“Did Celeste just decide to build this place on its own, or did it actually ask for your opinion first?” Viktor asked as Sebekton swung open the door to his home. The entrance was massive, since it was clearly built with the towering Crocodilian’s bulk in mind. He felt tiny as he stepped through such a colossal doorframe.

  “Well,” the Guardian replied, “she did inquire about my preferences. But honestly, I didn’t really have much in mind. So here you are, my humble abode.”

  The house was indeed as humble as promised. One single room, one door, two windows on opposite walls. At the far end stood a slab of cold stone pretending to be a bed, and by one of the windows sat a table and two chairs, with the book Viktor had given Sebekton lying open on the hard surface.

  “Does the house you have in your original world also look like this?”

  “Pretty much the same, yes,” the Crocodilian said, nodding. “It was made of wood, though. But the size was comparable. Of course, my old house had an area for cooking. Here, there’s no need for such things.”

  In the dungeon, all of Viktor’s monsters were sustained by the mana the Dungeon Core provided, which rendered eating unnecessary. Nevertheless, it was still an indulgence, a simple pleasure of life that anyone could enjoy, much like sleeping. Although Sebekton had no need for sleep, Celeste still included a bed in the house anyway. In fact, strictly speaking, the entire house was unnecessary. It was built only to offer a bit of comfort to the Guardian.

  “What do you eat, by the way?” Viktor asked as he leaned against a nearby wall.

  Sebekton let out a rumbling laugh. “Meat, Master. Always meat. We Crocodilians eat meat of any kind,” he said, eyes gleaming with a predator’s pride. “After each victorious battle, we feast on the flesh of our fallen enemies. We believe that by doing so, their strength will become part of us.”

  Viktor’s mind flashed back to the grisly scene of Lahmia’s head meeting those massive jaws during the encounter with the two Gold-ranked adventurers. “After you killed that intruder, the white-haired woman,” he asked, “why did you give her corpse to me instead of just eating it?”

  “Everything in this dungeon belongs to you, Master, including the intruders’ dead bodies. I can’t just eat them without permission.”

  “You could’ve just asked.”

  “I didn’t include it in my terms when the summoning happened,” Sebekton said, scratching the bony ridges on the top of his broad head. “I thought suddenly asking for more was not the right thing to do.”

  If he had asked, Viktor would have granted that wish without hesitation. It was but a trivial matter to him. Also, having her remains consumed by the Crocodilian might be a better send-off for Lahmia, compared to letting her slowly fester and rot in the disposal pit.

  “From now on, unless there is a specific instruction from me about how to deal with the bodies, all enemies killed by you will be yours to do with as you wish.”

  “Thank you very much, Master,” the Guardian said, bowing respectfully.

  With that concluded, it was time to check the progress of Manfred’s party. Viktor sat on a chair, closed his eyes, and let his consciousness expand, drifting through the watery expanse of the third floor. Soon enough, he mentally glided toward the entry to the maze on the second floor, and the silhouettes of four figures appeared before him. He felt like he was a fifth person standing right beside them, listening to their conversation.

  “How are we supposed to go through here, Lord Manfred?” said Brunette, her voice tinged with frustration. Just like the last time Viktor had seen them, she clung to the man, her arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Her demeanor made him wonder whether she fully understood the gravity of this dungeon exploration business.

  Manfred scowled, eyes narrowing. “Annoying as hell,” he muttered. “In narrow corridors like this, we’re sitting ducks. The goblins and spiders will be able to strike us at will, while we can’t do anything about it.”

  “How about we have Alycia send her birds ahead to clear the way?” suggested Redhead, her axe—the Reliquary—resting on her shoulders.

  “I still need to see them to control them,” Blondie said, waving a dismissive hand. “And in a maze like this, that means walking side by side with them. Which also means I’ll be the one who gets attacked first.”

  “What should we do then?”

  “Explosives,” the blonde-haired woman replied with a shrug. “We need a lot of explosives to blast through the walls here. I don’t think there are many available in Daelin, though. And ordering more from the next town will take a lot of time.”

  “Is there no other way?” asked Brunette.

  “No,” Blondie said flatly, her two big, bushy pigtails swaying back and forth as she shook her head.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” Brunette sneered. “If you’re useless in situations like this, what the hell are we keeping you around for?”

  “You—!” Blondie snapped, staring at the other woman.

  “Enough!” Manfred barked, stopping them from fighting each other. “There’s nothing we can do now. Let’s go back to the town.”

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  Blondie clenched her fists and cast one final glare before begrudgingly looking away, while Brunette smirked like she had just won something important. She leaned into the man’s side, caressing his chest.

  Redhead coughed. “So... how much did we get from the first floor?”

  “Thirty, maybe forty gold,” Blondie replied as she checked the contents of her pouch.

  “Only forty?” Brunette wrinkled her nose. “That’s just pocket money.”

  Forty gold coins are just pocket money? Viktor bristled. If Claire had ever heard that, she would have murdered this bitch on the spot.

  The four adventurers then turned to leave, retracing the path they had taken to come in. He watched them go, until they passed beyond the dungeon’s boundary. With nothing more to observe, he opened his eyes, cutting off the connection.

  “Where are they now, Master?” Sebekton asked.

  “Gone. They didn’t enter the maze on the second floor.”

  “I see.”

  “Are you disappointed that they didn’t come here?”

  “A bit, yes,” Sebekton said. “But the merfolk haven’t drilled enough, so a few more days of preparation won’t hurt.”

  Viktor nodded. He also needed some time to think about how to handle this party. While there was no way they could match the danger posed by Lahmia and Azran, he knew better than to let his guard down and underestimate these intruders.

