The Next Dungeon

—From where I sit, the odds are high that you will cross paths with Ra'al's true body before long.

Ever since eliminating Umar, the cult's overseer in Dungeon City, Bennett had not encountered Ra'al or his influence again.

Yet now, he was being told that he wouldn't merely face the entity's zealots—he would encounter its actual physical form.

Questions crowded Bennett's mind, but he kept silent and chose to listen. The entity was offering information willingly, so there was no need to rush.

"And what do you want from me?"

—If you should lay eyes upon that wretch Ra'al...

The presence swelled. Through the rippling, indistinct haze, a distinct emotion flared.

—I want you to obliterate him entirely.

"...Obliterate?"

—Yes. Absolute annihilation.

Bennett cocked his head. He did not know the full truth behind why the dimensional Earth had collapsed, but so far, he had assumed it was caused by the Outsiders alongside entities like Ra'al.

He had taken it for granted that they were on the same side.

"Are you two not aligned?"

—Aligned?

The pitch of the voice hardly shifted, yet Bennett felt the venom dripping from it clearly.

—Do you know what I despise above all else?

"..."

—Traitors. Betrayers. It is not enough that he turned upon the master he once served; he had the insolence to steal that name and flaunt it as his own. A transgression of the highest order. Were it within my power, I would crush him with my own hands.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The unnaturally twisted neck rotated a full three hundred and sixty degrees in a sickening sweep. Because it was merely a silhouette composed of shifting gloom, no bone or flesh was visible, yet Bennett caught himself almost reaching up to touch his own neck.

—Yet I cannot do so. Hence, my proposition to you.

"I assume you don't expect me to work for free."

—Naturally. There is much I can offer, but...

The figure paused in contemplation, then extended a languid, disproportionately long arm.

—I shall grant power to those insignificant creatures who scurry at your heels.

"My party members?"

—It would be proper to bestow it upon you, but it seems you are incapable of accepting my mana.

Bennett shifted his gaze toward Syd.

Unlike York, who had carried an animated lip brand on his fist, this young priest bore a vivid, pulsating divine brand sprawling across his forearm.

—I do not intend to impart power through a conduit as I do with my flock. From what I observe, this world of yours utilizes mana, does it not?

"What of it?"

—My strength likewise originates from mana. In short, I can excise a portion of my own reserves and graft it onto them.

Transferring mana directly?

Bennett himself wielded otherworldly psionic energy and could not absorb ordinary mana, but his companions were regular users. If their mana pools were forcefully enlarged, they would undoubtedly become far stronger.

—It is mana infinitely purer than anything circulating in this realm. Given that it originates directly from my essence, it carries a trace of divinity, however faint. Against those wielding crude, unrefined mana, they will triumph with trivial ease.

Obliterating Ra'al.

Fighting Ra'al was something Bennett had no objection to. Although they hadn't crossed paths since Umar's death, that was hardly the end of it.

To ensure no lingering threats returned to haunt him, the matter had to be settled permanently sooner or later.

However, the proposed reward sat uncomfortably with him.

Excising mana and transferring it?

On the surface, it sounded generous, but from Bennett's perspective, it raised red flags.

Could his companions truly endure an alien energy containing even a faint trace of divinity? More importantly, would it leave them uncorrupted?

The entity before him—the one Syd referred to reverently as 'That Person'—might not be outwardly hostile like the Curse Hand or Ra'al, but it was an outsider from another dimension all the same.

Whether it counted among the Outsiders or originated from the ruins of dimensional Earth remained unclear, making absolute trust impossible. No matter how civil its demeanor appeared, caution was mandatory.

Even if it didn't brand them like common cultists, taking its raw power into their flesh might functionally bind them to its will all the same.

"Let's change the terms," Bennett said.

—Hm?

"I'll see to expanding my party's mana through my own means. Give me the funds required to achieve that instead."

Silence hung in the air for a long beat. Masked behind the shadowy silhouette, the entity's thoughts were impossible to read.

"And one more thing."

—What else?

"I'll be the one taking that excised mana."

—...You? That should be impossible for your vessel.

