Drip.
The sound of a water droplet marked the boundary between two worlds.
The scene before Luluwo abruptly changed. She found herself standing in a forest bathed in the light of a setting sun. A narrow path wound through the trees, and beside it lay a wrecked carriage.
It was clearly her first time seeing this road, yet its name inexplicably surfaced in her mind.
This road seemed to be called…
"The Old Road?"
As she puzzled over it, a memory that should not have existed suddenly surfaced within her consciousness.
Her eyes flickered with a dark pink glow. Any mage present would have recognized it instantly—this was a high-grade hypnosis spell.
Don't associate it with anything vulgar. The primary function of hypnosis magic was to cleanse the mind and alter cognition.
And when combined with the rules of the Sein Dungeon, its brainwashing effect was amplified to an absurd degree—far more effective than some athletic freak spamming Black Flash.
"Our family has fallen…"
Luluwo murmured softly.
She turned around and saw Belto, Mira, Ais, and Aim standing behind her. All four companions were present, yet their expressions were dull and vacant, as if their souls had been hollowed out.
"Right. We're going together to inherit the family estate… but the carriage broke down."
"Then we'll have to walk. Luckily, it's not far."
"My ancestor was truly great, leaving behind assets enough for a life of comfort. I'll be able to live above others."
A voice narrated everything within her mind—and she accepted it completely.
Holding her head high, she walked toward the family's holdings, a small town ahead on the road. Every step, every gesture, carried the bearing of a true noble.
Her ancestor's letter had claimed he owned countless assets in the town, including a grand manor. The thought alone filled her with excitement.
She would fill the manor with flowers and hire mages to make them bloom all year round. She would mobilize farmers to reclaim land and grow crops so food would never again be a concern.
The town was said to be near the sea—she could fish whenever she pleased, bond with the townsfolk, and become a benevolent lord beloved by all.
Once she accumulated enough wealth and prestige, she would even rename the town. Its current name was far too inelegant.
If it were up to her…
How about Stardew Valley?
She really thought she was playing a management sim.
Unfortunately—
"What do you mean, dungeon?"
Not long after Luluwo and her companions moved into the manor, the butler delivered his report.
"What do you mean there's evil lurking beneath the town, and monsters are closing in from the surrounding areas?"
When she first saw the deformed fish-men crawling out of the sea, her brain practically trembled.
Wasn't I here to manage an estate?
Why am I fighting monsters?!
By the time she came back to her senses, she and her companions—along with newly recruited warriors—were already deep within the dungeon, locked in brutal combat against twisted monsters.
What the hell is going on?!
These monsters weren't merely grotesque; they carried intense mental corruption. A moment of carelessness, and you might hear or see things that should never be perceived.
Firelight had to be maintained at all times. Once a torch went out, all manner of bizarre horrors would come knocking.
She saw Belto grow depressed after remaining in darkness for too long, eventually taking his own life.
She saw Mira develop a strange obsession during combat—self-harming while refusing a priest's healing—until she finally bled to death.
She saw Ais develop a compulsion that forced him to seek out women to relieve stress, only to later acquire the trait Extreme Tastes, be rejected by everyone, and ultimately collapse under the pressure into a broken shell.
Only days after arriving in the town, her companions were either dead or ruined.
She was left alone.
What kind of hellish situation is this?!
A vague sixth sense warned her that something was wrong.
Why didn't people revive after dying? We clearly had teleport crystals—
A pink flash passed through her eyes.
"What are teleport crystals?" she muttered. "That sounds unfamiliar."
People don't come back from the dead.
That was the truth.
The dungeon's horrors defied imagination: walking skeletons, mutated flesh, madmen worshipping evil gods, and countless other unholy things.
You couldn't think about them. Thinking led only to madness.
Yet somehow, she always managed to escape danger during expeditions. Even when every ally died, she alone could make it back alive.
Luluwo's surname was Kris. A fortune-teller once said it was a lucky name.
Perhaps her ancestor truly was protecting her.
She could never face the dungeon's darkness alone—but thankfully, warriors arrived daily by carriage, endlessly replenishing her ranks.
Her soldiers were inexhaustible.
Sometimes she wondered why so many people were eager to come to her crumbling, monster-infested town.
But inevitably, a pink flash would pass through her eyes, and she would happily return to dungeon crawling.
Time passed—so much time that she grew accustomed to the filth and rot of the town.
It felt as though her mind itself was merging with the darkness.
She believed she had developed a quirk of her own: every fallen warrior would reappear in her thoughts. Speaking with them forced her to relive their deaths again and again.
