Chapter 117, The Hated Dungeon

Translator: Barnnn

 

The village of Poides, home to an Undead Dungeon, seemed oddly devoid of life. Whether it was the nature of the Dungeon itself that cast this pall over the settlement was anyone’s guess.

Though, to be fair — if one blamed it entirely on the Dungeon, then one would have to give up hope for places like Sooryab, which hosted a Rank 2 Dungeon of its own. No — Poides had to be an exception. Surely.

 

“Kind of gloomy, isn’t it?” Hal muttered, squinting ahead.

“It’s summer — middle of the day — and it’s still this dark? That’s impressive in the worst way,” Ize added.

“And not a soul in sight…” Fieda noted, glancing around.

 

After a cursory inspection at the gate — one that barely passed for security — the trio dismounted and proceeded into the village on foot.

 

“Should we check in with the Adventurers’ Guild first?” Hal asked.

“Yeah. It’s not like we’ll have to worry about the inns being full, anyway.”

 

They entered the Guild, only to find that it was no livelier than the village outside — shrouded in shadows and complete silence.

But the moment Fieda raised his voice to call for the staff, the elderly man slumped behind the counter seemed to come back to life.

 

“We’re newly arrived adventurers,” Fieda announced.

 

Clatter!

 

The old man shot upright, nearly overturning his stool.

 

“Oho! Finally! SOMEONE is here!” he cried, voice cracking with excitement.

“…Huh?”

“You’re here for the Dungeon, right? You are, aren’t you? Please tell me you are!”

“Uh… yeah. That’s why we came,” Fieda said, blinking.

“YES! LET’S GOOO– agh, agh, agh–!”

 

He pumped a fist into the air like a soccer player who’d just nailed a perfect Fire Tornado. But in the same motion, his back gave an audible crack and he crumpled with a groan.

 

“Are you all right?” Ize asked, alarmed.

“Uugh… damn this old body. Too many days in that Dungeon. Agh…”

“You… were IN the Dungeon?” Hal parroted, incredulous.

 

He didn’t look like an adventurer — more like a retired librarian, if anything. But before the question could linger, a rotund man in his twenties waddled out from the back of the Guild, stomach bouncing with every step.

 

“Did you just say adventurers, old man!? You better not be joking — we haven’t had any in two months!”

“Donatham, lad, it’s bad — I threw out my back again.”

“Seriously? Again?” Donatham shook his head, already approaching. “Hold still a sec.”

 

He placed a hand on the elder’s lower back, then began to chant:

 

“By the will of the one who governs light — ease this man’s pain…”

“Urrrgh… ohhh, that’s better. Much better. Thanks, thanks.”

“You probably got too excited again. Calm it down, yeah?”

“You’re right, you’re right. We should get the paperwork done first.”

 

The old man reached behind the counter and pulled out a device. His fingers, bony and dry like old twigs, motioned to the group.

 

“May I see your registration cards?”

“Of course,” Fieda said.

 

The three placed their cards on the table. Donatham leaned over and gave a long, impressed whistle.

 

“Well, well… B-rank, huh? What’s a team like yours doing in a dump like this?”

“Hey!” the elder barked. “Guild staff only. Don’t be peeking!”

“C’mon, it’s fine. It’s not like I’m an adventurer or anything.”

 

Ize tilted her head, puzzled. Hal spoke up for her.

 

“You used light magic just now… but you aren’t an adventurer?”

“Me? Nah, I’m the village’s Awesome Padre. Donatham, at your service,” he said proudly.

“Did you just… refer to yourself as ‘awesome’?” Ize asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Unbelievable,” Hal groaned.

 

Ize took a second look. The man wore a loose, tunic-like shirt, roomy trousers that looked easy to move in, and sandals. He looked more like a farmer than a clergyman — someone who’d just come in from tending crops under the summer sun.

 

“Here you go,” the elder said, handing their registration cards back. “He may not look it, but Donatham here knows more about the Dungeon than anyone else here. If you have questions, he’s your guy.”

“Thank you,” Hal said with a slight bow. “Padre Donatham, we’ll be relying on you.”

“Aww, sure. Just ask anytime!”

 

Donatham scratched his head, looking both pleased and a little embarrassed.

 

◆

 

The group chatted with Donatham as he led them through the village, heading for what he claimed was the best inn they had.

 

“Y’know,” Donatham said, “no one likes Dungeon work in summer. So it’s just been me and the old man doing culls now and then. Not too deep, mind you — maybe down to the third or fifth floor.”

“Why is it so hated?” Ize asked.

“Because everything inside is what we call… ‘crumblers.’ In contrast, Sooryab’s got the dry stuff — way easier to deal with.”

