Devourer of Hope
The one who roughly knocked away the dagger was none other than Arthur.
Thud!
Kellon hurriedly put some distance between them.
It was the natural response now that his ambush had failed.
“S-Sir...?”
Hans touched his throat in surprise, staring at Kellon with wide eyes.
Kellon soon swept back his stark white hair.
“You've been a real pain in the ass from the start.”
Arthur didn't reply. He simply stepped in front of Hans, glaring fiercely at the man.
“Why on earth would you... to us...”
“Because...”
“He's a Dungeon Master.”
Arthur cut in before Kellon could finish.
Kellon's eyes widened with interest.
“You knew that much?”
“It started feeling off when you suggested using bait. Who the hell uses hobgoblins or whatever as bait? It's way more efficient to just group them up. No way a squad leader from the Ogre Corps would spout nonsense like that.”
That's when Arthur had started suspecting him.
Now that he thought about it, there were too many inconsistencies.
If it really had been an Ogre Corps unit, surely someone would have recognized him beforehand.
Whether from Kallis Territory or Brat Territory.
But no one had.
And no one had even suspected him.
The reason was obvious.
They were too tense.
Tension was the perfect tool for blotting out suspicion.
Plus, hardly anyone would suspect an old man of being a Dungeon Master.
“There were already hobgoblins and goblins hiding behind the wall. From the moment you suggested the bait plan.”
Kellon looked amused at Arthur's words.
Back at the spot where they'd parted from the others.
If Arthur had gone out as bait with Hans?
Kellon would have turned on them in an instant, slaughtering everyone there alongside the hidden monsters.
But if Arthur had refused and stayed behind?
The hobgoblins and goblins would have appeared. In the chaos, Kellon would have gone for Arthur and Hans's throats while the goblins took out the rest.
They had to leave that place anyway.
And before they did, when Arthur had reached out, no one had taken his hand—they'd just hurled insults.
The reason Arthur had deliberately split from the group was simple.
Kellon was surely planning an ambush and wouldn't bring goblins or hobgoblins with him.
And as expected, the bastard had ambushed them—failing spectacularly and avoiding a fight against numbers.
“Damn it...”
Hans's body trembled with rage.
“You son of a bitch—if you're gonna kill us, do it straight! Why toy with people before you murder them?!”
Kellon grinned wickedly.
“It's fun, isn't it?”
“...!”
Hans's eyes bulged in shock.
Kellon said it casually, as if it were nothing.
“Everything I said about serving in the Ogre Corps was true. I was a squad leader. But one day, I clashed with my superior. The idiot gave the most idiotic orders.”
He licked his lips and continued.
“So I told him, 'Your whole squad's gonna die!' I disobeyed orders and saved my men. But I got punished under military law. I kept my life, but my squad turned their backs on me—the guy who defied orders to save them.”
He clucked his tongue.
“But I believed. Someday, one of them would come crawling back, grateful. Call it 'hope' or whatever. But 10 years, 20 years passed, and no one came. Not even when they were racking up fame in the Ogre Corps, earning titles—nobody. My hope crumbled.”
With that, he took a step forward.
“That's when I realized hope's a load of crap. Then I got summoned as a Dungeon Master. That's where I awakened my trait.”
Trait.
A rare innate ability.
Lords had them too.
“Hope Devourer. When hope swells up, crushing it gives me extra EXP and gold. Becoming their hope myself, then shattering it—fun, right?”
He was their hope.
To the others.
He shrugged, as if asking what they thought of his tale.
Arthur spoke.
“So the moral is some kicked-out old fart threw a tantrum and died?”
Arthur's face was expressionless.
Kellon snorted.
“I have no idea what you're basing that attitude on.”
Grip.
Kellon clenched his dagger tight.
And then—
Whoosh!
He charged at Arthur.
Clang!
Arthur easily deflected the dagger.
Kellon sneered at the boy.
No wasted movements. But...
Weak power.
Impressive skill and speed, but nothing compared to his own.
That was Kellon's assessment of Arthur.
Clang!
Clang!
The daggers clashed fiercely.
Hans, grabbing the stone axe he'd picked up earlier, lunged at Kellon too.
But—
Thwack!
Kellon's kick sent him flying.
“Guh!”
The instant he hit the ground—
Clink!
Shriiiing!
Dagger met dagger once more.
A brief clash of strength.
In that moment, Arthur spoke.
“...You think you've seen everything I've got?”
“...”
Kellon didn't answer.
Soon—
Whoosh!
Arthur drove his fist into Kellon's chest.
Thud!
“Ugh!”
Kellon staggered back two steps.
Arthur leaped, his spinning kick slamming into the man's solar plexus again.
Thud!
“Kuh!”
Kellon rolled across the ground but scrambled up quickly.
What the hell? He's sharper now...!
The boy's movements had changed.
Truth be told, Arthur had been on guard since entering the dungeon.
He'd only shown minimal movements while fighting.
And he was a man who'd earned a nickname on the real world's battlefields at nineteen—the turning point of his life.
Ghost of the Battlefield.