"My conditions are twofold: sever that portion of mana and hand it directly to me, and provide enough capital to acquire elixirs. Not cheap draughts, mind you—enough to purchase high-grade elixirs at minimum."

—Hmph. What game are you playing? Inscrutable creature.

Bennett offered no explanation. He could hardly admit that he planned to feed that alien mana straight into his own anomalous system to convert it into raw attribute points.

—Very well. Insolent as you are, the task before you is no small undertaking.

—Keep in mind, however: since I am meeting your price, the result must be absolute.

An implicit threat rippled beneath the words, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Bennett did not yield an inch.

"You'd best have your end prepared just as thoroughly. Otherwise..."

You will suffer the same fate as Ra'al.

Bennett didn't voice the thought aloud, but the entity seemed to read the subtext; its silhouette shuddered slightly with amusement.

—Audacious. Truly audacious.

"Hm."

—Yet you have already produced results, so I shall indulge such impudence. I will await your victory.

In an instant, the looming silhouette dissolved into nothingness. Syd raised his head as though stirring from a trance.

"Did you catch what was discussed?" Bennett asked.

"I wasn't truly asleep, you know." Syd's lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. "Until we meet again."

"You know, I've been thinking," Erika said, leaning in slightly.

Bennett glanced over. "...About what?"

"Why don't we set up a proper hideout for our party?"

"A hideout?"

"Yes!"

Bennett hesitated. Though he had spent a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠decade as a wandering mercenary before arriving in Dungeon City to become a scavenger, the concept of a fixed base of operations was foreign to him. Throughout his long mercenary career, he had never maintained anything of the sort.

During his early days in organized mercenary companies, such luxuries were nonexistent; running a dedicated headquarters cost exorbitant sums. Even as he grew seasoned and earned a name for himself, he had operated solo. Later, when he took on long-term contracts and trained a few apprentices, they had moved constantly from contract to contract, never settling down.

"What do Kyle and Edgar think?"

"To be honest, I was looking for the right moment to bring it up myself," Kyle said with an embarrassed smile. "Erika-nim beat me to the punch."

"I'm completely on board!" Edgar boomed.

With unanimous agreement, Bennett saw no reason to object. Having a fortified retreat wouldn't hurt. Holding sensitive tactical discussions inside an established safehouse was far safer than speaking in public taverns, and it would provide a private ground for group combat training.

"We'll look into it once we clear this next dungeon," Bennett agreed.

"Understood!"

The companions shared bright smiles, but the lighthearted mood evaporated the moment they stepped into the Pioneers' Hall.

Countless scavengers packed the staging grounds, their nerves visibly taut on the verge of the portal opening. The stifling, invisible pressure radiating from hundreds of hardened killers filled the cavernous pavilion, setting everyone nearby on edge.

"Bennett-nim," Kyle murmured, drifting closer to his side. "It looks like the major factions are participating heavily in this rotation."

Kyle was right. Under normal circumstances, private mercenary parties and faction-sponsored strike teams maintained a relatively even split. Today, however, the faction forces dramatically outnumbered independent scavengers. It wasn't that freelance scavengers were absent—rather, the great houses had deployed far more manpower than usual, swelling the Pioneers' Hall to capacity.

"Over there is the Starfall House expedition," Kyle pointed out under his breath. "Beside them... an elven strike team. Even a war band from the Church of the War God is present. This rotation is going to be brutally contested."

"The Drake Family sent an expedition too," Edgar muttered, his brow furrowing.

"Wait, really?"

Every prominent faction with clout in Dungeon City seemed to have dispatched an elite force. The overwhelming presence was intimidating enough that several independent parties were already abandoning the staging grounds or sheepishly moving toward the Easy difficulty portal line.

"Look, the Beryl House is over by the pillar."

"The Grande Magic Tower is here as well."

While his teammates voiced their astonishment, Bennett felt a sharp prickle of unease.

This feels all too familiar.

It mirrored the incident at the Closed Police Headquarters, where he had acquired the service pistol. Back then, he had assumed a prominent syndicate like the Drake Family simply possessed superior intelligence. In retrospect, however, their timing had been deeply unnatural.

Bennett's party had stumbled onto that functional firearm by pure chance after scouring the building floor by floor, yet the Drake strike team had marched in with pinpoint certainty, as if they had known what was waiting from the very start.