“Crumblers? Dry stuff?” she parroted. “What are those?”

Donatham chuckled. “Sorry. Nicknames for Undead. Crumblers are your Zombies and Ghouls — rot and sludge, stink to high heaven. The kind women especially hate.”

 

He gave Ize a teasing grin. She grimaced in return.

 

“Dry stuff are Skeletons, Ghosts, and Liches. They hit harder, but they don’t stink, and frontline fighters can manage ’em better.”

“So… crumblers are too gross for melee combat?” Fieda asked.

“Yeah. Smash one and you get splattered with rotting guts. Face, body, everywhere. No one wants that,” Donatham said, wrinkling his nose.

 

The others made similar faces of their own, the kind that said they could almost taste bile rising in their throats.

 

“Here we are — my recommendation. Food’s great. Hey, Granny!”

 

From inside came a shout in response.

 

“Donatham! Don’t tell me you came in here smelling like the Dungeon again!”

“I didn’t go today! Brought customers, even — real adventurers!”

“Are you serious!?”

 

Thumping footsteps echoed through the inn as an older woman — round and sturdy like Donatham — burst into view.

 

“Well, bless my soul! About time, Donatham. Now maybe you can finally get back to the fields.”

“Hey, c’mon! You mean the church work, right?”

“You’re still pretending to be a Padre dressed like THAT?”

“Shaddup, I AM still a Padre!” he barked, waving her off. “Anyway, I’m heading back. If you want to know anything about the Dungeon, just drop by the church.”

“Thanks again,” Fieda said.

“”Much appreciated,”” Ize and Hal echoed.

 

They watched Donatham’s round figure sway off into the distance before turning back to the innkeeper.

 

“We’d like to stay while we explore the Dungeon. Any vacancies?” Fieda asked.

“Honey, we haven’t had a soul in two months. You can have the best room, dirt cheap.”

“Huh? Are you sure?” Ize asked, surprised.

“Of course. Not many come during summer. It’s the same every year.”

 

The stable, as it turned out, was next door. The inn didn’t handle horses themselves — not during the off-season, at least.

After being shown to their rooms, the group settled into a cozy common area, unwinding in their own ways. Sato was still darting about, inspecting the sunniest corners it could find.

 

“All right,” Fieda said, stretching. “Let’s start tomorrow. But maybe we should pick Donatham’s brain before we dive in.”

“Yeah,” Hal agreed. “According to what we know, it’s not so much that the types of Undead change — just that they get stronger the deeper we go.”

“Right, that’s what the reports said…”

“Still… a Dungeon full of rotting Undead,” Ize muttered. “No wonder no one comes.”

“Even the innkeeper was scolding the Padre earlier. Said he still smelled like the Dungeon,” Hal added.

“Oh yeah… that was kind of funny,” Ize murmured.

 

But the humor faded as the mental image returned — flesh, decay, the scent of death clinging to their clothes. Ize shivered and swallowed down a wave of nausea.

Then she blinked, as if realizing something.

 

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Hmm?” Hal turned to her.

“If the types of Undead are totally different here… is training in this Dungeon even going to help us?”

 

It was a sincere question. Innocent. Honest.

But in that quiet room, not one of them had an answer.

 

◆

 

The following morning arrived, heavy with the weight of yesterday’s realization. Still reeling from the truth they had uncovered, the group gathered for breakfast. Their host, Marlera, had prepared a hearty meal brimming with fresh vegetables from her garden.

As they ate, they discussed the day’s itinerary.

 

“First, let’s head to the church,” Fieda started. “We should pay our respects to the Goddess. If Padre Donatham has time, we can ask him about the Dungeon.”

“Then after that, it’s into the Dungeon itself?” Hal asked. “Second or third floor today?”

“Sounds about right. It’s the first day, so we’ll take it slow.”

“Mmm… This food is so good,” Ize murmured dreamily. “So, so good…”

“My dear Ize…” Hal shot her a look. “…Reality check.”

 

Ize continued to eat with a dazed smile, eyes hollow but mouth still moving. Hal grimaced at her — but truthfully, his expression didn’t look much better.

 

“You shouldn’t tease a girl when she’s down like that,” Marlera said gently, approaching with a warm smile.

“…Miss Marlera…” Ize whispered, looking up.

 

With a soft clink, Marlera placed a small porcelain cup on the table in front of her. A refreshing citrus aroma wafted up from it, prompting Ize to peer inside.

She had expected a slice of fruit — but instead, a dainty yellow flower floated in the tea.

 

“Give it a moment,” Marlera said. “Once the flower sinks, that’s when it’s ready to drink.”

