Chapter 8
Not long after Johan left the scene.
Nuadilen and the expedition members arrived late, only to be left speechless by the gruesome sight inside the underground altar.
“Huh?!”
“U-Ugh…!”
Some of the members turned their heads and dry-heaved at the horrifying scene, while others stumbled backward and tripped over cracks in the floor.
“Who could have done something like this…?”
“……”
Step. Step.
Nuadilen slowly looked around the area, lost in thought.
The guards had reported the incident fifteen minutes ago.
After that, it had taken another fifteen minutes for them to reach the scene.
Thirty minutes in total.
Thirty minutes wasn’t exactly a short amount of time, but it still didn’t seem long enough for someone to create a massacre of this scale and leisurely leave the scene afterward.
And more importantly—
Nuadilen crouched in front of the corpse that had suffered the worst damage and muttered,
“Looks like it’s been dead for a full two days.”
“…Commander?”
“The corpse.”
“Ah…?”
“Does this look like the condition of a body that died less than an hour ago?”
“Now that you mention it… you’re right. Definitely. Then what happened here? Could something have already gone wrong before the intruder arrived?”
“Who knows… Dagon isn’t a god who governs decay, but worshipping him may have had some effect on their bodies.”
Nuadilen’s gaze shifted toward the corpse that appeared to have been their leader.
They were survivors who had returned from the Dungeon several months ago.
He had never paid much attention to them.
What they believed in or what they relied on was none of his concern.
The Darklands, the Holy Land, and the Dungeon were ultimately places where living beings existed.
Wasn’t that how the world worked?
Hell for the weak.
Paradise for the strong.
Those people had regarded the Dungeon as something like hell—or perhaps a prison.
That was why they had desperately escaped from it and returned to the Holy Land.
They had promised that they would never preach their faith or conduct rituals involving living sacrifices.
Because of that, Nuadilen had been satisfied with maintaining nothing more than mutual nonaggression.
They may have become corrupted beings by worshipping the Great Old Ones, but this place was Karam, the Holy Land where countless expedition members gathered.
Once upon a time, they had all shared the same goal.
Nuadilen did not want the younger generation to witness the sight of them tearing each other apart.
However—
That didn’t change the fact that those people had fallen into corruption.
If they ever interfered with expeditions or expedition forces, they needed to be dealt with decisively.
Though they’ve never actually interfered with us before.
At least, not openly.
Whatever the case, something had clearly happened between them and the human faction.
Something like this wouldn’t happen for no reason.
“Albern.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Were the two guards the only ones who saw the intruder?”
“Should I check whether there were any other witnesses?”
“Do that. And bring those two here to me immediately.”
“…Understood. What should we do with this place, Commander?”
“Bury everything. There’s a lot here, so organize the work into four shifts. I want it finished before noon tomorrow. Understood?”
“Yes!”
Leaving his subordinates to begin moving busily around the area, Nuadilen smiled with obvious interest.
“A human apostle who smashed Dagon’s believers to pieces…”
There was exactly one person who came to mind.
Hopefully, his guess was wrong.
“Once was more than enough when it comes to entering the Dungeon with that walking disaster.”
While the people inside the elven jurisdiction were running around busily because of the disturbance—
Danpos Corsi was also rushing out of his bedroom and heading toward the barracks after receiving a visitor much earlier than expected.
“That bastard really doesn’t sleep, does he…?”
Johan had said he would stop by the jurisdiction soon.
But Danpos had never imagined he would come in the middle of the night.
Everyone else was asleep.
And Danpos had a feeling that telling Johan to wait until morning would leave him without even a bone intact.
So he headed out alone, planning to keep the man occupied somehow.
If his visitor truly was Johan, the so-called Mad Savior, then what exactly was his goal?
Well.
Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t something ordinary mortals like them would benefit from knowing.
Danpos wasn’t curious about that.
Nor did it matter.
There was only one thing that mattered.
Would Johan benefit their expedition or not?
That was all.
Danpos had already decided that there was an extremely high chance Johan would be useful.
Because of that, he had been desperately thinking of a way to persuade him.
Then Johan arrived and immediately said—
“I intend to enter the Dungeon.”
Even Danpos, who had successfully returned alive from two Dungeon expeditions, couldn’t hide his surprise.
…Was he never even thinking about making an offer or negotiating?
The Holy Land might be free from magical beasts, but it was still a lawless place where the Four Great Powers and countless smaller races competed with one another.
There was no such thing in this world as kindness without payment.
No cooperation without conditions.
No deal without profit.
And yet Johan had come to him with an offer that could only benefit them.
“…You’re saying you’re going into the Dungeon? Seriously?”
“There’s a condition.”
“……”
Of course.
There was no way things would be that easy.
Danpos gave a small nod and released a faint sigh.
In a way, that actually made him feel relieved.
According to everything he knew about the world, there was no living creature without some hidden motive.
Then Johan stated his condition.
“We’ll enter together, but I’ll move alone. That’s my condition.”
“……”
“We may fight together when necessary, and if circumstances force us to, we might have to protect one another. But as a rule, I’ll act independently. You understand what I mean, right?”
Danpos fell completely silent.
Drip.
Drip. Drip.
Johan’s shocking statement left the room in silence.
Drip.
The only sound came from droplets of water falling from a roughly washed cloak that had been hung up to dry.
“Independent action… You say something absurd awfully casually.”
