Chapter 158

Chapter 158: A Friend’s Grave. (1)

Step, step, step.

The three of us walked through a corridor entirely bathed in blue.

Along the walls, statues of skulls wearing pirate hats stood at regular intervals, and the lanterns fixed in their mouths flickered with blue flames, illuminating the interior.

Whoosh! Whoooosh!

Within this blue space, the flickering lights and the sound of wind blowing from somewhere created a sensation like ocean waves, giving us the strange feeling of walking underwater.

“...Why on earth does something like this exist on an island like this?”

“W-why are you asking me? L-let’s just take it slow, Mikkelsen.”

“Oww! That hurts, sir! Please, go easy!”

Mikkelsen glanced around curiously, while Beryl, clearly terrified, clung to Mikkelsen’s arm with a pale face and followed timidly behind.

Then, Hardin, who had been leading the way, turned his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.

“You... Why are you acting so creepy?”

“...B-because I’m scared. Aren’t you frightened, Young Master?”

“What’s there to be scared of?”

“Just look at this place—it’s clearly not normal. And, uh, this is my first time ever in a dungeon.”

Seriously, that guy... I don’t get why he’s acting so unlike himself.

Hardin sighed and shook his head.

“Just watch out for the waves. Judging by the looks of it, there’s nothing that dangerous here.”

“Waves?”

“What are those?”

Mikkelsen and Beryl tilted their heads almost simultaneously.

Clack!

Something sank beneath our feet with a clicking sound.

“Hm?”

Looking down, we saw a single white stone floor tile among the blue tiles, and Beryl had stepped right on it.

“Um, Young Master? What is thi—”

...Just as he said that—

Thunk!

“AAAAAAGH!”

The ground collapsed, and Beryl plummeted downward.

Mikkelsen barely managed to stumble backward and avoid falling in.

Hardin and Mikkelsen leaned over to peer into the hole.

“P-please save me, Young Masteeeeer!”

Beryl was standing atop a glowing blue spike that had emerged from the floor.

He must’ve used the mana control skills he had learned through Hardin’s relentless beatings to at least prevent the spike from piercing his foot.

Looking at the floor, densely packed with spikes and scattered skulls and tattered clothing, it was clear that if not for that, he would’ve been sent to the afterlife.

‘Well, I trained him hard enough... It’d be ridiculous for him to fall to something like this.’

Hardin sighed and beckoned with his finger.

“I told you to watch out for the waves, didn’t I? Why don’t you listen?”

“How was I supposed to understand what you meant by that?!”

Beryl shouted in frustration, and Mikkelsen, standing beside him, looked at him with a disappointed expression and replied.

“No, sir, weren’t you a bit too easily fooled by such an old-fashioned trick? I mean, that trap wasn’t even that impressive...”

“Then you could’ve said something in advance!”

“This is basic stuff, real basic.”

Hardin looked at Mikkelsen with a hint of surprise in his eyes.

‘So this guy has some experience setting traps, huh.’

He hadn’t expected much from him, but maybe he’d actually be useful in clearing this place.

Just then, Beryl’s desperate voice echoed up from below.

“Enough! Just help me already! I’m about to turn into a shish kebab down here!”

“Help him out, Mikkelsen.”

“Yessir.”

Mikkelsen quickly rummaged through the backpack slung over his shoulders and tossed a rope down.

Beryl climbed up in no time, and the exploration resumed immediately.

If there was any notable change from that point on...

“This is a classic arrow trap. If you look closely here, there’s a tripwire—just avoid that and you’re good.”

“Got it.”

Mikkelsen began taking the lead, identifying and avoiding various traps inside the dungeon.

After they passed through several traps without issue, Hardin’s lips curled ever so slightly.

He’d known the guy had a knack for setting traps and getting on people’s nerves, but he never imagined that would be useful for dungeon exploration...

‘I’ll have to leave everything like this to him from now on.’

While thinking that, Hardin stared at him intently.

“Young Master, why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s nothing.”

…What the hell is that look? Gives me a bad feeling.

Mikkelsen scratched his head, frowning with suspicion.

How much farther did they walk after that?

Thud!

“Hm?”

Hardin suddenly stopped in his tracks, then turned his head toward a dark passage.

Seeing this, Beryl asked anxiously.

“What’s wrong, Young Master?”

“Didn’t you feel something just now?”

“Y-you didn’t see a ghost, did you?”

“What ghost? Forget it. Let’s keep going.”

Well, if it was that... I could handle it.

With a shallow breath, Hardin stepped forward once more.

After that, the dungeon’s vicious assault continued.

“Squawk! Squaaawk! Die! Diiie!”

“Holy craaap! Get lost, you freaks!”

Man-eating parrots rained down on them like lightning from all directions.

“Spikes incoming!”

“Find the exit! Find the exit!”

A hidden chamber where an hourglass flipped and spikes closed in from both sides, and so on.

Every imaginable—no, even unimaginable—form of wicked traps awaited the trio.

After who knew how long of pushing through all kinds of traps...

“Haah, haah... Damn this dungeon.”