  He hadn’t seen what Manfred and the clingy brunette could do yet, but Redhead and Blondie had already shown their hands when they attempted to murder Noi’ri in the street yesterday. Fortunately for the gnoll, Cedric and Fiora had arrived just in time to bail him out. With Blondie’s metallic birds disabled and Redhead’s surprise attack blocked by Cedric, the two women decided to retreat. The other party chose not to escalate the conflict, so the fight just ended right there.

  What’s going on between those adventurers, anyway? Viktor pondered. The Arstenians clearly despised the gnoll, and their attitude toward the Berynians didn’t seem any warmer.

  “How much of the book I gave you did you get through?” he asked Sebekton. “Have you found anything about the city-state of Beryn?”

  “Most of it,” the Guardian replied with an eager tone, his eyes brightening as though he had been waiting for that question for a long time. “And yes, I’ve learned quite a bit about that city. It’s a very fascinating story.”

  “Oh?”

  “The foundation of Beryn is closely tied to the collapse of the Empire three hundred years ago,” Sebekton began enthusiastically. “Before the fall, trade between the West and the South had to be conducted through a more roundabout route via the heart of the Empire, due to a treacherous mountain range known as the Dragon’s Spine lying between them.”

  Viktor nodded. He remembered the Spine well, a location notorious during his time for its harsh weather and perilous paths. He had been there once to conquer a dungeon when he was still an adventurer. He would rank it as the second-worst place on the continent, right after the Abyss.

  “However,” Sebekton continued, “following the Empire’s downfall, the region surrounding the capital was ravaged and left in ruins. This destruction forced the people to seek a new trade route. Efforts were made to find a viable path through the mountain range and build the necessary infrastructure, like roads, bridges, and tunnels. Ultimately, they created a mountain pass known as the Dragon’s Gate, which became a vital connection between the West and the South.”

  “Which, in turn, gave birth to a new power that rose to control the pass, am I correct?” Viktor asked.

  “Indeed. Beryn was originally just an outpost, a resting place for explorers and builders during the construction of the Dragon’s Gate. But once it was completed, it quickly grew in size and importance, evolving into a town and eventually a city. It became the center of the region, a strategic hub that oversaw the management and security of all trade routes across the mountains.”

  “Interesting,” Viktor said. “But if I have to guess, the story didn’t end here.”

  “You’re right, Master. It’s just the beginning, the main story hasn’t even started yet,” Sebekton replied, his voice brimming with excitement, as if he could hardly wait to continue. At this point, Viktor was certain that the Crocodilian not only enjoyed reading books but also loved sharing the stories he had read with other people. “But before that, we need to talk about a different place: Arstenia, a kingdom that was also founded following the fall of the Empire, by one of the Six Heroes who had slain the Dark Emperor—”

  Viktor chuckled.

  “What’s the matter, Master?”

  “Nothing,” he replied, the sardonic smile still lingering on his face. “Continue.”

  “Yes, Master. Long story short, Arstenia rapidly expanded in the West, thanks to its ferocious gnoll slave-soldiers, until it reached the Dragon’s Spine. Recognizing the importance of the mountain pass, the kings of Arstenia made many attempts to annex it. As a result, tensions between Arstenia and Beryn rose, ultimately leading to war.”

  “The terrain greatly favored the Berynians if they fought a defensive war,” Viktor commented.

  “It did, and they fought bravely,” Sebekton said. “On the other hand, the army of Arstenia was numerous. It was said that tens of thousands of gnoll slave-soldiers died during the assault, but in the end, the defenders were overwhelmed, and it was only a matter of time before Beryn was brought to its knees...”

  “But they still won in the end, right? The city-state wouldn’t be standing today if they hadn’t.”

  “Yes, at the last moment, something unexpected happened.” The Crocodilian paused for dramatic effect, his golden eyes fixed on Viktor, probing for any sign of impatience. “A gnoll commander, after witnessing his countless brethren sent to their meaningless deaths, finally reached a breaking point and decided to turn on his own masters. His defiance ignited a fire in the hearts of the other slave-soldiers, and one by one, they began to rise against their oppressors. Soon, all the remaining slaves defected. The battlefield changed in an instant. The gnolls and the Berynians, who had been enemies just moments before, now fought side by side against the Arstenians. Caught off guard, the invaders found their ranks falling into disarray, and they were forced to retreat.”

  “So Beryn won the war thanks to the gnolls’ rebellion, huh?”

  “Yes,” Sebekton said. “And the Berynians were profoundly grateful. Even though they had been killing each other during the war, they understood it was merely a result of the circumstances they were forced into. They reconciled and buried their fallen comrades together. In the end, the Berynians told the gnolls that they were welcome to settle there.”

  “So humans and gnolls are living together in Beryn now?” Viktor asked, amused.

  “Yes. It’s estimated that one-fifth of the city’s population is gnolls.”

  “I see,” Viktor said, nodding. If that was the case, having a gnoll adventurer from that place wouldn’t be too strange.

  And the interaction between Cedric’s and Manfred’s parties also made sense. Given the humiliating defeat they had suffered at the hands of the Berynians and the gnolls, it was small wonder that the Arstenians harbored such a deep hatred toward them. On the other hand, the gnolls obviously held nothing but contempt for their former oppressors.

  With people from all over the world flocking to Daelin, it was inevitable that many of them would have feuds with each other. Old grudges. Personal vendettas. Revenge. Adventurers duking it out in the streets, as seen yesterday, would become a common occurrence.

  Another thing he needed to account for when he made his plan.