?" she asked.

"...Something like that."

"Must be nice that you managed to stick together. I barely escaped with my life—lost my rations, supplies, everything." Rose brushed off flecks of rancid zombie flesh clinging to her breastplate, an embarrassed smile playing on her lips. "So, um... do you mind if I travel with you?"

"Travel together?"

"Just until we get out of this dungeon. I may not have food or water, but..." Rose raised her empty hand, miming a clean, crisp sword slash. Though it was only an unarmed gesture, the fluid discipline behind the motion proved she was no amateur. "I can pull my own weight in a fight. I'm no Mana Practitioner, mind you, but I know how to use a blade."

Bennett considered her offer for a brief moment before nodding. "Very well. You're welcome to join."

He had not accepted her out of sudden, naive trust. Rather, circumstances demanded extra vanguard strength, even if taking on a stranger carried inherent risks. Someone had not only flooded the Blocked Prison with blazing light, but had deliberately released hordes of locked-away undead. Whoever they were, having a Dungeon Scholar among their ranks meant they were no ragtag outfit. The probability of running into them was alarmingly high, and against such an unknown faction, the more capable blades on their side, the better.

"We'd appreciate your help until we make it out. Over here are Kyle and Edgar."

"Pleased to meet you both!"

With a new member in tow, Bennett stood before an intersection, contemplating their path forward. The corridor branched into five separate directions. Excluding the path Rose had just escaped from, four options remained.

"We'll scout them one by one."

Bennett ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠decided to inspect each route directly. Corridor two led into a chamber crawling with the walking dead. A fleeting glance revealed a sign reading [Cell Block C]; seeing nothing but an ocean of rotting flesh, Bennett promptly ordered a retreat. Corridor three was completely sealed by a heavy barricade. Though a door peeked through the gaps between the piled debris, climbing over it was impossible, making the route useless. Corridor four was much the same, blocked by another hastily constructed barricade, the only difference being that this one sat somewhat closer to the entrance than the third.

In the end, corridor five was the only viable path.

Walking in silence, they arrived at what appeared to be an institutional cafeteria. Massive tables and benches lay overturned throughout the spacious hall, with only a few remaining intact. And seated at one of those surviving tables was a group of scavengers.

Edgar peered through the entrance, glancing back toward Bennett. "...Should we wait until they finish eating and clear out?"

Bennett shook his head. "And what if they head straight this way?"

"Ah. Yeah, that could get awkward."

Creak—

Bennett pushed the door open, his brow furrowing the moment he stepped inside. It had not been apparent from the corridor, but the interior of the cafeteria was unnaturally dark—an unsettling anomaly given that the main halls were illuminated as bright as midday.

"Excuse us."

As if only just registering Bennett's presence, the scavengers hunched over their meals slowly turned their heads toward the door.

"...H-hello."

The man who seemed to be their leader bowed his head slightly. His speech sounded strangely slurred, as if he had suffered severe trauma to his throat.

"Do you mind if we pass through? We're heading toward the far exit."

Bennett pointed toward a passageway on the opposite side of the hall. Unlike the entrance they had used, that portal stood wide open without a door. But the exact instant the seated scavengers tilted their heads in unison, Bennett whipped out Shooting Star.

Aiming directly at a mass of dark-crimson flesh creeping silently along the ceiling, he pulled the trigger.

Thwip! The bolt struck true, and the ceiling-bound horror writhed in frantic agony.

Screeeech!

Realizing their ambush had been exposed, dozens of dark-red tentacles hidden within the rafters shot downward. Hideous shrieks echoed overhead alongside a shower of foul, unidentified fluid. It was a terrifying ambush that would have thrown any normal scavenger into panic, but Bennett's companions drew their weapons without missing a beat. Having caught Bennett's subtle hand signal behind his back moments prior, their muscles were already coiled, waiting for the strike.

Clang! Thump!

