Abracadabra's Nest
The person who'd summoned me to the castle was, as expected, someone dispatched from the imperial court.
"You're Evan, right? I've heard a lot about you—the verified talent who won the tournament."
"I see."
"With your level of skill, you could handle mercenary work fitting for the Hero's Party just fine..."
The man prattled on for a good while in front of me, gesturing dramatically.
He was a guy with one hell of a silver tongue.
I couldn't even begin to imagine how many people he'd reeled in with it.
He went on about how amazing I was, how my abilities meant I could tackle any mission, the honors I'd claim in the Hero's Party, what a glorious opportunity this was for me.
It didn't land with me at all, but for folks who eat up flattery, it'd be pure honey.
I've seen brainless but brawny mercenaries get played by slimy bastards like this plenty of times.
Now I got it—this was how.
No clue why, but a mustache would've suited the old guy perfectly.
About ten minutes later, the man finally wrapped up his spiel and got to the point.
"Ahem. So, you'll need to head into the dungeon."
Dungeon.
I think I'd explained them before,
but back then it was just something like "they might dungeon break~" so I'll go into more detail this time.
Dungeons are lairs for monsters that spawn where demonic energy builds up past a certain point.
No one knows the exact mechanism.
Why demonic energy accumulates bit by bit in human lands, not the Demon Realm.
Why it leads to a dungeon forming there.
Countless hypotheses are being researched, but none have reached solid theory status.
Without cracking this, fully controlling dungeon outbreaks is basically impossible.
Humanity's history has always flowed alongside that of dungeons.
That said, it's not like total control is out of reach.
The Lunia Church assembles disaster prevention teams to sprinkle holy water and perform rituals wherever they can, curbing buildup as much as possible.
They even erect watchtowers in high-risk areas, barely keeping new dungeons from exploding exponentially.
But in principle, when one pops up, the local noble governing the area has to send troops.
That's the empire's law, designed to curb the Lunia Church's influence.
So nobles handle dungeons for show at best, or subcontract to mercenaries like me.
When folks take these jobs, there are two ways to handle it.
1. Clear the dungeon.
2. Periodically cull the monsters inside to reduce the demonic energy buildup.
Option one is practically impossible in most cases.
Dungeons have varying difficulties.
It's not tied to specific conditions—difficulty is randomly assigned at spawn.
They range from low, mid, high, to top-tier.
Low-grade ones are clearable even by mercenaries like us.
To clear, you enter the boss room, kill the boss, and smash the dungeon core.
For low-grade, bosses are things like goblin shamans—nothing we can't handle before wrecking the core.
It's not zero risk, but the rewards make it worth trying sometimes.
Rewards? Monster byproducts split with the client (the noble responsible) at a set rate, plus a clearance bonus.
For a merc group, it's mouthwateringly good.
You might wonder, "If mercs can clear low-grade, why don't nobles just use their own private soldiers?"
That's if you don't get how private forces work.
Private soldiers for big or high-ranking nobles form knight orders—way above merc level.
Even basic troops are at least User rank, unlike our mix of Runners and Users.
Plus at least one knight, up to several.
If the grunts are that good, knight orders go without saying.
They're superhuman squads of mostly Sword Experts, bar a few exceptions.
Of course, the operating costs are brutal—only counts or marquises and up can afford them...
Point is, they're a cut above mercs.
Territories ruled by nobles have more than just low-grade dungeons.
Naturally, mids and—worst case—high-grades too.
Waste precious troops on low-grade? No way.
A chicken knife for chickens, beef knife for beef—that's efficiency.
Hearing this, one thought should hit you:
Mercs can't clear mid-grade or higher.
Even entering is suicide.
Low-grade elites become trash mobs in mids; low bosses become mid elites.
Low clears already take group beatdowns with casualties—mids are infested with that?
Mid-grade for mercs? Forget clearing; survival's a pipe dream.
That's why we're meat shields.
So for us, option one only works up to low-grade.
Knight orders or private forces might manage mids.
But high-grade? Bosses are legion commanders under demon archdukes, per records.
You need at least a Master for that.
Masters growing on trees? Nah, they're busy with top-grades.
Plus, clears are high-risk, high-reward—so option one rarely flies.
Option two it is.
Dungeons have a quirky rule:
Monsters can't leave their floor.
1F mobs can't exit or go elsewhere.
Even bosses can't leave their rooms.
Pick 'em off floor by floor.
Dungeon breaks happen when energy overflows, breaking that rule.
Sweep 1F regularly? No break.
Low risk, decent return.
Still get byproducts without clearing—steady supply spot.
Explains why nobles love option two.
Trying to keep it concise somehow made it drag on.
Eh, covered what needed covering.
Gimmicks vary by dungeon; explain as they come.
Even if later, most is said now—no big gaps.
Next time, super short...
Anyway, I had to dive into one now.
When?
"Day after tomorrow. Judging by distance, leave tomorrow."
How?
"Transport's on us, naturally! Here—show this token for a carriage."
Why?
"Scout like you always do."
Strategy?
"Map threats and gimmicks per floor. Hero's Party clears; you scout again. Repeat till done."
Difficulty, location, name?
"Mid-grade. Uncleared long enough it's probably high-end mid. That's why Hero's Party target. Name's Abracadabra's Nest."
"Haa..."
I sighed after hearing it all.
'At least he didn't straight-up call me meat shield... Knew it'd come to this, though...'
Not tension or gripe—the sigh was knowing how tough the job was.
Scouting's deceptively skill-intensive.
Sneak past mobs, note layouts, exit clean. But not getting spotted? Brutal.
Most monsters are beast-types.
Beast-types have senses leagues beyond humans.
A tiny slip's a blaring alarm to them.
Dungeons reshape periodically too.
Old intel goes stale; big shifts mean restarting, so speed's key.
Shortcuts and hides exist for combat-free runs... sometimes.
If always, mercs wouldn't be meat shields.
'As an Expert, fights are fine if they happen...'
I shoved distractions aside, said sure, and left the marquise's castle.
On the way back to my lodgings.
'Guess I won't see Bell again...'
Started as déjà vu intrigue,
but after saving her, her cuteness and bright smile stuck—wanted to see her.
Affection...
Yeah, that fits.
Not love. Not yet.
—Rustle. Rustle.
Back at the inn, I pored over the book on the dungeon's location and info.
Luckily, not far from Rotten.
One day by carriage.
Could return after.
'See her then. Not dying anytime soon.'
I sat on the bed, meditated a bit, then slept.
Thinking, 'Real deal starts tomorrow...'