Hounds on the Trail
Slash!
A pale blue arc inscribed itself upon the air, and the variant zombie barring their path was cleaved in two, split clean down the center from crown to groin.
"Any left?"
"That was the last of them, sir."
Intermediate Knight Ray flicked the vile zombie fluid from his blade and gestured with his chin toward the heavy reinforced door at the end of the corridor. Another knight clad in full plate stepped forward swiftly, reaching into his pouch. Engraved starkly upon the polished steel of his breastplate was the crest of the Drake Family.
Beep!
"Move in! Secure the perimeter inside first!"
"Yes, sir!"
Swords drawn, the knight's squires surged into the hallway. The knights followed at a leisurely, arrogant pace.
"Sir Ray, there's a trap."
"Of course there is."
Ray scoffed as he glanced at the tripwire strung at ankle height.
"Mages! What are you standing around for?"
"Right away, sir."
Two mages positioned at the rear of the formation stepped up, quickly assessing the number and positions of the concealed explosives.
"Shield. Layered."
Multiple shimmering defensive barriers overlapped in front of the expedition team. Having waited for the defensive perimeter to lock into place, the second mage unleashed his readied spell.
"Lightning Arrow."
Brilliant bolts of yellow lightning coalesced and aligned in midair before the caster.
"Strike."
The mage thrust his hand forward, sending the electrical projectiles screaming into the tripwires and detonators.
Rumble—crack-boom!
A cascade of secondary explosions ripped down the length of the corridor. Broken floor tiles, shattered concrete, and jagged shrapnel peppered the air, but the mages' precast shields absorbed the shockwaves effortlessly. The deadly fragments ricocheted off the translucent barriers with dull clutters, leaving deep gouges in the walls and ceiling. With a casual flick of wind magic, one mage blew the choking dust clear before turning to Ray.
"All traps have been cleared, sir."
"Good."
Ray strode forward without a moment's hesitation, the rest of the unit falling in behind his armored back.
He marched triumphantly into the Commissioner's Office—only for his face to instantly contort in rage.
The executive suite, which was supposed to have remained untouched for years, had already been thoroughly ransacked. Every drawer hung agape, completely cleaned out. Virtually nothing of value remained.
Ray stormed over to the main desk, his fury boiling over.
"Goddamn it all to hell!"
Crack!
Though the executive desk was made of dense, sturdy hardwood, it split straight down the middle under Ray's mana-infused fist. Splinters showered the floor.
"Who dared... Who the hell beat us here?!"
Their expedition team had been dispatched with a single, crucial directive: retrieve the pristine, functional firearm rumored to be hidden in the Commissioner's Office on the twelfth floor. Yet despite pushing forward as fast as humanly possible, they had arrived to find only empty air.
"Sir Ray, please calm yourself. In any case—"
"Calm down? How in the blazes am I supposed to calm down!"
Ray whipped around, his glare searing the knight who had dared speak up.
"If we fail a mission this simple, do you have any idea how the family will treat us? Need I remind you?"
They belonged to the Drake Family, one of the supreme oligarchies governing the Dungeon City. The family possessed vast military forces, which meant replacements were a dime a dozen. If they failed to seize a rare opportunity like this, getting cast aside into obscurity was only a matter of time. The high command would brand them fools, and their peers would mock them as utterly useless.
Knowing this harsher reality better than anyone, Ray could not tolerate failure.
"We must succeed. Even if it means slaughtering every single rat that crawled into this dungeon. Mages!"
"You called, sir?"
The mages, who had been quietly watching the squires turn the ruined office upside down, hurried forward.
"You heard me."
"..."
"From this second onward, our objective is crystal clear. We track down whoever broke in here, and we take that gun from their dead hands. Use every single method at your disposal."
The two mages exchanged brief looks. In theory, knights and mages answered to separate chains of command within the family, but out here in the dungeon, Ray held operational authority. More importantly, they too needed to secure their standings within the Drake hierarchy. Since their interests aligned, cooperation was non-negotiable.
"...Understood."
"What can you show me?"
Surveying the room, the mages began weaving a specialized spell.
"Everyone, cease your searching and step back, please."
The knights and squires quickly retreated toward the doorway. A moment later, the completed enchantment washed across the Commissioner's Office in a pulse of ethereal light.
Near the entrance, faint silhouettes began to coalesce from residual mana.
Four distinct glowing figures stepped into the room and immediately began rifling through every shelf and drawer with methodical efficiency.
"Is this..."
"Yes. The temporal remnants of those who preceded us."
The expedition watched with bated breath.
After lingering around the desk for a brief spell, the four figures turned and exited the room the same way they had entered. Ray and his men naturally tracked the spectral trail out into the hall.
Rather than heading toward the stairwell the expedition had climbed, the four silhouettes moved directly toward the central elevator shaft. One figure stepped up to the door and manipulated the frame. Seeing this, Ray drew his broadsword and slashed in a blur.