 

True to her word, the bloom began to drift slowly downward, settling at the bottom of the cup in just a few seconds.

 

“It’s adorable,” Ize said, her voice softening. “Girls would love this.”

“Wouldn’t they?” Marlera chuckled. “It’s a seasonal flower that grows in abundance around here. Perfect for tea, honey infusions, even salads.”

“Mmm… It’s delicious. Thank you.”

 

Ize’s heart hadn’t quite recovered yet, but she couldn’t ignore Marlera’s kindness. With a forceful huff through her nose, Ize straightened up and clapped her cheeks.

 

“All right. I’m fired up now. I’ll blast everything out of my way!”

Hal stared at her. “Fired up? Seriously?”

“If Ize turns into some kind of battle junkie, we’re in trouble,” Fieda muttered.

“Come on! I finally get motivated and this is the support I get? Let’s go, team! Ready? One, two — ACTION!”

“Action…” Hal echoed flatly.

“…Action…?” Fieda followed, confused and clearly less than enthused.

 

◆

 

Following directions Marlera had given, the trio eventually arrived at the church. Out back, Padre Donatham was working the garden, dressed almost exactly as he had been the day before.

 

“Hey there! Morning to ya,” he called out with a grin.

“Good morning,” Fieda replied. “We were hoping to take you up on your offer and ask a few things — do you have time?”

“Sure do. Gimme a minute to finish up, though. That all right?”

“If it’s no trouble, we’ll go say hello to the Goddess in the meantime.”

“Oh, yeah, go right ahead. Doors aren’t locked. Make yourselves at home.”

 

With the Padre’s permission, they stepped inside and knelt before the statue of the Goddess.

 

[I’m not a fan of Undead, but I’ll do my best with the light magic you’ve granted me,] Ize prayed silently.

 

She opened her eyes slowly, and seeing that the statue had remained blessedly still, exhaled in relief. The Goddess wasn’t exactly known for casual drop-ins, but after what had happened before, she couldn’t help but brace herself.

The trio waited a while longer before Padre Donatham returned, wiping the sweat from his brow.

 

“Whew! Hot one today. The Dungeon might stink, but at least it’s cool down there, y’know? Anyway, let’s not talk here — come on back.”

 

Before leaving the sanctuary, he turned and gave a respectful nod to the statue — an instinctive, priestly gesture.

 

“I only made it all the way to the bottom once, myself,” he said as the group followed him into the adjoining room. “If no one had come this year, I was thinking I’d go for another run. Glad you folks showed up.”

 

He sat down in a creaking chair, then leaned forward with interest.

 

“So? How far are you planning to go?”

“We’re starting slow, but we want to clear it all. Aiming for the end of July,” said Fieda.

Donatham nodded, impressed. “That’s a solid plan. And if you’re going for a full clear, that’s a big help to us. You’re B-rank, right? Frontline fighter? And the kids — mages?”

“Yeah,” Fieda said. “Light and water.”

“No kidding! That’s a killer combo!” The Padre’s eyes lit up as he looked to Ize and Hal. “That could be good enough for MULTIPLE clears, easily! I might not even have to — er, I mean, you might not need me much.”

“We’re hoping to strengthen our water spells in particular,” Fieda said. “Any ideas?”

“Who’s the water user?”

“I am,” Hal said.

Donatham squinted at him. “Huh. You don’t look like you’ve been an adventurer for long.”

“Just a little under a year, yes.”

“Mm-hmm — still pretty green. The old man at the Guild uses water magic, but not often. His job doesn’t call for it much.”

 

Apparently, the man in question could also use holy magic, which had made him valuable in past expeditions. Hal considered asking him for tips, but turned instead to Donatham.

 

“Would he be willing to teach us?”

“Well, I was the one who taught him, so you’d just be getting secondhand advice.”

“In that case, I’d be honored if YOU would teach us, Awesome Padre.”

Donatham blinked, then grinned. “Oh-ho… ‘Awesome’ Padre, huh? That’s got a nice ring to it. Say it again, would you?”

“Awesome Padre,” Hal said, a little stiffly.

“Niiice… Now if the little miss over there would say it too–”

“Not happening,” Hal interrupted flatly.

 

The look he gave the Padre was one usually reserved for dangerous degenerates.

 

“Aww, c’mon. Stingy.”

“You’ll have to make do with Fieda,” Ize said with a mischievous grin. “Go ahead.”

“…Awesome Padre,” Fieda said, voice rough and gravelly.

Donatham winced. “Yikes. Hearing it in that deep voice kinda spooked me. Okay, okay, that’s enough.”

 

The trio gave him unimpressed stares, and Donatham shivered as if struck by a cold wind, despite the summer heat.