She was on the verge of splitting apart mentally.
Even so, under her leadership, a powerful team gradually formed.
Reformed bandits.
Knights devoted to holy light.
A swordsman afflicted with leprosy.
All sorts of strange individuals.
Today was supposed to be a routine expedition—but the moment they entered the dungeon, she felt a chill crawl up her spine.
This run would not be ordinary.
They prepared ample torches, potions, food, and ancient trinkets. Bathed in firelight, darkness had nowhere to hide. They were unstoppable.
As Luluwo checked her supplies, she couldn't shake the feeling that things had been going missing lately. She already had a suspect—the man named Renaud.
After this run, she would confront him.
But the expedition went poorly.
Torches burned out too quickly.
Wounded warriors succumbed to stress.
The monsters lurking in the dark grew stronger.
Are we going to be wiped out again?
As that thought crossed her mind, she saw something ahead on the road—
An altar… perhaps?
[Shrieker Altar]
The sacrifice of fire is the beginning of destruction!
If you desire the power of the void, offer a torch!
The altar glowed crimson, ominous and unsettling. Any sane person would know better than to touch it.
But—
Luluwo looked back at her battered, exhausted warriors and chose to gamble.
What if it granted power?
What if it saved them?
That would be a shortcut too, wouldn't it?
With fewer than five torches remaining, she offered one to the altar and silently prayed for a miracle.
[A terrifying figure emerges from the darkness!]
[Behold—the boundless hatred between the stars!]
"Grrrk!"
Another twisted monster appeared. Its dark-purple body was covered in barbed tentacles, reeking of filth, built more for crawling than standing.
Its name was—
[Shrieker].
The moment it appeared, everyone's stress skyrocketed.
Once again, Luluwo had made the wrong choice. Her companions would pay the price—again.
…Wait.
Why did it feel like she had said again?
Perhaps the hypnosis was weakening. Perhaps her nearly depleted mental strength flared up at the final moment.
She began to remember.
The Shrieker summoned minions and lunged toward her—but she stood frozen, lost in thought.
Wasn't I… exploring the Sein Dungeon with my companions?
Why am I fighting in Darkest Dungeon?
The instant she realized this, the world before her shattered like glass.
Perfect timing for the dragon-riding OP.
Endless exhaustion crashed down on her. Her mental strength hit rock bottom, teetering on the brink of collapse.
Luluwo was standing on the hidden path behind the Death Knight's boss room.
The Old Road?
The town?
The dungeon?
Was all of that an illusion?
She hurriedly looked back. Belto and the others stood dazed and motionless, as if trapped within dreams.
Each of them was locked inside a separate illusion.
"Wake up! This is a trap!"
She was about to shake them—
When an indescribable sound came from behind her.
"No way…"
She turned around in disbelief.
At the end of the path, a massive figure was slowly crawling toward her.
A Shrieker.
At the sight of it, her mind reeled.
"Wasn't that supposed to be an illusion?"
Her life in the town may have been fake—
—but the Shrieker was very real.
The Rule of This Hidden Path
Hold up a torch, and nothing happens.
This path serves as a shortcut to the Death Rite Bird.
But if you ignore the warning—if you fail to hold a torch or otherwise create fire—anyone not illuminated will be sent into a real illusion, experiencing a Darkest Dungeon–like scenario.
The hint was painfully obvious.
Surely no one would ignore it… right?
Wade planned to implement something similar in the Val Dungeon someday. Unsure how best to design it, he tested adventurers' reactions using illusions.
The final version would focus on gameplay rather than being a direct copy. Different worlds required different considerations.
Those trapped in the illusion would have their mental strength continuously drained. Once it neared depletion, they would encounter the Shrieker Altar.
Whether they sacrificed a torch or ignored it, they would return to reality afterward.
But if they did sacrifice a torch—
A real Shrieker would spawn in the real world.
A pure trap.
Zero benefits.
Nothing but the designer's malice.
"Luckily… there's only one."
Her head felt like it was splitting apart, but Luluwo still chose to fight.
An adventurer does not flee mid-battle.
The Shrieker screeched. Chains burst forth from beneath her cloak.
Battle was imminent.
"Grrrk!"
Another roar echoed.
To her horror, a second Shrieker appeared out of thin air.
Two.
Fine. Two was still manageable!
Then a third.
A fourth.
A fifth.
Five Shriekers surrounded her, shrieking unnervingly.
That meant—
Every single member of the New Strategy Group had chosen to offer a torch.
"…Heh. Hehehe."
Luluwo let out a dry laugh, her smile completely shattered.
How did we all end up with such itchy hands.