Mikkelsen was drenched in sweat, panting so heavily he looked ready to collapse at any moment.

“I wanna... I wanna go home, Young Master. I’m scared...”

Beryl, looking as if his soul had left his body, spoke with teary eyes and a pale face.

“Y-you’re exaggerating...”

“Exaggerating? I nearly died a hundred times!”

“Didn’t you say we were going fishing? How the hell is this fishing?!”

Hardin let out a heavy snort.

Well, even though he said it was an exaggeration...

‘It really is damn hard.’

He knew from experience—back in his younger days, when he used to dive into dungeons as if they were his backyard.

For a place named the tomb of Redhoof, the Pirate Empress, this dungeon was no joke. It was brutal.

With Hardin present and Mikkelsen somewhat knowledgeable about traps, they had made it this far, but if some untrained fools had come in here? They would’ve been dead long ago.

But right now, there was another problem.

“Don’t you think... we’ve been walking in circles for a while now?”

“...I know.”

Just as Mikkelsen said, at some point they had started looping through the same space.

Normally, Hardin would have relied on mana detection or followed the direction of the wind to navigate his way through—but the problem here was that mana detection barely worked, and he couldn’t even sense the airflow properly.

“Fuuuuck...”

This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought.

With a sigh, he took another step forward.

In front of them, a fairly spacious square-shaped room revealed itself.

At the center stood a skull statue with a lantern in its mouth, and paths branched out in all directions from that point.

They had already seen this scene four or five times.

“I’m gonna lose it.”

They were stuck in a loop of the same area.

Hardin had tried everything he knew—tracing mana flows, using geomantic techniques—but none of it worked.

And to make matters worse...

“Watch your step!”

“Damn it! Again?!”

Killer bees, crocodile-infested water pits, arrows flying at random, spiked logs swinging out of nowhere.

The traps just wouldn’t stop coming, leaving no room for rest.

Even with Mikkelsen’s knack for disarming them, there were just too many—it was getting impossible to manage.

How much more time had passed?

“Haah, haah, haah...”

Fucking hell.

Even Hardin was now drenched in sweat, gasping for breath, his lungs burning.

As for Beryl and Mikkelsen? Not even worth mentioning—they were completely wrecked.

At this rate, they were going to drop dead from exhaustion.

“What kind of lunatic makes a grave this damn complicated?!”

“I think we’re trapped here.”

“I know.”

“You... do have a plan, right?”

“Just... shut up for a second.”

Beryl asked, his face filled with worry.

Annoyed beyond belief, Hardin slammed his fist against the wall of the labyrinth.

Thud! Thud!

After Hardin vented his frustration on the wall a few more times—

Crumblecrash!

“Huh?”

What now?

Suddenly, the wall collapsed, revealing a hidden room behind it.

Hardin and the others glanced around cautiously before stepping inside.

At that moment, Mikkelsen pointed and shouted.

“Y-Young Master!”

“What?”

“Th-that... we haven’t seen that before, right?!”

Looking in the direction Mikkelsen was pointing, they saw a lump in the corner of the room covered with a black cloth.

It was definitely something they hadn’t encountered before.

‘What is it?’

Hardin approached it and yanked the cloth aside.

Then—

“KyaaAAAAAH!”

Beryl let out a shrill scream that echoed painfully through the room.

“Ah! Shut up, sir! My ears almost burst!”

Mikkelsen shouted, covering his ears in annoyance, but Beryl pointed shakily toward Hardin and replied.

“But... how can I not scream when something like that is right there?!”

“...”

Hardin furrowed his brow.

Beneath the cloth were corpses.

A warrior in full armor, a young woman in a priest’s robe, and... a mage in a cloak.

A textbook adventurer party formed to clear a dungeon.

The problem was their faces had turned a sickly purple and were crawling with maggots, their bodies visibly decaying.

‘Looks like they’ve been dead for months.’

It seemed that even recently, there had been people attempting to conquer Redhoof’s tomb.

Which meant...

‘That feeling I had earlier wasn’t just in my head.’

Hardin sighed deeply and reached out to cover the bodies again.

Swwiiiish!

A slicing sound came from behind.

Clang!

Hardin spun around and slashed his sword.

Thwack!

A dagger deflected off and embedded itself in the ceiling.

“What the hell?!”

“Huh?”

As Beryl and Mikkelsen looked around in shock—

Tatatat!

A black shadow darted from one side of the corridor and lunged straight at Beryl.

“W-what the?!”

Something barely a quarter of Beryl’s height charged at him at incredible speed, and Beryl’s eyes went wide.

Then—

Vwoooom!

Two mana-infused daggers flew toward him in a straight line.

‘A... mana user?’

Clang!

Beryl reflexively drew his sword, but the sheer force of the blow pushed his entire body backward.

‘That kind of power... from something that size?’

Beryl frowned.

Even from just a single exchange, he could tell—

Whoever this opponent was, they weren’t ordinary.

As Beryl steadied himself to counterattack—

Thap! Thap!

The black shadow disappeared into the darkness beyond the corridor again, darting chaotically from one spot to another.