The scene unfolding before him carried that exact same stench. The most influential noble houses and magic orders in Dungeon City had turned out en masse, as if they had been waiting for this exact rotation.

"Gather round," Bennett said quietly. "Erika, sound barrier."

"Ah, right away."

Erika swiftly wove a spell, casting a shimmering acoustic barrier of mana around the four of them. A nearby party cast suspicious glances at the sudden pulse of magic, but Bennett ignored them.

"Something is definitely up with this dungeon," Bennett said.

"Something... like what?" Kyle asked.

"Cover your mouths while speaking. There are people here capable of reading lips."

"Right."

The party raised hands and gauntlets to mask their lips. The soundproofing ward was transparent, leaving their faces fully exposed to keen observers from outside.

"The major factions have all deployed their elites simultaneously, as if by prior arrangement," Bennett continued. "Do you understand what that implies?"

Kyle's expression hardened. "It means... they know which dungeon is opening next, and what's hidden inside."

"Wait, is that even possible?" Edgar blurted out, his eyes wide.

Erika looked equally skeptical. Bennett merely gestured with his chin toward the staging plaza outside the ward.

The proof stood right before their eyes: fully armored, specialized strike teams from rival factions, primed and waiting in formation.

"At the very least, we must assume they know the nature of the dungeon that's about to spawn," Bennett said.

"Good grief..." Erika breathed.

Until now, common knowledge held that predicting the next dungeon rotation was impossible. Certain environments did occasionally recur in the Easy difficulty pool, but that merely allowed scavengers to recall past layouts if fortune happened to favor them. Accurately forecasting an upcoming Hard-difficulty dungeon and preparing specialized gear in advance was an entirely different matter.

"So, I want everyone's input," Bennett said.

"Our input?"

"Do we enter this rotation, or do we sit this one out and wait for the next?"

Right at that moment, the acoustic ward trembled faintly.

"The dungeon has reset," Kyle noted.

Outside the barrier, the assembled scavengers began surging toward the massive dimensional portal in an aggressive, crowded rush.

"As for me..." ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Edgar was the first to speak up, his jaw set firmly. "I want to go in!"

"What makes you say that?" Bennett asked.

"Huh? Well... there's no real reason to back down, is there?"

Kyle and Erika let out brief, wry chuckles.

"I'd like to proceed as well," Kyle chimed in. "I'm genuinely curious to see what could possibly be waiting in there to make every prominent faction mobilize like this."

Erika nodded in agreement. "All those noble strike teams are bound to tear into each other. If they wipe one another out, isn't there a chance our party could sweep in and scoop up the real prizes...?"

True to her practical mindset, her thoughts immediately gravitated toward the potential profit.

"Besides," Edgar added, "dealing with corrupt aristocrats and rival humans is still better than facing unknown abominations from beyond."

"He has a point," Kyle agreed. "With Bennett-nim capable of beating down otherworldly monstrosities, there's no need for us to be excessively timid. We just need to remain vigilant."

Seeing that everyone was in full accord, Bennett gave a firm nod.

"Then we move."

"Understood!"

As Erika dismissed the soundproofing barrier, the cacophony of the crowded plaza crashed back over their ears. Perhaps because so many scavengers had pushed forward, the queue for the Easy portal had shrunk considerably, but a dense, heavily armed throng still crowded before the Hard-difficulty gate.

It took considerable time for Bennett's party to reach the portal threshold. Stepping through, the familiar sensation of spatial displacement washed over them, twisting reality until their feet found solid purchase once more.

Thud.

The instant his boots hit the floor, Bennett snapped his head around to survey their surroundings. They stood inside an oddly confined, elongated chamber.

It was a long, narrow metal cabin flanked on both sides by rows of plastic seats and hanging hand straps. Automated folding doors were set into the front and middle sections of the compartment.

On the wall above the windows hung a colored schematic:

Bennett's party was standing inside a stationary public bus.

The word bus was an alien term derived from the Dungeon Language, but Bennett already understood its function thanks to the scholarly explanations he had extracted from Marco—it was a modern mass-transit vehicle.