“Do I?”
Danpos slammed both hands against the table.
“Sixteen! Sixteen people is the minimum number required to enter the Dungeon! It’s written in the Imperial field manual itself. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that, Mad Savior. Even I know you originally came from the Empire.”
“…I never said I didn’t know.”
Since Johan didn’t object to the title he had been called, Danpos assumed his guess had been correct.
But at the same time, his doubts only grew stronger.
The reason was Johan’s overwhelming confidence.
…I can’t believe he’s an impostor.
And there doesn’t seem to be any reason for someone to pretend to be such an incomprehensible existence in the first place.
Considering the strength Johan had shown against the Were, as well as the infamy he had accumulated throughout the Darklands, there was no doubt that he was extraordinarily powerful.
Even if he wasn’t actually the Mad Savior.
Then that confidence had to come from somewhere.
“You… don’t tell me you’ve cleared the Dungeon alone before?”
“It seems people nowadays are taught that such a thing is impossible.”
Johan looked Danpos up and down as the captain stared at him in obvious disbelief.
His hand slowly moved toward the golden insignia attached to Danpos’s uniform.
“Then again, I suppose it isn’t surprising. There probably aren’t any idiots left willing to risk their lives on expeditions anymore. Isn’t that right, ruler?”
Twitch.
At the word ruler, caution slowly appeared on Danpos’s face.
Johan acted as though he hadn’t even noticed his reaction.
Then he began listing the history of the Corsi family.
“The Corsi family. Fairly famous. On the surface, that’s because you haven’t failed a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in the last three hundred and thirty years… but that isn’t the real reason the Empire kept sending your family here.”
“……”
“Born agitators. That’s the talent the Empire truly valued.”
“……”
“Now that the fifteenth emperor, Betelgeuse, has passed away, this tiny amount of hope is all that keeps the Empire standing. A vague hope. Faint, but clear enough to make people believe it still exists.”
People handed over what little money they had because of that hope.
The expedition forces accepted it all, then vaguely misled the citizens into believing that hope still remained in the world.
“That’s why you aren’t particularly desperate even though your expedition is filled with rookies. You were planning to stop at the first floor anyway. Isn’t that right, Captain?”
“…I didn’t expect you to be such a smooth talker, Mad Savior.”
His position.
His role.
And what he gained from fulfilling that role.
A man who rarely appeared either in the Holy Land or the Empire somehow knew all of it in astonishing detail.
The strangeness of it left Danpos increasingly unsettled.
“If you know that much about us, you could ruin this entire expedition whenever you wanted… So why did you come to us? Huh? What do you want?”
His eyes were full of caution.
His hands trembled faintly.
His lips had gone dry from anxiety.
Johan neither mocked nor ignored him.
He simply repeated what he had already said.
“I told you already. We enter together. I act alone. That’s the condition.”
“……”
“Don’t take this favor lightly, Captain.”
Johan extended his pale right hand toward him.
“……”
A hand stretched calmly toward him.
Danpos knew exactly what it meant.
Even so, he didn’t accept immediately.
He hesitated.
To be honest, Johan was right.
The days when the Sapien race threw itself passionately into expeditions had ended hundreds of years ago.
Repeated failures had caused them to lose interest in the Dungeon itself.
Rumors about the Great Relic or some paradise existing deep inside the Dungeon no longer interested ordinary people.
At this point, only the Askartier Empire continued sending expedition forces on a regular basis.
And even their purpose had changed drastically from what it once was.
But that was the position of the Corsi family and the Empire.
It was not Danpos’s personal position.
So although Danpos eventually accepted Johan’s handshake, his expression remained full of lingering curiosity.
“…What exactly are you planning to do once you enter the Dungeon?”
“I have no obligation to tell you anything.”
“Don’t tell me you’re looking for that Relic too? You actually believe in a fake legend that doesn’t even exist?”
Johan glanced briefly at Danpos’s suspicious expression before releasing his hand.
“There was once an age when people shared the information they discovered and moved toward the future together.”
Then he abruptly turned around and began walking away.
“That age feels impossibly distant now.”
He continued.
“This is an age where isolated histories have caused even the truth itself to disappear… So it would be better for you to decide for yourself what you choose to believe and what you don’t.”
And with that, Johan vanished without another word.
Danpos remained standing there, staring at the place where Johan had disappeared.
Then he stomped the ground hard.
“…That bastard never gives a clear answer to anything.”
Well, fine.
If Johan had no intention of telling him anything, Danpos could simply follow his movements.
Eventually, there would be things Johan couldn’t hide.
His strength.
His goal.
And his true identity.
Danpos would uncover them one by one.
With a faint smile, Danpos stepped out of the barracks.
Danpos Corsi.
Current expedition captain of the Askartier Empire.
Age thirty-two.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that his entire life had been pushed forward by the expectations of his nation and family.
His first expedition had been like that.
So had his second.
He had assumed the third wouldn’t be much different.
And yet, during what was supposed to be his final journey—
someone suddenly appeared before him.
A man whose goal and identity were both unknown.
An immortal who had only ever saved humans.
There couldn’t be a fresher excuse than this.
I hope you keep me entertained until the very end, Mad Savior.
A strange excitement rose within Danpos.
He smirked and quickened his pace.
Even his footsteps seemed strangely cheerful as he headed toward the quarters where his subordinates were staying.
