It was Wade's first time seeing someone drop four digits of mana upon death. Truly a spectacle.
Saying "Sword Saint Gapar was killed by Curse" sounded… a bit cheap.
But if one said, "Sword Saint Gapar fell to the death curse of the Death Prince—an irresistible mythical curse," it instantly sounded far more dignified.
The man was dead anyway. Might as well speak kindly of him.
Gapar's body dissolved into motes of light and vanished. Despite his strength, he was cautious enough to carry a teleportation crystal into the dungeon.
Wade wondered what expression the revival staff would make when they saw Gapar's corpse. That alone would be spectacular.
"I have to go see him revived!" he said, brimming with malicious glee.
Embracing the joy of schadenfreude, he connected to his outside avatar and sprinted toward the Revival House.
A man needed entertainment in life. Without fun, what difference was there between living and dying?
He hadn't even reached the Revival House when a tremendous uproar exploded from that direction—loud enough to hear from across the street.
Tonight's festival was still ongoing, which meant most priests and nuns working at the Revival House had quietly slipped out to play. Only a few unlucky ones, too slow to escape, were left on duty.
Little did they know—they were about to witness something that would shake the entire kingdom.
When Gapar's body first materialized in the Revival House, the priest on duty glanced at him and muttered, "At such an old age, why are you still running into a dungeon to die?" He casually cast Revival… but the more he cast, the more wrong it felt.
Half of his mana was gone.
Why hadn't Gapar revived yet?
Everyone knew the stronger the person, the more mana required to revive them—that was common knowledge.
When the priest's remaining mana fell below ten percent, he finally panicked. He rushed out to call all the priests and nuns who had snuck out.
And that one call triggered the whole chain reaction.
People heard someone had drained a priest's mana yet still hadn't revived—and they immediately speculated which great figure it must be. Crowds poured in to watch. Among them was Drew, dragged along by Roger.
The moment Drew saw who was lying on the bed, he spat beer everywhere.
"It's Gapar—the Sword Saint!" someone in the crowd shouted.
And just like that, the situation snowballed. Within minutes, the entire street was overflowing with spectators. Wade couldn't squeeze in at all, not even on tiptoe—because several mages were floating in the air using Flight just to get a better view.
Some even began charging money to cast Flight for others who wanted to join the aerial crowd.
Since when did adventurers become such business geniuses!?
As festival-goers surged toward the Revival House, the senior priest responsible for the building finally rushed back.
He immediately slammed the door shut.
What a joke! How could they let the dignified Sword Saint be ogled like some zoo exhibit?
This kind of rare situation—of course the Holy Light Church needed to examine it behind closed doors.
Once the doors were sealed, the priest who discovered Gapar's corpse asked nervously:
"Should we all cast Revival together?"
"Wait, wait."
The senior priest propped Gapar upright, tossed a memory stone to a nun, and grinned.
"W-What are you doing?" she asked.
"Take a picture of me! Quickly! How often can you pose with the corpse of a legend?"
After much fussing, everyone in the Revival House took turns taking pictures beside Gapar's body.
Only when the photo session was done… did they finally revive him.
Gapar revived—and instantly understood everything that had happened in the dungeon. But he didn't rage, nor curse. He simply lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling in silence.
"Lord Gapar… are you alright?" the senior priest asked cautiously, discreetly signaling for the nun to record the scene with the memory stone.
Not for fame—just something to brag about over drinks later.
Gapar remained silent, stunned.
Everyone exchanged uncertain looks—until the nun suddenly shrieked and dropped the memory stone.
She had seen it clearly.
Tears.
Actual tears… rolling down Gapar's cheeks.
The room erupted into panic.
What happened?!
Did the mighty Sword Saint get beaten so badly he cried!?
They all scrambled about in chaos. No one noticed the fallen memory stone had switched into video mode and was recording everything.
Nor did they notice a certain priest in the room wearing a sinister smile. He hadn't spoken once to avoid being recognized.
He was the very same priest who had once broadcast Leon's heroic deeds from a megaphone on the Shadow Brotherhood's airship.
"Heh heh… staying in Bedford City really does bring good fortune."
Outside the Revival House
The crowd was protesting loudly, furious they were no longer allowed to "admire" the Sword Saint's dignity. More and more people gathered—threatening to turn the festival into a full blockade around the Revival House.
Wade even spotted Darrick limping through the crowd.
Huh? How did he hurt his leg?
