Seed of Tears (1)
◈ Restriction: None
◈ Effect: Reveals the location of something hidden by someone, lost by someone, or concealed somewhere. Also allows one-time teleportation to that location. However, activating the teleportation effect immediately nullifies all other effects.
◈ Description: A magic tool with infinite possibilities depending on its use.
Activating the teleportation effect to enter the Arcana Continent. Thanks to that, the All-Communicating Map had lost all its effects.
But before triggering the teleportation, I'd tried everything possible to get my money's worth.
Could I maybe extract the effect somehow? I'd even gone to see Kiko Armin, the senior enchantment mage.
No success, though.
I hadn't been too hopeful, so no real disappointment. Enchantment magic in the Mage Tower, which handled deficits, was barely at the level of extracting effects from unique-grade items. Extracting from an epic item? That would be absurd.
Which made me use it all the more desperately.
Because of that effort, I'd activated the teleportation without regrets. And through the All-Communicating Map, I'd pinpointed the origins of the remaining five Six-Pointed Brooches.
Truth be told, the first effect had thrown me for a loop.
A place where even the heavens wail, unable to bear overflowing sorrow...
What the hell? This wasn't twenty questions or a riddle.
The All-Communicating Map's answer hadn't clicked right away.
But that motormouth of mine had helped.
—"The heavens are wailing."
The Tempest Enclosure rift. Looking at the sky thick with storm clouds, my mouth had spouted that.
Faster for me to cry than the heavens, I'd thought, swallowing my lament.
That memory made it click when I saw the Dungeon: Gloomy Rain City that appeared in London.
The location the All-Communicating Map indicated was that dungeon...!
As if confirming my guess, a message appeared.
The Six-Pointed Brooch is trembling.
Indeed, worth stepping foot on English soil for the first time in my life.
Of course, these proud footsteps of mine couldn't possibly move solely for personal gain. Impossible.
Pouring down—
I opened my mouth under the umbrella amid the torrent.
"Those without resistance to status ailments would do well to keep their distance. Your words will likely move them more effectively than mine."
Britain's pride, Second Sun. Its leader, Shreyg.
Naturally, his words carried more weight here than those of me, coming from South Korea.
From my realistic perspective as Lee Hoyeol, and—
"......Thank you."
—even restoring Shreyg's shattered pride.
Considering Grandfell's prideful viewpoint as well.
Shreyg and the players quickly sorted the situation.
"Everyone, stay away from the rift and the rain-mist!"
"Reporting? This isn't the time!"
"Damn it, we need to get them to a hospital now!"
In the commotion, I gazed at the rain-mist.
The rift info floating before my eyes. Definitely a rift.
What's the exact cause of the status ailment?
The most logical guess was demons, of course.
But this was different from before.
Rifts were isolated spaces. Until collapse, no demon—no matter what—could affect the outside.
Not even if an upper demon king revived.
"Inferior breeds lack such power."
Well said, Grandfell.
This wasn't motormouthing. If demons had that ability from the start, they wouldn't bother possessing humans, acting, and sneaking into reality.
So, one possibility remained.
"The dungeon's unique properties."
Because it's a dungeon, it affects the outside too.
Arcana's worldview just keeps getting more ridiculous.
Holy war with demons. Already too much on our plate, and now dungeons?!
Please let this be a rare case.
Mazes weren't enough; now dungeons.
But the biggest issue: London's citizens trapped inside the rift.
That's why I'd rushed here via portal.
Damn this noble obligation...
Nosiness, more like.
Even without a dungeon rift, I had plenty to handle. Especially making those pesky shadows realize their place.
But Grandfell's mouth hadn't yielded an inch.
"Shadows do not exist on rainy days."
Pouring down—
"They are beings worth no more than that, in the end."
......Good thing the rain's roar drowned it out. Scary if anyone heard.
Interpretation: priorities differ.
He sticks to procedure like clockwork.
No urge to argue against that heavy pride, though. I thought the same.
Demons and rifts were overwhelming enough. My corporate drone days were long gone. Shadows or whatever—anything annoying, I wanted to avoid.
Then Shreyg approached.
One hand with an umbrella. The other holding a steaming paper cup.
"Sorry we can't offer proper hospitality in this situation..."
The green logo on the cup looked familiar.
Shreyg offered it to me.
"I... heard through rumors that you like tea. Didn't know which kind, so I got a safe Americano."
Shreyg continued.
"And I will."
His eyes gleamed with resolve.
"Please entrust London's guidance to me. I beg you."
Simple reason to ask Shreyg for guidance: even a dungeon rift mixes reality and Arcana half-and-half. Knowing real-world geography perfectly would help clearing it immensely.
I took the cup and replied.
"Grateful for your decision."
"No, thank you. Truly. For coming all this way..."
"Nay, 'tis a burden one must bear."
"......!"
To the startled Shreyg, I calmly asked.