Whoosh!
Splat!
Arthur's dagger sliced Kellon's wrist.
“Kuk!”
The moment he dropped his dagger, Arthur snatched it up.
“Hup!”
As Kellon swung his other arm, Arthur rolled aside.
Then circled behind him.
And slashed his Achilles tendon.
Splat!
“Eek!”
Kellon dropped to one knee, losing balance and collapsing.
Arthur grabbed his leg and yanked hard.
Thud!
He face-planted forward.
“Gack!”
Even as he fell, Kellon kicked up with his good leg at Arthur.
Arthur blocked with one arm, then seized the attacking ankle and tore the Achilles tendon.
Splat!
“Grrk, w-wait...!”
Kellon cried out desperately.
But Arthur grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.
The instant Kellon's head lifted from his prone position—
Arthur's dagger sliced his throat without hesitation.
Gush!
“Glurk, guk!”
Blood poured from his neck.
Kellon clutched it, glaring at Arthur with bulging eyes.
Arthur met his gaze unflinchingly before turning away.
Hans, who had risen to his feet, stared at Arthur in shock at the lightning-fast sequence.
So... strong. And cold-blooded.
Unbelievably so.
But Arthur pushed Hans's back.
“Let's go.”
As they turned—
Thump.
Kellon's arm fell limp.
Dungeons came in endless varieties.
Some kept spawning monsters even after killing the Dungeon Master; others ended upon the master's death.
This one was the latter.
No monsters appeared as they ventured deeper.
Still, to escape, they pressed on to the end.
A boss room appeared at the terminus.
It was quite spacious.
But the boss was already dead, wasn't he?
Arthur scanned the room and spotted a passage leading inward, plus an exit to the outside—both open.
He led Hans into the inner passage.
Soon after, they reached what looked like an office.
Arthur examined it closely.
“They say conquering a dungeon yields good loot, but looks like that's bullshit.”
Hans gave a wry smile.
But contrary to that, Arthur's eyes soon widened as he searched.
Found it...
The Specialized Lord Nurturing Device.
Arthur had even predicted Kellon was the Hope Devourer.
Bakalos had personally killed Kellon—the Hope Devourer on the Asgard Continent—and taken the Specialized Lord Nurturing Device from his office.
Dungeon Masters usually had standard master devices.
No telling how Kellon had gotten a Lord Nurturing Device, but now it was Arthur's. And one more thing was certain.
It bends the rules.
Normally, only those 19 or older got randomly summoned to the Monarch Game.
But Arthur was sixteen.
Still, this specialized device let him connect.
Bakalos had been summoned shortly after acquiring it.
The front was black yet transparent enough to see through.
Once powered on, it projected a hologram for various info.
Arthur hit the power button.
The device soon emitted a light only he could see.
The Lord Nurturing Device is beginning user recognition.
Arthur de Press user recognition complete.
The long-awaited notification rang out.
Synchronization complete.
With this, Arthur was already a step ahead of the others.
While Hans looked around, Arthur decided to check his status window.
Hans couldn't see it anyway.
Status window.
Only the basics were listed.
Any additional stats acquired would appear here.
Bitter.
His stats, once in the hundreds as a Challenger Lord, were pathetically low now.
Challenger Lord.
The term for tribal leaders granted authority to challenge the Great Overlord.
But I'll catch up soon.
With that thought, Arthur closed the status window.
He had no idea yet how this thing's uniqueness would shine.
Soon, the two left the office and exited the dungeon.
The blazing sun greeted them.
“Bittersweet, huh? Everyone else died, and here we are scavenging.”
Hans's words carried a touch of sentiment.
Dungeons inflicted losses.
Clear a dungeon that caused losses, and you claimed the gains.
Passing up gains was for fools.
More importantly, Arthur pondered briefly.
Should I reveal everything now?
He could brush it off.
Pretend he'd played the coward.
Hard to swallow, but the situation made it tough not to.
Then, as they descended the mountain, Hans spoke.
“Good thing we went ahead as bait and caught Kellon slaughtering the others just in time.”
“...”
Arthur glanced back without replying.
“I ambushed him on the spot and took him down, so we got out easy. Otherwise, we'd have been in deep shit.”
A convincing story.
Reverse ambush on the Dungeon Master's sneak attack.
Even Dungeon Masters died to a single throat slash.
Dungeons reset after a short time too. These ones vanished completely after a day, wiping everything clean.
Wait for the bodies to reset, head down, and recount events.
No evidence, no easy suspicions.
“You had your reasons for hiding your strength.”
Hans was a sharp servant.
Arthur nodded.
“You fight pretty well yourself.”
Arthur chuckled softly.
That was the end of it.
A little further down the mountain, the two sat on a small rock, gazing at the setting sun for a long while.
Press Family Mansion.
A woman waited anxiously for someone.
Her long silver hair and pale skin blended in perfect harmony. Though in her late thirties, she could pass for late twenties—stunningly beautiful.
Creeeak.
The door opened, and the anxious woman—Helen—rushed forward in an instant.
There stood Arthur.