Long story short:
They had tossed him up into the air to celebrate.
Then news broke that Gapar had died and been sent to the Revival House.
Everyone ran.
Darrick, still suspended in midair, contemplating life, never noticed the people beneath him had vanished.
Thus… he ended up like this.
He'd heal soon. And if not, he could always imitate the Child and ride around on a wolf.
As more people gathered, rumors about the Sword Saint multiplied. Wade took out his notebook and began jotting them down.
Every rumor started with "I heard," "supposedly," "maybe," or "it seems."
"I heard Sword Saint Gapar came to the City looking for a Larval Tear—you know, that item that can make someone practically reborn. Didn't he always want to be a mage?"
"I heard he ran into professors from the Magic Association on his way here. They came to Bedford City searching for someone but failed to find them. They even posted a request at the Adventurer's Guild today—looking for someone who understands Star Magic. What a silly name. Sounds like a light spell. Doesn't sound strong at all."
"And Gapar is immune to all abnormal effects. Guess why? My neighbor said he was sickly as a child and mocked for it, so he intentionally exposed himself to every condition—freeze, burn, poison—until he built resistance."
"What a madman. I'd never dare do that."
"By the way, the Sword Saint has a daughter traveling somewhere. She loves swordsmanship and often fights with Gapar, since he wants to be a mage."
"His daughter has monstrous strength. She might not even be human—maybe a monster hybrid."
"That's some wild gossip."
So much juicy information.
Wade narrowed his eyes at the mentions of "Gapar wants to be a mage" and "professors searching for Star Magic."
Gapar was attracted by the Larval Tear.
The professors were attracted by him.
He had nearly forgotten about the Magic Association—he was the one who gave them the concept of "Star Magic." And they had actually begun recreating it.
This world truly was fascinating. Even with only a basic explanation, mages could recreate magic from Elden Ring. Could they reproduce more advanced ones?
Speaking of which, he'd dangled another idea before them too. What was it?
Ah—Thops's Barrier.
If they ever managed to recreate that, every otherworld mage could go home and cry.
Even the gods of other worlds might get blasted out of the sky by Thops's Barrier!
Wade couldn't help but imagine the scene.
"Perfect."
He wrote two words in his notebook:
Magic Academy.
He had wondered whether Bedford City had anyone worthy to dedicate an entire dungeon floor to. Now he had an answer—both the Sword Saint and the professors were ideal candidates, and both sought magic.
Then he would establish a Magic Academy on one floor of Val Dungeon.
He could name it whatever he wanted—
Raya Lucaria, Hogwarts, Winterhold, the Clock Tower…
Even Little Witch Academia if he felt playful.
Everything could merge and grow together.
Excellent. Val Dungeon finally had a confirmed theme for one of its floors. The next step was designing it in a way that would make Gapar and the professors willingly stay inside.
A bunch of magic teachers giving lessons… earn enough credits to learn spells?
No, that wouldn't work. Designing teacher personalities would be difficult—and he couldn't even write a curriculum.
After all, learning magic only required touching a page that contained the spell.
"Hm… I'll think about it slowly."
He now had a rough blueprint for the future of his dungeons.
Sein Dungeon would be the core and opening hook—every "franchise" would appear there first.
But the other dungeons would deepen those themes, each dedicated to a single franchise:
A dungeon for Dark Souls.
A dungeon for Elden Ring.
A dungeon for Pokémon.
And so on—each independent and unique.
He didn't worry people in this world might get confused by the different worldviews.
If they asked, he'd simply say:
"Lost history."
As long as the content was good, people would happily argue on his behalf.
Val Dungeon was special. Since it operated 24/7, using it purely as an amusement park would be a waste.
He would use it to experiment with a lifestyle-focused dungeon and gather experience.
Wade was in a strange emotional state. On one hand, he loved designing dungeons. On the other, thinking too long gave him a headache.
The curse of turning your hobby into work…
"I need a drink to numb myself."
Rubbing his eyes, he headed toward the familiar tavern.
People continued crowding around the Revival House, eager to learn how the Sword Saint died—while Wade walked in the opposite direction.
He scanned the crowd and suddenly froze.
A handsome young man stood there, golden hair shining under the light, a victorious smile on his face, two reverse-grip swords hanging at his waist.
Oh?
Wasn't that… Leon?
Trying to drink for inspiration, yet I'm already dizzy from just one glass of beer…
What is this?