"Do you not know as well?"
......Please. No noble obligation sermons in the 21st century, Grandfell.
At least my mouth hadn't uttered "noble" yet. Small mercies.
Anyway.
I stared at the Americano, then spoke.
"Are preparations complete?"
"Of course."
"Then let us enter."
......Don't desperately dodge by saying you don't want to drink it, Grandfell.
Though with my taste buds pickled in teabags—not herbal elixir—who could stomach Americano?
Nothing beats hot Americano on a rainy day. Curse my changed palate.
I shook off regrets and stepped forward.
*
Pouring down—
Torrential rain. An anchor's voice just as boisterous as the downpour.
The viewers' eyes were fixed on the screen.
But.
Pouring down—
All listening to the rain failed to realize. The broadcast view was their trapped London, inside the rift. Or that they were under a status ailment.
"......"
Only helplessness and melancholy weighed them down.
Britain, London. No—those trapped in Dungeon: Gloomy Rain City sank beneath the surface. Into deep waters no solo struggle could escape.
*
Pouring down—
Watching the rain, formality proves useful sometimes.
Worth bringing the ridiculously huge ceremonial umbrella.
See? Not a drop on my clothes. Thanks to holding it rigidly upright without tremor.
......No, not the time to feel satisfied over trivia.
I scanned around.
Visibility limited. Thick rain-mist showed building outlines faintly.
Fortunate, in that sense.
Shreyg, surveying similarly, spoke.
"Fortunately, London seems intact."
Local guides are the best, indeed?
Shreyg and Second Sun members quickly grasped the layout.
I listened to their briefing too.
"Key is locating the dungeon's depths."
Compared to other players, my Arcana experience was laughably lacking. So I knew little about dungeons.
But listening, I got the gist.
Just find the depths, literally?
Dungeon. Massive scale: dozens of branches, hundreds of traps, thousands of monsters.
But know the depths' location...
"Our goal isn't EXP or loot. Prioritize finding depths fast, crush boss monster, clear the dungeon!"
Ignore monsters, traps—other obstacles.
Of course, not easy.
The visibility-blocking rain-mist wasn't ordinary fog.
"......But isn't it weird?"
One Second Sun member said.
"Too quiet. Way too quiet."
The dissonance.
Rift inside preserved London's look perfectly. Yet no human presence.
Or rather...
"Traces everywhere, but no people."
Cars stopped, engines running. Store buildings warm with human traces. Umbrellas dropped on streets.
Everything intact. Just people vanished.
The player's voice trembled on.
"Where'd everyone go in this short time...?"
"No bloodstains or attack marks."
"Shreyg, been calling nonstop... No one picks up. Signal goes through, but—damn it, what the hell!!"
Emotions shaking was natural. London's capital. Among the vanished: friends, family.
Even hiding it, human limits exist.
Heavy mood again. Hence Gloomy Rain City? Crushes morale on entry.
But I spoke.
"No need for worry, all."
"......?"
As said, first time on English soil. No acquaintances here, obviously.
But I—Grandfell—wasn't speaking idly.
Yes, the pride in my chest was sincere. And the words truer still.
I knew.
"This is not the true Gloomy Rain City."
"......Pardon? What do you mean?"
"Seems we've fallen into a trap."
"T-Trap? No way!"
Hard to believe.
We'd just walked into the rain-mist. Entered the rift.
"Can you be certain?"
"C-Certain?"
"This is a dungeon. A space with no fixed rules."
"......!"
Someone knowing my secrets might say: brazen, after not knowing depths till now.
True, unassailable.
Even I marveled at that thick-skinned audacity.
But not always needing knowledge to notice.
Sometimes shamelessness aids in practice.
Simple reason I spotted the trap.
—"High El."
Mana clearly escaped when I murmured. But High El didn't appear.
Meaning: rift inside confirmed, summon confirmed, but invisible "something" between us.
A wall.
Knowing that, I pondered briefly.
Why? Everything intact, yet people vanished like mist.
Answer in the pouring "rain." Or precisely, the puddles on the ground.
Yes.
The wall between me and High El was the water surface.
I neatly folded the umbrella and looked up.
"......?"
Shreyg and players followed, gazing skyward.
What they saw: another London reflected in the sky like a mirror.
Soon, their shocked voices.
"......W-What is that? London in the sky like a mirror?!"
"Identical. But people there!!"
"No way, for real?!"
High El staring back from opposite side.
Sky and earth. Which above surface, which below?
Impossible to tell now.
But one fact clear.
Drip.
I wiped rain from my chin.
"I shall hold accountable whoever wets my attire."
Water's the issue? Eliminate it all.
Of course, evaporating pouring rain impossible.
Even overflowing mana, magic alone can't.
So I sent telepathy to High El.
Water nourishes "plants."
Yes.
Time for High El's unique spirit {Nature} ability to shine.