The descending tentacles slammed hard against Edgar's heavy shield, recoiling from the solid impact. Kyle and Rose seized the opening instantly, their swords flashing through the dim air.

Slash!

Bennett leveled his repeating crossbow, firing bolt after bolt into the wriggling mass above as his senses spiked.

More tentacles whipped through the shadows, lunging at his blind spot. Twisting his torso mid-motion, Bennett triggered his newly acquired mobility trait.

His vision contracted as if telescoping forward, and his entire body shot across the floor like an arrow released from a bowstring.

Dash!

Covering five meters in the blink of an eye, Bennett stumbled slightly as his boots touched down.

Harder to control than I anticipated.

Because it was his first time deploying Flash Sprint in actual combat, the sheer acceleration caught him off guard. Still, now that he had a grasp of the sensation, handling it in the future wouldn't pose any issue.

"They're almost dealt with!" Kyle shouted.

Most of the tentacles had been severed by steel or riddled with bolts, hanging limp and lifeless. In a final desperate act, the tendrils anchored inside the seated scavengers' skulls tore free, lashing out toward the party. Rose kicked off the ground with impressive agility, her longsword carving a sharp arc that severed the flailing flesh in midair, sending thick black ichor splattering across the tiles.

In that instant, Bennett's ability to pierce the darkness sharpened dramatically, his field of view expanding with newfound clarity. While he took a breath to let his senses adjust to the shift, Kyle cautiously stepped toward the corpses slumped over the table.

"...I've never seen anything like this."

The scavengers' craniums had been hollowed out completely, leaving only an empty shell of skin and bone. The robotic gestures and slurred greetings they had displayed had all been orchestrated by the parasitic appendages puppeteering their corpses from above. Cold, untouched rations sat before them on the table, indicating they had been taken while eating.

"It's a monster occasionally spotted in Hard-difficulty dungeons," Rose explained, sheathing her sword. "People usually call them Brain Eaters because of their feeding habits. I've heard rumors they can manipulate a victim's basic motor functions, but to actually see it..."

The party glanced up at the ceiling where the remaining dead tendrils dangled like macabre vines. If Bennett hadn't subtly signaled them, none of them would have realized the trap until it was too late. Had they strolled casually through the cafeteria, those tentacles would have plunged straight into the backs of their necks.

"You saved our lives," Rose said, exhaling in relief. "And here I thought I had sharp eyes..."

"I simply happened to see them," Bennett answered smoothly.

He brushed it off as luck, but it was entirely thanks to Night Vision. In truth, even Bennett hadn't spotted them at first; he had only caught on because the tendrils had begun creeping downward to position themselves behind the party's heads. Had the creature remained completely motionless, even he might have missed it.

"Let's gather their gear."

"Understood."

The party moved swiftly and without hesitation to strip the deceased scavengers of their equipment. Having avenged the fallen party, they felt no moral qualms about reclaiming their abandoned possessions. Rose, having escaped her previous predicament with nothing but the armor on her back, claimed one of the dead scavengers' packs to secure some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠carrying capacity.

"All right, let's move."

Leaving the cafeteria behind, Bennett led them a short distance further until they found a defensible alcove to establish a temporary camp. Under normal circumstances, they might have rested and eaten in the dining hall, but sleeping in a room strewn with hollowed-out corpses and severed monster tentacles was a grim prospect none of them cared to entertain.

"I wonder how many days have passed out there," Kyle murmured, leaning against the wall.

"Who knows," Edgar grunted.

It was a well-known reality that the passage of time warped abnormally inside dimensional dungeons. Explorers occasionally brought mechanical watches to track the hours, but more often than not, the moment one crossed the threshold of a portal, the internal mechanisms malfunctioned, rendering them useless. Thus, scavengers rarely ate or slept on a rigid schedule, choosing instead to rest whenever a fleeting opportunity presented itself. It wreaked havoc on one's circadian rhythm, but it was a burden all scavengers bore.