Mikkelsen shouted, panic spreading across his face.

“Young Master!”

“...”

Hardin stood his ground, silently tracking the black-robed figure with his eyes.

‘So it really wasn’t just my imagination earlier.’

That faint presence that had been following them throughout the dungeon.

It had been subtle—almost undetectable—thanks to how well it suppressed both presence and mana... but the strange sensation he’d occasionally felt had definitely been emanating from that figure.

‘This one’s no amateur.’

Hardin prided himself on his ability to sense mana and killing intent—he would never lose to anyone in that regard.

Which meant this opponent was no ordinary foe.

Well, Beryl might be able to manage somehow...

‘But Mikkelsen... might be in danger.’

Tch. This is getting troublesome.

Hardin exhaled sharply.

Vwoooom!

His eyes gleamed with a fierce light, and his hair fluttered from the energy he unleashed.

The room filled with his killing intent and mana, thick and suffocating.

‘I-I can’t breathe.’

‘...Damn it.’

Even Mikkelsen and Beryl, standing nearby, found their breathing quicken under the sheer pressure.

It felt like...

‘A provocation.’

To the assailant, it was as if he was blatantly declaring: I’m the strongest one here—come at me first.

As if in response to that signal—

Swish!

The black shadow, darting through the darkness, shot out from behind Hardin like lightning.

Just as the figure raised a blue-glowing dagger once more—

Whoosh!

Hardin vanished, leaving only a sound behind.

Twitch!

The black-robed figure froze for just a split second.

“A little rough... for a greeting, don’t you think?”

Vwooom!

Appearing right beside the attacker, Hardin brought his sword down from above.

Clang!

The black-robed figure rolled backward, narrowly avoiding the strike, but Hardin was already closing in.

“Hyah.”

Hardin swung his sword again. The figure barely managed to recover and thrust their dagger forward.

Clang! Clang! Claang!

Sparks flew as a flurry of blows was exchanged in a flash.

“Brother Beryl, shouldn’t we help him?”

“Us? Help him?”

“Well, I mean... yeah, I guess not...”

Watching from the sidelines, Beryl and Mikkelsen instinctively swallowed hard.

It only took a moment to understand—

The way those two exchanged blows, the precision of their footwork, and above all, the mastery in mana control—adjusting just the right amount at just the right time without lagging behind in that speed.

‘That attacker... they’re definitely no lightweight.’

But in the end, this was merely a temporary deadlock.

“Grgh...!”

The black-robed assailant began to falter under Hardin’s blows.

Daggers, after all, were weapons made for assassination—for speed and stealth. Not prolonged direct combat.

What made it even more difficult for the black-clad assailant was the size difference—Hardin wasn’t exactly large, but this opponent was barely half his size, roughly comparable to a goblin. Facing him head-on was never going to work.

“Damn it...”

Clicking his tongue in frustration, the assailant stomped his foot as if to retreat.

“Sorry, but I can’t let you run.”

But even that movement was already predicted—Hardin blocked the escape route before the assailant could slip through.

“Rrgh!”

Grinding his teeth, the assailant slashed his dagger in frustration.

Clang!

But Hardin effortlessly deflected the strike, the dagger bouncing away with a light clang.

The panicked assailant tried once more to break through and run.

“Tsk, I told you—it’s not gonna happen.”

Again, Hardin was already in place, cutting him off with perfect timing.

Swish!

The assailant suddenly leapt upward to escape.

“Not so fast.”

Thud!

Hardin grabbed him by the leg midair—

Slam!

—and smashed him straight into the ground.

“Gahk!”

Without missing a beat, Hardin pressed one foot down on the assailant’s chest.

The attacker flailed in resistance, trying to break free, but...

‘I... I can’t draw on my mana.’

Something was wrong. It was as if his flow had been completely severed—he couldn’t summon his mana at all.

“Give it up. Stop squirming and have a little chat with me.”

Hardin sneered, grinning down at him.

The assailant’s brows furrowed deeply.

It was him... he did this.

In desperation, the assailant squirmed and fumbled inside his cloak, pulling out a round wooden fragment. He crushed it in his hand.

Crack!

Suddenly—

Fsshhhhhhhh!

White smoke burst in every direction.

“Cough! Cough!”

“M-my vision—!”

Mikkelsen and Beryl, caught in the smoke, erupted into fits of coughing as tears streamed from their eyes.

Now!

Taking the chance, the assailant sprang to his feet and bolted through the smoke toward the opposite corridor.

But just as he reached the end of the hallway—

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Creeeeak!

Hardin, grinning like a devil with a smile that looked ready to tear his face apart, rushed in from behind.

Wham!

“Gah!”

With a single punch, he smashed the assailant into the ground like he was swatting a fly.

The black-clad figure collapsed—unconscious.

“Whew... Buzzing around like an annoying little fly.”

Hardin squatted down beside the limp body.

Whoosh!

He tore the mask off with a rough yank.

And then—

“This guy...”

Hardin’s eyes widened in shock as he looked at the revealed face.

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