Shing—!
The mana-coated blade shredded the elevator's steel doors into ribbons. Beyond the yawning opening, the ethereal silhouettes could be seen rapidly rappelling down a suspended rope into the darkness.
Midway down the descent, the spectral forms flickered, grew transparent, and vanished entirely.
"The last confirmed floor... is the tenth," Ray muttered, turning back to his squad with bared teeth. "We hunt them down."
"Yes, sir!"
Having reaped a deeply satisfying harvest on the twelfth floor, Bennett's party continued their descent.
Though they had secured an extraordinary prize in the firearm, their rucksacks still had ample space remaining. Returning to the surface with half-empty bags was anathema to any seasoned scavenger, so they focused on scavenging every viable corner along their path.
In doing so, crossing paths with other scavenger parties was inevitable.
Fierce skirmishes like the one on the thirteenth floor were rare. Most scavengers, noticing Bennett's relatively small four-person squad, would initially attempt to pick a fight—only to beat a hasty retreat the instant Erika flashed her spellcraft. Parties lacking a mage scrambled away in sheer terror, while those with mages backed off with sour, reluctant grimaces.
"Coming down from above?"
"We are," Bennett answered calmly.
The group they encountered this time was reminiscent of Jimmy's crew: wary and guarded, but sensible enough to exchange useful information rather than draw steel.
"Then you must've crossed paths with the knights."
"...Knights?"
"Hm? You didn't run into them? Could've sworn you would have. Where were they from again?"
A female swordswoman standing beside their leader, Jang, whispered hastily into his ear.
"I told you, boss. It was the Drake Family."
"Right, right. The Drake Family!" Jang scratched his head sheepishly. "Anyway, those Drake bastards were practically flying up the floors like their rears were on fire."
"Do you happen to know why?"
"How would I know? Not like I'm on their payroll. Some urgent business, I reckon. They threw a massive fit, barking that they'd butcher anyone who got in their way, so I just stepped aside and let 'em pass."
Behind his stoic expression, Bennett frowned.
An expedition team from the Drake Family rushing upward in a frenzy?
They had likely acquired intelligence regarding the firearm through some proprietary channel. There was no other reason an elite noble strike team would sprint blindly up the floors without methodically clearing or looting the lower levels.
"Thank you for the valuable information."
"Best of luck to you!"
Parting ways with Jang's party, Bennett relayed the news to his companions in a hushed tone.
"The Drake Family..." Erika murmured thoughtfully. "It's entirely possible. They sponsor dozens of dungeon scholars, after all."
"If they're hunting the gun as we suspect, a clash is practically guaranteed," Bennett said, his sharp eyes sweeping over his comrades. "Is everyone all right with that?"
Kyle, Edgar, and Erika exchanged glances, and small, resolute smiles touched their lips.
"What choice do we have?" Erika said. "We can't just hand it over."
"Drake Family or not, so what?" Edgar grumbled, rolling his massive shoulders. "Do our weapons magically bounce off their hides?"
"...Honestly, I consider this a welcome opportunity," Kyle added, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic edge.
Bennett glanced at him, mildly surprised. "Why is that?"
"My house happens to share a rather bitter history with them."
A quiet wave of reassurance and kinship washed over Bennett. He has a grudge against them as well.
"Well, I don't really have any bad blood with 'em," Edgar blurted out, completely misreading the room.
The moment three icy glares landed squarely on him, the giant clamped his mouth shut and looked away.
"I don't have any personal grudges either," Erika chimed in with a sweet smile, "but there's no way in hell I'm giving up my money!"
Bennett fought back the corners of his lips from twitching upward. "Avoiding them is our first priority, but if a fight finds us, we won't run. That's the consensus?"
"Yes, sir!"
Having reached an accord, the party pushed forward into the eighth floor.
Evidently, no other scavengers had swept through here yet; zombies still wandered aimlessly along the corridor. Fortunately, they were ordinary undead rather than agile variants.
"Leave this to me!"
Edgar stepped forward boldly, swinging his heavy mace in a ferocious, bone-shattering arc.
Whoosh!
Instead of bursting into pulverized gore, the zombie dissolved like smoke the moment the iron head passed through it.
Having struck empty air, Edgar staggered slightly, staring in bewilderment back and forth between his weapon and the empty space where the creature had stood.
"What... what the hell?"
At that exact fraction of a second, an adjacent office door flew open with a violent slam.
"Edgar, look out!"
Kyle's warning rang out sharp and clear, but Edgar's focus had been completely derailed by the phantom zombie. His reaction lagged by half a heartbeat.
By the time he turned his head, the ambusher was already mid-swing.
A gleaming, razor-sharp blade descended, whistling through the air straight toward Edgar's throat.