Still, it's far better than wandering alone, Bennett thought.

"I'll take the first watch," Bennett announced, checking a small hourglass he kept in his pouch. "Then Rose-nim, Kyle, and Edgar, in that order."

When his shift concluded, Bennett gently nudged Rose awake. Sleeping soundly in full plate, she rubbed the exhaustion from her eyes and sat up. Though she looked slightly haggard from fatigue, the weariness did little to diminish her striking beauty.

"I'll leave the perimeter to you."

"Don't worry, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I've got it."

Settling into a secluded corner, Bennett closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep. Or so he believed—until hushed voices filtered into his ears, stirring him awake. Judging by his body's restored stamina, several hours had slipped by.

"Kyle, you're a scion of the Lewis Family, aren't you?"

"...How do you know that?"

"Bennett wouldn't know because he's a commoner, but even though my house fell, I'm still a noble lady. And from a swordsmanship lineage, at that. It would be stranger for someone like me not to recognize the Lewis name. Your family's sword arts are quite famous, after all."

The last traces of drowsiness vanished from Bennett's mind.

The Lewis Family?

The name rang a distant bell. He recalled hearing tales of a prestigious noble house from a neighboring kingdom, renowned for cultivating the finest fencing masters in the realm, that had collapsed overnight under the weight of false political accusations. Rumors persisted that a handful of descendants had survived the purge, but their whereabouts were entirely unknown; most assumed whatever survivors remained were lying low in some obscure rural backwater.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say," Kyle replied, his voice guarded.

"Why don't you leave Bennett and form a party with me instead?"

"A party... with you?"

"Wouldn't it be far better for true nobles to join forces? Certainly better than relying on a baseborn commoner with no pedigree to his name."

Bennett kept his breathing steady, committing every word to memory.

Once their rest period ended and their stamina was replenished, the party gathered their belongings and resumed their march. Corridors branching toward various cell blocks appeared periodically, but Bennett took great care to steer clear of them. Even sluggish, shambling corpses became an existential nightmare when gathered in the hundreds—and facing hundreds of newly invigorated, agile undead was an outcome he had no desire to test.

After navigating several sharp turns and abandoned hallways, they arrived at a new chamber.

The sign above the lintel read [Infirmary].

For a prison of this scale, the room was remarkably compact. A few neatly arranged cots and several pieces of medical machinery of unknown function occupied the space. It had the bare essentials, almost as if set up merely to satisfy formal regulations.

"This place looks awfully similar to where we fought those bastards from the Hunters," Edgar noted, scanning the room.

"It certainly does," Kyle agreed.

To guard against an ambush, Kyle stood watch by the doorway, his eyes scanning the corridor with razor focus. Meanwhile, Bennett, Edgar, and Rose began systematically searching the infirmary's cabinets and shelves.

A variety of miscellaneous medical sundries turned up: disposable syringes, small glass vials containing strange liquids, and plastic bottles filled with pills. Unlike Bennett's party, who possessed relatively little experience with modern Earth ruins, Rose had ventured into high-tech dungeons numerous times and proved immensely helpful in identifying the scavenged goods.

"What about this?" Edgar asked, holding up an item.

"If you have room in your bag, take it," Rose replied briskly. "That's worth a decent price."

She really does have plenty of dungeon experience, Bennett observed.

Rummaging through a metal desk drawer, Bennett's fingers brushed against something peculiar. It was a heavy, cylindrical object resembling a stylus pen, encased in a polished metal sheath. At first glance, he wondered if it was another variant of the syringes Rose had described, but it lacked a plunger or needle hub. It seemed designed merely to be spun idly between one's fingers. The metallic casing felt icy against his palm, yet beneath the cold surface, a faint, pulsing warmth seemed to radiate from its core.

Is it warm because I'm holding it?

Before he could ponder further, translucent script blazed before his eyes.

Bennett's eyes narrowed slightly.

...Steal it in secret?